Demon Forged (50 page)

She opened the door and paused. Michael stood in the center of the observation area, facing the mirrored chamber, his hands clasped behind his back. His thinking pose.

“Stay,” he said when she began to back out. “I will not speak much.”

No. Like Olek, he rarely did. She closed the door, muffling the noise from outside. From the beige sofa at the side of the room, she would be able to see his profile. She seated herself in the corner, drew her legs up. Neither of them breathed. She heard her heartbeat, his, and little else.

And for the first time in months, she did not feel angry in his presence. The pain of his betrayal didn’t spear through her chest, forcing her rage up to her tongue. She didn’t ask why. She accepted the difference, and closed her eyes.

Perhaps a half an hour passed before Michael said, “Khavi has foreseen a dragon, come to Earth.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and a shiver worked down her spine. She looked up at him. “The dragon from the prophecy? The one who will rise?”

“I do not know if it is the same.” He stared into the mirrored chamber with obsidian eyes. “This one, she has seen escape Chaos through a portal that Anaria creates. I have no words to describe the devastation it can—” His jaw clenched. He faced her. “Everything that can burn, does. Cities, villages. Forests and the plains. People. So
many
people.”

He projected images that made her throat close, pushed her stomach up against her heart. Humans—children. No one had escaped it. The world burned, and demons rode the dragon’s back.

“This was the Second Battle?” When Michael and the other grigori had fought with the angels to stop the dragon and Lucifer.

He nodded. “We chased the dragon across half the world before we stopped it.”

Before Michael had cut through its heart with his sword—but not without a price. Irena had only recently learned that, too.

“You died.”

“Yes. I would again, to prevent another from coming here.”

Irena’s blood chilled. She remembered his dread, his fear. “Does Khavi foresee this dragon killing you?”

“No.” He looked away from her, toward the mirrored chamber again. “But it is why, if Colin or Savitri sees that Anaria has made her way into Chaos, we will have to lead the others in after her.”

By the gods, Irena hoped that would not happen. But if it did, she would do what needed to be done. “What would she want there?”

“If her goal is the same—Lucifer’s throne—she will want both a dragon, for its power, and access to Hell. She will try to break through the frozen barrier, and mount her attack on Lucifer.”

“With only her nephilim?”

“There is no
only
about the nephilim, except on Earth. In Hell, they are not bound to the physical forms they’ve had to inhabit here.” He glanced at her, and she read his worry in the line that formed between his brows. “I do not know how strong they will be in Chaos.”

“Khavi can’t see that?”

“Khavi cannot see what she doesn’t know.”

“What does that mean?”

“No one but Khavi knows. And I am not always certain that
she
does.”

The exasperation in his reply sparked her laugh. He laughed quietly in return, and that was how Olek found them a moment later, followed by Detective Taylor.

Irena’s heart tripped against her ribs. She remained seated, but her gaze feasted on him, the graceful swordsman’s stride that brought him a quarter of the way into the room, the lean strength of his hands as he reported to Michael in the space of two steps—and with his report finished, the darkness of his eyes as they fastened on her, the shallow dent in his chin that she wanted to slide her thumb across, to kiss before searching his lips.

I have not seen you enough,
he signed.
Now I cannot look away.

He never had.
You have always watched me.

They had more now. Her thighs tightened as she recalled the surge of his body into hers. And a slow melting warmth stole through her when she remembered the strength of his arms around her as she’d grieved. She’d never needed anyone to do that for her before—or perhaps she’d never allowed herself to admit that she wanted it. But want or need, Olek was an answer to both. A lover, a friend—she didn’t think the two had ever combined so well. And still there was more.

She held back her reply as Taylor hesitated beside Olek, then came to sit at the other end of Irena’s sofa. Michael had fallen silent when they’d come into the room; now his eyes—amber again—tracked the detective’s every move.

“It is sunset?” Irena asked. She did not know what time it was here—or even what day.

“Almost,” Taylor said, looking up at Michael. “Which means that I’m all yours.”

And she didn’t need Olek to protect her now.
Do you have another assignment?
Irena asked him.

The color of his eyes deepened. Irena squeezed her legs together. Anticipation curled low, a smoking flame.

“You have the scent of Rael’s house upon you, detective,” Michael said abruptly.

Taylor’s eyes widened. “What does that mean? What the hell does his house smell like?” She lifted the lapel of her jacket to her nose and sniffed.

Irena was not certain whether to take pity on Taylor or Michael. She chose Taylor. “He is joking. Alejandro has already told him that you visited Wren.”

“Jok—” Her mouth fell open in disbelief as she stared up at the Doyen. “That’s your idea of a joke? You’re, what, a billion years old? Aren’t you supposed to have razor-sharp wit by now?”

“If anything, detective, time dulls the wit,” Alejandro told her. “As evidenced by the eldest two here. Now, you will see that Irena’s only response is—”

She threw a dagger at his head. Without a change of expression, he sidestepped and plucked the blade out of the air. She would have missed anyway; she was laughing too hard for accuracy.

“—to kill something,” he continued without a pause. “Michael’s is to sigh.”

Michael sighed, then frowned.

“But also, detective,” Alejandro said, “the type of humor you expect depends upon slippery words and double meanings. That is the language demons use. So Irena is blunt, and Michael does not speak much at all.”

Understanding dawned on Taylor’s face. Understanding, and a sharp recognition. “So you are hiding something?” she asked Michael.

“Many things.” He smiled, obviously intending to soften truth with another joke, but it failed again.

Uneasy, the detective glanced away from him.

Michael sighed and looked to Alejandro. “Why does Wren not leave Rael’s home?”

Taylor answered him. “She feels obligated to fulfill her contract with Julia Stafford, if not the congressman. She’s staying until the funeral on Friday—which she’s been making arrangements for, in Rael’s absence.”

Taylor’s tone had taken on a slight defensive edge. Not against Michael, Irena realized, but on behalf of Wren. After Anaria’s attack on the warehouse, Taylor had spent almost the entire night with the woman, explaining the Rules. Apparently, Taylor’s already sympathetic stance toward Wren had begun to deepen into friendship—or just a bond between two women who had recently been thrust into a new world. She’d formed a similar attachment to Savi, Irena remembered.

“Will she let us know if he returns?”

“Yes,” Taylor said, and her lips twisted in wry acknowledgment. “Although I suspect that part of the reason she’s staying on is so she can put a bullet in his head if he shows up.”

Irena frowned. “It wouldn’t hurt him.”

“No, but it would feel good, wouldn’t it?” Taylor said and reminded Irena why she liked the detective so much. “Regardless, she’ll leave after the funeral.”

Irena glanced at Alejandro. “Do you think Rael would miss his wife’s funeral?”

“No. His grief could excuse his absence, just as it has these past two days—but the publicity would be too politically valuable.”

“So I kill him at the funeral.”

Alejandro just looked at her.

Taylor stuck her fingers into her ears. “I’m not hearing this.”

Irena grinned and said, “I will do it quickly. He will not expect it in public. I vanish the body, you step in. And if Wren is arranging the funeral, she will know where the cameras and security are, so that we can avoid them.”

“It is still a risk,” Alejandro said slowly. As he considered it, his thumb followed the carved line of his jaw, his forefinger swept down his chin. “But a bigger risk would be losing him again.”

“I agree,” Michael said. “And will help you slay him.”

“La la la,” Taylor sang. She pulled her fingers out. “I’ll ask Wren for the security details.”

Michael frowned. “Are you certain you want to involve—”

“Oh, come on.” Taylor gave him a hard look. “You know I’m on my way out of there anyway.”

His face became stone. “Khavi’s prediction will not come to pass.”

“Not that. Jesus.” Taylor rubbed her face, as if trying to scrub away the reminder. “I’m talking about being one step away from having my badge stripped or burning out. Either way, I’m just fucked all the way to—” She stopped, pinned Michael with a stare. “You’ll give Joe a place here at SI, right?”

“You will have one, too.”

“Yeah. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll do better without all this.” She let out a long breath, as if she’d just let go of a huge weight. “So, I’ll ask Wren. I’ll help you kill a demon. And be done.”

Taylor was mistaken if she thought that would be the end of it for them. Not with Khavi’s prediction still hanging over her head. Irena glanced up at Michael. His eyes were obsidian again. Yes. Taylor might not know it, but leaving them behind did not mean she would not have protection.

But the detective must have realized it, too. “What’s the save-me-from-the-vampire plan while you guys are having your gathering in Caelum?”

“I’ve scheduled it to coincide with dawn here, tomorrow,” Michael told her. “I realize you will not agree to be locked away in Caelum—”

“You got that right.”

“—so I will accompany you to your station and return before sundown. The warehouse will be closed; Lilith, Hugh, and Sir Pup will be guarding Savi while she sleeps. Colin will be with us—he is the only vampire who could possibly harm you during that time.”

The detective shook her head. “Colin wouldn’t—”

“Not voluntarily,” Michael agreed. “But if a demon threatened Savi, then I believe he would destroy half the world.”

“And then we’d have to kill him,” Irena said.

Alejandro’s gaze lit with his laughter. “Or give him to Rosalia.”

For hunting and fucking? Irena narrowed her eyes at him and rose from the sofa. “Michael, have you anything else for us?”

“No.”

Good. She passed Alejandro. He turned and followed her. When he closed the door behind them, she spun him into the corridor wall. He lifted her. Her legs circled his waist. His mouth found hers, hot. She opened her lips, took him deep. Not enough. She kissed his chin, his cheek, his neck. She needed to touch him everywhere.

“I have missed you,” she breathed between kisses.

“Irena.” His fingers clenched on her thighs. “Irena.”

As if that was all he could say, he took her mouth again. She’d thought kissing him would be a release, but now she wanted more. Here, if she had to, Olek hard inside her, until she came and came.

Footsteps filtered through the haze of need, followed by Ames-Beaumont’s bored voice. “It is just like the tube in London, sweet. Barbarians copulate in dark corners.”

The cursed dragon-fucking bloodsucker. Without breaking their kiss, Irena slid her hand from Olek’s hair and extended her middle finger.

His fangs gleaming sharp in his grin, Ames-Beaumont passed them, his features ridiculously beautiful even half-glimpsed in profile. Then Savi went by, holding her hand like a blinder beside her eyes and shaking with laughter.

Olek, the stupid ox, had begun laughing, too. When the door to the observation room opened and closed, she leaned back against the wall.

“I hate this place. There is no privacy.” They could easily find privacy in Caelum, but unless she had no other choice, Irena was not yet ready to use Dru’s Gate. “We will find a roof outside,” she decided.

He shook his head. “It is raining.”

She laughed and pulled him down for another long taste. When she heard the observation room door open, and Michael’s sigh, she took Olek’s hand. She didn’t look back at the Doyen, but walked quickly down the corridor toward the common room.

Her steps faltered when the psychic pall settled over her. Irena stopped, blocked their grief and sent out a sharp stab of anger. The novices looked over at her. Pim and Becca weren’t among them, she saw.

“Perhaps none of you is old enough to know what a gathering is,” she told them. “But you will not bring
this
to Caelum. Grief, yes, for she is missed. But you all sit as if
you
are dead, and the gathering is about her life, not death. If you cannot shed this, stay here.” She opened her shields, so that they would know she meant every word. “Because if you bring this death there, I will hunt you down and skin you all.”

She felt their resentment, their anger. Good. Better than the dull nothing. Still holding Olek’s hand, she crossed the room.

He slowed on the stairs, and she glanced back at him. His eyes were alight.

She frowned. “You laugh? I am serious.”

“I know. I laugh
because
you are serious. There is so much of you that amazes me.”

“I do not understand that.” But her heart did a little jump anyway. “Anyone my age ought to be as skilled as I am.”

“Yes. But apparently you have not noticed, Irena—no one is your age. And I do not speak of your skills. You would amaze me if the only weapon you possessed was the blunt edge of your tongue.”