Demon Forged (58 page)

Taylor knew it would go bad the second Wren opened the door. Lukacs—a vampire now—stood in the foyer behind her.

With her hand behind her back, Taylor signaled to Joe. He stepped casually to the side of the door, out of Lukacs’s sight, and drew his gun.

Taylor hadn’t seen Khavi since the car. Was she watching? Was she seeing this?

Why wasn’t she down here kicking Lukacs’s ass yet?

“Good evening, detective,” Wren said, then mouthed,
Go.

“Good evening, Miss Wren. I apologize for the lateness of our visit and for failing to notify you that we were coming, but an issue with the security arrangements for tomorrow’s ceremony has arisen. If you can accompany us to the funeral home, I believe we can quickly sort it out and return you to your duties.”

Sheer relief filled Wren’s usually expressionless eyes. “Of course, detective.” She stepped out of the house, onto the porch.

Taylor didn’t see Lukacs move. One second, Joe stood beside the door. The next, Lukacs had ahold of his jacket and was dragging him past the foyer.

Joe fired up at the vampire, hit his gut. The vampire snatched the gun away, and hauled her partner up. His fangs gleamed.

Taylor burst through the door, gun in hand. She aimed for the forehead, fired.

The vampire reeled back, dropping her partner. A bullet in the head sometimes stopped a vampire. Not always. This was one of the ‘not always’ times—but he’d released Joe, and that was what mattered.

Taylor sprinted for him. Behind her, Wren fired into Lukacs’s chest.
Should have told her to go for the head.
Lukacs didn’t have the same problem. The vampire lifted his gun, aiming for Joe’s face.

Not a chance in hell was that going to happen. Taylor threw herself over her partner.

Sharp bursts of gunfire rang in her ears. Her chest and stomach felt as if she were punched—once, twice. Fire burned in her gut, in her lungs. Bullets. Holy shit. She hadn’t worn her vest. The vampire had shot her. Maybe killed her.

She’d thought it was going to be fangs.

Her head swam. She couldn’t breathe. She heard Joe’s hoarse voice, then his shout to help her, please help her.

Taylor opened her eyes.
Oh, look. Michael.
Not Khavi. Lukacs must have caught her when they were switching shifts. Bad luck. Just bad luck.

God, she didn’t want to die.

She turned her head. The vampire’s head lay on the floor next to her, staring. His body was somewhere else.

Pain shot through her like another bullet when Joe touched her. His wrinkled face filled her vision. She hadn’t seen him cry before. Not even at her dad’s funeral.

“Let him save you, kid. Okay? For me.”

She thought she said okay. Then looking down at her was Michael, who wasn’t going to love her anymore. His hand touched her face. His eyes were
so
black. She couldn’t even see herself in them.

His harmonious voice sang in her head, so beautiful. “You have sacrificed your life to save another, Andromeda Marie Taylor, and so I can offer to you a transformation. You will be a Guardian, you will be immortal, and you will serve.”

“All right—but only if you never use my full name again.” Her reply sounded stronger than she was. Maybe it was only in her mind.

If so, he must have heard it. “No conditions. A yes, or a no.”

How could she say no? She’d already promised Joe. “Yes.”

Taylor thought she felt his relief. She knew she saw a brief smile on his hard mouth. He sat back, his gaze still on her, and vanished his tunic. Thick muscle carved his broad chest.

And
there
was Khavi, with one of Irena’s knives, which suddenly caught fire. With the burning point, she sliced symbols into Michael’s bronze skin. Blood welled. His gaze never left Taylor’s. Soon the symbols covered his torso, his arms—and when Khavi moved behind him, Taylor thought his back must now be bleeding, too. Khavi cut a final symbol into the side of his neck.

Then Michael leaned over her again, lifted her to his throat. “You must drink.”

Taylor fought her revulsion. Savi had never told her about this part of the transformation. With vampires, yes. Not with Guardians.

But maybe they kept it secret, like they tried to do with everything else.

“Please, Andromeda,” Michael said—then, “Taylor.”

She put her mouth to his neck. Gagging, but she managed to swallow once, twice. Michael pulled away. She thought she saw regret in his expression as he looked down at her. Then he lowered his head, and his mouth opened over hers.

Oh,
she thought. His lips weren’t hard at all, but just firm—and so warm. His tongue stroked into her as if he wanted her to taste him, as if he needed her flavor in return. She gave herself over to the sensation.

Then a brilliant white light came and burned all sensation away.

Irena did not hold Olek down again. Five seconds after Michael left, he was out of the tub and dressed. They both paced the forge. Olek used his phone; no one knew what was happening.

A few minutes later, when Irena was ready to scream with not knowing, Khavi appeared with Irena’s knife.

Irena could not believe she was glad to see the woman.

Khavi passed her the blade, and Irena scented the blood on it. Her breath stopped in her throat.

“Michael?”

“He is transforming Taylor. Come with me.”

Taylor? Irena held out her hand, not hesitating, and let the sorrow and relief circle within her. The detective had not wanted to be a Guardian, would not want to lose her life, her home, and Irena was sorry for that. And yet she was fiercely glad the woman would live—was glad Taylor would fight beside them.

She glanced at Olek, saw the same mixture of emotion before the room spun, dissolved. She held onto his hand as her feet steadied. The heavy scent of flowers filled her lungs. Gunpowder, blood—Michael’s, Taylor’s, a vampire’s. She looked around, recognized the room, the furnishings. Rael’s home.

They’d been teleported into his large living area, near the window overlooking the bay. In the middle of the room, a brilliant light surrounded Michael and Taylor—too bright. Irena had to look away. Wren stood near the fireplace, her face expressionless, her emotions in a wild, terrified storm. Irena did not need to read Preston’s psyche; grief and hope etched his lined face as he stood near the center of the room, staring at Michael and Taylor.

The brilliant light that surrounded them slowly faded, and Irena saw that their mouths were fused together in a deep kiss. She could not stop her laugh. In sixteen hundred years, she had never seen Michael kiss a woman—or a man, for that matter.

Olek glanced at her, amusement in his gaze. “He did not transform
me
in such a manner,” he said, and set her laughing again.

“Me, either,” she said, when she caught her breath. Wiping her eyes, she looked again . . . and her laughter died completely.

Symbols decorated Michael’s skin. She turned, searching for Khavi, hoping the grigori would have an explanation. But Khavi had gone.

A frown settled between Olek’s brows. He turned to Wren. “Where is Rael?” When confusion slipped into her psychic scent, he said, “Stafford.”

She shook her head. “I only saw the vampire.”

The light of transformation vanished. Michael rose, holding Taylor cradled in his arms. He looked to Olek. “Take her.”

Preston stepped forward. “I can—”

“She is strong—she does not know how strong,” Michael said. “When she regains consciousness, she might hurt you without meaning to.”

The detective looked torn, but nodded. “All right,” he agreed—yet still followed Michael as he gave her to Olek, and hovered as the transfer was made.

Irena frowned when Alejandro’s face tightened. She glanced at Taylor. Blood collected at the corners of her lips. Her eyes were wide and staring.

Irena had
never
seen a transformation affect a new Guardian in such a way. Unconscious, yes. Not empty.

“This blood on her mouth is yours, Michael,” Olek said. “What have you done?”

His back was to them. His bare shoulders were low, as if he bore a heavy weight. “I have given her part of myself and my power, and linked her to me. She will be the new Doyen. She will not lead you, but she will be the one who transforms and brings new Guardians to—”

“
Doyen
?” Irena started forward, her fists clenched. Rage ripped through her—rage and fear. “What does that mean? Where will
you
be?”

“I do not yet know.” His terror and dread spiked before he covered it. “Do not fight this, Irena. Please.”

She could not bear that plea. Tears springing to her eyes, she turned, sought out Olek. His horror echoed hers.

When she turned back, Michael had straightened and covered the symbols on his body with a black tunic. Khavi stood next to him, sword in hand. Kneeling beside her was Rael.

If the demon was afraid, he didn’t show it. Despite the blade against his neck, his expression remained quiet, watchful.

Irena called in her spear. Her chest heaved. She wanted to kill something, anything, and now the demon was here like a sacrifice.

Michael caught Irena’s gaze, shook his head.

It took all of her strength to lower her weapon. Behind her, she heard Olek ordering Wren and Preston back into the corner of the room. Carrying Taylor, Alejandro positioned himself in front of the humans. Irena joined him.

Whatever was happening here, their priority was to protect the people behind them.

Not a sign of Michael’s earlier fear remained. His face had hardened to stone, his eyes to obsidian as he looked to Khavi. “You were to watch her.”

“I watched her. And I did what I saw was best.” Her mouth tightened, and she glanced down at Rael. “And then I saw this murdering dog who killed my brother.”

“I killed no one,” Rael said. “And I would not kill Zakril, who was my friend.”

Khavi snarled. Her blade drew blood. “Demon liar.”

“I tell the truth. Put me in front of your Hugh Castleford. You will see.”

“We do not need to.” Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “I will make you a bargain, Rael. You have only to speak the direct truth—always—and for as long as I live, I will vow to protect you from all harm.”

Rael’s head whipped around so that he could look up at Michael. The demon’s shock was genuine.

His shock couldn’t match Irena’s. She clenched her fists on her spear, met Alejandro’s gaze. Why would Michael possibly do such a thing? What could he
ever
gain from it? What did it matter if Rael spoke the truth? By tomorrow, they would have slain the demon—but if the demon accepted the bargain, Michael would be damned to the frozen field in Hell if anyone hurt him.

Or had she missed something—some slick wording that would enable Michael to claim an advantage?

The demon seemed to be wondering the same. His brows had lowered, as if he searched for a trap.

Michael said patiently, “You cannot lie, and you must speak plainly to answer questions you are given—no matter who asks them. In return, I will prevent anyone from harming you.”

“Even her?” Rael jerked his head toward Khavi, who growled at him. “And yourself?”

“Yes. Anyone,” Michael repeated. “The only exception would be self-inflicted harm. If you should ever choose to kill yourself, I will not stop you.”

“There is little chance of that.” The demon smiled. “I agree, then.”

“Then it is done,” Michael said.

By the gods. Shaking, Irena looked to Olek. Anger hardened his face, directed at Michael.

The demon would never suffer the consequences of the deaths—from Julia Stafford, to Zakril, to Eva and Petra, and surely countless others—for which he was directly or indirectly responsible. And if the demon attacked any of the Guardians, none could defend themselves or kill Rael without damning Michael . . . or being stopped by Michael.

“Why?”
Irena could not stop her cry.

How could this be anything but a betrayal of everything they were? The demon would have free reign . . . or the Guardians would be forced to hurt someone they loved.

“So that we can see if someone will choose love—and kindness,” Michael said quietly. With amber eyes, he looked toward the sliding doors and the balcony. “What say you, Anaria?”

Rael stiffened.

Olek turned, set Taylor on the floor beside Preston. He called in his swords.

The sliding doors opened. Anaria stepped in, her black hair twisted by the wind. Her gaze never strayed to Irena and Alejandro in the corner. Her dark eyes fixed on Michael, ignoring the demon who stared up at her. Pained adoration filled his features.

“You knew I was here?”

Khavi said, “I knew you would come.” She pointed at Alejandro. “That one opened a door when he told you of Rael’s betrayal. You stepped through.”