Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (40 page)

But she didn’t. Taylor only felt tired and heartsick, because her friends were hurting and she couldn’t help them. So she needed to suck it up and do what was right
because
it was right, not because she was pissed or defending someone, or to avenge her friends, or any other reason that might have made this easier.

“I’m certain,” she said. “But doing it this way feels shitty.”

“Yes,” Khavi and Alejandro agreed in unison.

Irena shrugged. “You do not have to worry that it will happen often. Usually, they will be coming after your head.”

“That is true, too,” Alejandro said.

Okay, then. Taylor reached for her Gift. The demon’s brilliant glow filled her vision, hundreds of thousands of threads, far brighter than the softly shining spider silk.

She buried her hands in her pockets, fighting the impulse to just yank—to get this over with. Better to take her time and learn as much as she could now. This wasn’t something she could practice often. Immobilized demons didn’t exactly lie thick on the ground.

“Do you think it matters where I grab?”

“I don’t know,” Khavi said. “How long are the threads?”

“They extend a few feet around him. Kind of like a big, fiber-optic Chia Pet. Except . . .”

Taylor narrowed her eyes, focused on one of the glowing strands projecting from the demon’s hooves. The thread was longer than she’d thought. As long as she kept her eyes on it, she could follow the thread all the way to where it disappeared into the stone floor.

As soon as she glanced at another strand, the first thread appeared short again—but she could follow the next strand to the chamber wall.

“If I’m really
looking
at them, they go as far as I can see.” To the floor. The wall. The ceiling. “Why don’t they all go up?”

Of course, the spider threads to Hell had gone through the chamber ceiling. So maybe the threads to Heaven should go down?

That seemed weird.

“To Heaven?” At Taylor’s nod, Khavi shook her head. “I don’t believe it’s actually
up
.”

“But you call it ‘Above’ sometimes.”

“It’s just a word to help us visualize the differences between realms. In the demons’ language, the word for Heaven is the same as ‘home.’ It is also ‘beyond.’ But to us, ‘home’ is what we make of it—and ‘beyond’ can fit Heaven or Hell or Caelum or Chaos, or the in-between. So Heaven is ‘Above’ and Hell is ‘Below.’” She pointed to the chamber ceiling. “But Hell isn’t physically in that direction, either. That’s just the direction that some Guardian was headed when he teleported with the spider silk.”

“But it’s actually . . . what? A step aside?”

Like an alternate universe, with Evil Spock wearing a goatee. Or a realm out of phase, vibrating at a different frequency.

God. This was what she got for watching
Star Trek
marathons with Savi.

Khavi shrugged, and the dark strands around her shoulders undulated with the movement. “A step to the side, inside, outside? I don’t know. I only know what I can conceive. The same as your Gift or our psychic senses. Do you truly believe those are threads—or that emotions have a scent or a sound? It is only how you and I perceive them. How we fit them to our understanding.”

Taylor studied the threads. “Then what are they really?”

“Maybe they are really threads.” With a shake of her head, Khavi laughed. “How can I know? I can’t perceive them except through you. Perhaps only the angels see the threads for what they really are, but what use would knowing that be to us if we can’t see as they do? I’m not even certain if we see or hear the angels as
they
are. Are they energy, or flesh, or something else? I can only see what my mind can interpret, but how can I know if it interprets correctly? There is always something lost in the translation.”

So either the threads were really there or they were the best Taylor’s brain could do. Fair enough.

“But it is the same with your vampire friend,” Khavi continued. “Looking upon him, I don’t know what we see.”

“Colin’s Terrifying Beauty thing?”

“Yes. My brother, Zakril, possessed the same ability. And it is similar to looking at the angels. But it is not
beauty
,” she said, “because the effect was the same when your friend didn’t have a face. We simply feel it in the same way as when we see something sublime but dangerous.”

Oh, God. Taylor’s mind stuttered to a stop before Khavi finished.

Colin hadn’t had a face?

Behind them, Michael sighed, a breath of sound that slipped over Taylor’s skin like a soft caress. Taylor wanted to run back there, straight into his arms, and comfort herself with a real touch. But she stood and forced herself to confront her horror.

If they’d known of Colin’s vanity, perhaps the demons imagined that taking his face was the worst they could do to him. But they’d have discovered the only thing that mattered was what they’d done to Savi.

She really didn’t want any details about that, though.

“Michael is right.” Khavi gave her an apologetic look. “That is something to discuss when the subject is not so raw.”

Taylor hadn’t heard him say anything like that, but she wouldn’t argue. She glanced at Alejandro. “Will you use your sword and cut through the air a few inches from his scales?”

It was crazy, watching him. All Alejandro did was wave his arm around, and each slice of the blade was a graceful dance of steel. The sword didn’t do a thing to the threads, though. Just slid through the strands as if they were no more solid than a projection. Taylor called in her own blade, with the same result and none of the elegance.

“Irena?”

The other Guardian was ready with the dragon blade. The swipe of the knife did nothing. Irena gave the weapon to Taylor. The warm grip thrummed in her hand. Carefully, she touched one of the threads and concentrated through the joy, holding back the tears that burned in her eyes so that she could focus on the strand. She watched it extend toward the chamber wall, then stroked the blade across the thread.

It sliced through. The long end disappeared from beneath her forefinger, as if sucked into the stone wall—or into whatever lay beyond it. The shorter portion remained, still attached to the demon.

Taylor looked up. The demon was still alive. Maybe because it had thousands of other threads.

“That worked.” She handed the blade back to Irena. “Kind of. It cut through, but didn’t really do anything.”

“Perhaps because you didn’t yank the soul out, but simply severed an anchor,” Khavi said.

An anchor to Heaven. “So what would happen if I cut them all? Would the demon be a ghost after it died? Trapped here on Earth instead of heading toward the Pearly Gates?”

Khavi shrugged. Taylor was beginning to hate that answer, but maybe it was better not to test that one out. The last thing she needed to do was unleash some evil spirit on the world.

Though it would probably give Joe a few more stories to read in the bizarre news sections.

“All right, then.” Taylor braced herself for the joy, wrapped her fingers around a single strand near the demon’s backward-jointed knee. She looked up into its crimson eyes.

And hesitated. Something on its face had changed. She didn’t know if the expression was fear, or hope, but the snake’s belly of hate across her mind had faded—or maybe the warmth and joy blaring from her Gift just drowned it out. Maybe the demon hadn’t felt joy like this since being tossed out of Heaven.

Either way, it only seemed fair to let the demon know what was happening. “Tell the demon that I’m sending it home.”

Khavi didn’t translate for her; Michael did. When he finished, Taylor yanked.

There was resistance. Not much. Maybe just enough to warn her, so that she couldn’t do this accidentally. She had to apply her will.

She did. The thread pulled free.

The demon’s heart stopped. The other threads vanished—sucked away.

Joy still coursed through Taylor’s mind. She glanced down. The strand she’d yanked remained in her hand. It hadn’t been sucked away, didn’t pull at her, and beneath the warmth lay endless patience. Experimentally, she tugged and took a step back. The thread lengthened and came with her. Holding her fist tight, she closed her Gift. The thread disappeared. But when she reached for her Gift again they were both there, the strand in her hand and the overwhelming joy.

“This is insane,” she whispered, and the burn of tears on her cheeks told her she’d been crying. But Irena was, too, and Alejandro, and Khavi’s eyes were closed, her face enraptured.

What now? Could she tie it somewhere? She looked back at the demon and wrapped the strand around its knee.

Brilliant threads shot through its body from all directions. Its heart thudded. Crimson eyes popped open.

With a shriek, Taylor yanked the thread again—and this time let it go. She stared at the lifeless demon, her heart hammering. Beside her, Irena burst into a wild laugh. Another laugh sounded behind her, deep and harmonious.

Okay. So the demon coming alive had scared the shit out of her. It
was
funny. But it was so much more than that.

“I can fix it.” The realization careened around inside her. “If I fuck it up, if I yank by accident, I can fix it.”

“It seems so,” Khavi said. “And it makes sense. The body wasn’t damaged, and it hadn’t been dead long. There is no reason the soul couldn’t return to it.”

So maybe she could save people, too. Chase after ambulances, hang out in emergency rooms, and hold on to their souls until their bodies were strong enough to take them again. Which was probably stupid. But all kinds of possibilities were crowding her head now. Maybe this Gift wasn’t just about judging or slaying. Maybe she could really help people with it.

“Taylor.”

Rosalia’s soft voice sounded behind her. When she looked, the Guardian’s gaze appeared unfocused, as if Rosalia was concentrating on something that couldn’t be seen.

Or that lay beyond her shadows.

“When you touched those threads, it made a difference,” Rosalia said, and Taylor’s gaze shot to the dark corner. She couldn’t see Colin and Savi, but Taylor could feel the change in them, too. The devastation and horror were still there, but not as strong. “I think you should use your Gift again.”

Taylor was already heading toward the next demon. She grabbed a handful of threads and yanked, then held on, her shields wide open with her own hope accompanying the joy. If necessary, she’d hold on to these threads until doomsday.

Which might come soon, and apparently Michael wasn’t taking any chances. She saw the glance that passed between him and Khavi. In the next moment, the other two demons were dead. Not waiting for Taylor to yank—because Lucifer might install his demons in the other chamber and get a look at what was happening here. Irena began cutting through the spider silk.

Still holding the threads, Taylor returned to Michael’s side and waited. Immortal, she could wait forever. But it didn’t take that long.

Only twenty minutes passed before Michael said, “Release them now, and we will see.”

She opened her hand. The joy coursing through her vanished. Taylor staggered. Losing that joy was a pain all its own, but Michael’s arm around her waist and her own hope quickly steadied her.

The shadows weren’t as deep now. Colin and Savi still held each other, but warmth filled the embrace rather than desperation. Savi’s eyes no longer glowed. Michael nodded to Lilith, giving her the go-ahead. Immediately, a smirk twisted the other woman’s lips. A lie, of sorts. Buried in Sir Pup’s scruff, the stiffness of Lilith’s fingers revealed the worry that still gripped her.

“Colin!” she called into the dark. “Have you finished brooding in a corner like some Byronic vampire? Because you need to get your beautiful ass out here and help us find your niece.”

Manipulation in every word. Brilliant, too. Taylor didn’t know which Colin despised more: Lord Byron or brooding. Add on a stroke to his vanity and the news about Katherine, and even if he wasn’t quite ready, he’d
make
himself ready.

So it was no surprise when his reply came. “You injure me, Agent Milton. Byron couldn’t tremble in a corner half as handsomely as I do.”

“While you are there, then, perhaps you should woo Savi with some of his verses. ‘She walks in beauty, like the night—’”

Lilith broke off. From any other being, the hurking noise in the shadows would have suggested someone puking. From Colin, it was utter aristocratic disdain.

Followed by Savi’s giggle, and movement as Colin rose with her in his arms.

Under her breath, Taylor asked, “How does Lilith do that? She always aims straight for the heart.”

“Two thousand years of practice,” came Michael’s quiet reply.

“So you can do that, too?”

Silence for a moment. Then a rueful, “No. When I know the target, my aim is true. But I don’t always see as well as Lilith does.”

Brows raised, she glanced up at him. From this angle, he was all height and wide shoulders and strong jaw. Gorgeous. He probably didn’t
have
a bad angle. “You’re a lot older, though.”

“And we both spent most of our time studying those we would destroy.”

So he’d studied demons. And as a demon, Lilith had studied humans. Knowing the enemy made sense. Except— “You’ve been studying
me
lately.”

His amber gaze dropped to Taylor’s mouth before meeting hers again. He didn’t respond, but the way his eyes darkened was response enough. Suddenly breathless, Taylor looked away. If he meant to destroy her good sense and self-control, he was well on his way toward reaching that goal.

Still nude, Colin stepped out of the shadows. In his arms, Savi was already dressed in a long skirt and sweater; she must have pulled the clothes from her hammerspace. Taylor scanned her friend’s face. She looked . . . okay. Her eyes were bright as she greeted Hugh, and, though not exactly smiling, a trace of amusement remained around her lips.

Taylor didn’t know how she did that. In Savi’s place, she would have still been bawling—and she wasn’t even sure what exactly had happened. It had probably been worse than she imagined.