Demon Angel

by Meljean Brook

  But you could have given it to her to use as a bargaining chip.

  His smiled turned bleak. If she is forced to resort to bargaining with Guardian powers, then it is too late to save her; it would buy her but little time.

  Selah sighed, cocked her head to the side again. “She is gone; the vampire is on the stairs, coming this way.”

  His chest tightened. Gone. And her position so precarious; had he made the right decision, to force her to respond to him? He felt Selah’s searching stare, the question she did not ask. “No. I’m not the man you knew.”

  “In some ways, perhaps,” she said dryly. “But your loyalties lie in the same place.”

  “Has it always been so apparent?” He held her gaze.

  “Yes. Not any individual thing you said or did; but after hundreds of years of failing to kill her, it was clear there was more than simple rivalry between you. We knew saving her had become your obsession. None of us were surprised when you chose to Fall after finally slaying her.”

  His throat closed and he nodded. Blankly, he looked down at the envelope in his hands.

  “You killed her because she’s a demon and you no longer cared to make the effort to save her, but discovering she was once human has made her worth fighting for?” Colin said from the doorway, sarcasm lending an edge to his question. The hellhound padded past him, sniffed Hugh’s bag as if searching for a treat.

  I remembered that I was human, he thought. But he only glanced at the vampire with mild reproof. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “She’s going Below,” Colin said. “And she reeks of you and of her emotions.”

  Hugh rocked back on his heels, rose to his feet. “Think like a demon instead of a man. What would you do if you wanted to hurt her?”

  Colin stared at him, then crossed his arms, shaking his head. “You manipulative bastard,” he said, with a touch of admiration.

  But Selah’s voice held disappointment. “I am glad I did not learn this from you.”

  “Perhaps I should have taught you,” he said tightly. “Perhaps the corps would not be cowering before a horde of nosferatu and beaten down by demons had we not spent centuries upholding impossible ideals. We were men, not angels. It was why we were created, and yet we put ourselves above men anyway, put our code above their lives.”

  Selah’s eyes glowed, brilliantly blue. “No. We were created because Michael failed to protect your demon from Lucifer.”

  Hugh stared at her.

  She looked away, as if ashamed she’d revealed that much. “Don’t try to go this alone, Hugh. You may think you have no use for us, or our ways, but a complete reversal from our impossible ideals is not going to save her, either.”

  His muscles like ice, Hugh took a step forward. “What—”

  The hellhound growled softly, his heads swinging toward the window.

  At the same moment, Selah frowned, turning to face the same direction. Her sword appeared in her hand.

  “Bloody hell,” Colin said. He streaked across the room, opened a cupboard. Weapons lined the interior. “The basement is most easily defended.” He slung an automatic rifle over his shoulder, and reached in again, selecting two rapiers.

  “Six or seven nosferatu. And a demon.” Selah glanced at Colin, then Hugh. “You can’t fight them. I’ll get you out of here.”

  Colin snorted. “You’ll leave me here to be killed—and after I treated you so well?”

  “We’ll go to the basement,” Hugh said. Demons liked to talk, to brag; they might be able to find out part of their plan if they allowed them enough time. “Selah, take these.” He tossed the files to her, and they vanished midair. He knelt, pulling his weapons from the duffelbag; the Japanese swords felt light in his hands, and he smiled grimly. Hopefully, the nosferatu would not get so close he had to use them. “And the rest.”

  His broadsword and bag disappeared. He glanced at the hellhound. The dog shook his heads, and he had but a moment to see Sir Pup transform—terrifyingly huge, barbed spikes ripping from beneath his fur—before Selah lifted him and they sped downstairs. A crash of broken glass and splintering wood behind them. Colin groaned, but the sound was overwhelmed by the tortured screams of a nosferatu, and the eerie chorus of growls from the hellhound.

  Concrete walls ringed the basement; Colin barred the steel door. It wouldn’t hold the nosferatu or demon back for long, but it would allow time to set up a defense.

  The basement was almost empty; only a few boxes and portrait-sized crates lay stacked on the cement floor. “There are more weapons in that trunk.” Colin pointed to the far wall.

  “We should have brought the hound down with us,” Selah said.

  “He chose not to come,” Hugh said, and strode to the furnace. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet. “Lilith will have taught him to take out as many as possible before they can reach us. Is this gas?” If it was, it could be a useful weapon—

  “Coal,” the vampire said. At Hugh’s look, he shrugged. “I don’t need heat.”

  “And you’re too cheap for updates,” Hugh muttered, but he couldn’t stop his grin. He met Colin’s eyes as the door bent inward with an earsplitting screech. Another nosferatu screamed, and was cut short by a wet, tearing crunch. Sir Pup’s triumphant howl reverberated through the house.

  Colin returned his grin, his swords ready at his sides. “I adore that dog.”

  Hugh did, too.

  But even a three-headed hellhound couldn’t be everywhere, and it did not surprise him when the pounding at the door stopped, replaced by a pounding on the ceiling at the opposite side of the house.

  “They’re coming through the floor upstairs,” Selah said, and all three moved back, toward the trunk Colin had indicated earlier. Should we ’port? she signed.

  Hugh shook his head, tucked one of his swords under his arm to sign, Not until we must; this may be our only opportunity to find out more information. Remember, I’m safe from the demon, and we have the advantage of your Gift. They think we are trapped.

  “What are you two doing?” Colin stared at Hugh’s hand, his brows drawn together. “What are you saying?”

  Hugh gripped the hilt of his sword again. “I said”—a taloned fist punched through the ceiling, raining down wood and insulation—“let them come.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The bridge swayed as another gust of wind ripped through the bracings, howling across the diagonal ribwork of steel. Lilith clung to the girders with her feet, letting her body swing, her hair whip around her. Below, waves slapped against the center mooring, the froth and caps white against the nighttime water.

  This was beauty, man-made and natural. The symmetry of the bridge, the glittering San Francisco skyline, the dark rise of Angel Island in the distance. Beauty that drew millions—but it was only a thousand or so who had helped create the Gate beneath. Thirty years before, the Gate hadn’t been there. But she’d seen it happen before: a site of despair and death, combined with the anger and frustration of a city, and slowly the fabric of the location changed, began to resonate differently. The temple where she’d met Hugh all those years ago had been such a Gate, though rarely used, and the energy reeking of sacrifice rather than suicide.

  But violent death, no matter its form, left its mark. Here, mid-span, the fall was over seventy yards from bridge to water. A quick death. And there had been over a thousand quick deaths in the past century. Though none of them had been provoked by demons, it still served them well.

  She sighed, and the wind stole it away. A mental probe verified the Gate’s location directly beneath her; she could sense it as easily as her cache, feel its shape and size—but still, she did not fall. There was no reason to wait, no reason to wonder if it was death or something else that had shaped Caelum’s Gates. No reason to remember the many times she’d followed Hugh to one, watched him disappear through it—yet had been unable to sense or use it herself.

  The memory did not bring her as much pain as it had once; and there was no reason
to wrap her arms around herself, relive his touch, and recall how everything had faded against the pleasure of it.

  But she was still upside down, clinging to the steel and feeling the vibration of wind and traffic through her, when she heard the distinctive clank of boots against metal, the squeal of brakes and shouts for help. She closed her eyes. If he waited long enough, there were people who were trained for this, who might be able to talk him down—

  Someone screamed, and Lilith swung over, hard, stretching her wings and bracing against the impact. He slammed into her, and she fell with him, rolling over and over until her wings caught air and she lifted them up, up. Cerberus’s balls, she was going to be seen. Around, the other side of the bridge, and she threw him onto the pavement between two stalled vehicles, barely remembering to take her human form before she straddled him, slapped him across the face.

  He stared up at her, his eyes wide and stunned. Sixteen years old, maybe. She slapped him again, leaned in close to growl, “You stupid little shit! Are you dying, wasting away? Did you kill your mother or rape your baby sister? Have you torn your girlfriend’s head off and smashed her body to pieces? Is it that fucking bad?”

  “No,” he choked, and began to cry. Horns blared, drivers pissed off that traffic had stopped for something as routine as a jumper. Small wonder a portal to Hell had opened beneath them.

  “Come here again when you do, and I’ll push you myself. There are things like me waiting for you down there, waiting to eat your flesh and suck the marrow from your bones.” Her eyes were illuminating his face, glinting red off his tears. Her voice softened. “And get some help, for fuck’s sake.”

  Sirens from the north; she stood and looked at the crowd that had circled them. A man crossed himself and backed away, and it was then she realized that though she’d taken her human form, she hadn’t vanished her wings.

  “A miracle,” another woman breathed.

  The boy sobbed on the road, his cheeks bright from the abuse she’d given him. Her eyes were glowing crimson and her wings were visible for everyone to see. Suddenly tired, Lilith shook her head. The man retreating in fear was closer to the truth. There was nothing good in this, in what she’d just done.

  Was not a higher power that had kept her there, delaying until she saved the boy. It had been Hugh. She’d been thinking of him, which was exactly the opposite of what she should have been doing, if she wanted to save herself.

  She backed up, leapt over the rail; there were no screams, only the pounding of feet as they rushed to the side, as if to see what she did.

  She hit the icy water, and vanished through the Gate.

  The huge, handsome man who came through the ceiling smiled, but the two nosferatu behind him did not. Hugh preferred the honesty of the nosferatu.

  From upstairs came another crash and howl; one of the nosferatu flinched. But the demon only shook his head, as if the hellhound was a mild annoyance. “Dr. Castleford, I presume?”

  Colin choked on a laugh. He knelt beside and just in front of Hugh, the rifle raised to his shoulder. Selah held her swords ready on his other side.

  “Beelzebub.” Hugh nodded his acknowledgment, though he was just as tempted to mock the demon. They relied on clichés whenever in their human form; Lilith had not, except to twist them, but then she didn’t need to simulate human expression.

  He’d known that, but like many other times, had ignored the evidence in front of him.

  Beelzebub’s face changed, and Hugh quickly pushed all thoughts of Lilith away. Too late.

  “Ah, sweet, delicious halfling,” Beelzebub said. “She has betrayed you. I was most pleased when she told us your location. It’s too bad she has to pay homage to our liege, or she would have personally enjoyed your surrender and deaths.”

  Behind the demon, the nosferatu shifted impatiently. They did not want talk; they wanted to fight, to kill.

  Hugh smiled. “You do not lie well.”

  As intended, the insult sparked the demon’s temper. His eyes began to glow. “Do you think, human, that because she fucked your brains out that she loves you for it?”

  Colin began shaking with laughter. Selah shot him a quelling glance.

  “Do you know why she helps us? Because she is a worm, full of fear. Because I once cut her to pieces as Punishment, and she will do anything to avoid that pain again. She’ll do what we ask, including helping us procure your loved ones for the ritual. She has already given us two more.”

  Truth and lies; difficult to separate them, when his blood pounded at the thought of Beelzebub torturing her—that had been truth. Who had been taken? Could he find them, stop it? “I think you had to Punish her because you cannot control her,” Hugh said, his voice carefully contained. Shift the focus from Lilith, from any students who might be in danger. “Just as you barely control the nosferatu with you.”

  He did not need psychic sensitivity to feel the way the nosferatu bristled, nor the demon’s sudden wariness.

  “Not subservient,” the one on the left said, his voice guttural.

  “Ah,” Colin nodded. “That is why you wait for his signal to attack us. Because you are not subservient.”

  Nothing worse for a nosferatu than to be mocked by a vampire, yet it did not move. Colin slanted a glance back at Hugh, the understanding between them clear. Beelzebub did control the nosferatu, either through a bargain or some other agreement . . . and the nosferatu hated it, but would agree to subject themselves to the demon to gain the power offered. What was worth that trade? The ability to transform into human shape? Daylight?

  It did not seem enough—not when two nosferatu could stand outside a burning club and pass as human. And darkness was not so terrible when human advancement could make it bright as day.

  Beelzebub spread his hands. “We three have equal opportunity; one of you for each of us. And each of us likes to play with our things.”

  “And those still upstairs?” There couldn’t be many left.

  “They will have to lick the remains,” the demon said, smiling again. “And then perhaps we will travel to your house, and they will feast on the girl there.”

  Savi. Hugh tensed, but he kept his voice even. “Do I have anything to persuade you otherwise?” This must have been what the demon had been waiting for—Hugh had something he wanted. It was the only reason to threaten Savi; the demon would probably try to bargain for her life.

  “Submit to the ritual.” The demon smiled, and he indicated the two nosferatu with a sweep of his hands. “I have friends who desperately want to tear the girl apart, but they will settle for you.”

  A lie. No doubt they would enjoy killing Savi, but they needed Hugh. It would not be settling.

  “Why?”

  “Is always better when the sacrifice is willingly made. The power of free will,” Beelzebub said.

  That was truth. Selah gave him a warning glance, and he understood; they were running out of time, and the nosferatu out of patience.

  Hugh shook his head. “No.”

  His denial snapped whatever had held the nosferatu back; Colin began firing. Selah held out her hand, ready to teleport them to safety. Hugh’s fingers brushed hers, and then he was knocked back, slammed against the concrete wall. Not the demon, who couldn’t have killed him—the nosferatu stared down at him with burning eyes. Just enough time for a quick slash; the nosferatu howled in surprise as his belly opened—he’d not expected a human to have Hugh’s speed. The creature’s hand shot out, connected. Dark spots swam before Hugh’s eyes and he felt himself fall, the swords slipping from his grip.

  Dimly, he heard the rifle fire cease, and the second nosferatu’s angry cry as Colin went to work with his blades.

  The nosferatu’s teeth sank into his neck; unlike a vampire’s bite, no pleasure in this, but a dark tearing through his mind. He heard the demon yell for the nosferatu not to kill him, wondered if the creature was going to listen.

  His lower back ached, throbbed where he’d landed on Lilith’s gun
.

  God, but he loved her.

  The nosferatu eased back, grinning, his lips rimmed with Hugh’s blood. “And we will have her, too.”

  Arrogant and proud creature—bragging in the midst of a fight, even when victory seemed assured, was a terrible habit. It did not give Hugh a lot of time, but enough to slip out the gun and pull the trigger.

  The safety was on. Hugh fumbled with the unfamiliar weapon. Hard to say who was more surprised, Hugh thought, as the nosferatu’s eyes widened before he trapped Hugh’s hand to the floor, and began laughing.

  Sir Pup cut his laughter short. The hellhound took the nosferatu’s head in one mouth, and clamped down on each arm with the others. The nosferatu’s body jerked. A sickening crunch, and Hugh rolled out of the way of the gush of fluid, swayed as he climbed to his feet. “Selah,” he said, the sound barely escaping his damaged throat, and he had to lean against the hellhound for support.

  Colin was retreating from the nosferatu, slowly wearing against the creature’s superior strength. Selah glanced over at the vampire, ducked a slice from Beelzebub’s sword, and dived for Hugh, her wings outstretched as if to block him from the demon’s sight.

  He needed to see that Savi was still safe. Selah grabbed his arm, and he rasped, “Savi,” opening his mind to give her an anchor, though his blood would have been enough.

  The world spun around him, and they crashed onto a table; it collapsed under their combined weight, sending metal and plastic skittering across the floor. Pain seared through his side, but he forced himself to remain conscious, look around.

  From her small kitchen, Savi stared at him, a shattered teacup at her feet. Her mouth was drawn tight with fear and disbelief, and the remnants of grief.

  Someone was sitting at breakfast bar, but he couldn’t focus. Auburn hair. He knew—

  “Hugh,” Selah said urgently, “I need to get you to a Healer.”

  He shook his head, the movement an agony. “Colin first.”

  She nodded tightly, flicked a glance at Savi and the woman, and disappeared.

  “Hugh? How the fu—ohmygod.” Savi fell to her knees next to him, yanked up his sweater and pressed it to the wound at his throat. “What the hell is going on? What was that?” She glanced over her shoulder, and began whispering, frantic. “The cops are searching your place. They have a warrant—Javier . . . and Sue—they’re both dead.”