Demon Angel

by Meljean Brook

  Two more things to take care of—the most difficult first. No sense drawing it out.

  He caught her hand before she could open the office door. He stared down at her, and he saw too much. You don’t have to make it irreparable.

  She sighed. I like them both—respect them. And I like them the more for objecting to your death. But trying to explain to them that I’m doing this because I love you wouldn’t have worked as well, nor as quickly.

  He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. I know, he signed finally. But you should have let me do it. If what you’ve planned doesn’t work, I don’t want you to be completely alone . . . after. I don’t want you to drive everyone away.

  “After” wouldn’t matter if this didn’t work. “What time did Michael stipulate they meet us?”

  The change of subject didn’t faze him. “Midnight.” Leaning in, he kissed her upper lip, then her lower. “We’ll need to leave in four hours.”

  The expression in his eyes was a reflection of hers: not enough time.

  “We’ll split this, get it done faster,” she said, her throat tight. “Sir Pup, the item.” A small plastic bag filled her palm. “I have to talk to Michael. Make certain Colin goes to Caelum, and give this to Selah. Then we go to the bedroom and don’t come out again until we have to leave.”

  He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. His voice was low, rough. “I’m going to leave my mark, Lily.”

  Heat tore through her; her knees turned to water. She hurried through her silent explanation with hands that only wanted to touch him, to leave her own mark—then forced herself to wait.

  Michael first.

  Hugh found Selah and Colin in the kitchen. “Are you ready to go?”

  Colin looked up, his anger still evident. “I can help you. My sword—”

  “You can help us better in Caelum. And their supplies will have been used by now; they need to eat.” Hugh gestured to the grocery sack intended for Savi and Auntie. No food in Caelum—Guardians didn’t need it.

  “So do I,” Colin said, a silken threat.

  “She’s my sister,” Hugh reminded him, then sighed. He understood the vampire’s frustration—it echoed his own. Whatever Lilith planned had to be done in secrecy; it ate at him that he couldn’t do more to help her. Colin likely felt as useless. “I need you to protect them afterward: Savi, Auntie—and Lilith. She’ll be alone, just as your sister was before we came to help her.”

  A muscle in the vampire’s cheek flexed. “Don’t manipulate me. You have humans assisting you, yet I cannot? Bloody ridiculous.”

  Another way, then. Impossible to say aloud the true reason—Colin was the anchor to Chaos. He probably wouldn’t have accepted that, anyway; he was more concerned with helping them than worried about possible danger to himself. Hugh’s voice hardened. “You’re a liability to us. I’m sworn to protect you, Lilith loves you. Should you become endangered, you’ll divide our attention and leave us vulnerable.”

  The vampire fell silent, his jaw set. Furious, but reluctantly accepting the truth.

  Selah looked away from them, her gaze dropping to the granite counter. Hugh tossed the small plastic bag into her line of sight.

  Her head jerked up. “What the hell—”

  Hugh slashed through the air with his hand, a demand for silence. After the boys have been taken, after the nosferatu have drunk the blood, use this as an anchor and return with whoever you find there, as quickly as possible. Don’t open it before then; the scent might give her away.

  With her thumb and forefinger, Selah delicately lifted the bag by the corner. Whose are they?

  I don’t know, Hugh signed. Lilith couldn’t tell him, and though he had his suspicions, he pushed them far back into his mind and refused to consider them further.

  Colin stared at the bag, at the three severed fingers inside. Black nails, red skin—a demon’s talons. “Did Lilith do that?”

  Hugh nodded. Selah vanished the bag into her cache and shuddered.

  A wry smiled pulled at the vampire’s mouth. “Perhaps I should still be afraid of her, even human.”

  Laughing, Hugh said, “Then don’t let her know you refused to go to Caelum. She’ll send you in pieces, if she must.”

  He sobered suddenly, and slid his hands into his pockets. Caelum. One of the few things she’d dreamed of, forever denied her. Lilith should have been there, instead of risking all for a bargain she’d had little choice in making.

  He met the vampire’s gaze. “See it well, Colin. And bring it back to her.”

  “You can’t have the sword.” Michael didn’t glance up from the Scrolls spread out on the floor.

  Lilith pursed her lips. “That’s not why I came in here.” The Doyen slanted her a glance, and she amended, “Not completely.” You have his blood?

  He sat back on his heels, studied her carefully. “Yes.”

  I need you to keep him alive with it.

  You’re human. If you are the one to cut him, I can’t heal him.

  She waved that off. That is not what I ask. After the cups have been filled, I want you to keep him alive by returning his blood to him. I just need extra time.

  His eyes narrowed as he considered it, then he shook his head. It cannot be done.

  It can be done. You are a Healer. Others are limited by their focus, their inability to take their perception down to that level. There is space within for you to place the blood.

  Again he considered it; he wanted to save Hugh almost as badly as she did, despite the dangers to himself. Possession, will, and the integrity of the object—all necessary for calling items from a cache, or vanishing them. Demons, nosferatu, and most Guardians couldn’t psychically move beyond the integrity of the whole body, or weapon; Healers could. But he would have to transfer the cells singly: tiny, precise transfusions into Hugh’s continually flowing bloodstream.

  His mouth firmed. It would take the focus of a transformation. I couldn’t protect you, nor defend myself.

  That was what she needed. Not just to keep Hugh alive, but to have Michael completely distracted by the process of it.

  She took a deep breath. Then you could give me the sword, so that I may protect us. I have the speed and strength necessary to respond to an attack, and I would not likely be challenged if I carried it.

  He stared down at the Scrolls for a moment, then looked up. I will attempt the transfusion, but will not give you the sword.

  Her stomach tightened into a hard knot, but she nodded. Sinking down on her heels, she touched one of the Scrolls in front of her. “This is not the Latin.”

  “No.” He slid a piece of notebook paper across the floor. You must carve these into his skin.

  She traced the symbols with her finger, felt the sickness rising in her throat. “Follow the blood,” she said in the Old Language. His eyebrows winged upward in surprise, and she shrugged. They covered my skin for two millennia; when certain symbols disappeared, so did specific powers. And demons do not deign to speak in human languages when they are Below. I cannot read as fluently as I can speak, but I’m not as ignorant as Lucifer would like me to be.

  He did not try to take it from you?

  I hid it well. And he never expects humans to have more than limited understanding. She glanced up, found him watching her. Quickly, she changed the subject. “Why aren’t there many Guardians left?”

  “An Ascension,” he said quietly, still studying her.

  Her brow furrowed. “Thousands at once? Like a cult?” Her mouth fell open when he nodded. How could you lose control of them? Why didn’t you stop the Ascension?

  His laugh startled her. “I don’t control them, nor rule over them; I am not Lucifer.”

  That was undeniable. She shook her head, trying to understand the structure of power in Caelum, and finally said, “I don’t think I could have been a Guardian.”

  She stood to the sound of his laughter and went in search of Hugh. She’d failed partially, but it was only in saving herself.
Hugh might live now, and that would be worth the price she had to pay.

  And the end, as always, would come too quickly.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Just like Michael to throw a vampire to the floor in the middle of a giant room and disappear. Colin rose to his knees, then thought better of standing before making certain—

  There, the girl-woman. Savitri. She stared at him with those wide brown eyes, her fingers clenched on the back of a sofa. Her body was hidden from view, as if she were kneeling on the cushion—probably she had been taking a nap when she’d heard Michael dump him.

  He must be in the Doyen’s apartment; his brother-in-law had described it to him once: a single, enormous room—empty but for an armory, and a sitting area filled with mismatched furniture.

  He grinned, flashing his fangs. “Are there any mirrors in here?”

  She slowly shook her head. “You’re not blind.” No fear on her face, though she couldn’t mistake what he was now.

  He climbed to his feet, straightened his clothes. “I’m not gay, either.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” she said. Her eyes widened farther as he stalked toward her. “Because I think I’m half in love with Michael and I could use a friend to talk to about it.”

  He bit back his laugh. “You should run,” he said. Still no fear. What was wrong with her?

  “And leave Nani defenseless?”

  He glanced past her, to the woman lying on the sofa adjacent to hers. A light snore came from the older woman’s nose.

  Savitri stared up at him. Licked her upper lip. “How strong are you?”

  Did she appreciate his form? This was much better. If not fear, then admiration. He eyed the slender column of her throat.

  “Are you strong enough to open the doors?”

  Startled, he looked as she pointed toward the massive carved doors at the other end of the room.

  “I have free will, but will alone can’t force those doors open. I’ve spent four days trying.”

  He raised his brows, turned back at her. “Will you allow me a sip?”

  “Yes. But I also haven’t showered in four days, so it might be ripe.”

  Like a peach simmered in brandy and cinnamon. But he sighed and offered his arm. “Come along.”

  Her smile was blinding, and she darted around the sofa, tucked her hand into his elbow. “How is Hugh?” Something in his face must have told her; her smile faded, her chest rose and fell in a silent, sad breath. “Did Lilith return?”

  “Yes.” And when Colin had left, they’d been in the bedroom. Impossible not to hear their laughter, their soft declarations. Impossible not to recognize it as their farewells to each other.

  His throat tightened, and they walked silently to the doors. They were heavy; he pulled, and dazzling sunshine poured through. Savitri stepped back, and he shook his head. “I won’t burst into flames.” If he didn’t stay out too long.

  She went through ahead of him, stopped suddenly. “Oh, my God. He gave this up to save me?”

  Dumbstruck, he came to a halt beside her. Tried to take it all in at once: the pure white marble, the towering spires, the symmetry and beauty. “Don’t be absurd,” he finally managed. “He did it to save himself. And Lilith.” And Colin was supposed to bring this back to her? How could he possibly—

  “Where is everyone?” Savitri was turning in a circle, frowning.

  He shook his head, and didn’t know if he answered her or himself. “I don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 38

  He was embedded in her skin. His scent, his touch, his voice.

  Even now, walking across the concrete floor of the warehouse Michael had chosen, she did not smell the stale air around them, did not feel the frigid temperature inside the building, did not hear the hollow echo of their footsteps. Dangerous, to be so lost in him, but she wanted to savor it for as long as she could.

  It was not long.

  A fluttering of wings surrounded them, but the figures dropping from the rafters were not what she’d expected. Guardians—about forty of them. A few landed awkwardly, and she glanced at Hugh to confirm her suspicion. His lips were thinned with anger.

  She turned to Michael. You brought fledglings? She could understand bringing those in the latter half of their century of training. But a few here had no more than a year’s skill. If there was a battle, they would be slaughtered.

  His brows rose. If I lose Caelum, should I leave them there to defend themselves against the nosferatu?

  Hugh’s tension eased, and Lilith drew in a quick breath. A lie was hidden in that question. If Caelum was lost, he would have time to transport them to safety. This was Michael’s display, but one of uncertainty and weakness.

  Definitely nothing like Lucifer. Even in frail human form, Lucifer never let it be forgotten how powerful he was.

  Preston looked around uneasily. “Where are they?”

  “Lucifer will want to make an entrance,” Lilith said. Not just for them, but for the nosferatu.

  Hugh met her gaze, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “Not the best place for it.”

  Lilith laughed softly in agreement. No, Lucifer would not appreciate the stark, empty warehouse, with its bare ugly floors and industrial metal siding.

  Taylor glanced from Hugh to Lilith in disbelief. Hugh’s smile widened.

  His incredible mouth; she wanted to taste him, but she slid her fingers over his instead, locking his palm against hers. It was cool and dry; his calm fed hers. Sir Pup nudged her back and leaned one of his heavy heads over her shoulder. She reached up and scratched his chin with her other hand.

  “They come,” Michael said.

  So easy to fall into position: the Doyen in front, Hugh by her side, Sir Pup just behind her. Taylor and Preston flanked the hellhound, and the Guardians formed a semicircle behind the small human group, their weapons drawn. As per the wager, they would not engage, only protect.

  Hugh removed his shirt and threw it to Sir Pup. Lilith raised her brows, and he said, “Blood stains are difficult to remove, and I hate laundry.”

  Her lips twitched, but she understood this, too; it was an unmistakable signal of his intention to submit. And despite his lean, hard strength, the nosferatu and Lucifer would look upon him as frail, defenseless. As she had once.

  “And we’ve ruined so many clothes this week. Very practical.” She nodded sagely.

  She heard Preston’s snort of laughter behind them, but her own smile faded.

  “You will be cold.” Her voice was thick.

  He touched her face. “I’ll trust you to be kind.”

  She was holding his gaze with hers when they came, and she did not see Lucifer’s display. She didn’t miss it. It could never equal the intensity of emotion in Hugh’s eyes, the beauty of the smile curving his lips.

  This was strength, too—and it steadied her.

  Perfectly composed, her psychic blocks as tempered steel, she faced the nosferatu. Ten yards away, they mirrored the Guardians’ formation and were almost equal in number. In his demonic form, Lucifer stood with Moloch and two others who’d been transformed by the ritual. Behind them, the four boys stood wide-eyed with fear, silent.

  Lucifer had not brought his demons, but that did not surprise her. His vanity would demand that he appear alone, declaring a lack of fear and no need for assistance—or to bring many, and show his power by demonstrating his reign over the demons. But no one would question his reign, so it was more important to him that no one questioned his fear.

  And it would have been exactly as she’d wanted . . . had she the sword.

  His dreadful crimson gaze settled on Hugh, then moved to Lilith. “You should know how to use this, daughter.”

  A machine appeared in front of Michael: an inclined bench lined with shackles and tubes, a cistern at the top.

  She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “Just the bench. He’ll submit without restraints, and Michael will provide the method of collection. The blood is in t
he Guardian’s possession until he releases it.” This had already been stipulated, but apparently Lucifer had hoped to unsettle her with the device.

  Lucifer stared at her for a moment; finally, all but the bench vanished.

  Hugh immediately strode forward, and though her heart constricted, though she wanted to call him back, she walked with him. She knew he moved so quickly for her; no waiting, no drawing it out. She helped him settle onto the metal panel; half-standing, half-leaning, his weight supported by the jutting footrest. Her palms smoothed over his skin; he needed no assistance in this, but she needed to touch him.

  Michael called in the table and cups. A long table, so that each nosferatu could lift and drink at the same time—but also serving as a barrier between the two sides. Not an effective barrier, should the nosferatu attack, but its own symbol: do not cross.

  Lucifer approached the table and dropped a clay tablet onto its surface. “Cut these into him. Exactly like this.”

  Lilith glanced down at the multitude of glyphs and drew her dagger. “Just these.” She turned the tablet over, carved out a small series: Let the blood serve as the anchor, the Gate: follow the blood. Impossible to tell if he was surprised. “Any more are for his pain, and your enjoyment; he will not be your entertainment.”

  “Michael gives too much away.” A mocking smile twisted his lips. “Very well. It does not matter how many there are, so long as he bleeds. Then your pain shall be my entertainment.”

  She shrugged, turned back to Hugh. He regarded her steadily, his expression unreadable—not to hide his emotions from her, but to keep others out. How long could he hold his blocks? It had to be at least until the nosferatu drank; not only did he have to hide her lies from them, but his plan.

  “Stay with me,” she said quietly and lifted the knife. It trembled, and he reached out, covered her hand with his, and drew the point to his chest.

  Her face swam in and out of focus. He couldn’t tell if he heard her now, or if it was an echo from before she’d begun. Stay with me.

  It had not hurt much—she had been quick, the dagger had been sharp. But now the waiting, as she held the wide-mouthed glass ewer beneath his chest, watched it fill. A hungry chick, beak open for worms. He’d had to tip forward for it to drain better, and he was not certain how much she held him up, and what was done of his own power.