She laughed, and her mouth found his. She kissed him, again and again, her hands searching—he would always be there for her to find. Alejandro held her to him. And thought that never before had there lived a man as blessed.
Or as well kissed.
EPILOGUE
Jake was the one who found Michael, but it was Khavi who took them to the frozen field.
Lucifer’s throne rose in the center of the field, an enormous black tower. With her knife and spear ready, Irena stood in a blanket of absolute silence, where the screams sliced deeper than in Chaos—she could hear nothing but the screams in her head. The cold was so fierce it burned. The faces of the damned formed the uneven ground beneath her feet. She only looked for one.
Olek touched her shoulder and signed that they had found him.
Irena followed him, her gut in a twisted knot. How had Jake found one face among so many? In the week that had passed since Michael’s death, Jake must have spent every spare moment under the shadow of Lucifer’s throne, in the silence and the screams, searching.
Reckless, stupid. And she would thank him when they reached home again.
She came closer, and realized one voice rose above the others. A familiar voice—a harmonious one. The pain and terror it carried almost brought Irena to her knees.
Alejandro sank down beside him. Michael stared up, his eyes frozen open—fixed and alive, seeing—his mouth stretched in his scream of agony and horror.
Irena felt the soft draw of Olek’s Gift. He placed his hands on Michael’s face, warmed him.
Khavi knelt beside him, her tears falling from her cheeks as drops of ice. Michael, she signed. We have not much time. You must listen.
Her heart aching, pounding, Irena scanned the horizon. Darkness moved at the edges.
You are linked to her, Michael. She screams, Khavi signed quickly. She screams and screams. Caelum cannot hear her voice—it can only hear yours. Soon she will scream the realm apart. You have to hold them in, or she will die. Caelum will die.
Raw pain filled his amber eyes. Slowly, slowly, his frozen mouth closed.
His scream was silenced. Others rushed in to fill it.
A shadow spread across the top of the throne. Irena adjusted her grip on her spear.
Khavi looked up. Lucifer. We will not fight him. Not today.
Irena nodded. She knelt, put her hand against Michael’s face. Cold, but warmed by Alejandro’s Gift, the ice did not burn. We will return, she swore, and saw Alejandro do the same.
Khavi bent over him again. We will save you, she signed, and smiled. I have seen it.
Irena caught a painful breath. Michael’s amber eyes softened and laughter came into them. And here, in the midst of Hell, they looked utterly human.
She held on to that as they left.
Almost three months later . . .
Alejandro looked up from his desk as Irena strode into his office. She closed the doors behind her, locked them. She turned and replaced her gray tailored suit with longstockings and her brief shirt.
And because he preferred to be in his own form with her, he changed, too.
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that Lynne believes I’m a federal agent.”
“No, she does not,” he agreed. The receptionist had never believed it—perhaps because Irena always left with her hair more mussed than when she’d arrived. “Her latest suspicion is that you are a whore who comes in to relieve my loneliness.”
That amused her. “Truly?”
“Yes.” He regarded her closely. “Are you here so that I can talk you out of killing Lilith again?”
She grinned. “No. Taylor woke up.”
Relief slid through him. Finally. Though her screams had stopped after their visit to Michael—the first visit of many—she’d remained in a catatonic state. He knew Irena had feared Taylor would not come out of it. And Preston’s face had taken on too many new lines; his new position at SI could not distract him from his worry.
As it should be, Alejandro thought.
“How is she?”
Her grin dimmed. “Confused. Scared.” She came around his desk in front of him, picked up the bound papers he’d been reading through to make room, and sat back on the edge. “I cannot believe we are all not running and screaming.”
He smiled and touched her hands. They were strong. The others’ acceptance of her leadership had come easily. Not without bumps, but Irena had worked to smooth them all. “Michael was not a fool.”
She nodded and looked down at the papers she held. “What are you working on?”
“A health care bill. Do you want me to read it to you?”
Her lips twitched. “I am a very busy woman now, so only a summary. How will you vote?”
“I haven’t decided. It has good points. It also panders to lobbyists and partisan rhetoric rather than looking at what is right for the people it is supposed to help. So I must decide whether it is a step in the right direction despite the flaws, and work to make it better—or to toss it out and start over again.”
He’d gone on so long just to amuse her, but now he froze as her expression changed from amusement to admiration. And, he thought with an ache in his throat, pride.
She placed her hand over his heart. “You stay loyal to this.”
“Yes.” He swallowed past the constriction in his throat, and added, “It will likely mean a short political career.”
Her smile reappeared. “How long, do you think? This does not fit you as well as it should.”
No, not perfectly. He enjoyed the challenge—but this was not where he would finish. “Only as long as we must keep Special Investigations going—and until we have enough resources to create something similar . . . and autonomous. No demons. No government. No outside interests. Only our purpose. Once we have that, it’s where I will be.”
“And for now, you work both sides of the fence.” She looked at him again, not with censure, but with admiration. “I would not be capable—so I am glad it is you who does this part of our work.”
He tried to imagine her in meetings, sorting through details, arguing minute points of conflict. Every scenario he came up with ended with shattered furniture or blood—and in her curses, no animal would be left unfucked.
“I am glad as well,” he said.
She laughed and replaced the papers on his desk. “You are speaking in Washington on behalf of SI tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes. Are you certain you will not accompany me? Michael was at the first meeting.”
“I will practice diplomacy for a few more decades first.” The laughter faded from her eyes, and they darkened. “But remind the committee that we are all that stands between them and Hell.”
“They might perceive that as a threat.”
“So be it.”
She rose from the desk. His hands slid up her thighs as she straddled him in his chair, then up the length of her bare back. Her arms wrapped his shoulders.
She did not yet kiss him. “I have from Lilith to you a report of a nosferatu in Tibet.”
He felt her anticipation. “You’ll go with me on this hunt?” “Yes. And then an hour in the forge?”
“Two,” he countered.
“Two,” she agreed easily. With serious eyes, she regarded him. “I think we will do this, Olek. We will rebuild the Guardian corps. We will beat back the demons and the nephilim and Anaria—and every other threat that appears. We will bring Michael back.”
“We will,” he said.
“And us. We will work, too.” Her throat moved, as if she was suddenly overcome with emotion. “It has been a good fight, hasn’t it?”
The best fight he could imagine. Yet that was too obvious an answer.
“You say that as if you’ve already won,” he said instead.
He watched the familiar, challenging fire light in her eyes. Her fingers tightened in his hair. “Haven’t I?”
“No.” Alejandro brought his lips to hers, and said against them, “We are not near
to finished.”
Be sure to watch out for
Meljean Brook’s next Guardian novel
coming in the summer of 2010
from Berkley Sensation.
Table of Contents
Praise
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
EPILOGUE
Demon Forged Page 44
