Demon Bound (29 page)

But it also meant he had four decades of basically doing nothing. Getting smarter, but staying in one place. The past two years, though, had been a boot in his ass. He still had a stinging footprint from his failure up in Seattle.

Yeah, he had a nice little collection of fuckups. But he was re-classifying one thing that he'd always thought belonged there.

He had a daughter. Once, he'd had intentions that surrounded her, like getting out of Vietnam alive and going back to marry Barbara, staying in Kansas, being a good dad and husband, and making sure that his little girl wouldn't have to fight so hard to escape the same thing he had. Those intentions had become failures when he died, and later had become guilt when he avoided facing them. Now he had a different intention, one that didn't weigh so heavily.

He had wings, and they'd finally grown out to his ass.

Fucking pathetic, that.

He had a constant desire to kiss Alice awake. But even if it wasn't normal for Guardians, sleep was usually good. So he let her go on.

He had a toothpick in his mouth that he'd chewed down to pulp, so he vanished it into his hammerspace—where he had six pistols, two automatic rifles, eight swords, one dagger, three cross-bows, twelve pounds of plastic explosives, and the four rocket launchers that Lilith wouldn't know he'd requisitioned until he turned in his next expense report.

He had an ass-chewing in his future. Maybe a literal one, if Sir Pup did it. But he had no regrets—he'd known he would end up in Hell, sooner or later.

He had a couple of hellhound puppies on his trail about a mile behind him, and he had an eye out for the mommy.

He had a hell of a lot of questions for Michael.

He had a Gift that he couldn't allow to go haywire anymore. And he had no idea how to control it.

He had a woman sleeping against him who was in danger of being trapped in a frozen, screaming wasteland, and he had a deep ache that settled in his chest whenever he thought of it. And whether she knew it or not, he had the burden of her bargain on his shoulders now, too. He had the dread and terror that came with it.

And he had every intention of freeing her, no matter what he had to do to accomplish it.

He had hope she'd change her mind about her bargain meaning that she couldn't let herself care about him or become involved with him—and that her talk of rubbing against him hadn't just been the sickness. Every hour, he had several hundred sexual scenarios run through his head, and only half involved her bloomers.

He had Alice in his arms, but he didn't
have
her—and she had over a hundred years' practice keeping anyone from getting too close.

And that, he thought, was the item that topped a list made in Hell.

CHAPTER 13

Alice didn't want to open her eyes. They were still in Hell; she could feel it on her skin, hot and arid, and against her mind, as if the dark psychic stain in the Pit permeated the entire realm. She could feel it in her parched lungs—though the stench wasn't as terrible. Either she'd become accustomed to it, or the odor had lessened as they'd traveled farther from Lucifer's territories.

But there was no point in hiding. She sensed the tension in Jake's arms, the subtle change in his gait. He'd realized that she'd woken.

Her hair fell away from her cheek as she lifted her head. What a mess she was. Jake stopped, but she didn't look at him—didn't want to see if
he
was looking—when he set her down.

The sand was hot beneath her bare feet. Her skin flushed, and she quickly called in her boots and stockings, her drawers and dress. Almost instantly, she replaced the armor with them, and turned her back while she fastened and arranged everything.

“I didn't peek,” Jake said in a low voice.

She believed him—and felt doubly wretched. When scales had covered her demonic body, she hadn't given a thought to being exposed. It shouldn't have been different, yet it was. And though she had much to thank Jake for since they'd come to this realm, she'd have resented him if he
had
looked.

Now she was grateful that resentment would not be an issue.

“Thank you.” Without glancing up, she began to braid her hair. Her fingers caught in the tangles. She tugged, pulled—then forced herself to stop and simply wind two sections back from her face and pin them.

“Of course, now that you're not unconscious, I'll probably try. I'm hoping for a nice gust of wind to blow your skirt up.”

“How unfortunate for you that there is not even a breeze,” she said, giving in to a smile. It faded when she caught sight of the two hellhound puppies in the distance. A scan of the horizon revealed nothing else but sand and rock—not even Lucifer's tower was visible.

They must have jumped much farther than she'd thought. “Where is the mother?” she asked.

“I dunno.” Jake pointed to a distant, tall pile of jagged stones. His footprints led away from them. “A while back, I passed that rock—I'm calling that south, by the way—and heard the puppies. They started following me, but I haven't seen any sign of her. I'm not sure if they care for their young anyway.” His gaze moved over her face. “How are you, goddess?”

Her shoulder was sore, but the weakness had gone. “Very well.” She studied him, aware of a difference that she couldn't pin down. He looked older, perhaps—but she didn't think his features had changed. He hadn't become rugged or developed any lines. “Are you well?”

“Yep. I have an earworm, but other than—”

“A
what
?”

Jake rolled his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. His expression told her that he was laughing, but trying to hold it back.

Her heartbeat slowed again. “You don't have a worm in your ear,” she guessed.

“Nope. A song stuck in my head.”

“Oh. Yes, that can be quite annoying.” His scrutiny of her features continued even through his amusement. Unsettled, she struck out in the direction he'd been heading before she'd woken. When he came abreast of her, she asked, “What song?”

“Just one about a guy who walks five hundred miles. Then five hundred more. I have it on my 1980s playlist.” He shook his head, looking pained. “There are days I wonder why I bother catching up on that decade.”

“I'll be certain never to borrow that list from you, then.” Five hundred miles? She frowned, and watched as he turned, began walking backward so they wouldn't have to keep glancing over their shoulders. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not quite sixty hours.”

Astonishment dropped her mouth open, and she slowly closed it. She had nothing to say in response. And she was well now—there was no reason for her chest to be squeezing with fear and uncertainty.

She tilted her head back. The sky was a burning red that bordered on night, like a bruised, rotting pomegranate that had been split open. No moon, no sun.

“I wish there were stars,” she said quietly.

“I wish there was a Gate to Caelum.”

She laughed, and lowered her gaze to his. “Jake, there is no immediate threat. Do you think that you could anchor to this spot and teleport—”

“No. If Mommy Hellhound shows up, and you run—then we don't find you again.”

“I could fly into the air.”

He pointed into the eastern sky. “I think those are bats.”

Alice saw the dark cloud, and clenched her teeth in frustration. “Damn Lucifer for not leaving well enough alone,” she muttered. If not for the danger these creatures posed, she had no doubt that Jake would attempt to seek help.

“So says the woman who feeds vampire blood to her spiders.”

With a narrowing of her eyes, Alice turned to stare at him, and found his hands held up in surrender and his mouth curved into a smile.

“Hey, I'm not complaining—by the time the first sentinel hit your web, I loved those spiders as much as you do. In any case,” he continued, “I think the ‘damning' part is pretty much a given. For Lucifer, that is.”

“Yes.” Hopefully not for her, though.

“And there weren't as many as I thought there'd be.”

She was becoming accustomed to his jumps during a conversation. “In the Pit?”

“Yeah. Considering how long there have been people—and how many people die a year—I thought there'd be more. A lot more.”

“Yes. Perhaps they were somewhere else,” she suggested, although that didn't seem right.

She had seen the edges of the Pit, the black cliffs that had risen all around it—but more than that, she had
felt
them. And she'd been disoriented, but thinking back, she couldn't recall seeing many more humans in the Pit than demons on the battlefield.

She related the same to Jake, and he nodded his agreement. “Did you see who was screaming outside the prison? Screaming
before
you freaked them all out with the spiders.” When she shook her head, he said, “They were demons, not humans.”

Alice considered that. If Belial was to be believed, he had just taken over Lucifer's territory. “Torturing the enemy for information?”

“Or for fun.”

She glanced down at her hands. Despite the heated air, she could still feel the burning cold against them. “And the frozen field?”

“I couldn't count them all,” Jake said. Then he added quickly, “But, Alice—most of them must be demons.”

She looked up at him, curious. And, she acknowledged, eager to think of anything
but
humans in that field. “How do you suppose?”

“Well, they promised to serve Lucifer after the First Battle. So all of Belial's demons reneged on that bargain when they rebelled against Lucifer's rule—and as soon as they die, they're in that field.”

The image of all those killed in the recent battle filled her mind. “What do they gain,” she wondered, “that they would risk it?”

“You don't think it's a return to Grace?” Jake gave a wry grin when she snorted her response. “You don't think Heaven will take them back?”

“Surely I couldn't speculate what those Above—”

“Yeah, you can. I've never met anyone who doesn't want those Above to think exactly the same way they do. So, what would you do?”

“Keep Belial roasting here forever—preferably on a spit.” When Jake's eyebrows lifted in mock surprise, she went on. “I think a human wearing wings offends him. I think that he blames Lucifer for their fall, and can't admit to his own complicity in the rebellion—even as he covets the throne Lucifer gained. And I think that although he might want to return to Heaven, it is because he sees that return as an affirmation of his superiority.”

“Is he better than Lucifer, though?”

“I don't know,” Alice said. “It is like asking who is the better man—Hitler or Vlad the Impaler?”

“I'm pretty sure that if we hop over to the Pit, we could find out.”

How awful was she for laughing as she imagined those two tortured there? But there were some things she could not feel sorry for. Jake was not, either, she saw. His laugh didn't contain even a hint of chagrin.

They spoke at the same time. “Did you know that Hugh—” She broke off, waited for him to finish. But his smile only broadened, so she said, “So Hugh told you about his encounter with Vlad, as well.”

“Yeah. Considering how I died, I thought for sure Vlad must have been a nosferatu. Maybe a vampire.”

But he'd just been a human who'd made a bargain with Lucifer. He likely wasn't in the Pit, but the frozen field.

Why couldn't she laugh at that?

Alice's amusement left her on a troubled sigh. She tore her gaze from Jake's and continued walking.

 

After several miles, she realized that Jake's attention wandered not just during conversations, but during silences. When she glanced at him, she found the unfocused expression on his features almost as often as she encountered his keen, watchful gaze.

And as the quiet between them was slowly annoying her, the tenth time it happened, she could not stop herself from asking where it was he went.

Then she had to ask again, when he didn't seem to hear her.

“Jake?” She lifted her hand, and the motion snapped him out of it. Exasperation shortened her temper. “What are you thinking about?”

His slow grin heightened her irritation. “Sex.”

Blast. She lifted her chin, stared ahead—but she had no one but herself to blame for asking. “You do it rather often. I suppose the scenarios are quite varied.”

“Yeah,” he said easily, as if he hadn't registered the pique in her voice. “In this one, I had you on the sand. I stripped you naked, got handfuls of your hair, and when you interrupted me I was in the process of fucking you silly. So neither of us got to come.”

Her mouth was open, her gaze locked on his. “Oh, dear,” she said weakly. “I'm so very sorry.”

Jake shrugged. “I had the same one about five hours ago. Since then it's been you on your chair in the Archives, after I went under your skirts and had my mouth between your legs until you begged to ride me. And there was one where you were sketching the frescoes in a temple, and you turned to me and said, ‘How sexy you are, Jake! Ravish me!' So I did. Then I had you in Onan's Bathtub—”

“Onan's Bathtub?” she sputtered, uncertain whether the prickly heat that had taken up residence beneath her skin was from embarrassment or arousal.

Had he intended to shock her? He had managed, but not for the reason he probably assumed. These were situations that
she
could be in—not generic fantasies with interchangeable women.