Demon Forged (34 page)

“That sounds like reason to stay.”

What was she, a tease? His brows lowered, but a buzzing from the dresser stopped him from whipping around and seeing if she’d follow through on that.

In two steps, he grabbed up his phone. The text message shoved his arousal into low gear, but left his anger running.

Fuck that.

He sent his reply and turned back to Rosalia. Her dark eyes regarded him steadily, her expression serious.

“Problems?”

He remembered her promise to protect him. Though she was a far cry from the weird, playful vampire she’d pretended to be six years ago, there wasn’t anything about her that suggested a warrior. Even with her business face on, she just looked sweet, soft, and sexy.

Irena, though . . .

He shook his head. He wasn’t going there. Irena and her band of merry Guardians might tear a nosferatu nest apart, and he knew damn well that she could take care of herself—but the moment Caym sensed anyone coming, he’d kill Eva and Petra. Guardians weren’t
that
good. They weren’t
that
fast. And Deacon wasn’t going to take that risk.

“No problem at all,” he said. He slicked his hand through his hair, trying not to feel impotent and naked . . . and failing. “Why the hell are you in here?”

This time her eyes didn’t brighten when she smiled. A wealth of vulnerability sat on the rich curve of her lips. Men harder than Deacon would have been softened by it.

“Because I know you,” she said quietly.

So, after losing everything, she was looking for someone even remotely familiar to hold onto. Christ. He couldn’t be that. No matter how much he wanted to.

His phone buzzed again. Irritated, he snapped it up.

The picture on the screen showed a knife with a demon’s taloned fingers wrapped around the handle. Its blade cut into Eva’s throat. Her eyes held terror . . . and a stark plea. The message was short.

Deacon deleted the message, looked over at Rosalia. “You don’t know me. I don’t want to know you, and I don’t give a shit about what you think you owe me. So get the fuck out of my face.”

Her mouth compressed, her eyes glinted, and for an instant he thought he was wrong about soft. Thought he might be wrong about sweet.

Then she smiled. “I won’t bother you again.”

The oppressive darkness of her Gift shoved against his psychic blocks. The shadows beneath the bed undulated like tentacles, slithering out over the wooden floor. Deacon stumbled back, but they didn’t come after him. Thick tendrils wrapped around Rosalia’s heels, coiled up her legs, over her chest, thinning and spreading. In less than a second, the shadows engulfed her in a transparent black cocoon.

They sucked her under the bed as if she were no more substantial than fog.

Good Christ. Deacon dropped to the floor, bending his elbows in a push-up, searching for a sign of her. Only shadows lurked beneath the iron bed frame. Only
normal
shadows.

He rocked back heavily onto his heels, feeling as if his chest had been lined with lead. He thought of Eva, the plea in her eyes. The image forced him to move. He strode to his desk and opened his laptop.

Rosalia had been wrong: She would bother him for a long time. But everything else he’d done—everything he was about to do—was going to bother him more.

A man had to know when to protect his woman . . . but that was difficult when Alejandro wanted to strangle Irena himself.

Strangle her, or fuck her boneless. Maybe for two seconds, while he was deep inside her, her skull would soften enough for him to get through to her thick brain.

But he couldn’t now. Not with Michael—himself again—standing at the back of the room. Not with the detectives sitting at the table. Not with Lilith perched on the arm of Castleford’s chair, her hand stroking the back of the hellhound lying beside them.

But, good Christ, Irena deserved at least a good shaking. She’d
taunted
Rael. She hadn’t put the camera in a bracelet or a pendant, but a sword. And even with the camera facing the demon, Alejandro knew that she’d regarded Rael with a disdainful sneer.

“Truth,” Castleford said quietly.

“He
believes
that is true,” Lilith corrected. “She might not have been.”

Castleford smiled. “That is true, too.”

Alejandro focused on Lilith, trying to read her. He knew Lilith had put Irena on this investigation to watch his back—and then Taylor’s, after hearing about Khavi’s prediction. Was she regretting that as she watched this recording? For Christ’s sake, she thought
him
reckless?

He couldn’t tell what Lilith thought now, but Irena was pleased with herself. She watched the video with a sharp smile, her eyes glittering.

Waiting for a lie.

Her voice on the recording caught his attention again.

Kill Michael’s sister.

The tension in the room suddenly thickened. Alejandro rose up on the balls of his feet, ready to put himself between Irena and Michael. His gaze swept to the back of the room.

The tension became a hot lead weight. Michael was frowning at Irena, his brows heavy over his eyes. Not obsidian anymore, but amber, almost human.

Alejandro looked over at Irena.

She steadily held Michael’s gaze. Alejandro couldn’t see any tension or fear in her. It was only in the rest of them.

Dear God, was she foolish in this, too? While they’d been waiting for Castleford and Lilith to arrive, Alejandro had told her about his encounter with Michael and the Doyen’s strange behavior. Irena had seemed to take his concern seriously then. Did she have no sense of self-preservation now?

“Why does that anger him?” Michael asked.

Lilith paused the video. “That’s what I want to know.”

Know what? Alejandro frowned, wondering what he’d missed. Realization swept over him.

He’d been so focused on Irena and Michael, he hadn’t questioned the demon’s response. But Rael
should
be trying to kill Anaria, too.

“I didn’t think to ask,” Irena admitted. “I was too pleased that I’d angered him.”

She didn’t look amused now, Alejandro saw.

Taylor sighed. “I could’ve asked, if I’d known. Why isn’t it supposed to anger him?”

“Rael is Belial’s lieutenant,” Michael told her. His frown was thoughtful, Alejandro realized. Not upset. “Rael and all of Belial’s demons at Legion have been allying themselves with vampires, because Khavi’s prophecy says that vampire blood will destroy the nephilim and will be followed by Belial’s rise to the throne in Hell.”

“Okay, we got that earlier when we read the prophecy,” Taylor said, flicking a glance at Alejandro. “But Anaria?”

“Considering Michael’s relationship with Anaria, Rael might not have known what the Guardians intended to do when we found her,” Alejandro said. When he saw that both Taylor and Preston still looked confused, he added, “Anaria is Michael’s sister.”

Taylor’s mouth fell open, and she glanced from Irena to Michael. “Oh. Boy.”

Michael smiled faintly.

“And so when Irena said she’d kill Anaria, we expected a different response from Rael,” Alejandro said.

“Anaria’s death should please him.” Michael’s gaze remained on Taylor. “She is the nephilim’s mother—they are loyal to her. She has to die before Belial can ascend to the throne; it doesn’t matter who slays her.”

Taylor seemed unnerved by Michael’s flat acceptance of his sister’s eventual death. “Do you believe that prophecy?”

Michael didn’t change, but the sudden psychic heaviness in the room reminded Alejandro of the terror he’d felt earlier. He saw Irena’s fists close. Sir Pup’s heads lifted. The hellhound’s eyes glowed red; his hackles rose. Lilith placed her hand on his back, murmuring to the hellhound in the demon tongue.

“I believe we need to change it,” Michael said quietly. His gaze on Taylor was fiercely protective—or threatening. It was difficult to determine. “But not for Anaria’s sake.”

Taylor swallowed. “Okay. That’s just super.”

Silence fell, uncomfortable, as charged as static.

“All right,” Lilith said, restarting the video. “We’ll follow up on this, but unless it relates to Julia Stafford’s murder, it’s not a priority.”

Alejandro met Irena’s gaze across the room. She was not listening, he could see, but thinking . . . and unhappy with her thoughts.

What is it?
he signed.

Her jaw tightened.
Rael deserves my hatred, but I am stupid to let it blind me.
She sneered and added before he could respond,
Do not say I should not hate demons so much.

He wouldn’t have. He’d done the same here in this room: let himself be distracted by concerns outside of the investigation.

Her eyes narrowed at him, as if that had just occurred to her, too.
You have also been blinded. Because of my quarrel with Michael—and his recent behavior?

Aware that the Doyen could see their conversation, he said,
Yes.

Her smile softened the words, and he thought of pushing her up against the wall, down to the floor, into the office next door. He thought of a promise he’d made four hundred years ago and not kept.

Castleford sat forward. “Replay that.”

Alejandro caught himself, forcing his attention back to the screen. One smile from Irena, and he’d
still
been distracted. He couldn’t have said what had caught Castleford’s interest.

Castleford shook his head in disbelief. “That is truth.”

“He loved his wife?” Taylor looked shocked. Alejandro thought her expression spoke for all of them.

“No. Two years ago, Lilith asked him if he loved her. He said yes then, and it was a lie.” Castleford asked Lilith to play it again. When it ended, he said, “I don’t think he’s speaking of his wife.”

Taylor and Irena exchanged glances. Taylor said, “Her friend told us that, two years ago, Julia suspected he was having an affair. Then their sex life got better. Could there have been someone else then?”

“Me,” Lilith said, and Castleford pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously holding in laughter. “I threatened Rael. I knew he probably didn’t screw his wife often—and guessed he was a lousy lay when he did. So I told him I’d use Sir Pup’s venom to paralyze him, stick Hugh on top, and take pictures. If he was cold in bed, his wife would probably believe them. So would the
Enquirer
.”

Irena’s laugh was low and appreciative. The sound set off the detectives—Preston snorted and Taylor’s lips pressed together.

Alejandro fought not to be distracted again. “But your threat gives him a motive, does it not? Without Julia Stafford, you have no hold over him—and cannot threaten his political career.”

Lilith considered that, then shrugged. “He might be all right at a local level, but nationally, photos of him having sex with a man could damage his political career whether he was married or a widower. And it’s been two years.”

“Demons have long memories. He may be speaking of someone dead,” Michael said.

“Or not,” Irena countered, frowning. “Everyone avoids mentioning this in front of me, as if I will tear Caelum apart if I’m reminded—but Belial’s demons
did
try to obtain Anaria for themselves.”

Yes, one of Belial’s demons had traded a Guardian’s life for Anaria while she’d still been locked in her underwater prison. The nephilim had reached her first, however.

Although the Guardians didn’t know who had authorized the negotiation, Alejandro assumed that Rael had approved the trade before the demon had brought it to the Guardians for their consideration. The gathering in Caelum, during which the bargain had been discussed, had drawn lines between the Guardians. Irena had wanted to kill Anaria—and had been vocal in her opinion of the grigori, saying that the demons’ spawn could be trusted no more than the demons could be.

After the gathering, Guardians—particularly those who worked at SI—had tread lightly on the topic when Irena was in the room. Alejandro thought that a few Guardians expected her to lead a revolt against Michael.

They didn’t know her well. The revelation about Michael’s parentage had hurt her, deeply. But Irena wouldn’t slay Michael for the offense of being born to a demon—and she wouldn’t think highly of anyone who waited for
her
to move, if
they
believed Michael should die.