Demon Bound (13 page)

“Yes, that is what Selah told me. Also that Michael found it.” And discovered that Lucifer had let all of the nephilim go—over one hundred released to Earth. A frightening number. More than two to every Guardian left after the Ascension—and that was including novices.

“Yeah, well, what she probably didn't know was that Michael had to take Charlie and Drifter down Below, so that they could open the prison.”

“It was shielded?” It must have been, or Michael would only have taken Ethan, whose Gift allowed him to open any lock . . . except for the lock cast by the shielding spell. For that, Ethan needed Charlie, and her rare tendency to sense psychic energy as sound, rather than a scent, a flavor, or physical touch.

“Yep. And as they were getting ready to go, Belial shows up. He tells Michael the prophecy will be fulfilled, that his followers will return to Grace—well, let me send you the image Drifter gave me.”

Alice nodded, then instinctively squinted her eyes. Michael had been standing in front of a large black building, facing Ethan. His wings were folded behind his back, and his sword dripped blood. Between Michael and the building, a figure shone with brilliant light: Belial.

It was said the demon had retained his angelic form, and Alice didn't doubt it. She had the impression of multiple pairs of wings, of beauty so great it was painful to look upon.

Alice had seen him almost two years ago, in the short battle against Lucifer that had led to Michael winning his wager and the Gates to Hell being closed—but she couldn't
see
him any better through Ethan's eyes than she had in person.

The image vanished. Jake rubbed at his eyes. “Flippin' fuck. That hurts my brain.”

Hers as well. And left her confused, wondering what had been so shocking that Ethan had kept it to himself. “So, apparently this means that Belial believes in the prophecy—and he confirmed that the prophecy exists.”

Unless, as demons often did, Belial had been lying. But what would be the point of lying about it to Michael, who had dismissed the prophecy's validity?

“Yes, and Michael's response was to call it a bunch of bullshit.” Jake gave his head a hard shake. “Well, not in those words. But the gist, you know.”

“I do. But was that all that was said?” A wet tendril of hair blew in front of her eyes, and Alice lifted her arms, quickly weaved it back into her braid. “Jake? Was that all?”

She sighed when she realized that his gaze had unfocused. At the restaurant, she'd noted that he had a tendency to drift off in the middle of a conversation. Now she had to repeat his name several times before he snapped to attention.

“Yes, Alice. Yes.” He chuckled to himself, then just as quickly sobered. “No, that wasn't all. Because that's when Belial said that Michael should have known Lucifer would release the nephilim, because he—Belial—had taught Michael to think like Lucifer.”

Alice blinked, certain she'd misheard. “Belial
taught
Michael?” “Yep.” The answer was grim.

“Taught him where? When?”

“Dunno.”

“But he—? And how—?” Alice closed her eyes, tried desperately to order the questions spitting through her mind, to suppress her revulsion.

She trusted and loved each of her mentors. To imagine Michael having a similar relationship with a demon—even a demon who was Lucifer's enemy—made her feel as if a sickness had taken root inside her, putrefying her body and emotions as it spread.

But surely it hadn't been the same. Surely, whatever Michael and Belial's relationship, it couldn't be compared to what she'd shared with her mentors.

Alice took a long breath. “What did Michael have to say about it?”

“Just that any association he might have had with Belial was long past, was nothing as Belial imagined it had been, and was best forgotten.”

That resembled what Michael had said about the temples. She met Jake's gaze, saw the same realization there.

His eyes narrowed. “Think it's connected?”

“I don't know. I cannot even—” She shook her head. “Why didn't Ethan tell the rest of us?”

To her surprise, Jake shape-shifted into Ethan's tall form. And she had to smile when he drawled, “Well, I reckon there's no need to go about causing a fuss just yet. It may be that Belial was lying, hoping that every Guardian would be looking at Michael all suspicious-like, and that it might have us squabbling with one another instead of putting a world of hurt on Belial's demons like we oughta be. So we'll wait until we figure the truth of it before telling the others.”

Alice nodded thoughtfully. It was similar to one of the reasons Guardians hid their existence from humans. Not that they didn't deserve to know the truth—but that the repercussions might be far too dangerous.

“And it does not change what Michael is now,” she murmured. A leader, a healer, the most powerful warrior—Michael was the heart of the Guardian corps.

“That it doesn't, little lady.”

Alice lifted her brows.

Jake grimaced, and was suddenly himself again. “Yeah. That was more John Wayne than Drifter. Anyway, I'm guessing that even if it isn't a lie, Michael is thinking the same thing as Drifter: that at this point—after the Ascension, the nephilim popping up—it's better not to have division in the ranks. Especially over something that could be nothing.”

Yes, and especially now. The minor grumblings that had begun after Michael appointed Lucifer's daughter as the head of Special Investigations might escalate.

Michael had never suppressed opposing viewpoints, had never reprimanded anyone for dissention. She remembered several instances when he'd called for debate over the Guardians' role during human wars, the heated discussions that had followed. But even when Guardians acted contrary to the consensus they'd reached, Michael hadn't disciplined them. As long as the Rules had been followed, as long as the Guardians hadn't hurt humans or denied their free will, Michael allowed the Guardians to act according to
their
free will.

So he likely didn't want to create tension over a matter that had no bearing on problems the Guardians were facing today. It was, Alice thought, the decision she'd have chosen, too.

“So,” Jake said, his gaze steady on hers. “That help at all?”

Perhaps discovering that Michael had a dark secret might have helped—it could have let her consider the unthinkable. But this had only served to remind her of what a fine Guardian he was.

And there was nothing to use against Teqon.

“I don't think so.” Alice gathered her skirts in her fist, holding them bunched and tight against her thigh. “But thank you.”

She dropped through the clouds, and heard the snap of Jake's wings as he dove after her.

He couldn't have been far behind when she broke through the mist and leveled out, but she didn't see him when she glanced over her shoulder. Wondering if he'd looped around, she looked down—just as he flew in beneath.

“You don't give a guy a chance to say ‘You're welcome,' ” he said, facing her with his hands laced behind his head and his ankles crossed.

“I'm sorry. I—” Alice broke off, marveling that he hadn't rolled over yet. Flying on one's back was tremendously difficult. Instead of beating in a smooth sweep, their wings had to perform an awkward rowing motion while in vertical alignment. It was easy to roll and to fly upside-down for a short period, but after a few seconds Alice—and every Guardian she'd ever seen practice it—lost her balance and went spinning out of control. Yet Jake had maintained a smooth course for several hundred yards now. “You're
very
good at that.”

He grinned. “I can even carry weight.”

“Most impressive.”

“Yep.” Though he was still smiling, the humor had left his eyes, the intensity of his stare had deepened. “Wanna ride?”

Her gaze fell to his waist. His damp T-shirt molded to an abdomen that was as tightly muscled as his backside. She had no doubt he could support her.

And she wanted to. Wanted to close her eyes and feel the wind against her face, that incredible sense of freedom—and have it come through no effort of her own.

It wouldn't even require trust. If he faltered, she could save herself.

But she wouldn't be able to escape the intimacy of such a position.

Alice shook her head, and increased her speed. She half-expected Jake to keep pace beneath her, but he simply rolled into his flanking formation. Shortly, they came over Charlie's large lodge-style home at the edge of the lake.

A dock extended out over the water, and stairs led up to the house. Trees provided cover near the rocky shoreline.

Alice caught the side of her skirt again, and quickly descended. She'd barely touched down on the shore when a loud splash sounded behind her, a body hitting water at enormous speed.

Jake.

She whirled, scanning the sky. No demons. She pushed her Gift in a wide sweep, touching hundreds of spiders, building a sensory map of the immediate area. Nothing unusual moved through the trees, no one appeared as a bright spot of heat.

Jake hadn't been attacked, then . . . but had dove into the lake.

His head broke the surface an instant later. His gaze never left her legs as he strode out of the water.

Alice looked down. Nothing showed. Her boots were laced to mid-shin, and although she'd pulled the hem to her knees when she'd gathered her skirts, her opaque black stockings concealed her skin.

Without a word, Jake passed her, began climbing the steps. His sopping T-shirt vanished.

Oh, dear. Lean and tall, with his wet jeans riding low, Jake looked every inch the young soldier he'd been as a human. Alice averted her eyes, her breath coming faster. It was fortunate that she'd settled her nerves during her bath.

She had a weakness for a man's strong back—had ever since she was seventeen, at her father's dig in el-Amarna. In the Egyptian heat, the men working had often taken off their shirts. The first time she'd seen Henry, he'd been among them, and the dust had turned their skin the same worn yellow. But when he'd washed, it had been the palest gold, and Alice had thought it the most exotic, beautiful color she'd ever beheld. So unlike the florid color of the other British men in the sun—those few who would remove their shirts. Jake, with his deep tan, was almost as dark as some of the Egyptian men.

And her tastes had expanded since then.

“It's the Enthrallment,” Jake said suddenly. “It still hits me sometimes.”

Alice studied him as he crossed the deck. Enthrallment came upon novices in their first years after returning to Earth, when their heightened senses were overwhelmed by the variety and scope of the scents, sounds, sights. But it usually sent the psychic scent into a spin, like inhaling too much hashish or whirling about in a circle. Jake's was steady—and remarkably solid.

“I see,” she said doubtfully. “And cold water shocks you out of it?”

It never had her. Only lying perfectly still, trying to sense nothing.

“No.” Jake opened the French doors, stopped to disengage the security system. The water vanished from his jeans. An overlong knit sweater appeared in his hands, and he pulled it over his head, tugged it down in front.

She caught a thread of frustration from his psychic scent before he blocked it.

How strange he was. Alice followed him through the house, wondering what had sparked his arousal. Certainly nothing on her person; he'd made that perfectly clear earlier. And every day, he saw women exposing far more than a stocking-covered shin.

Perhaps it had been her boot heel, then. She liked it very well herself. The elongated hourglass mimicked a woman's form, and provided a wide base for stability. And she'd coated the soles with silken webs for traction and softness; her steps barely made a sound on the wooden floors.

Pretty and practical. Hardly erotic, but maybe he was one of those men who could hold a teacup in his palm and become excited by its shape.

She entered the tech room behind him, and felt a movement in her pocket—Lucy, overcome with a sense of urgency, the need to find a new location for her web.

Alice pressed with her Gift, felt the spider's body, heavy and full with children.
Soon, Lucy
. The spider wouldn't understand the words, but the calm, soothing tone relieved the widow's unease.

Jake moved to a long table holding more computers than Alice had seen in one place. The room was all of plastic and metal, and spotlessly clean.

“I've got your pictures from Tunisia,” he said, bending over one of the keyboards. “I don't have any printer here that can handle the size you've been blowing them up to, but I'll send them out, pick them up tomorrow.”

She turned away from the wall of security monitors that recorded the exterior of the house. “That isn't necessary. I can—”

“I'm ordering copies for me, too. It's just easier to do them all at once.”

“Oh. Very well then.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “This demon you're looking for—Teqon? You're in luck.”

“Oh?” She joined him at the table.

“Yep. After SI hacked into Legion's server, some of the demons changed locations, their human aliases. Not him, though. He's living in Cairo.”

Egypt. The climate would suit Lucy. “Do you have an address?”

“Yep. Do you need a ride?”

“Yes.” She couldn't take Lucy though the Gates, so she would have to fly halfway around the world. “But you must leave immediately upon our arrival.”