Demon Bound (25 page)

She forced her gaze to move on, searching the walls, looking now for the source of the light. The quality of it had changed—rather than crimson, it was a faint orange red. Originating from outside? If so, that meant a door had been opened, for when they'd jumped here the room had been completely dark. And that the demon, instead of hiding, had escaped.

That would do just as well. They would likely be gone before he could alert anyone.

She looked at Jake again just as he cut through the final demon's neck. Headless corpses littered the rows of sarcophagi from the center of the room to where he stood now, almost fifty meters distant.

He turned, began walking toward her. Not cockily, though the bodies around him would have excused it, but with wary stealth, as if he was prepared for a demon to leap from behind a sarcophagus at any moment.

His eyes met hers for an instant. “Are you okay?”

Under any other circumstances, when their lives might not depend upon knowing each other's capabilities—and weaknesses—she would have lied. “I am not completely myself. You, however, did the work of five Guardians.”

“Yeah.” He kicked a head out of his path, turning as he spoke, checking the high ceiling. “Only because they were the equivalent of civilians, I'm guessing. I bet not one of them had picked up their sword in a millennium. Didn't stop 'em from trying to spill my hot Guardian guts, though. You have any clue what this place is?”

“The nephilim's prison.”

He nodded. “Yeah. We both had the image of it in our head somewhere, didn't we? We'll have to thank Drifter in a second, when we teleport the hell out of here.”

Alice's response was choked by surprise, fear. Around them, the light whitened, brightened. Jake vanished his swords, streaking down the rows of sarcophagi toward her.

She sprinted to meet him. The light was blinding now, painful. Too slow, she thought. Against Belial, they would be too slow. Still, the command that boomed through the prison was not enough to make her stop.

The threat that followed it was. “I WILL KILL HIM UPON YOUR NEXT STEP!”

Alice skidded to a halt, her ears still ringing with it. Ten feet in front of her, Jake did the same.

But he wouldn't have, not to save himself. He'd have taken the risk, just as she would have if the threat had been against her own life. Unless—

She saw it in Jake's eyes at the same moment. Oh, dear heavens. Somehow, Belial had made Jake hear something different. The fudging of a single word, the pressing of a different meaning, and Jake had stopped to save
her
life.

A fudging, she thought—but that did not mean it had been a bluff. Belial might have killed them both, and why not? If Jake had reached her and they'd disappeared, it would be all the same to the demon. Death or teleportation; either way, they would have been beyond Belial's reach.

She glanced to the side, squinting, and made out the armored cadre of demons surrounding Belial. Saw the number of weapons leveled on them.

Another look at Jake told her he'd just seen the same. She held his gaze, saw the battle waged there between doubt and determination. If he could teleport to her side, touch her, and teleport away, it would be almost instantaneous.

But if his jump went awry, and he teleported
out
of Hell . . . he'd leave her behind.

On the heels of that realization was a second: that the only reason they were alive now was because Belial knew one of them must be able to teleport. With the Gates closed, Belial could use Jake's ability to travel between Hell and Earth . . . or to carry anyone Belial chose between the two realms. Perhaps even to Caelum.

And if Jake stayed to save her, he might be bound by a bargain and forced to serve Belial.

Her fingers tightened by her sides. Her lips formed the word.
Go.

A streak of light slammed into her, tossed her. Pain shrieked the length of her arm. Alice twisted in the air. She just needed to land on her feet. A hand grabbed her ankle, whipped her around, smashed her facedown on a broken sarcophagus.

Blood filled her mouth, but the choking sounds were coming from behind her. Jake. She turned her head, and hands clamped over the back of her neck, pinned her feet and wrists. Terror ripped through her, then was swamped by rage. Her struggles brought more hands.

Belial issued a command in the demon tongue, and then spoke softly in her ear, his voice a soothing, sweet harmony. “Calm yourself. I promise you will see him. And he will see you.”

Her rage slipped into ice when they brought Jake before her. There was more blood on him now, and the slices through his shirt and his jeans told Alice that the wounds were his. They'd used his sword to skewer his forearms together behind his back; a demon had his arm around Jake's throat, and his hand on the sword's hilt.

“Go,” she said.

“He will not,” Belial replied. “Not without you. As long as you are alive, he will stay. But I imagine the moment he touches you, he will attempt to take you. Your Guardians have done that very thing before: appeared, and taken away that which belonged in Hell. Fortunately, we have discovered a way to prevent it.”

Belial moved in front of her, blinding, burning her eyes. “I cannot see him when you are between us, demon. Do you break your promises so easily?”

“I have broken nothing. It is your eyes, untouched by Glory, which are incapable of withstanding the illumination.”

So he would pass blame, rather than admit to a mistake or make an adjustment. Lucifer, she was certain, would have said yes without hesitation.

Alice didn't know which would have chilled her more.

But neither could have chilled her as much as the sword that appeared in Belial's hand. Jake held its twin in his cache, but Zakril's could not flare to life as Michael's did, couldn't burn with white-hot flame.

Belial moved around to the other side of her. Alice saw Jake squinting against the light, then begin to furiously fight against the demon, against the blade through his forearms. Flesh and bone tore and snapped, and one of his hands was free.

Another demon joined the first, forced Jake to his knees. Then onto his stomach when he didn't stop resisting.

“I will not kill her,” Belial said. “I will only make certain she stays in this realm.”

There was a tug at the back of her dress, and a remark of surprise in the demon tongue. Then a line of heat ran down her spine as Belial sliced her dress open. Demon hands pulled the silk away.

Jake made an incoherent noise, a howl of fury that was cut off as a demon forced his head back, took his throat in a crushing grip.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't get the breath to scream as the burning tip of Michael's sword sliced into her shoulder. Another cut, deep, beneath it. A stroke up, and around. A piercing stab, then a second above.

Belial stopped. “It is done. The symbols prevent her from being teleported out of this realm, Guardian. And if you leave, you will not be able to anchor to her and find her again.” He stepped back; the hands holding Alice didn't let her go. “And now you will stand, teleporter, as there is something I require from you, as well.”

Jake didn't move, and beneath the pain in her shoulder, the horror of what had been done, rose a fierce pride.
Yes,
she thought.
Make him force you, make him threaten. But never simply obey.

“Stand,” Belial repeated, “or I will sever her legs in two.”

 

Jake was on his feet before Belial had completed his threat. His arm screamed at the movement, but he focused past the agony.

Alice's gaze held his, her irises glowing brightly. Either she was losing it, or she was looking forward to handing out some serious pain to Belial's demons. Probably the second. And God knew, Jake was going to be right there with her. The symbols Belial had carved into her shoulder weren't bleeding—the sword had cauterized the wounds. But they weren't healing normally. The angry red should have been fading.

It all could have been worse, though. Lucifer would have just cut off her legs, and
then
threatened her arms. With Belial, they had some wiggle room. He would hurt them, but apparently not just for shits and giggles. Either Belial didn't enjoy causing pain—good—or, he just liked to hear himself talk and for others to heed him—not always so good.

He was talking now, and Jake was pretty certain it was leading up to the not so good. If the demon wasn't lying, this prison was at the edge of Lucifer's territory. Belial's army had moved in, had met little resistance, but their campaign hadn't finished. A small tactical strike against another holding remained, and Belial didn't want to delay it while escorting two Guardians back to his territory.

Which meant, Jake realized, that he and Alice were going to be locked up in here, with the bulk of Belial's army surrounding the prison while the demon led the final attack.

That wasn't so bad. But where was the catch—what did Belial require from him? A promise to stay? Belial might be arrogant enough to lock them in here, counting on Jake not to leave Alice in danger, but the demon wasn't stupid. All Jake had to do was get Alice under some kind of protection, teleport out and find Michael, then head back to the prison. They wouldn't need to anchor to Alice; they'd both already been here. And if he and Michael had to fight a few demons on the way back in—or an army of them—so be it.

Yeah. Jake would break a promise in a second. So there had to be a catch.

With luck, it wouldn't be a bargain.

“I know that Guardians cannot be trusted,” Belial said. Jake had given up trying to
see
him. There was too much light, too many wings, and nothing to get his head around. Belial's demons looked like any other, though—red and scaly. “So I will leave twelve of my sentinels to see that you stay. If you teleport, they will kill the female.”

So Jake wouldn't be taking off to get Michael. But he and Alice would be missed in Caelum, eventually—and as long as Jake didn't completely block his mind, Michael could still find him.

Of course, Belial wasn't
that
stupid, either. “The shielding spell will be placed around the prison, and keyed to my blood. No one will come to save you; and even if you teleport away, you will not be able to reenter this building.”

Shit. He saw Alice's lips tighten. Yeah, Belial might not be chopping their legs off, but he was pretty damn good at crushing every hope they had. Probably because leaving his demons here and letting Alice and Jake figure it out for themselves wasn't as much fun as watching their reactions when he spelled it out.

“Six will guard the prison doors and the symbols that cast the shielding spell,” Belial continued. “The others I will position around the room, near the ceiling so that if you lose your sense and decide to attack, you will not be able to reach them.”

Wouldn't be able to reach them . . . ?
Oh, Jesus Christ in Heaven. His wings.

Belial intended to cut off his wings.

Icy rage spiked through Alice's psychic scent. “Take mine, demon. You've already violated me. You might as well finish the job and take mine instead.”

“If you flew toward the sentinels, they would see you coming; they would not see this one if he teleports to their side. But even if he manages to slay one sentinel, I will not leave him able to defend himself in the air.”

Bullshit. “Then take my arms,” Jake said. One was already half-gone, anyway. A clean cut might actually hurt less than whatever was going on there now as it healed.

Belial didn't answer him, but gave an order to the demons behind Jake. Yeah. Belial could justify it however he wanted, but this wasn't about defense, because taking his arms would be more effective than taking his wings.

But his wings were a symbol—and this was an attempt to demoralize them.

Not that he would allow it, Jake determined. The demons behind him let go of the sword through his forearm. Jake vanished it. No use trying to fight them. He knelt in front of Alice instead. His blood dripped onto her back when he flicked the sides of her dress closed, covering her.

It was something, he thought. One very small thing he could do for her.

“Now offer them willingly, Guardian, or I shall take
her
arms.”

He gritted his teeth, then formed his wings, felt their comfortable burden. Alice made a soft sound, and her fingers flattened on the cracked stone lid. Jake shoved at the demon's hand holding her wrist. At a word from Belial, it was released.

“One thing's for sure,” Jake said, and clasped his palm to hers, lacing their fingers. “His definition of ‘willingly' is completely fucked up.”

“I do prefer Michael's version of—” She clamped her lips together as his wings went numb, the weight on his back lightened. There were two thumps on the floor behind him, like overstuffed pillows whacked with a stick.

Pain ripped down the stumps of the wingframe. Sucking in a hard breath, Jake vanished what was left. The pain disappeared.

That had been faster than he'd expected—but then, he'd thought Belial would do it, and had been waiting for the demon to move. The strike had come from behind him, instead.

Easier that way, but he didn't exactly feel grateful.

They took away the fallen feathers, muscle, and bone. Of course they did. His wings could be reattached and heal in less than an hour—but now they would have to completely regrow. It might take two or three weeks. And they could only heal when he was wearing them, which meant forming the bleeding stumps again. That was going to really fucking hurt.

Once they grew to full size, he could shift them as small or as large as he liked. Until then, they were useless.