Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (37 page)

Though thousands of years had passed since she’d decided to discard the Rules and force humans to be good, Michael still didn’t know if her failed quest to conceive a child had changed his sister’s heart or if her quest had simply revealed an uncompromising self-righteousness that had always existed within her, so that she would cross any line in the name of good. She had decided to save humans from themselves, so that no one would suffer as she had. So that there would be only happiness, kindness, and joy—and she would kill anyone who hurt others.

And there had been no reasoning with her. She would not listen when he’d pointed out that pain and hardship often forced people to learn, to change, to grow. Even when saving humans, Guardians often hurt them. They tried to prevent pain, but sometimes the only way to help people was to slay the demons that they’d loved, or destroy illusions that they’d built. Michael could accept that.

Anaria could not—though in her determination to erase everyone’s pain, she would crush anyone who tried to stop her. Yet she couldn’t see the contradiction. She made excuses, shifted responsibility. It was always someone else’s fault when she had to hurt them.

And Michael was the only one to blame for his pain now. If he didn’t still love his sister, it wouldn’t hurt so much to see her. Anaria was not who he’d believed she was for so long, and he still grieved that loss. He had known rage and denial, and finally acceptance. There was nothing good in his sister that he could trust, and her presence only served as a reminder.

But despite that, he still hoped. One day, he might find something in her to believe in again.

Knowing that pain, it was almost too much to believe that Andromeda had found it in
him
. In the week he had left, Michael would do everything possible to live up to that, so that she never regretted trusting him again.

Outside the tent entrance, Anaria landed on the red sand and folded her white wings behind her. Her tunic fell to midthigh and was as simple as Michael’s—though not for ease of movement, but a humble rejection of vanity.

Her face smiled as she entered. Happiness sang from her psyche in a pure, beautiful note. Her arms rose as she approached Michael, her hands slipping beneath his wings to enfold him in a warm embrace.

His chest ached. He should rip out her spine. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and returned the embrace instead.

“I was overjoyed when Khavi said that you had escaped the frozen field. Even though you brought it on yourself when you forced my hand and used me to break your bargain, I never wanted you to suffer. Now I am overjoyed that you are here.” Anaria stepped back, studied his features—yet not seeing him, Michael knew. She was seeing the spell, his will, and the thin bindings that held him together. “You are not well, though.”

“I am not.”

“The dissonance . . . that is the Guardian you linked yourself to.”

“Andromeda Taylor,” he said, loving the sound of it as he spoke, the echo of her psychic song in his throat, her taste on his tongue.

“If that is her song that you hum, then it is her. I did not learn her name.”

Michael couldn’t reply. His sister had spoken to Andromeda several times, conversations that lasted more than an hour. Andromeda had comforted Anaria after one of the nephilim—Anaria’s child—had been slain. Andromeda had held her brother’s body and soul in her keeping, yet Anaria had not learned her name.

Oblivious to his anger, to his pain, Anaria smiled again. “Khavi tells me that you helped us at the Pit, bringing more soldiers to us.”

“I helped slay the demons, yes,” he said quietly. He would not mention that he and Khavi had also helped those who wanted release find it by taking them to the molten river. Anaria’s new soldiers were primarily souls who’d been too afraid to take that leap, or those who hadn’t trusted Michael and Khavi’s word.

He couldn’t blame them. In a place such as Hell, it wasn’t safe to assume that someone who rescued you had your best interests at heart. Sometimes hope was given so that demons could delight in destroying it.

“And I’m pleased you finally see that mine is the best solution.” Her joy sang a warm melody through the words. Though her voice was as harmonious as Khavi’s or his, no echo lay beneath. Anaria hid nothing. She believed what she said and said exactly what she meant. “Shortness of life offers such wonderful clarity of thought. I know that well—and I can thank you for my own clarity now, and forgive you for your cruel decision to execute me. You did not know better.”

He knew better than to let her live now. But he could not kill her—and he could not lie to her. Yet he didn’t have to say the entire truth, however much he would have liked to.

While creating the nephilim, Anaria had studied at Lucifer’s side and learned many of his methods. Telling her that he still disagreed with her concept of right and good was not worth losing the opportunity to find Colin and Savi.

He gave her a partial truth that resembled agreement. “I do not want to see Lucifer or his demons alive to threaten Earth.”

More lay beneath his words, if she listened. But Khavi was right. Anaria only heard what she wanted to.

“So you are here to help us fight?”

“No. Lucifer is plotting with his sentinels to open Chaos. I need to know how he communicates with them. Perhaps as your children did, crossing over with human souls—or stretching the spider silk between realms.”

Anaria nodded. “That can be done.”

“The spider threads?” Khavi’s eyes narrowed. “As Zakril and I used them in your temples?”

“Not as you did,” Anaria said. “That was stone to stone. To speak, to see, to make the two chambers appear as one—that must be from life to life.”

Michael had never seen the temples. Khavi’s spell had prevented him from entering or even looking upon them. When he had, he’d seen only an illusion, and he couldn’t picture what they spoke of now. “Whose life?”

“Two demons or Guardians, because the process would kill a human,” Anaria answered him. “Stone would be needed to anchor them, but the silk threads would pass through their flesh.”

“Have you seen Lucifer do this before?”

“No. We only spoke of the possibility. Collecting the silk is no simple task. And to stretch between the realms, someone must teleport while holding the threads.”

“Lucifer can’t teleport.” Neither could any other demon. “Did either of you create this for him?”

No longer a Guardian, Anaria couldn’t teleport now. She could have in the past.

“No,” Khavi said, flattening her voice.

“I did not, either,” Anaria said, and a glance at Hugh told Michael they had both spoken the truth. She continued, “But it might have been done hundreds or thousands of years ago, then closed up with the shielding spell until Lucifer needed it. It could have been any of the grigori—or any Guardian who has ever had the teleporting Gift.”

And someone might have been caught by a bargain, or performed the task to save his life. Lucifer could have forced a Guardian to do it any time in the past eight millennia—and then patiently waited until he needed to communicate without using a Gate.

Who had helped Lucifer mattered little. Only finding the sentinels did. “If he is using the spider silk, what would we search for?”

“Two chambers of stone—one in Hell, the other on Earth. Here, it is most likely in his tower. On Earth, it could be anywhere, as long as there is enough stone to anchor the threads.”

Frustration bit at him. Earth did not lack for stone. “How does it work? Does it leave a psychic trace?”

“After everything is set into place, establishing a link between the chambers is simple. It can be activated on either side. You would only need to lower your shields and touch a thread. That makes the chambers appear as one inside your mind—and if a thread is touched on the opposite side, you can speak directly to each other.”

Michael closed his eyes. Lilith had said he was a blind idiot. And he was.

“Michael?” Hugh had noticed his reaction. “You’ve seen this?”

“Yes.”

He’d seen the demons, their bodies split open, the wires running through their flesh—and he’d assumed that Lucifer was torturing them. But they hadn’t been wires. They had been the silk spider threads.

And Lucifer’s shields had been open. Michael should have seen it then. Lucifer always guarded his mind. Andromeda would have known, because it hadn’t fit the demon’s pattern. But Michael had been so full of rage and fear after Lucifer had plucked her from his thoughts that he’d been blinded to everything else.

He projected the image of the chamber. Only Khavi would be able to see it, but she was familiar enough with spells and spider silk to recognize whether it was the chamber they were seeking. “Is it this?”

“Yes.”
Idiot.
“Can you teleport there now?”

A simple jump, because he’d been there before. Michael anchored to the location but couldn’t teleport. He shook his head.

“Lucifer must have put the shielding spell up around the chamber, but we can get through it. Will you join me, Khavi?”

He didn’t need to ask Hugh. He wouldn’t ask Anaria.

Khavi considered for a long moment. He knew she wanted to, but first she had to examine how it might affect her already established plans. Finally, she nodded. “Though I have only a little time to spare—and Colin and Savi might have little time left. Even if they refuse to create the portal, the demons will already have taken enough blood to use in a ritual.”

Then a little time would have to be enough. “Let us go and prepare, then.”

“After you find the vampires, you should destroy them so they cannot be used in such a way again,” Anaria said. “They are a threat to every human on Earth.”

For an instant, Michael agreed with her. Beside him, Hugh stopped in the middle of a nod, then frowned and shook his head, as if to dislodge the thought of killing his adopted sister.

That was Anaria’s greatest power, but it was not a Gift. It had been within her since birth. Simply by speaking, she could compel conviction, agreement—could make anyone listening
want
to believe her.

The angels had done that, too. It was why they had left Earth in the Guardians’ protection. Their every statement blurred the line between free will and force. Humans wanted to believe them, to follow their every word. Even if it led to their damnation or death.

Anaria blurred the same line. But, unlike the angels, she neither recognized her power nor cared how it affected those around her.

Many times after he’d ordered her execution, after every single argument had failed to produce a single concession from her, Michael had wondered if Anaria was compelled by her own voice. She never uttered any doubt, never questioned herself. Perhaps she reaffirmed her beliefs every time she stated them, and over thousands of years, they became an unshakable truth.

And now, she proclaimed that it would be good and right to destroy Colin and Savi because of their tainted blood. Michael knew it would be no use to argue now, either. But he could not kill the bit of hope left within him that she might one day see reason again.

“I should murder them after their rescue to prevent another possible threat? The demons are to blame for the danger the world is in, not our friends.” Better to slay the demons instead.

“The demons are only being what they are.” Dismissively, the tips of her wings flicked outward. “But they could not have endangered the world, Michael, if you had not been so careless with your sword. And your friends would not need to die if they had never been infected. Yet you refuse to take responsibility for your carelessness and do what you know must be done.”

Michael couldn’t stop his laugh. So he was to blame? That wasn’t the answer he’d expected, but he should have. “Perhaps I should have never slain the dragon. After it killed our mother, I should have let it burn the rest of the world, since now I must murder everyone who touches the blade of the sword I used to slay it. And what should I do with Katherine Blake, who is human and was born with the taint, and whom the demons have also taken?”

“Of course you would not slay her. She should be protected—though you have apparently shirked that responsibility and failed in that as well.” Anaria gave a long-suffering sigh, as if wondering why something so obvious needed to be said. “And it is not murder to slay the vampires; it is a kindness. Humans were never meant to be afflicted by the nosferatu’s bloodlust; it overwhelms their free will. Vampires are a disease that will soon blight all of humanity by erasing the protection of the Rules, and making humans prey to every demon.”

Michael had heard this before. She’d explained it to Andromeda once, to justify the nephilim’s slaughter of vampire communities around the world. He wouldn’t tell his sister that he agreed with Andromeda’s response—that even if every human became a vampire, they would not fall prey to demons.
Because there’s going to be a whole lotta motherfucking Guardians standing in the way.

But Anaria would not believe anything but her own truth, so he only told her, “Our friends are worth saving.”

“My sister is,” Hugh said.

Michael wished that he could say the same of his own. Anaria regarded him, her expression pained by disappointment, her sadness a dirge from her mind.

“You should do something that is truly worthy before you die,” she said softly. “Something that matters.”

The power of her voice pushed through his mind, but she didn’t need to compel him. Whether his life had been worthy or not, it had led him to this—and he was already protecting the woman who mattered most. But there was no point in saying so. Anaria didn’t know her name, anyway.

Taylor never minded tedious grunt work like searching through surveillance. Sometimes murders were solved with a smoking gun in the killer’s hand, but more often than not, convictions came from the details, small bits of evidence that cracked open the case and then piled higher and higher.

And she could focus on the task and still run her brain in the background, mulling over other problems. No surprise that her thoughts settled on Michael, and her mind began turning over doubts.

Because she’d taken that leap of faith, and now they were . . . what? Working on a demon-hunting version of dating? A couple who would boink now and then? She didn’t know. But she didn’t try to stop herself from wondering. She trusted him not to hurt her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still afraid of being hurt—and doubts were
normal
. She could use a hefty dose of that, even if it was the Guardian version of normal.

Humans didn’t have to wonder why a billion-year-old guy was so fascinated by her responses—but a human might have to wonder why a sixty-five-year-old man might go after someone forty years younger.

At least Taylor knew it wasn’t just the sex. Michael didn’t seem to have any interest in getting off.

And the age thing never seemed to matter so much, after a while. Lilith was more than twice as old as Hugh; he was a teenager when they met and they were born more than a millennium apart. Likewise, Irena had over a thousand years on Alejandro, and Alice had a hundred or so on Jake. Savi was younger than Colin’s great-great-great-something nephew. As numbers, the years separating them were overwhelming. But in person, they all matched up. They fit and got along perfectly—and there was no question of their love.

Taylor got along with Michael, too.

But no one had said anything about love. And putting Michael and herself in the same category as those other couples wasn’t the smartest thing to do right now. Because that meant she was already thinking of the future. That meant she might be thinking of forever.

Not without reason. Michael had said that he was hers. He’d said that he cared for her. But what did he even mean by that? A part of her was leaping ahead, hoping it all meant more than he was saying. Another part was dragging her feet, frightened that she might be wrong.

God. Taylor stopped the video, pushed her fingers into her hair. These doubts were normal, but this was moving out of Guardian normal and into teenage territory. Does he like me, or does he
like
like me?

Stupid. She just had to ask him. And then maybe get a handle on what she felt for him, too.

Though if Taylor was completely honest with herself, she already knew. It was just too terrifying to admit right now.

With a sigh, she rolled her shoulders to loosen tense muscles. The office was mostly quiet, except for the ringing of steel from the conference room. Irena had vanished the table and chairs. Now she and Alejandro were giving Ash and Nicholas pointers as they practiced with their swords. Through the open door, Taylor watched them spar. Both had less than three years of training under their belts, but to her eyes, they were already incredibly skilled.

Until Alejandro took Ash’s place and disarmed Nicholas with a single strike of his blade—then taught the younger Guardian how he might have defended against it.

Taylor needed to be doing that. Not now. Trying to find a link to the demons who’d taken Colin and Savi came first. But soon, she needed to start learning the sword fighting and the flying.

Would it be weird for Michael to train her if things got more serious between them? She didn’t know whether there was a Guardian normal for that. But she’d seen some of the advanced training sessions with Hugh and the older novices. They all ended up with severed limbs and broken bones, so that they could learn to fight through the shock and pain. Taylor didn’t think she could do that with Michael. She didn’t think Michael could do that to her, either.

But that was a long way down the road. And she was getting ahead of herself again.

For now, it wasn’t weird. He helped her use her psychic senses and her Gift, but there was no icky teacher/student vibe there. More like her first year on the job, learning the ropes with a more experienced partner.

Of course, Taylor hadn’t jumped into bed with any of the cops she’d worked with. But that
was
Guardian normal. The Guardians who hooked up often partnered together.

She wouldn’t start making assumptions now, though. No matter how tempting it was.

“Are you daydreaming on the job, Agent Taylor?”

God. Her attention snapped to the nearest office. Lilith stood at the entrance, leaning back against the door frame with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, as if she’d been watching Taylor stare into nothing for a while. A hard smile played around her mouth, but Taylor wouldn’t have called it amused. More like barely contained anger.

The thing about Lilith, though, was that it was easy to tell when she was pissed
at
someone. Taylor would have been feeling that burn down to her toes. So the other woman was ticked at someone else. Or maybe just frustrated that she couldn’t teleport to Hell with the others, because she couldn’t be teleported back out.

Whatever it was, Taylor didn’t feel like clashing right now. “I don’t think you can call me an agent anymore.”

And since Special Investigations had been disavowed, that meant Lilith wasn’t her boss, either.

Lilith shrugged. “Fuck them.”

“The government?”

“Yes.”

“No, thanks. They’re mostly a bunch of old guys.”

“That didn’t bother you an hour ago.” Of course Lilith didn’t let that pass, but she didn’t give Taylor a chance to respond, either. “Anything on the surveillance?”

“Not yet.”

The other woman nodded, pushed away from the door frame as if preparing to leave. Her gaze lingered at the center of the room for a moment—where she’d last seen Hugh and Sir Pup, Taylor realized.

“Are you worried for them?”

Lilith’s flat stare landed on her face again. “No.”

She was such a liar. But Taylor could lie, too. “Are you sure? Because you had a little worry line right here.”

She tapped her forefinger between her own eyebrows. Lilith’s eyes narrowed. Taylor thought that if she’d still been a demon, they’d have been flaring crimson right now.

“I only worry that we won’t find Colin,” Lilith replied, and Taylor felt an instant’s guilt for needling her. “If he dies, all of his money goes to his family. And I don’t know anyone else who is rich enough to feed Sir Pup after I’m gone.”

Right. That was the only reason. But a sharp clang from the conference room stopped her reply. In a whirl of blond hair and crimson skin, Ash rushed out—and her eyes
were
glowing red.

“I’ll take care of him!” Ash clutched her sword to her chest. Her hope and excitement were a sweet, electric flavor on Taylor’s tongue. “And I have a lot of money.”

Lilith pursed her lips. Her gaze fell to the terrier trotting at Ash’s heels. “You haven’t finished training your evil puppy yet.”

“And you aren’t dead yet, either.”

Ash’s blunt response made Taylor wince a little, but Lilith’s faint smile held real amusement this time.

“It will be Sir Pup’s choice,” she said. “And Colin is easy to torment. My pup likes that.”

A calculating expression slipped over Ash’s features. “Should I start bribing him with food?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Sheer determination set her jaw. “Then I will win him over. And I’ll begin telling more lies, too, so that he won’t miss you so much.”

She pivoted and stalked back to the conference room. The terrier bounced after her. As if bemused, Lilith watched her go, then met Taylor’s eyes.

“I haven’t lied even once today,” she said.

Taylor snorted. Still wearing that faint smile, Lilith returned to her office, then emerged again when Jake and Alice appeared next to Taylor, the stench of Hell all over them. A second later, Michael, Hugh, and Sir Pup followed.

Michael’s amber gaze immediately met hers, then gave her a once-over when she rose from her chair. Taylor almost joked that she could survive forty-five minutes at a desk without injury, but the intensity in his expression started worry in her gut. He looked at her as if more than forty-five minutes had passed. As if something terrible had occurred while he was gone, or he’d received devastating news.

She scanned his face, his body, then glanced at the others. No one appeared hurt. She didn’t see any blood. “What happened?”

“Khavi didn’t give any information to Lucifer. But I believe we know how he communicated with his sentinels.” He glanced away from her as Irena came in from the conference room. “We must return to Hell. The chamber we seek is likely in Lucifer’s tower.”

Jake shot a look at Alice, who nodded. “Are you looking for volunteers? We’re in.”

“I am not asking for volunteers, but you both are in. Irena and Alejandro as well.”

Irena’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. At her side, Alejandro said, “You have our blades.”

“Khavi will also be with us. We need Ethan and Charlie to open the shielding spell. Charlie is the only one who must volunteer. She has touched Lucifer’s mind before. I would not force it upon her again.”

Jake nodded. “I’ll go get Rosalia so that we can wake Charlie up and ask.”

He vanished. Khavi popped in a second later, still in her armor. Her eyes narrowed on Taylor, then looked to Michael. Her dark brows lifted. Michael shook his head. Khavi sighed and went to speak with Irena.

Wow. They couldn’t have been more obvious. Michael hadn’t told Taylor something.

But Taylor could guess what it was. “I’m not going, am I?”

“No.” When he moved in front of her, his wings spread and blocked out everything behind him—and prevented anyone from seeing his hand cupping her jaw, she realized. Giving them an intimate space in an office full of Guardians. Voice low, he said, “You understand why?”

She nodded into his palm. “I don’t have the skills. And if you’re protecting me, you can’t focus on fighting any demons you run into.”

“No. I could easily do both.” His thumb skimmed her lower lip, sending a shiver over her skin. “Except against Lucifer. And I would abandon everyone to take you out of there.”

Oh. Well, that was a good reason, too. And she would give him something to think about for when he returned. Holding his gaze, she closed her teeth over his thumb.

Eyes glowing, he stared down at her. The pounding of his heart echoed through her blood. Emboldened, she licked the rough pad. His body stiffened. His wings swept forward, folding around her like an embrace. With unyielding pressure at her back, they pushed her closer, closer, until her breasts flattened against sculpted armor. Her nipples beaded under her shirt, painfully tight.

Wrapped in his wings, Taylor slid her hands around his abdomen. Heated by his body, the warm steel of the cuirass rippled under her palms; at his sides, leather and buckles met her fingers. Head tipped back to watch his face, she bit down a little harder.

The fingers of his left hand tangled in the hair at her nape. He inhaled a sharp breath, features taut with arousal. “Let go,” he warned softly, “or I will take you now.”

That wasn’t incentive to let go. But that would rush things, and she was already jumping ahead. With another lick, she released him—then almost lost every bit of sense when he brought his hand to his mouth and licked the same spot on his thumb.

Tasting her on his skin.

His eyes went obsidian. She stared up at his lips, dying to taste him, too. But not yet. The press of a dark Gift against her shields and a familiar hoarse voice reminded her that there were other things to do first.

“I think Charlie is here,” she whispered.

In a single breath, his expression cleared. Though his heart still pounded, he folded his wings back and turned to greet the young vampire. Trembling inside, Taylor tucked her fingers into her jeans pockets and attempted to appear just as unaffected.

At least nobody was giving her the side-eye. Either none of the others had noticed that he’d wrapped her up in his wings and threatened to take her against the desk, or everyone was too polite to let on that they had. Probably the latter. God. She’d only bit him as an innocent little tease. Next time, she’d remember—a touch too easily became an explosion. For both of them.

Leaving Irena’s side, Khavi started toward her. Taylor couldn’t stop the instinctive tightening of her shoulders, but remained where she was. The other woman didn’t have a spear. No one was going to stab her through the chest.

But Taylor didn’t like knowing that she might have to watch her back when Khavi was around.

Khavi cocked her head, as if reading Taylor’s stiff posture. “You are still angry with me?”

“More wary than angry.”

“Wary is often wise. And as Irena is still alive, you must have also been wary while testing your Gift.”

“I was. Your warning helped.”

“You can repay me by describing what you see when you look at me.”

“Because I owe you so much, right?”