Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (42 page)

Now she needed to know what he thought this was. Learning more about her, okay. But
why
? And what did it mean when Michael said he cared for her? She trusted that he didn’t want to hurt her. But wanting and doing were two different things, and she’d been making a lot of assumptions. If she was wrong, the next leap her heart made would be right over a cliff.

And if he didn’t catch her . . . Well. Either she figured out how to fly or she smashed into the rocks.

Fly or die. Then try not to cry afterward.

Falling in love was just really freaking grand.

Fingers buried in her pockets, she stopped at the edge of the living room. At Michael’s side, Maggie finally straightened—and it had taken her a bit longer than usual to recover from the disorientation. Taylor frowned, studying the other woman. Skin pale, eyes shadowed.

That wasn’t just the teleportation. She looked exhausted, and Geoff not much better. Taylor would bet they hadn’t caught even an hour’s sleep since coming to England.

And they apparently weren’t ready to stop yet. After dropping a kiss to Savi’s cheek, he looked to Colin. “Any new plans for finding Katherine?”

“Yes,” Michael answered him. “And to begin, tell me where to find the dragon blood.”

Maggie and Geoff exchanged an uneasy glance. “We can’t do that,” she said. “Wherever Katherine is, that blood might be the single bargaining chip she has. Telling the demons where to find it might be the only way to make them let her go.”

“That is why I want the blood. When she sends the demons to find it, she’ll be sending them to me.”

A shiver worked up Taylor’s spine. His expression hadn’t darkened. His voice was even. Baseline: normal. And contained in Michael’s normal was a threat that could terrify any sensible demon.
She’ll be sending them to me.
Taylor had no worries that he’d ever hurt her, and that still gave her a little scare.

It must have convinced Geoff. He nodded tiredly, raked his dark hair back. “All right. You’ll have to teleport there. It’s in America. Maggie has the coordinates. But we can’t wait for Katherine to send them for the blood. What’s our next step here?”

“Sleeping,” Colin said.

“Not until we find her.”

Colin shook his head. From her position, Taylor couldn’t see the vampire’s expression, but Geoff must have been using someone’s eyes to look at Colin. Whatever Geoff saw sent him back a step, hands raised in alarm.

“Uncle—”

Colin’s mind gave a slow, lethargic push against Taylor’s shields. Instantly, Geoff tipped into sleep, his lanky body folding. Selah caught him and disappeared. Teleporting into a bedroom—Taylor heard the click of Selah’s heels and the rustle of blankets from deeper inside the flat. She returned a moment later, nodded to Colin.

The vampire glanced at Maggie. Despite her impassive expression, the butler’s psychic scent wavered between irritation and gratitude.

“Will I need to put you out, too, Winters?” Colin’s voice held a soft threat.

“No, sir,” Maggie replied. “But you must understand how worried he is.”

“I understand perfectly. I also understand that allowing my nephew to destroy himself whilst attempting to find his sister helps no one.”

“We agree on that.” With a sigh, Maggie looked to Michael. “You’ll find the blood on a cliff face in Capitol Reef National Park in Utah. The coordinates are 38.268 degrees North, 111.241 degrees West. Then you have to go up about four hundred and fifty feet. It’s inside a crevice as wide as Geoff’s fist and as deep as his arm.”

Michael frowned. “I can’t anchor to a map coordinate. Can you project the location?”

“We didn’t want to be able to do that, because we didn’t know if a demon could pull an image out of our heads. So Geoff went alone and I tracked his position, but neither one of us actually saw where he put it.”

“Easily solved.” Savi tossed a phone-sized device at Michael—a handheld GPS, Taylor realized. “Give me a second, and I’ll have a satellite image for you to look at, too.”

Though he couldn’t anchor to a picture, either, unless the image was a mental projection. But Michael probably knew the world well enough that it would give him a better idea of where to go.

Savi returned to her computers. Taylor joined her, aware of every step Michael took from the living room to the table. Aware of the beat of his heart, of how he hadn’t taken a single breath since the last time he’d spoken—and of how he inhaled as soon as he stood beside her. A few seconds later, an image rolled over one of Savi’s screens. Lots of red rock, a single narrow road. Taylor glanced up.

And found Michael watching her. His gaze moved over her face. “Will you join me?”

Out in the middle of nowhere. With Michael. On a quest.

Taylor didn’t even need to think about it. “Yes.”

They jumped into sunlight and heat, with the midday sun over her head and nothing under her feet. Dizzy, Taylor clung to Michael’s shoulders. The steel band of his arm tightened around her.

This time, he didn’t perform a psychic sweep. But he didn’t need to, Taylor realized. Far below, the ribbon of road winding through the park lay deserted. No cars, no hikers or climbers—and nowhere to hide in the bare rock and sparse brush. If any demons had been nearby, Michael would have already spotted them, like a hawk on a rabbit. A red, scaly rabbit.

A big, gorgeous hawk.

A second later, she stood on the ground, her head spinning again. Double teleportation. Not fun.

Except that Michael was right here. He held her firmly against his side, the buckles of his cuirass like hard knots against her ribs. His wings folded against his back, and when she looked up at him, the feathered arches shaded her face from the glare of the sun. The air smelled of sunbaked stone and the coppery scent of the blood still drying on his armor. Everything was quiet. Just the beat of their hearts and her breath, the faint whisper of wind, the buzzing of bees hovering over shrubs blooming with small orange flowers.

It took only a moment to steady, but Taylor wasn’t in a hurry to move. No demons were around, so the dragon blood wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael met her eyes. “Still dizzy?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to let you go?”

“Not yet.”

She loved his slow smile. All that hardness in his face instantly transformed. Not into something softer, but as if a sculptor had reworked his chiseled features to a more beautiful expression.

God, and she wanted to just turn her head and sink her teeth into his shoulder.

But they had work to do, so she would settle for watching him. Eight thousand years old, but he knew his way around modern devices—and he had a better memory than she did. Holding the GPS in one hand, he entered the coordinates with his thumb more quickly than she’d ever seen any teenager text.

“So this is the modern version of questing for magic objects,” she said. “Instead of answering a riddle, you just need a GPS. Does it take the fun out?”

His quick grin flipped her belly over. He hefted the device. “This
is
the fun. I don’t enjoy riddles.”

“Do you get frustrated when you can’t solve them?” And if he did, would she be able to tell? Maybe his face would just become harder, his eyes darker.

They were amber now. “No. I don’t like the riddles themselves. I prefer speaking directly.”

“You must want to stab Khavi, then.”

“Sometimes. And you?”

“I’d rather punch her.”

His low laugh rumbled through the steel cuirass. “No. I wondered if you were disappointed that there were no riddles to answer or trolls to defeat.”

“Nah. I don’t like riddles, either. Unless I can solve them. Then I feel smart.”

And it was hard to be disappointed in anything when she stood so close. When his arm held her so tight. Even with buckles digging into her ribs, she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

They couldn’t stay like this. But she could delay a few seconds longer. “Have you ever seen a troll?”

“No.”

“A unicorn?”

“I’m not a virgin.”

She grinned. “Then I have zero chance of seeing one, too. But maybe it’s for the best. Aren’t unicorns the mortal enemies of dragons?”

“No.” His smile was a little bit wicked. “We just think they taste good.”

“No wonder there aren’t any around, then.” Eaten to extinction by dragons. Her laugh ended on a sigh. “How far away are we from the blood?”

He glanced at the GPS. “Not quite a hundred meters.”

“Can we walk instead of teleporting? I don’t want to spin again— Oh, God. I’m such a dense idiot.” Mouth dropping open, she stepped back to look up at him. “When Savi’s house blew and you teleported Maggie out of the safe room, she threw up. And just a few minutes ago, she came close to doing it again. I thought it was anxiety or exhaustion, except she’s not the type to crack like that. She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Amusement warmed his voice. “You’re not dense.”

She took that as a yes. Good for Maggie, then. Maybe.

“Does she know? Geoff obviously doesn’t, because he’d have been pushing her to bed, too.” Even as she said it, Taylor realized, “Colin knows.”

“He does,” Michael confirmed. “They don’t.”

“Should we tell her? Looking for Katherine means a lot of stress. That might be dangerous.”

“And we can’t know if telling her would only add to the stress.”

He had a point. And Maggie was healthy. Resilient. She’d probably be okay whether they told her or not. But they couldn’t be certain of that, either.

“I just don’t want to see her hurt.” And she knew that Michael wouldn’t, either. So why wouldn’t he say anything? “Did you already look at her with your healing Gift?”

Unless Maggie was hurt by a vampire, a Guardian, or a demon, Michael couldn’t help her with his Gift. His power couldn’t heal diseases or injuries that came about naturally, that were self-inflicted, or that were caused by humans—it only healed the damage that supernatural creatures made. But he could scan for problems and assess her health.

“I looked. She is well, and the pregnancy is progressing without complication.”

“And if that changed?”

“I’d likely tell her.” His mouth flattened and he shook his head. “But it’s not an easy decision. I’ve intruded on her privacy. She hasn’t asked for my help. How much should Guardians interfere in human lives?”

And telling her would mean that Michael had determined what was best for her, rather than letting Maggie decide for herself. “Maybe Guardians shouldn’t interfere with most humans,” Taylor said, “but Maggie’s a friend—and that’s pretty much the definition of friendship. We’re always sticking our noses in each other’s business.”

“She is a friend,” Michael agreed. “But she’s not dense, either.”

No, she wasn’t. And Maggie must be as surprised by her reaction to teleporting as Taylor had been. She’d figure it out—probably as soon as she got a second to rest.

And Taylor’s delay had turned into minutes, not a few seconds. “So. The blood?”

“It’s this way.”

Not far, but a rough hike up a steep hill to the base of a cliff. Fist-sized rocks shifted under her boots. Twice she had to use her hands to clamber up to steadier ground. She didn’t want to think about how Geoff had managed this without looking through someone’s eyes.

And of course Michael never needed to clamber. He didn’t even seem to notice the sharp stones under his bare feet. His footing never unsure, his long strides never reduced to quick scrambling steps—and his hand always extended to offer support. Taylor took it at the end, where the steep hill met a waist-high shelf at the bottom of the cliff. An easy jump for her, unless the rocks slid out from under her feet. Michael didn’t hesitate. He leapt onto the shelf, then hauled her up after him.

She tilted her head back, trying to see up the four hundred and fifty feet to where Maggie had said the blood was hidden. Horizontal bands of yellow and orange striated the wall of stone. The satellite image had flattened the perspective, made the cliff face appear more sheer than it was. Depressions pitted the rock. Several more shelves projected outward—all of them, it seemed, broken by cracks and crevices.

Beside her, Michael’s wings unfolded. Taylor grimaced. “I really can’t fly yet.”

“I know. We’ll climb. Just use your wings for better balance.”

Going the slow way for her. “It would be faster if you flew.”

“But less like a quest.” His quick grin flashed. “We should face at least one difficulty.”

She laughed and nodded. But wondered aloud, “Is this cliff difficult for you?”

“No. And after a few minutes, it won’t be for you, either.”

So less like a quest, and more like a training exercise that made good use of the wasted time. Taylor was up for that. After another glance at the cliff, she vanished her boots. Their stiff soles would make it harder to stick her toes into the crevices she needed to use as footholds. She searched for the first handhold, then the next, mentally mapping the first couple of steps. All good.

She formed her wings, rolling her shoulders when the familiar weight settled on her back and she felt the sudden extension of nerves and muscle, of sensitive feathers that detected the slightest shift in the air, the sun warming a part of her body that simply hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. So strange, but oddly pleasant.

And the feathers were white.

Taylor froze, her breath catching in her throat. She pushed her left wing forward, staring.

Oh, God. She hadn’t even thought. When Michael had been linked to her, they’d been black. Now they were as white as every other Guardian’s.

And seeing them felt like a punch to her chest.

“Andromeda?” His voice came from behind her, rough and low.

Worried. He’d seen her distress. But this was stupid. Wings were wings. No matter their color, they did the same damn thing. She forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. Her feathers brushed the stone behind her as she faced him.

His eyes had darkened to obsidian.

Her heart thumped. “What is it?”

“They change everything. Your balance. How you hold your shoulders. The way you stand, the way you move. Even the lift of your chin.”

He pushed closer, his focus intense as his gaze searched up and down her length, as if he couldn’t decide what to study first. He’d never seen them on her before, she realized. She’d only been a Guardian for about five seconds before he sacrificed himself to the frozen field, and she hadn’t worn them since his return.

His expression slowly changed as he looked. Jaw tightening, lips firming. As if resisting some dark thought that wouldn’t go away. After a long second, his eyes met hers. “I could watch you for ten thousand years and always want more time.”

She couldn’t believe that. “You’d get bored.”

“No.” His hand cupped her jaw, stopped her denial. Seeking his warmth, she pressed her cheek into his palm, and he said softly, “You could turn to me a million times in exactly the same way, and never would I tire of it.”

And she’d never tire of him touching her. But she couldn’t think of that now. Something else was happening here. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the slow slide of his thumb across her bottom lip. That wasn’t sexual. There was something almost . . . melancholy about him instead. As if some pain had worked its way through all of that hardness and pierced a vulnerability hidden in his heart.

A dull ache filled her chest. “Are you okay?”

His gaze snapped to hers. All vulnerability gone. “Why?”

“I just . . . you looked . . .
sad.
” It was the only word for it. No matter how strange seeing Michael that way seemed. But he probably had more reason than anyone. “Was it because of Colin and Savi? I can’t imagine finding them that way was easy.”

“No.” Eyes softening again, he stepped back. “It wasn’t. It never is.”

“Never? You’d think after a while, it would be.”

“For some, perhaps. Not me.”

And that was a good thing. It meant that Michael would never stop caring about what happened to people. But it was awful, too. “I don’t even know how you deal with the shit you must’ve seen in your life. I mean, as much as I loved being a cop, sometimes all the crap drags you down. And that’s just after a few years. But you’ve seen the worst of it for millennia. And not only the demons. Humans, too. I think you’ve seen people do things to each other that I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“I don’t know how far your imagination descends. But it’s likely.”

His reply held a trace of amusement, but she was serious. “How can you look at us and still see anything worth saving?”

“Because I see the good, too. That’s far more common than the bad.”

“You truly believe that?”

“If I didn’t, I’d have crushed you all under my feet thousands of years ago.”

A joke. Yet Michael
could
have, if he’d chosen to. Lucifer had created the grigori to do just that. And Anaria had wanted to, not to serve Lucifer, but because she believed people weren’t good enough.

But Michael believed the opposite. Taylor suspected that he thought better of her fellow humans than she did. “Do you know how I knew it wasn’t you in Hell—why I didn’t give back your body at first?”

His amusement vanished. “It was me, Andromeda. Don’t mistake that.”

She hadn’t. “No. It was
part
of you. Like the part of me that wants to line up every single rapist and child molester and just shoot them dead. It’s not a strong part of me, and I know it would be a terrible thing to do—and I don’t believe for a second that it’s the
right
thing to do—but the thought still pops up. Especially when shit gets really bad, and I’ve got some kid crying on my shoulder. Yet I would never say that’s who I am.”

“No,” he said softly. “Neither would I.”

“So that wasn’t you. It was just that part of you that comes out every now and then. The part that says ‘fuck you’ to the world, and that wants to be left alone so that you can eat demons and fill some chick with your seed.”