In two steps, he grabbed up his phone. The text message shoved his arousal into low gear, but left his anger running.
Send everything you know about Irena. Her territory, her haunts.
Fuck that.
Irena’s info isn’t part of the deal, asshole.
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.
New deal. You have 10 minutes.
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.
“Julia was a good woman and a good wife.”
“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.
“Because when we find Anaria, I’m going to cut out her heart and eat it.”
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.
I would not say that.
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.
You stupid ox.
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.
Next time, it will not be my hands, but my mouth.
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.
“I know what it is to love a woman and to want nothing more than to lay the world at her feet.”
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.
“Why did they want Anaria?” Though Preston’s psychic scent burned with curiosity and mild frustration, he didn’t ask why they feared Irena might tear Caelum apart.
A diplomatic man, Alejandro thought.
“She studied with Lucifer and created the nephilim,” Michael said. “She has extensive knowledge of the symbols and their magic. And so Belial’s demons believe she can tell them how to have children, as well.”
Taylor held up her hands and looked at Irena. “Okay, wait. So you’re saying: Rael falls for some lucky girl . . . and then kills his wife to get her out of the way. And he gets pissed when Irena says she’ll kill Anaria, because Anaria might show him how to have little demon babies with the lucky girl. Is that what I’m hearing?”
“I’ve only said that Belial’s demons wanted Anaria alive, despite the prophecy.” Irena’s eyes glowed with amusement. “I am trying to consider details. You are the one who put them together.”
“So I did.” Taylor dragged her hands through her tangled red hair. She turned and studied the frozen image on the screen, as if trying to see past the human face Rael wore. “And I can’t buy it. I mean, where is this woman?”
“It’s a stretch,” Lilith agreed. “Pure speculation.”
“Yes.” Michael nodded at the screen. “We’ll pursue the question of the woman later. For now, let’s go on.”
Alejandro watched the remaining questions, his body tensing through each one. On the recording, Taylor danced closer to the one they wanted to hear, and he couldn’t shake the sudden, heavy feeling of impending disaster.
“You obviously didn’t hire someone to kill her, risking exposure in the process.”
“No, detective. I didn’t.”
“Lie,” Castleford said.
A breathless silence hovered over the room. Alejandro absorbed it, his stomach twisting.
With a feral smile, Irena pushed away from the wall. “That is it, then.”
She strode to the door. Alejandro recognized her gliding, effortless step. Irena was on the hunt. She meant to slay Rael now.
Lilith shot to her feet. “Irena—”
“Lilith,” Michael said sharply. “No.”
Alejandro didn’t wait to hear what either had to say. He caught up to Irena as she left the room.
“You have come to talk me out of it.” Her accusation echoed in the narrow hall. “Don’t try. He killed a human.”
“I don’t want to stop you.”
She cast him a hard glance. “You lie.”
“I won’t stop you. But I ask that you wait.”
Her mouth twisted in a sneer. Her pace increased, and she formed her wings.
His patience snapped. He caught her wrist, twisted, and slammed her face-first into the wall. He shoved his body against her, her wings tight against his chest.
He snarled into her ear, “Wait.”
Between them, Irena’s fingers clamped around his wrist, mirroring his hold on hers. Aside from that small movement, she stood still, her cheek flat against the wall. Her eyes shone bright green.
She could kill him without turning around, he knew. She could break him a thousand ways. But she didn’t move.
“You deliberately push me,” he realized. “Why?”
“Because you can take it,” she snapped. Before he could feel the pleasure of that comp
liment, her lashes swept down, hiding the glow of her eyes. “And I wanted to see what you will fight for.”
His hand tightened on her wrist. “I do not fight for Rael.” His voice and his fingers bit into her, but he couldn’t make himself ease back. This was her opinion of him? “A woman is still dead, Irena. Rael pulled the strings but he didn’t pull the trigger, and if you slay him now, we may never know who did.”
Her vicious smile appeared again. “I’ll make him tell.” “And if he does not? Then her killer is never punished.”
“Our purpose isn’t to police humans, or to help humans punish each other.”
“Not our purpose. But when demons have destroyed human lives, helping to pick them back up should be our duty.”
She didn’t respond, and he prayed she was taking his argument in and giving it due consideration.
In a softer tone, he continued, “That is not the only reason I ask you to wait. Rael must be slain . . . but SI must keep Thomas Stafford alive. I need time to prepare for that, Irena. It has to be done carefully.”
Her brow creased as she puzzled through his words. He felt the moment she understood. Visceral rejection ripped through her psychic scent. She tore her wrist from his grip.
Alejandro stepped back. He had his reasons solidly outlined, but he couldn’t voice them past the tightness in his throat. God, how he’d hoped she would accept his decision. She’d been pleased to hear about Bradshaw’s role at the FBI. But she obviously didn’t feel the same about his intention to replace Rael.
She turned, pressing her back to the wall. Her wings created a soft frame of feathers around her rigid form. Her eyes glittered.
“That deception will be no different to the people you would serve than Rael’s deception is now, Olek.”
He saw that it was different. But he knew that every argument he made, Irena would call splitting hairs.
“So be it,” he said. “It must be done.”
Anger stabbed through her psychic scent. She closed her eyes, averted her face.
He waited, feeling as if his heart was clenched in her fist. It squeezed tighter when she pushed away from the wall. Without looking at him, she strode down the hall toward the exit.
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