Demon

by Kristina Douglas

  Beloch just watched him. “I cannot decide whether you’re making the very unwise attempt to manipulate me, or you are truly impervious to her. Though she appears to be far removed from the Lilith, she should still retain her erotic power. You insist that you feel nothing? That her powers do not move you?”

  “I climaxed inside her. Is that answer enough?”

  “So you did,” Beloch murmured. “The cameras were very explicit.”

  Azazel froze. He hadn’t bothered to search the room, knowing that Beloch could simply transport himself if he wanted to watch. He should have realized that Beloch would know he would resist.

  “You were watching.”

  “I was watching,” Beloch murmured. “What I fail to understand is why you had to do all the heavy lifting, so to speak. I would have thought she’d simply shove you down and climb on top of you. It is her way, after all.”

  He managed to keep his rage under control. “You underestimate her. She would know I wouldn’t respond well to that, that I would find shyness and uncertainty alluring.”

  “And did you? Find her alluring, that is?”

  She was awake. He felt the sudden tension in her body, and he wondered how long she’d been listening. He’d been too angry with Beloch to notice.

  There was nothing he could do about it. “She is a beautiful woman,” he said in a tight voice. “And I’ve been celibate for too long. Of course I responded to her. It means nothing.”

  “It’s been seven years since your beloved Sarah died, hasn’t it?” Beloch’s voice was faintly mocking, and Azazel wanted to cram the words down his throat for daring to speak Sarah’s name. “And now you’re doomed to follow her with the greatest female demon the world has ever known. That really must sting. I’m certain you’d be happy if I took her away before you became attached to her.”

  He had to tread carefully, swallow his rage. “I would appreciate it,” he said, and held his breath.

  Beloch chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I must agree with your original assessment. It wasn’t much of a test. If you’re going to prove you’re not susceptible, you’ll have to endure more than a quick ride in the moonlight.”

  He didn’t show his relief. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling relief. The sooner she was destroyed, the sooner she would no longer be a threat to his future. “As you wish,” he said. “But you’ll turn off the cameras.”

  “No. I quite enjoy watching you. You’re both quite beautiful animals, and watching you copulate is entertaining. You would have made beautiful babies.”

  “Since the Fallen cannot reproduce and the Lilith smothers newborns, I would expect that’s a moot point.”

  Beloch looked toward Rachel’s motionless figure, but Azazel shifted, once more blocking his view. “Then I will leave you two to fuck like bunnies,” he said with an ugly twist to his mouth. “Wear each other out if you like. And if you can still turn her over to me, then I’ll be satisfied, and you’ll be free of the prophecy. Everyone will be happy. Except the Lilith, of course. But by then she won’t be feeling anything.”

  He was gone. Azazel didn’t move, and neither did Rachel. She wouldn’t have his awareness, wouldn’t know that Beloch had left them. Left them with the cameras as silent observers.

  If he could have gotten away with it, he would have slid down beside her, wrapped his body around hers, and taken her that way. Despite Beloch’s intrusion, he was still hard for her, a natural reaction after so many years of celibacy. Waking next to a warm female body was a guarantee of arousal, no matter who—or what—that female was.

  But he knew he didn’t dare touch her. He had no idea exactly how much she had heard, but it would be enough. “He’s gone now,” he said in the low, cool voice he used with her, keeping the disturbing roil of emotions hidden beneath it.

  She moved so fast he was startled. She leapt out of bed, ripping the sheet off with her and wrapping it around her body. Too late she realized it left him sitting on the bed naked and aroused, and she jerked her face away, once more turning that lovely shade of pink. “Do you have any idea how much I hate you?”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d repudiated her and what they’d done, what he wanted to do again. “I expect you do. You needn’t bother to explain—you must have a dozen reasons.”

  “Get out of my room.”

  He slid off the bed. Off her side of the bed, and there wasn’t much room between the bed and the wall, and the two of them were trapped. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she couldn’t fend him off without letting the sheet fall, and she wasn’t going to do that. He could regret that, but he had to get rid of the cameras first.

  She was stiff, angry, hurt. Who would have thought the Lilith could feel hurt? But last night he’d finally realized she was no longer the Lilith. What demon had resided inside her was gone, or it would have emerged during coitus. He’d been expecting it, prepared; but when she came she’d simply been a woman lost in the magic of her first climax. She was Rachel, beautiful, angry, wounded, staring at him with such betrayal in her brown eyes that he wanted to pull her against his body and hold her.

  She’d fight him if he tried it. So he contented himself with giving her a little shake. “Stop being childish. This is hardly a matter of hurt feelings—this is life and death and eternity. Stop being so emotional.”

  Demons didn’t have emotions. If there was anything of the demon left, there was the chance that the layers of forgetfulness and humanity might still be stripped away, showing her as the monster she was. Or would she stay this way, confused and furious, vulnerable and combative? And melting.

  None of this was having the desired effect on his cock. He released her. “I’ll take care of the cameras,” he said in a tight voice. “Go and take a shower.”

  “Are there cameras in the bathroom?”

  “Most likely. He’ll have been watching since we arrived—you have no privacy left.” He let his hands drop, because he wanted to reach for her again. “Go,” he said.

  She went.

  IT MEANT NOTHING. HIS WORDS still stung, when they shouldn’t have. I knew he was the enemy. I knew he thought I was a monster—in fact, it was amazing he’d been able to get it up, considering what he thought of me. But he had, most impressively, and he’d been hard this morning as well. I could still feel the color in my face when I’d stupidly ripped the covers off him. I would need to remember that in the future.

  Not that there was going to be any future. I didn’t care what Beloch said—we’d done what he’d ordered and there was no reason to do it again.

  No reason but the strange longing that suffused my body. I wanted him again. Which was crazy—I didn’t want sex, I didn’t like it, even when I was in love. So why did my hands shake when I thought of touching him? I thought of the way our bodies joined, the feel of him inside me, the thick slide of him, and I wanted to feel it again.

  I tried to lock the bathroom door, but of course it had been dismantled, and I slammed my fist against the wood, then let my forehead rest against it. I wanted to scream with fury and frustration, but it would do no good. I dropped the sheet, no longer giving a good goddamn whether any ancient pervert was watching me, and stepped into the shower. My thighs were sticky, my muscles ached, my mouth was soft and tender from his. I leaned against the marble wall and let the hot water pound down on me, washing him away.

  I dried myself, then grabbed the sheet again before I opened the door. My bedroom was deserted, the bed made with fresh sheets, and new clothes lay folded on top of the bed. I wondered who I had to thank for that. I couldn’t picture Azazel making the bed, but I hadn’t sensed anyone else in the house.

  And then I remembered the cameras that were definitely in this room. I dressed quickly, resisting the childish impulse to flip the bird to them. Resisted it because I didn’t know where the cameras were.

  There was no sign of Azazel as I made my way downstairs. I was hoping there’d be something edible left of the massive buffet from la
st night, but to my astonishment there was fresh, warm food, including hot coffee. Everything I could have wanted.

  I could have wished that my appetite had disappeared with the events of the last twelve hours, but instead I was ravenously hungry. I went back for seconds and was sitting there, my legs propped up on a nearby chair, enjoying a second cup of coffee and an almond croissant, when Azazel walked in.

  I looked at him, trying not to picture him naked, the look on his face as I clutched his shoulders and rode him. … “There’s food,” I said unnecessarily.

  “I already ate.”

  Of course he did, I thought, unreasonably miffed. At this point there was probably nothing he could do that wouldn’t have annoyed me. It was late afternoon, and the sky outside was darkening. It looked like a storm was coming in.

  “What prophecy?” I hadn’t meant to ask him, hadn’t meant to say anything that would require a response from him. He would do as he always did, ignore my questions, give me one-syllable answers. “Never mind,” I said hastily. “I don’t know why I bother.”

  He came over, took the chair my feet were propped on, and pulled it out from under me, sitting down next to me. “The prophecy is from one of the ancient scrolls found at Qumran. Better known as the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

  I was more shocked that he appeared to be giving me an answer than at the answer itself. “Those are fairy tales and mythology, nothing more. Written by crazy, deluded old men.”

  “You would be surprised,” he said. “Half of it is nonsense. The rest is far too close to the truth.”

  “So there’s a fifty percent chance this prophecy is true. What is it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It happens to be part of the fifty percent that isn’t true.”

  “Then why does it matter so much to you?”

  His mouth thinned. I remembered the feel of his lips against mine, and I wanted to close my eyes and cross the small distance that separated us. I stayed where I was.

  “The prophecy states that the Lilith will eventually marry Asmodeus, king of the demons, and they will reign in hell.”

  Okay, I thought, reaching for my coffee. It was already cold, but I needed to stall for time. I swallowed, then looked at him. “Absurd,” I agreed. “Considering I’m not the mythical demon you think I am, it has nothing to do with me. But even if it were true, why is that a problem for you? You think I belong in hell anyway. Might as well rule it.”

  “Hell doesn’t exist. I already told you that.”

  “Do you think I take your word as gospel?”

  “In fact, I never lie. I am incapable of it.”

  “Is that part of the so-called angel thing?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re an angel.” I still found that as absurd as the thought that I was a demon. “So why do you care about the prophecy? Why do you care who I marry?” It was a ridiculous, hopeful thought, but I couldn’t imagine what else was troubling about the prophecy.

  “Of course I don’t care whom you marry. As long as it isn’t me. I am called many names in the scrolls and scriptures. Azazel, Astaroth, Azael … and Asmodeus.”

  For a moment I couldn’t move. And then I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not marrying you.”

  “No. I intend to make sure of it.”

  Why did that feel so painful? I certainly didn’t want to marry him. I had no idea what marriage to an angel might entail, but I imagined it wasn’t pleasant. And there was no way in hell I was going to give him that much power over me. He had too much already.

  I still wanted to fight back, to make him feel the pain I was feeling, the illogical, irrational pain, and I had one weapon. “Who is Sarah?”

  I might have imagined that he flinched, the movement was so quick. But he didn’t avoid my gaze. “My wife,” he said. “She died seven years ago. And I will not replace her with you.” Watching me. Always watching me out of those fierce blue eyes in the drab, empty surroundings.

  I wanted to hate her. I wanted anger to fill me at the thought of the woman he loved, loved enough to spend seven years without sex, loved enough that he’d offered me up to monsters rather than risk having to marry me and contaminate her memory.

  But I could find no rage. In truth, I could almost feel her between us, a gentle presence in the room. Oh, most definitely between us, and she always would be.

  But he would be gone, and I would be dead, and why should it matter? Yet it did.

  “What if I promise not to marry you? I think I can manage to survive such a crushing blow to my heart.” I was trying to sound cynical, but there was just a trace of vulnerability in my voice, and I wished I’d just shut the fuck up. I twisted my mouth into a semblance of a smile. “Let’s just be friends with benefits.”

  “We are not friends and we never will be.”

  Damn, we were back to the terse dialogue. “Then what are we? And don’t say mortal enemies—we’re past that and you may as well admit it. What are we?”

  “Reluctant allies. I have decided I do not want the Truth Breakers to get their hands on you.”

  “Then why did you bring me here in the first place?” It was a reasonable question, and I expected an answer.

  “To find the truth at any cost. I changed my mind.”

  “Why? Because we fucked?” I used the crude word deliberately. Sex without love was fucking. “Suddenly you care about me?”

  “No. Because suddenly I despise Beloch.”

  I’d wanted answers—it wasn’t his fault if I didn’t like them. Then again, I wasn’t sure if I believed him. There had been a strong undercurrent of animosity between the two of them when he’d first brought me down to Beloch’s deceptively cozy apartment. This was nothing new.

  “So what are we going to do about it?” I asked in my most practical voice.

  “I have yet to decide.” He rose abruptly, glancing around the room, and I suddenly remembered the cameras. Were they throughout the house? “I’m going for a walk,” he said in that take-no-prisoners tone.

  I didn’t like feeling like a prisoner. “Can I go with you?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “You’ve already seen what can happen when you wander around alone.”

  “But I’d have you to protect me,” I argued.

  He looked at me long and hard. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on it.”

  THE COOL AFTERNOON AIR WAS heavy with an approaching storm as Azazel strode toward the old restaurant and made his way into the warren of rooms beneath it. Beloch had been his enemy for as long as he could remember. He was far more powerful than he should have been. While Azazel knew that the Dark City had existed as long as the Fallen had, possibly longer, the details were unclear. The memory of his own incarceration here was impossibly vague—he could recall the pain and the despair and his determination to survive, and not much more.

  He refused to ask his enemies for favors—particularly when they were like Beloch, delighting in power and torture. Yet here he stood in Beloch’s lair, the supplicant. If he wanted to bring her safely out of here, he would need Beloch’s agreement.

  “Please,” he said, and the word cost him.

  Beloch looked at him and laughed. “Have you fallen in love, Azazel?” he cooed from his chair by the fire, his gnarled fingers stroking the angry cat. “How darling! I thought you were determined not to fall prey to the Lilith. In fact, earlier you insisted that you had managed to bed her without emotion. Clearly you were lying, either to me or to yourself.”

  Azazel stared back, keeping his face cool and blank. “Falling in love is for weak-minded humans,” he said. “Besides, the Lilith has no memory of her seductive powers—she’s as awkward as a schoolgirl.”

  “I gather schoolgirls can be quite delightful,” Beloch murmured. “Though I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. The lure of the flesh disgusts me. But here’s the question that really interests me. Did you drink from her, blood-eater?”

  “No. You know the curse as well as I do.
She isn’t my mate, and we only feed from our mates. I felt no desire for her blood at all.” He wondered if that was the truth. He could smell her blood pulsing beneath her skin, and his fangs had begun to lengthen reflexively. He’d fought it. It was profane enough that he’d fucked her. To drink her blood in the sacrament reserved for bonded mates would be the greatest travesty.

  The only reason he’d even been tempted was that he’d been away from Sheol for so long. Away from the nourishing gift of the Source. It was only natural that he should begin to react to her on a purely visceral level. Only natural that he would fight it.

  “I wonder if I believe you,” Beloch said meditatively.

  “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. I want you to let her go. We can find other ways to get the information we need from her.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Beloch said. “The moment you entered the Dark City, you placed yourselves in my hands. I don’t relinquish what is mine. You brought her here for the Truth Breakers to discover the secrets she keeps hidden inside, and they will do just that.”

  “They’ll kill her.”

  Beloch smiled. “Yes, they will. Very few survive the Truth Breakers. You were one of the rare ones. I’m certain they’d love another chance at you.”

  He didn’t move. The room was stiflingly hot, and the fire crackled like a laughing witch. He could offer Beloch a trade. He had no reason to live, no desire to continue. If Beloch would send her—Rachel—back to Sheol, Azazel had complete faith that the Fallen would find out what they needed to know, sooner or later. It would simply take more time, but in the end the truth would come out. She would live, and he would die. It seemed a fair trade.

  “What do the Truth Breakers want from me?” he said.

  “What you refused to give them the last time, of course. You don’t remember? No, of course not. I saw to that. The Truth Breakers want nothing less than the secrets of Sheol. How you survive and thrive in the face of God’s disapproval. What are the walls that keep everyone out? How many are there? Who would be most likely to repent and return to the fold?”