She sighed when she realized that his gaze had unfocused. At the restaurant, she’d noted that he had a tendency to drift off in the middle of a conversation. Now she had to repeat his name several times before he snapped to attention.
“Yes, Alice. Yes.” He chuckled to himself, then just as quickly sobered. “No, that wasn’t all. Because that’s when Belial said that Michael should have known Lucifer would release the nephilim, because he—Belial—had taught Michael to think like Lucifer.”
Alice blinked, certain she’d misheard. “Belial taught Michael?” “Yep.” The answer was grim.
“Taught him where? When?”
“Dunno.”
“But he—? And how—?” Alice closed her eyes, tried desperately to order the questions spitting through her mind, to suppress her revulsion.
Taught by a demon.
She trusted and loved each of her mentors. To imagine Michael having a similar relationship with a demon—even a demon who was Lucifer’s enemy—made her feel as if a sickness had taken root inside her, putrefying her body and emotions as it spread.
But surely it hadn’t been the same. Surely, whatever Michael and Belial’s relationship, it couldn’t be compared to what she’d shared with her mentors.
Alice took a long breath. “What did Michael have to say about it?”
“Just that any association he might have had with Belial was long past, was nothing as Belial imagined it had been, and was best forgotten.”
That resembled what Michael had said about the temples. She met Jake’s gaze, saw the same realization there.
His eyes narrowed. “Think it’s connected?”
“I don’t know. I cannot even—” She shook her head. “Why didn’t Ethan tell the rest of us?”
To her surprise, Jake shape-shifted into Ethan’s tall form. And she had to smile when he drawled, “Well, I reckon there’s no need to go about causing a fuss just yet. It may be that Belial was lying, hoping that every Guardian would be looking at Michael all suspicious-like, and that it might have us squabbling with one another instead of putting a world of hurt on Belial’s demons like we oughta be. So we’ll wait until we figure the truth of it before telling the others.”
Alice nodded thoughtfully. It was similar to one of the reasons Guardians hid their existence from humans. Not that they didn’t deserve to know the truth—but that the repercussions might be far too dangerous.
“And it does not change what Michael is now,” she murmured. A leader, a healer, the most powerful warrior—Michael was the heart of the Guardian corps.
“That it doesn’t, little lady.”
Alice lifted her brows.
Jake grimaced, and was suddenly himself again. “Yeah. That was more John Wayne than Drifter. Anyway, I’m guessing that even if it isn’t a lie, Michael is thinking the same thing as Drifter: that at this point—after the Ascension, the nephilim popping up—it’s better not to have division in the ranks. Especially over something that could be nothing.”
Yes, and especially now. The minor grumblings that had begun after Michael appointed Lucifer’s daughter as the head of Special Investigations might escalate.
Michael had never suppressed opposing viewpoints, had never reprimanded anyone for dissention. She remembered several instances when he’d called for debate over the Guardians’ role during human wars, the heated discussions that had followed. But even when Guardians acted contrary to the consensus they’d reached, Michael hadn’t disciplined them. As long as the Rules had been followed, as long as the Guardians hadn’t hurt humans or denied their free will, Michael allowed the Guardians to act according to their free will.
So he likely didn’t want to create tension over a matter that had no bearing on problems the Guardians were facing today. It was, Alice thought, the decision she’d have chosen, too.
“So,” Jake said, his gaze steady on hers. “That help at all?”
Perhaps discovering that Michael had a dark secret might have helped—it could have let her consider the unthinkable. But this had only served to remind her of what a fine Guardian he was.
And there was nothing to use against Teqon.
“I don’t think so.” Alice gathered her skirts in her fist, holding them bunched and tight against her thigh. “But thank you.”
She dropped through the clouds, and heard the snap of Jake’s wings as he dove after her.
He couldn’t have been far behind when she broke through the mist and leveled out, but she didn’t see him when she glanced over her shoulder. Wondering if he’d looped around, she looked down—just as he flew in beneath.
“You don’t give a guy a chance to say ‘You’re welcome,’ ” he said, facing her with his hands laced behind his head and his ankles crossed.
“I’m sorry. I—” Alice broke off, marveling that he hadn’t rolled over yet. Flying on one’s back was tremendously difficult. Instead of beating in a smooth sweep, their wings had to perform an awkward rowing motion while in vertical alignment. It was easy to roll and to fly upside-down for a short period, but after a few seconds Alice—and every Guardian she’d ever seen practice it—lost her balance and went spinning out of control. Yet Jake had maintained a smooth course for several hundred yards now. “You’re very good at that.”
He grinned. “I can even carry weight.”
“Most impressive.”
“Yep.” Though he was still smiling, the humor had left his eyes, the intensity of his stare had deepened. “Wanna ride?”
Her gaze fell to his waist. His damp T-shirt molded to an abdomen that was as tightly muscled as his backside. She had no doubt he could support her.
And she wanted to. Wanted to close her eyes and feel the wind against her face, that incredible sense of freedom—and have it come through no effort of her own.
It wouldn’t even require trust. If he faltered, she could save herself.
But she wouldn’t be able to escape the intimacy of such a position.
Alice shook her head, and increased her speed. She half-expected Jake to keep pace beneath her, but he simply rolled into his flanking formation. Shortly, they came over Charlie’s large lodge-style home at the edge of the lake.
A dock extended out over the water, and stairs led up to the house. Trees provided cover near the rocky shoreline.
Alice caught the side of her skirt again, and quickly descended. She’d barely touched down on the shore when a loud splash sounded behind her, a body hitting water at enormous speed.
Jake.
She whirled, scanning the sky. No demons. She pushed her Gift in a wide sweep, touching hundreds of spiders, building a sensory map of the immediate area. Nothing unusual moved through the trees, no one appeared as a bright spot of heat.
Jake hadn’t been attacked, then . . . but had dove into the lake.
His head broke the surface an instant later. His gaze never left her legs as he strode out of the water.
Alice looked down. Nothing showed. Her boots were laced to mid-shin, and although she’d pulled the hem to her knees when she’d gathered her skirts, her opaque black stockings concealed her skin.
Without a word, Jake passed her, began climbing the steps. His sopping T-shirt vanished.
Oh, dear. Lean and tall, with his wet jeans riding low, Jake looked every inch the young soldier he’d been as a human. Alice averted her eyes, her breath coming faster. It was fortunate that she’d settled her nerves during her bath.
She had a weakness for a man’s strong back—had ever since she was seventeen, at her father’s dig in el-Amarna. In the Egyptian heat, the men working had often taken off their shirts. The first time she’d seen Henry, he’d been among them, and the dust had turned their skin the same worn yellow. But when he’d washed, it had been the palest gold, and Alice had thought it the most exotic, beautiful color she’d ever beheld. So unlike the florid color of the other British men in the sun—those few who would remove their shirts. Jake, with his deep tan, was almost as dark as some of the
Egyptian men.
And her tastes had expanded since then.
“It’s the Enthrallment,” Jake said suddenly. “It still hits me sometimes.”
Alice studied him as he crossed the deck. Enthrallment came upon novices in their first years after returning to Earth, when their heightened senses were overwhelmed by the variety and scope of the scents, sounds, sights. But it usually sent the psychic scent into a spin, like inhaling too much hashish or whirling about in a circle. Jake’s was steady—and remarkably solid.
“I see,” she said doubtfully. “And cold water shocks you out of it?”
It never had her. Only lying perfectly still, trying to sense nothing.
“No.” Jake opened the French doors, stopped to disengage the security system. The water vanished from his jeans. An overlong knit sweater appeared in his hands, and he pulled it over his head, tugged it down in front.
She caught a thread of frustration from his psychic scent before he blocked it.
How strange he was. Alice followed him through the house, wondering what had sparked his arousal. Certainly nothing on her person; he’d made that perfectly clear earlier. And every day, he saw women exposing far more than a stocking-covered shin.
Perhaps it had been her boot heel, then. She liked it very well herself. The elongated hourglass mimicked a woman’s form, and provided a wide base for stability. And she’d coated the soles with silken webs for traction and softness; her steps barely made a sound on the wooden floors.
Pretty and practical. Hardly erotic, but maybe he was one of those men who could hold a teacup in his palm and become excited by its shape.
She entered the tech room behind him, and felt a movement in her pocket—Lucy, overcome with a sense of urgency, the need to find a new location for her web.
Alice pressed with her Gift, felt the spider’s body, heavy and full with children. Soon, Lucy. The spider wouldn’t understand the words, but the calm, soothing tone relieved the widow’s unease.
Jake moved to a long table holding more computers than Alice had seen in one place. The room was all of plastic and metal, and spotlessly clean.
“I’ve got your pictures from Tunisia,” he said, bending over one of the keyboards. “I don’t have any printer here that can handle the size you’ve been blowing them up to, but I’ll send them out, pick them up tomorrow.”
She turned away from the wall of security monitors that recorded the exterior of the house. “That isn’t necessary. I can—”
“I’m ordering copies for me, too. It’s just easier to do them all at once.”
“Oh. Very well then.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “This demon you’re looking for—Teqon? You’re in luck.”
“Oh?” She joined him at the table.
“Yep. After SI hacked into Legion’s server, some of the demons changed locations, their human aliases. Not him, though. He’s living in Cairo.”
Egypt. The climate would suit Lucy. “Do you have an address?”
“Yep. Do you need a ride?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t take Lucy though the Gates, so she would have to fly halfway around the world. “But you must leave immediately upon our arrival.”
“My Gift doesn’t always work that way—and I don’t think your little Lucy can make me jump.” He straightened and looked at her, his gaze assessing. “Those demons at the temple were only planning to torture you.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re assuming that Teqon won’t try to kill you.”
She took a step back, crossed her arms. “Yes.”
“What if you’re wrong? You can’t trust a demon, can you?”
Blast. He knew he had her there. She shook her head.
“So I’ll just hang around and watch your back.” His lips didn’t curve, but Alice was certain he was smirking inside. “And this way, you’re looking before you leap, being prepared—all of that smart Guardian stuff.”
The wretch. She opened her mouth, closed it. Admitting defeat, she urged Lucy out of her pocket.
Jake grinned and held out his hand. “Have you been to Cairo?”
Alice scooped up the widow and placed her in Jake’s palm. “I was raised in the city. Why?”
“I haven’t been. So I’ve got the idea of it in my head, the location—but nothing specific. It’ll help if you focus on it, too, and give me a good anchor.”
She nodded and looked up into his face, attempted to call up an image from one of her recent visits. Perhaps of a jewelry stall in the marketplace, one that sold figurines and scarabs of lapis lazuli—Jake’s eyes were the same deep blue.
Strange that she hadn’t noticed before.
His fingers laced through hers. “And maybe you’ll tell me why you’re jumping into a demon’s parlor.”
Flippin’ hell. He’d teleported, no sweat—but this wasn’t Egypt. They’d landed in a freezing attic, somewhere.
Jake let go of Alice’s hand. Not wanting to see her disappointment, he didn’t look at her—just pulled out his GPS.
The attic was big, but there was nothing unique about it. Wooden rafters. The style of the dust-covered chairs and tables suggested France or England—maybe the United States. Stars shone faintly through a small, high window, told him it was in the northern hemisphere. The sky was lightening with the approaching dawn. Definitely Europe.
The GPS said Manchester, Great Britain.
He glanced toward the other end of the attic, then stared. Jesus. Cobwebs filled the corners, hung like dirty veils from the rafters and between the posts of a huge, molding bed. And if that creepshow wasn’t enough, restraints were tied to each post, and leather cuffs rotted against the sagging mattress.
“Leave,” Alice whispered beside him.
Jake frowned, turned to look at her—then had to focus over the images of Cairo that suddenly flooded his head.
Her eyes were closed, and she was shaking. “Leave now!”
He grabbed her hand, pulled her in tight. And pounded his Gift as hard as he could.
CHAPTER 6
An uncontrolled jump—and one bitch of a landing in a narrow alleyway. Jake barely had time to register the feel of Alice sprawled beneath him before she elbowed him off and scrambled up onto her knees.
Lucy sat in her hand, and Alice was whispering to the spider—but Jake thought she was trying to calm herself, too.
And he felt like shit now, dammit. “Look, Alice, I screwed up on that jump, and—”
“I put it there.” She stood, her face and back stiff. “I didn’t control my thoughts, and put that location into your head. But we are here now, and it is forgotten.”
Yeah, right. That’s why her heart was still beating like a jackrabbit’s.
They’d jumped just after he’d asked her what the deal with Teqon was, and her thoughts had leapt to that location. But why would a woman raised in Egypt and with an American father think of England?
That creepy attic hadn’t been touched in the past twenty years, since Alice had returned to Earth from Caelum. Whatever took place in that attic had happened when she’d been human.
So the question was: Had that bed been hers, or had it belonged to someone she’d known?
He watched her, but hadn’t a clue to her thoughts. Her emotions were blocked, and her expression was carefully neutral as she took in the tenements rising high on both sides of the alley, the rickety carts, the drying clothes strung over their heads.
“We are obviously in the eastern part of the city,” she said. “How far to the demon’s home?”
He consulted the GPS. “About half a kilometer southwest.”
“Shall we walk, then?”
Jake got to his feet, slapped the dust of the alley floor off his ass. He sniffed, and slapped harder. It was more than dust.
“You will need to change your clothing, anyway,” Alice said. Her robes and head scarf from the temple were back, and she’d darkened her skin and eyes. “A white man is still noticed in these older s
ections of Cairo, especially among the street children.”
So he needed to look local. He shifted into the first form his mind grabbed hold of, and Alice’s mouth flattened.
“You still look foreign.”
He knew from news feeds that his loose jeans and button-down cotton shirt were unremarkable, so it must have been his face. “But it’s Omar Sharif. You know, from Lawrence of Arabia.”
She frowned. “Is that an Egyptian actor?”
“Yeah, he’s from—” Okay, he wasn’t sure. And maybe he’d put a little too much Peter O’Toole into it, anyway. “Forget it.”
He tried another. Alice raised her eyes to the heavens, then strode to the mouth of the alley.
Jake followed her, fighting his grin. “Come on. It’s Yul Brynner. You should have stars in your eyes.”
“Are you trying to put stars in my eyes, novice?”
“Do I look crazy?”
Damn. That probably hadn’t been the best response—because he did want to see something in her eyes besides disapproval.
Better yet, he wanted them closed, her skirts up around her waist, and her dancer’s legs wrapped around him. Those black stockings and witch boots were optional.
Yeah, he was flippin’ insane.
She stopped, faced him. “You look like an overly handsome man who will bring attention to us, and alert the demon of our approach before we arrive.”
Screw this, then. Jake shifted back into his own form, then did what she had, simply darkening his skin and eyes.
Alice’s lips thinned. “That hardly solves the problem.”
She stalked out into the street. Jake weaved through the busy foot traffic after her, pretty damn sure she’d just called him handsome. Maybe overly handsome.
Hot dog.
“At the very least, grow your hair out,” she said when he caught up. “And a heavy mustache. Roll up your shirtsleeves, and wear a watch. A cheap one, so that you do not attract thieves.”
He studied the men sitting outside a café, and walked around an exhaust-belching bus to conceal the transformation.
Demon Bound Page 10