Demon Bound

by Meljean Brook

  “That’s my guess. Someone was delivering a message.” His gaze lifted to vacant eye sockets, then to the symbols above. “More than one.”

  And the nephilim apparently hadn’t cared that they would see it. Or, not realizing that Jake could teleport, they were waiting outside—intending to kill Alice and him when they finally emerged.

  “Yes.” Her camera replaced her weapon. “Let’s do this quickly.”

  Alice didn’t immediately pull away from him when they teleported into the tech room at Special Investigations. Jake watched her close her eyes, fight the dizziness.

  Holding her steady was a pathetic excuse for getting his hands on her again, but he used it. He already knew the shape of her waist, her lower back. She’d probably hit him if he went for ass. Lightly, he settled his palms on her shoulders. His thumbs rested in the silk-covered hollows above her clavicles.

  Slender, angular—but not bony. Except for her elbows. And even those, he wanted to cup in his hands. Undo the tiny buttons that climbed her sleeve. Rip her dress off, or just lift her up on one of the computer desks and yank down her bloomers.

  Did she wear bloomers? He couldn’t recall the outline of anything beneath those skirts, no ruffles or panty lines. Maybe she went bare. Maybe she was, right now, wearing nothing but her stockings and boots beneath those skirts.

  Hot damn.

  But it didn’t matter. Whether he had to tear them off first or could just dive in, he wouldn’t come up for air until she begged.

  No, no. While begging, she’d probably call him “novice.” Not the best thing for a man to hear at that point. Far better if she was quiet when she came.

  Or screaming. Screaming was good, too.

  He looked down, met her icy blue stare, saw the prim set of her mouth.

  Yeah. None of that was ever going to happen.

  He’d been in that hole with her for too long. Just because she’d gone soft against him didn’t mean she had any intention of letting him play drill sergeant and give her a tongue-lashing.

  He removed his hands from her shoulders, shoved them into his pockets.

  Alice lifted her chin and surveyed the room over the length of her nose. “This will not do at all, novice. We need more space.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. But when he turned and told her to follow him, it was still an effort not to kick one of the chairs on the way out.

  Goddammit. For a while, from the time he’d jumped into that chamber and up until they’d jumped here, that giant stick of disapproval hadn’t been up her ass.

  Now it was back.

  And there was nothing to do but see how far up it would go. As they walked down the corridor leading from the tech room to the main offices, he rapped his knuckles on a utility door.

  “A closet,” he said when she glanced at him. “In case you change your mind, decide to go for tight quarters. You seemed to like it. Enough to cuddle, at least.”

  Yep. All the way up her spine, and branching out into her shoulders.

  “I’ll let you poke me again, too,” he offered. “Maybe with your knees, next time.” Spread, on his shoulders, while he licked and licked.

  “I don’t think so, novice.”

  “Ah, come on. You know the thought of stabbing me with your bony parts makes you hot.”

  He stopped in front of Hugh and Lilith’s office door, and she took another step before doing the same. Her mouth was a tight line, her arms folded across her chest.

  He was such a dick.

  So she wasn’t looking for a quick bang—or a long one. He should have been able to deal with that. Hell, he wasn’t looking for one, either. He’d done the orgy thing, thirty years of mindless fucking, and had been getting tired of it even before the Ascension.

  But why was it that when he started wanting a little more, it was with the Black Widow? Jesus Christ. Sexy, funny, smart women lay thick on the ground—and most weren’t struggling with whether to kill a Guardian or to flippin’ save themselves. At SI alone there were at least a dozen smoking-hot women, and they might have starred in his fantasies now and then, but sex wasn’t worth fucking up his friendships with them.

  Yet here he was fucking everything up with a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, and it wasn’t just the bang he wanted. But damn if he knew what it was about her that was getting to him.

  Hell, maybe it was her struggle with her bargain. He couldn’t say he knew many people—men or women—who had to carry a burden that heavy. And if their souls were on the line, how many people would have just taken the easy route?

  Yet Alice hadn’t. And by trying to do the right thing, she’d hooked his interest. Too bad she didn’t want him hooked.

  He shook his head. That still didn’t explain the level of dickery he’d sunk to. This wasn’t the first time a woman hadn’t returned his interest. But he’d never taken it like this before. Had never taken it out on someone like this before. And he’d never been so disappointed that he couldn’t get through. That he couldn’t even see a possible opening.

  He pushed through the office door without knocking, thinking that if he’d been born eight hundred years ago, when men didn’t wait for permission before grabbing a woman, he’d have had Alice up against a wall already.

  Like eight-hundred-year-old Hugh had Lilith up against a bookcase.

  “Gee,” Jake said, and his life flashed in front of his eyes. Lilith was going to kill him. “I need you in the main conference room. And a lock is a real swell invention.”

  He closed the door, let out a breath, and began to pray. They’d still had clothes on. Maybe he wasn’t dead. She might just order her hellhound to eat his liver.

  Something bumped against his ass. He had no hope it was Alice, so it could only be Sir Pup, prodding him with one of his giant noses, on one of his three giant heads. When Jake turned around, the hellhound appeared mostly dog—which was the reason Jake didn’t teleport. If Sir Pup had been in demon form, standing as tall as Jake and sporting barbed fur, scales, and eyes glowing with hellfire, nothing could have kept him there.

  “Look, I’ll make you a deal,” he told the hellhound. “She offers you any body part, and I’ll counter it with double the weight in raw, bloody beef.”

  Sir Pup grinned at him with his three sets of razor-edged teeth.

  Jake didn’t know if that meant the hellhound agreed, or if Sir Pup was just anticipating the taste of his liver. “Triple the weight. And you probably don’t want to go in there,” Jake added when the hellhound shouldered closer to the door. “What they’re doing isn’t safe for young, impressionable minds.”

  Alice’s laugh might have been in response to his warning or the way the hellhound did a doggy version of an eyeroll—Jake wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t going to ruin her lighter mood. He concentrated on not being a dick on the way to the conference room.

  Which meant he didn’t say anything until they were standing inside, studying the large oval table.

  He glanced at her. “The room’s big enough?” When she nodded, he vanished the table.

  Alice took the chairs, then began calling in bones one at a time, swiftly arranging them on the floor.

  The skeleton had fallen apart as soon as they’d touched it. Despite being forced to replace each bone individually, she only had to consult her sketches twice. Within a few seconds, the skeleton had been restored, and Jake had been treated to a display of grace that made him want to pound his head against the wall and howl his frustration.

  He kept his mouth shut, and called in the sword and iron stakes. Then held on to both when he heard Lilith and Hugh come in.

  Lilith’s dark gaze swept the floor, ran over Alice, landed on Jake. “I might kiss you, puppy,” she said, striding toward him. “Or make Hugh do it. Because I should kick your ass for jumping to Hell. How did you get it away from him?”

  “Who?” Jake waited for it to make sense. Lilith usually did. “What? I didn’t go to Hell.”

  She pointed at his hand. �
�You have Michael’s sword. Belial had it before the Gates to Hell were closed. Where did you get it, if not there?”

  Astonished, he lifted the sword. Longer and wider than most of the swords he practiced with, and forged of bronze, he thought it was similar to the one Michael had used to slay the dragon, but he didn’t know if it was identical. He’d rarely seen Michael’s, and half the time, it had been on fire. But Lilith was more familiar with it—had even wielded it.

  Beside him, Alice shook her head. “No. Look at the blade.”

  “May I?” Hugh held out his hand, and Jake passed it to him. The overhead lights reflected off his eyeglasses as Hugh angled the sword, studying it. “It’s rather dinged up, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Alice said. Her gaze warmed as she looked at Hugh, and Jake felt a little twist in his gut.

  Stupid. Everyone who’d trained under Hugh loved him. Lilith had come over from the dark side because she loved him. If Jake batted for the other team, he’d have made a play for Hugh in a second.

  It’d probably have been easier than making a play for the Black Widow. And smarter than wishing she’d look at him like that.

  Lilith appraised her quickly. “You’re the Black Widow. The novices speak of you.”

  Though Alice’s tone was neutral, Jake thought he saw a hint of curiosity in her expression. “And you are Lucifer’s daughter. Everyone speaks of you.”

  That obviously didn’t displease Lilith. She was smiling when she looked to Hugh again.

  He carefully tested the edge of the blade with his thumb. “Dull.”

  And Michael’s sword could cut through stone.

  “Damn,” Lilith said softly, then turned to the skeleton. “A friend of yours, puppy?”

  “Nope. My guess is, he’s been dead longer than you’ve been alive—five hundred years longer.”

  That surprised her. “Twenty-five centuries?”

  “Yep. We’ll run a few tests to determine the date of death, but judging by the chamber we found it in, the latest styles there, we’re looking at around fifth or sixth century BC. And there’s no telling how long he was alive before that.”

  Lilith crouched next to the skeleton. Her black hair slid forward over her shoulder when she leaned closer, and she hooked it behind her ear. “Where did you find it?”

  “A hypogeum in Italy,” he said, then looked to Alice. She would know exactly where; he hadn’t been outside the chamber. “There might be nephilim still there.”

  “Nephilim? Wait a moment,” Hugh said, and flipped the sword around, presented it to Jake. “Best if you only have to tell us once, and we’ll get a team ready while you’re gone. Can you find Michael?”

  Jake took the sword, vanished it. “If he’s not blocked.”

  Theoretically, his Gift could take him to anyone he knew, as long as they hadn’t completely shielded their psyche and weren’t behind the shielding spell. Selah could; Michael could.

  Jake had a little less luck with it. He assumed the only reason he’d found Alice was because she pulsed her Gift so often.

  Lilith glanced over her shoulder. “Do you need help, puppy? Sir Pup is hungry.”

  He met Alice’s eyes. “Nope,” he said, and imagined her watching Sir Pup pounce on him—imagined her hearing his girly scream.

  Jumping was as easy as pie.

  CHAPTER 9

  Michael was in the middle of the freak courtyard, wearing the loose white shirt and pants that reminded Jake of his granddad’s pajamas. They only lacked stripes.

  Better than the toga, though. Jake didn’t understand how any man could run around in one, but maybe it was about morale. Nothing inspired a guy to keep training like knowing someone in a sheet could kick his ass.

  Though Jake jumped in behind him, Michael didn’t spin around and almost chop off his head as Alice had done. The Doyen continued looking at the fountain, the obelisk in the center and the eerily perfect arc of water that fell without a splash into the pool below. He glanced over when Jake moved even with him.

  Jake was trying, as he had the last time he’d been here, to read the writing at the bottom of the obelisk. It was small, but it wasn’t too small—he should have been able to make it out. “Is that messing with my head?”

  “It is Caelum, and her sense of humor. You cannot read it unless you are in the water.”

  “Huh.” He looked a second longer, wondering if he should be creeped out that Michael spoke of the realm as if it were alive. “Another time, then. Alice and I found a dead Guardian, a sword that Lilith thought was yours, and a few nephilim in Italy. They want you back at SI.”

  “Then I shall go.”

  “There is one other thing first,” Jake said, and when Michael didn’t disappear, he took that as a sign to continue. “Alice needs me more than Drifter does, so I’ll be helping her from now on. Until she gets out of this bargain.”

  Michael studied him for a long moment, then inclined his head. “Well done, Jacob Hawkins.” He smiled faintly. “If you are assisting Alice, should I be more wary when you teleport in behind me?”

  Jake shrugged. “I’d say no—but the truth is, it’d be a great boost for my ego if you were.”

  Michael disappeared a moment later, and Jake stood, listening. Michael’s laugh echoed in the courtyard of stone, but no other sound did.

  If Caelum did have a sense of humor, she used Michael’s voice to express it.

  Jake took a trip to Mongolia and Kansas before finally arriving back at the SI warehouse. He teleported in between Irena and Alejandro, at the feet of the skeleton. At the head, Alice stood next to Drifter and described the nephilim’s ritual.

  Jake only half listened. The conference room was full; Selah must have been busy assembling the team that would return to Italy and search out the nephilim—ten Guardians who were usually active in the field surrounded the skeleton. All of the novices were here, but no vampires; the sun was up over San Francisco, so they were in their daysleep.

  He met Pim’s eyes. She flashed him a wide smile and a thumbs-up before looking down at the skeleton again, her face solemn.

  Michael’s expression was equally grave as Alice concluded with a description of the skeleton’s position on the wall and the symbols written above. And when she finished, they all looked to him.

  “His name was Zakril,” he said softly. “He was a Guardian, one of the first. And he was a friend.”

  Damn. Jake saw Alice’s sudden discomfort in the way her spine stiffened, thought it was the same as his. Until that second, they’d just been bones on the floor.

  Michael glanced up at Alice and shook his head. “I am grateful that you brought him here. I did not know what had become of him after he took leave from the corps.”

  “He’d left the Guardian corps without having to Fall and become human again?” Lilith arched her brows. “You’re such a pushover, Michael.”

  Beside Jake, Irena had tensed. “We are allowed time away from our duties if we need it, demon.”

  Her hostility was almost palpable—and wasted on Lilith, who didn’t have psychic senses anymore, and who probably didn’t give two shits.

  “I’ll remember that when I schedule in vacations,” Lilith said, and looked at Hugh, who nodded toward Jake. She turned to him. “Your doubts, puppy. I want to hear them.”

  No use questioning how Hugh had known. The man could read body language so well, he could determine when even a demon was lying.

  Jake met Alice’s eyes, and saw the curiosity there. “These sites were probably built by Guardians. The chamber—with Zakril in it—was sealed by Guardians. That dais covering it wasn’t cut with a tool, but a Gift,” he explained. “And Zakril was a message. I don’t know who the message was for—but even if you’re at war, you don’t use the body of your own man to send it.”

  “Yes,” Michael said. His eyes were obsidian now, making it almost impossible to determine where he was looking, but Jake felt the weight of that dark gaze.

  Not an oppressive we
ight, though, so he continued. “Was Zakril a traitor, then—or was he betrayed?”

  “Betrayed,” Michael answered. “But it was done before he left Caelum.”

  Well, here we go then, Jake thought. His gut was roiling, he was going to piss everyone off, but it needed to be asked. “By you?”

  He felt the muffled surprise and anger around him, yet every Guardian still turned to Hugh as Michael responded.

  “No.”

  A wry smile touched Hugh’s mouth. “That was truth. It has all been.”

  The relief in the room wasn’t just Jake’s. The tension left his stomach.

  “What happened, Michael?” Irena asked, and as she spoke, she bumped Jake with her hip.

  It was—he prayed—a friendly bump. He looked across the skeleton at Alice, but couldn’t read her expression. Thoughtful, maybe. Or concerned.

  He’d have preferred ice and disapproval to knowing that she worried.

  Michael lowered himself to his heels, lightly touched Zakril’s fingers. “We were divided. There were those who wanted to depose Lucifer, and take over rule of Hell.”

  “Hardly objectionable,” Alejandro said. When Jake trained with him, Alejandro usually spoke Spanish; now, Andalusia rolled lightly through his English. “I would rather see a Guardian on the throne than a demon.”

  “Yes,” Michael agreed. “If it would not have meant denying humans their free will, and freeing the nephilim from Lucifer’s control.” He looked up. “It is too long a story now, when there are nephilim to hunt. We will call everyone to a gathering in Caelum a week hence, and I will tell you all you need to know.”

  All you need to know. Not, Jake noted, everything they wanted to know. But Michael was already asking, “Alice, do you have the symbols? I will not be able to enter the site and see for myself.”

  Lilith narrowed her eyes when Alice pulled in her sketchbook. “ ‘She waits below,’ ” she read, then glanced at Michael. “She, who?”

  “The one who betrayed him. But she does not wait. She is dead, by Zakril’s hand.” He stood slowly, shaking his head. “This was the scribbling of someone who believed in the prophecy, but hoped they could prevent it from coming to pass.”