Demon Bound

by Meljean Brook

  A fudging, she thought—but that did not mean it had been a bluff. Belial might have killed them both, and why not? If Jake had reached her and they’d disappeared, it would be all the same to the demon. Death or teleportation; either way, they would have been beyond Belial’s reach.

  She glanced to the side, squinting, and made out the armored cadre of demons surrounding Belial. Saw the number of weapons leveled on them.

  Another look at Jake told her he’d just seen the same. She held his gaze, saw the battle waged there between doubt and determination. If he could teleport to her side, touch her, and teleport away, it would be almost instantaneous.

  But if his jump went awry, and he teleported out of Hell . . . he’d leave her behind.

  On the heels of that realization was a second: that the only reason they were alive now was because Belial knew one of them must be able to teleport. With the Gates closed, Belial could use Jake’s ability to travel between Hell and Earth . . . or to carry anyone Belial chose between the two realms. Perhaps even to Caelum.

  And if Jake stayed to save her, he might be bound by a bargain and forced to serve Belial.

  Her fingers tightened by her sides. Her lips formed the word. Go.

  A streak of light slammed into her, tossed her. Pain shrieked the length of her arm. Alice twisted in the air. She just needed to land on her feet. A hand grabbed her ankle, whipped her around, smashed her facedown on a broken sarcophagus.

  Blood filled her mouth, but the choking sounds were coming from behind her. Jake. She turned her head, and hands clamped over the back of her neck, pinned her feet and wrists. Terror ripped through her, then was swamped by rage. Her struggles brought more hands.

  Belial issued a command in the demon tongue, and then spoke softly in her ear, his voice a soothing, sweet harmony. “Calm yourself. I promise you will see him. And he will see you.”

  Her rage slipped into ice when they brought Jake before her. There was more blood on him now, and the slices through his shirt and his jeans told Alice that the wounds were his. They’d used his sword to skewer his forearms together behind his back; a demon had his arm around Jake’s throat, and his hand on the sword’s hilt.

  “Go,” she said.

  “He will not,” Belial replied. “Not without you. As long as you are alive, he will stay. But I imagine the moment he touches you, he will attempt to take you. Your Guardians have done that very thing before: appeared, and taken away that which belonged in Hell. Fortunately, we have discovered a way to prevent it.”

  Belial moved in front of her, blinding, burning her eyes. “I cannot see him when you are between us, demon. Do you break your promises so easily?”

  “I have broken nothing. It is your eyes, untouched by Glory, which are incapable of withstanding the illumination.”

  So he would pass blame, rather than admit to a mistake or make an adjustment. Lucifer, she was certain, would have said yes without hesitation.

  Alice didn’t know which would have chilled her more.

  But neither could have chilled her as much as the sword that appeared in Belial’s hand. Jake held its twin in his cache, but Zakril’s could not flare to life as Michael’s did, couldn’t burn with white-hot flame.

  Belial moved around to the other side of her. Alice saw Jake squinting against the light, then begin to furiously fight against the demon, against the blade through his forearms. Flesh and bone tore and snapped, and one of his hands was free.

  Another demon joined the first, forced Jake to his knees. Then onto his stomach when he didn’t stop resisting.

  “I will not kill her,” Belial said. “I will only make certain she stays in this realm.”

  There was a tug at the back of her dress, and a remark of surprise in the demon tongue. Then a line of heat ran down her spine as Belial sliced her dress open. Demon hands pulled the silk away.

  Jake made an incoherent noise, a howl of fury that was cut off as a demon forced his head back, took his throat in a crushing grip.

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get the breath to scream as the burning tip of Michael’s sword sliced into her shoulder. Another cut, deep, beneath it. A stroke up, and around. A piercing stab, then a second above.

  Belial stopped. “It is done. The symbols prevent her from being teleported out of this realm, Guardian. And if you leave, you will not be able to anchor to her and find her again.” He stepped back; the hands holding Alice didn’t let her go. “And now you will stand, teleporter, as there is something I require from you, as well.”

  Jake didn’t move, and beneath the pain in her shoulder, the horror of what had been done, rose a fierce pride. Yes, she thought. Make him force you, make him threaten. But never simply obey.

  “Stand,” Belial repeated, “or I will sever her legs in two.”

  Jake was on his feet before Belial had completed his threat. His arm screamed at the movement, but he focused past the agony.

  Alice’s gaze held his, her irises glowing brightly. Either she was losing it, or she was looking forward to handing out some serious pain to Belial’s demons. Probably the second. And God knew, Jake was going to be right there with her. The symbols Belial had carved into her shoulder weren’t bleeding—the sword had cauterized the wounds. But they weren’t healing normally. The angry red should have been fading.

  It all could have been worse, though. Lucifer would have just cut off her legs, and then threatened her arms. With Belial, they had some wiggle room. He would hurt them, but apparently not just for shits and giggles. Either Belial didn’t enjoy causing pain—good—or, he just liked to hear himself talk and for others to heed him—not always so good.

  He was talking now, and Jake was pretty certain it was leading up to the not so good. If the demon wasn’t lying, this prison was at the edge of Lucifer’s territory. Belial’s army had moved in, had met little resistance, but their campaign hadn’t finished. A small tactical strike against another holding remained, and Belial didn’t want to delay it while escorting two Guardians back to his territory.

  Which meant, Jake realized, that he and Alice were going to be locked up in here, with the bulk of Belial’s army surrounding the prison while the demon led the final attack.

  That wasn’t so bad. But where was the catch—what did Belial require from him? A promise to stay? Belial might be arrogant enough to lock them in here, counting on Jake not to leave Alice in danger, but the demon wasn’t stupid. All Jake had to do was get Alice under some kind of protection, teleport out and find Michael, then head back to the prison. They wouldn’t need to anchor to Alice; they’d both already been here. And if he and Michael had to fight a few demons on the way back in—or an army of them—so be it.

  Yeah. Jake would break a promise in a second. So there had to be a catch.

  With luck, it wouldn’t be a bargain.

  “I know that Guardians cannot be trusted,” Belial said. Jake had given up trying to see him. There was too much light, too many wings, and nothing to get his head around. Belial’s demons looked like any other, though—red and scaly. “So I will leave twelve of my sentinels to see that you stay. If you teleport, they will kill the female.”

  So Jake wouldn’t be taking off to get Michael. But he and Alice would be missed in Caelum, eventually—and as long as Jake didn’t completely block his mind, Michael could still find him.

  Of course, Belial wasn’t that stupid, either. “The shielding spell will be placed around the prison, and keyed to my blood. No one will come to save you; and even if you teleport away, you will not be able to reenter this building.”

  Shit. He saw Alice’s lips tighten. Yeah, Belial might not be chopping their legs off, but he was pretty damn good at crushing every hope they had. Probably because leaving his demons here and letting Alice and Jake figure it out for themselves wasn’t as much fun as watching their reactions when he spelled it out.

  “Six will guard the prison doors and the symbols that cast the shielding spell,” Belial continued. “The othe
rs I will position around the room, near the ceiling so that if you lose your sense and decide to attack, you will not be able to reach them.”

  Wouldn’t be able to reach them . . . ? Oh, Jesus Christ in Heaven. His wings.

  Belial intended to cut off his wings.

  Icy rage spiked through Alice’s psychic scent. “Take mine, demon. You’ve already violated me. You might as well finish the job and take mine instead.”

  “If you flew toward the sentinels, they would see you coming; they would not see this one if he teleports to their side. But even if he manages to slay one sentinel, I will not leave him able to defend himself in the air.”

  Bullshit. “Then take my arms,” Jake said. One was already half-gone, anyway. A clean cut might actually hurt less than whatever was going on there now as it healed.

  Belial didn’t answer him, but gave an order to the demons behind Jake. Yeah. Belial could justify it however he wanted, but this wasn’t about defense, because taking his arms would be more effective than taking his wings.

  But his wings were a symbol—and this was an attempt to demoralize them.

  Not that he would allow it, Jake determined. The demons behind him let go of the sword through his forearm. Jake vanished it. No use trying to fight them. He knelt in front of Alice instead. His blood dripped onto her back when he flicked the sides of her dress closed, covering her.

  It was something, he thought. One very small thing he could do for her.

  “Now offer them willingly, Guardian, or I shall take her arms.”

  He gritted his teeth, then formed his wings, felt their comfortable burden. Alice made a soft sound, and her fingers flattened on the cracked stone lid. Jake shoved at the demon’s hand holding her wrist. At a word from Belial, it was released.

  “One thing’s for sure,” Jake said, and clasped his palm to hers, lacing their fingers. “His definition of ‘willingly’ is completely fucked up.”

  “I do prefer Michael’s version of—” She clamped her lips together as his wings went numb, the weight on his back lightened. There were two thumps on the floor behind him, like overstuffed pillows whacked with a stick.

  Pain ripped down the stumps of the wingframe. Sucking in a hard breath, Jake vanished what was left. The pain disappeared.

  That had been faster than he’d expected—but then, he’d thought Belial would do it, and had been waiting for the demon to move. The strike had come from behind him, instead.

  Easier that way, but he didn’t exactly feel grateful.

  They took away the fallen feathers, muscle, and bone. Of course they did. His wings could be reattached and heal in less than an hour—but now they would have to completely regrow. It might take two or three weeks. And they could only heal when he was wearing them, which meant forming the bleeding stumps again. That was going to really fucking hurt.

  Once they grew to full size, he could shift them as small or as large as he liked. Until then, they were useless.

  Jesus, his throat was tight. Just a symbol, he reminded himself. Feathers didn’t make a Guardian. And so he wouldn’t let it matter.

  Alice’s hand smoothed over his head. They’d finally let her go, Jake realized. And the demons were retreating now—except for the twelve sentinels. Their armor was much lighter than the other demons’, which told Jake it wasn’t often they were a line of defense or used for face-to-face combat. No, these sentinels would be the stealth: the ones that snuck up behind you and pulled your heart out of your back before you turned around.

  “Demon!” Alice called out. Jake looked up; her striking face was washed in the painfully bright light, but her eyes were open against it. “There is a prophecy foretelling your rise to power in Hell. But if thwarting that prophecy means that I have to keep Michael’s heart safe from you and all of your demons for the rest of my days, I will do it.”

  “Are you so certain it is not the Guardians who need to be kept safe from Michael’s heart?” Belial’s voice was faintly mocking. “For we are all made in the image of our fathers—and you were not safe from me.”

  Alice’s fingers tightened, but she had no other reaction. She stared ahead until the light faded, and the silence that marked the shielding spell settled around the room.

  “He might have been lying.” Jake’s rough whisper was like a yell in the darkness. Did the sentinels know any human languages? Did it matter?

  “I know.” She ran her fingers up over his hair, and for a moment, the soft rasp covered the sound of twelve demon heartbeats. “Well, then,” she added, and though he couldn’t see it, he knew her back had straightened. “Shall we get to work?”

  Over the next two days, Jake wasn’t surprised that they didn’t discuss Belial’s parting remark about Michael. But they didn’t talk about anything else that had transpired, or make plans for escape. Only about the site. But every time Jake tried to steer the sparse conversation in another direction, Alice mentioned how few batteries they had to power her lanterns, and urged him to hurry, to commit the prison’s layout to memory.

  And even with their Guardian speed, it was one bitch of a project. One hundred and sixteen sarcophagi, each patterned by different symbols. More symbols covered the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

  They could have been processing any site on Earth—except that only the demons, Alice, and Jake showed up on their cameras. As in Caelum, apparently nothing in Hell could be photographed. Jake’s sketches were shit, at best—and because they couldn’t read any of the symbols, the only thing they learned was that one sarcophagus was missing from the pattern.

  The sentinels didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t speak. They stood—or perched, if they were one of the six at the corners and middle of the ceiling—and watched.

  Jake was sitting with his back against one sarcophagus, his feet stretched out toward another, and thinking about shooting one of the sentinels, when the lantern began fading. No big deal. They had laptops, cell phones. If they had to, they could shine their eyes like the demons did.

  But Alice started to fret, flitting her hands. She came to sit next to him on the floor, muttering “oh, dear” like it was a one-hit wonder.

  Yeah, he thought. Wasn’t that just peachy? He went crazy for a woman, and she just went crazy.

  He drew in a breath, and frowned. Alice had spent most of her time at the other end of the room, and since they weren’t talking, he hadn’t been breathing much. With all the rot around them, he didn’t think he’d missed anything worth smelling.

  Now, though, he could detect the faint, sickly sweet odor of infected flesh.

  “Alice,” he said quietly. “Is your shoulder healing?”

  “Nooooo!” With a wail, she threw herself over his lap. When she began sobbing into her hands, he got it.

  She was setting the demons up. Giving them this impression of a nervous, sickly wreck of a woman. Why, he had no idea—but she was working up to something.

  And she was good at it. If he hadn’t known her, he’d have been convinced.

  He also thought that her parents had probably gone gray before Alice was out of her teens. Performances like this didn’t just pop out of the ether.

  But that infected odor was real, and his concern was genuine when he touched her braid. She wailed louder, and he had to bury his face against her hair. Oh, shit. He was going to crack up, and give her away.

  She pinched the inside of his leg, hard. The sharp pain sobered him enough that when she lifted her tearstained face, he managed to keep his straight.

  “I don’t want to be in the dark,” she said on a shuddering breath. “It frightens me so. I will go mad without light.”

  Yeah, right. But he let his concern ride up, so that it was all that showed in his expression. Those poker games were finally paying off. “Shh. It will be okay.”

  “We must escape from here.” She began weeping again, laying her cheek on his shoulder. “But there is no way, is there? He said that I couldn’t be teleported out of this realm, and I supp
ose that means I could be teleported within it—but we daren’t even try with the spell up.”

  “No.” Because if they were wrong, and she couldn’t be teleported at all, Jake would leave her behind.

  “But they will not lower the spell or let in light until he returns,” she sobbed. “I just know it. We need to escape before that, or I am bound to go insane.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze on “bound,” but he’d already picked up on her message. Hell, he’d been thinking about it for two days.

  Belial could have forced him into an agreement simply by using Alice’s life as the other half of the bargain. Something as easy as, For as long as you serve me, I will spare her life. But a bargain like that had a few loopholes—if anything happened to Alice, through Belial or not, Jake wouldn’t be bound any longer.

  Their time locked up here worked in Belial’s favor. It gave the demon a chance to develop and word an ironclad bargain.

  Jake would do it, to save her life—and they’d both be screwed. “We need to get rid of the spell,” he said quietly, and stroked the backs of his fingers down her wet cheek. “But I can’t imagine how we’d get to the symbols, and survive. Not with all of these sentinels. Can you?”

  “No, novice.” Her denial was soft and sad, and his heart began pounding. “I cannot. And once we got out, we’d still have to make it past the army. Can you imagine a way to do that?”

  He shook his head, and signaled he was lying in the same way she’d used. “No, widow. I can’t.”

  “Then I suppose I must resign myself to the dark.” She pulled back, and her eyes, bright and shining, met his. “Perhaps I shall occupy myself by weaving. It will settle my poor nerves.”

  But she didn’t begin right away. First, she knelt in front of the lantern, and wailed again when it died.

  If Alice hadn’t pretended that the darkness frightened her, Jake was pretty sure that twelve pairs of eyes would be lighting the room. Instead, the demons must have been tracking their movements by their heartbeats, the sound of their steps.