Demon Bound

by Meljean Brook

  “So that was where it had gone. I could strangle you,” Alice said. “I had heart palpitations when it went missing from the Archives.”

  Jake made binoculars of his hands and peered at her through them. “Observe the Black Widow in her natural habitat—fierce, territorial.”

  The amusement in her psychic scent undercut her withering stare. “It was my father’s,” she told him. “Hugh found it and brought it to Caelum.”

  “No shit? Huh. And the sketches—were they yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hot damn.” He grinned as if she’d announced some significant accomplishment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but being a girl—being a girl back then—how’d you manage that?”

  “I had more freedoms than most of the girls I knew.” When she’d been with the British and American families, her Egyptian side had been blamed for her unconventional and graceless behavior. Egyptians had attributed it to her American upbringing. And her parents had simply spoiled her. “My mother was my father’s second wife. Not at the same time,” she hastened to clarify. “He was a widower before they married, and I was born late—my early years were spent on different sites. When I was thirteen, I convinced him that I had better eyes and a steadier hand than he did, and that I’d be invaluable as his assistant. Granted, he and my mother tried to prevent me at first, but . . . Well, it may come as a surprise to you, but I was rather obstinate when I was young. Quite insufferable, actually, until they allowed me to help.”

  “Nope,” Jake said. “I’m not surprised at all.”

  She resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him.

  “What about your husband? Did you meet him in Egypt?”

  Her gaze left his to skim the horizon. What should she say now? Should she admit that she’d seen Henry and had immediately loved him? That she’d dressed in sweet English gowns and curled her hair? That Henry never saw her dusty and perspiring, because he was like a golden prince from one of Scheherazade’s tales, and she could never let him see her be anything less than well behaved and smiling?

  Oh, how she’d wanted to be that for him. Wanted to be the ideal wife, and his intellectual partner.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I met him at the site.”

  Why did she bother to flatten her tone, to try to dissuade further questions? Jake would ask anyway.

  “So you worked with him after you married?”

  “No. We traveled to England for the wedding. My parents returned to Egypt immediately afterward; Henry and I were to return later, but . . .” Henry had lost his passion for Egyptology. Had wanted to concentrate on making a perfect life with his delicate flower of a wife. Had been certain that by remaining in England, his family would grow to accept her and love her. “We did not.”

  “Because of Teqon?”

  “Yes, in part.” She increased her pace, her heart pounding. “I don’t wish to speak of this.”

  Jake’s disappointment was clear. This hadn’t been idle curiosity or prying, she realized; he was genuinely interested in her.

  What a coward she was. She’d been so foolish, all those years ago; now she was so afraid that Jake would know it.

  Surely that was foolish.

  “All right,” Jake said. “Back to el-Amarna, then. Were you there when they found the—”

  “Never compare me to a flower.”

  If he was taken aback, he didn’t show it. His gaze was steady on her face. “Okay.”

  “I loved Henry. He was kind and generous. Intelligent and humorous. Always trying to please everyone, to think the best of them, to care for them.”

  His jaw clenched. “A paragon, I get it.”

  “Yes. Yes, he was.” She took a deep breath. “And I was terribly unhappy.”

  Oh, dear God, how wonderful it felt to say that. Like Sisyphus, dropping his boulder and letting it roll. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t change anything, for a brief moment the relief of its missing weight overwhelmed the compulsion to bear it.

  “You want me to kill him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Jake spread his hands. “Look where we are.”

  He could make her smile so easily. “I hope no one ends up here just for being weak.”

  “Weak? So you rode over him.”

  “No. As I said, he was very caring and intelligent. And he was quite certain that he knew exactly what was best for everyone—particularly me. He knew better than I what would make me happy.” She sighed. “And it hurt him so when I was not.”

  Jake’s voice seemed very flat and controlled. “So it was your own fault that you weren’t happy. And your fault that he was hurt by it.”

  “Yes. Because I did not—could not—do as he thought best, do what he asked me.”

  Oh, and she had asked far too much of him. When she had expressed her disappointment in the marriage bed, he’d explained that he loved her far too much to degrade her in that way—and that he was shocked by the carelessness of her parents, that she’d even known of such things. And when she’d screamed her frustration at him, he’d beg her to stop—wondering why she couldn’t see that he only wanted what was best for them, that he only lived to serve her and to make her happy.

  And at the beginning, though they had regarded her with disdain, his family had not been so terrible. They kept their distance, and she hadn’t minded. She was quite capable of keeping herself occupied.

  But then they had begun to remark upon her strangeness, to advise Henry to curb her reading and studying, her correspondence. Such activities were too taxing, they argued—and Henry would follow their direction. How Alice had grown to hate that mix of subservience and condescension in him. Despised how he could never admit that they or he might be wrong.

  Then she’d miscarried, and he’d been convinced it had proved him right. And they’d tried again.

  Oh, so gently.

  Jake’s voice broke in on her simmering thoughts. “You know what a load of—”

  “Yes. Yes, of course I do. Now.” She shook her head. “No, that is a lie. I knew then, too. I tried to leave—to return to Egypt.”

  “You ran off by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just unhappy, huh?”

  She smiled a little to acknowledge the understatement. After her second miscarriage, she’d been desperate to return to her family. “I had little choice. Henry had begun vetting my letters, saying to any request for my parents to visit that it would be too dangerous. My father was so old, you see. And surely news of my melancholy—which could be cured if I would simply take Henry’s advice—would only upset my father’s health.”

  She stopped, surprised by the bitterness in her voice. Not that it was there, but that she was expressing it. “But don’t we do the same? Determine what to say based on what we think is best for others?”

  Jake, bless him, let her take that step back. “You mean Michael,” he said. “And whether we’re going to mention what Belial said in the prison about being Michael’s father. Or if it’s different than Drifter deciding last spring to keep what Belial said about teaching Michael from the others.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your gut say?”

  “To let it out there. If it is true, Michael can explain it—after all, it still wouldn’t change what he is now. And if it is not true, he can put it to rest.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “That’s what mine’s saying, too. But it isn’t the same as what your husband did, not letting you talk to your family. Marriage isn’t war.”

  “In theory.”

  His grin flashed over his lips, then faded as he said, “Michael has been hiding what he knows about Zakril and the temples. And maybe he has a reason for keeping silent, just like Drifter did. But whatever the reason, it’s not staying buried.”

  “And if Michael is Belial’s son?” But how could it be? To her knowledge, demons couldn’t reproduce. Lucifer had created the nephilim, just as he had the hellhounds and spiders—but she did not
know by what method. Halfling demons—like Lilith—had been humans once, transformed in a sacrifice. “If it is true, what then?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Jake said. “Or maybe we reevaluate what we know of demons.”

  “And feel guilty for slaying them?”

  “What, and toss my cookies whenever I kill one?” He shook his head. “Have you ever met one that wasn’t evil at its core? Can you think of any demon that the universe wouldn’t be a better place without?”

  She had to admit she couldn’t.

  “So, Michael’s not a demon like the others—he’s something else,” Jake said. “That’s not such a surprise.”

  No, it wasn’t. He’d always been more powerful, had always been more than the rest of them. “How strange that I would rather be lied to by someone with good intentions or ill—to have them hide the truth—than be aware that good intentions were making my decisions for me.”

  “You mean, having a choice? Yeah, I prefer to fuck up on my own, too.” He studied her face for a moment. “So, those good intentions. You didn’t get away.”

  She took a long breath, wondering if she was ready to go back there. And she was.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Henry caught up to me in London.” At the docks—and the smell there, she reflected, hadn’t been much more pleasant than the odors in Hell. Of everything that day—the blinding sun, the cacophony of voices, horses, whistles, and engines—it was the stink that remained at the forefront of her memories. “I made such a scene—was such an embarrassment. When we returned to Manchester, he tucked me away. And I was restrained so that I couldn’t run again. For my own good, of course.”

  “Jesus, Alice.”

  She knew he was remembering the attic, the bed there. “Henry brought in a physician, and I was diagnosed with female hysteria. And, despite my protests, was treated for it.”

  “Treated?” His brows drew together in a heavy frown. “You mean the doctor was . . . Onan’s little helper?”

  “Yes.”

  Alice took a small amount of pride in knowing that her voice didn’t betray her humiliation. The physician had seen more of her than her husband ever had, and in his clinical manner had produced more of a response. Not attraction or arousal, but release. And Henry hadn’t thought it degrading at all.

  She continued in the same lighthearted vein. “But I had an outlet, after that—a way to settle my nerves that Henry could not prevent. It was, after all, his suggestion to let me be treated. And so I settled them quite often.”

  Jake didn’t smile, didn’t laugh. She dropped her gaze from his.

  “And it was better, for a while. We traveled to Bath for an extended holiday, away from his family. It was supposed to be a restorative for me.”

  “But?”

  “I believe Henry was trying to make amends. To give me a bit of home. And so he invited a man that we’d known in Egypt—an acquaintance through the exploration society—who would never have been welcomed in the same way by Henry’s family.”

  “Teqon.”

  “Yes. And it began with simple tricks. He would shape-shift into Henry’s form before my eyes, but look like himself again immediately thereafter. I would have conversations with Henry, who would later claim to have no memory of them. Eventually, Teqon flared his eyes, showed me his demonic face. And I tried to avoid him, certain I was mad—but it was impossible. Henry was determined to put us together, because it would make me happy.”

  “So you told him,” Jake guessed. His gaze wasn’t on her face, but searching behind them. “And he thought you were nuts.”

  Alice nodded. “I look back, and I see how easily Teqon manipulated me—and I want to call myself a fool. But I cannot. I do not blame myself for that. Only the bargain.”

  “What happened?”

  “Henry had begun restraining me again—for my own good, of course. It should have been soothing; I had such a lovely view of the garden from my bed.” Bitterness had crept into her voice. She smoothed it before continuing, “Teqon came to me in his demon form, and told me that he would not kill Henry as long as I brought Michael’s heart to him. I had no idea who Michael was—and despite everything, I loved Henry. So I made the bargain.”

  “How does that make you a coward?”

  Alice stopped walking, her brow furrowed. “Who trades the life of a stranger for another? I didn’t fight Teqon—not physically, not with words. I begged him to go, to leave Henry alone, to leave me alone. But I didn’t fight. Yet if I had, perhaps I’d have learned that he couldn’t kill Henry—not without breaking the Rules and receiving Punishment from Lucifer. But I assumed he had that power, and bowed down before it.” Thinking of it made her stomach churn with self-disgust.

  Jake shook his head. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  “What if Michael had been a child? I didn’t ask—didn’t care to know. Yet I agreed to kill him.” She watched Jake’s expression, the struggle there. “You want to be kind to me. Don’t be.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his hair, dropped it back to his side. “Okay, yeah—maybe you could have been tougher. But it’s not worth spending eternity in Hell for. Did you know that was part of it?”

  “Yes. But I was determined to save Henry, to follow through. I didn’t consider the implications of it—that it would be murder.” She sighed. “And of course, once I was transformed, I realized who Michael was.”

  Understanding spread over Jake’s features. “Teqon gambled that it would happen—that you’d have access to Michael and Caelum. Did you die saving your husband?”

  She nodded. “He and Teqon would spend hours talking together, and Henry’s ‘care’ became even more caring.” And always accompanied by his crying, his pleading with her to be happy. “One evening—after he’d spent the day with Teqon—he came to bed, lay down next to me. He removed all but one of the restraints, asked me to hold him. He told me that everything would be perfect.”

  “And then?” Jake prompted when she paused.

  “Then I smelled the smoke.”

  “Jesus Christ. He set the house on fire?”

  “Intending for us to die together,” she confirmed. “So I coshed him over the head, kicked him through the window to the garden below.”

  “A delicate flower, huh?” An admiring smile curved his mouth. “And you were transformed, so he must have lived. But you didn’t make it?”

  “I knew I would not have much time, but with him there and fighting me, both of us would have died. So I saved him by pushing him out, then tried to save myself.” Alice wrapped her hand around her wrist like a manacle. “But I couldn’t get the last one off. I couldn’t go out the window, and I couldn’t drag the bed through the door.”

  “Jesus Christ in Heaven.”

  “It wasn’t so terrible. Fortunately, I succumbed to the smoke, not the flames. I’m not certain if I was dead when Michael came, but most assuredly I was on the verge of it.”

  Jake was silent for almost ten yards. “I’m going to say two things.”

  “Oh, dear. Must you?”

  His nod pulled a laugh from her. “One,” he said, “that’s badass. And you call it cowardly?”

  “Perhaps not that part,” she admitted.

  “Damn straight. Two, your husband was a flippin’ idiot.”

  “Yes, well. He could translate hieroglyphs and converse in ancient Greek, so it was a surprise to me, too.” As was the discovery that she was capable of loving an idiot almost as much as she was sickened by his weakness and condescension. “But he was very handsome, and kind, and so I’m certain he found another wife to care for—one who wouldn’t reduce him to tears on a daily basis. I hope, however, that he did cry every day.” She fell silent, thinking. After a few minutes, she asked, “How do you suppose anyone could choose England over Egypt?”

  Jake shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Alice was describing the excitement that had surrounded the discovery of the Amarna Letters when Jake lost his focus again.


  She pursed her lips, waved her hand. “How often do you do that?”

  Despite her tone, she was not irritated—she was amazed. Surely his mental stamina was unmatched among mortals and immortals alike.

  “Think about banging you? Once a minute or so,” he said. “But this wasn’t about that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nope. I was thinking about making a Gate.”

  She blinked, surprised by her disappointment that it hadn’t been about her. And intrigued, as well. Hell’s Gates had been formed through sacrifices and rituals, death and negative psychic energy—but there was no indication in the Scrolls as to how a Gate to Caelum was made.

  “Go on,” she said.

  Jake crammed his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent on her face, his expression thoughtful. “Well, maybe we could just draw a circle in the sand, scribble a few symbols around it, and then have sex in the middle.”

  It took a heroic effort to maintain her composure. “What position would we have to take?”

  His lips didn’t even twitch. “I dunno. We could run the gamut. Eventually, we’d hit on the right one.”

  “Oh, yes. Excellent idea, Hawkins. And while we are both facing the same direction in an animal position, the hellhound puppies will surprise us from behind.”

  “Yeah, and my hot ass would go first. So that’s out.”

  “It would have to be the Lotus position,” she determined. “We could keep watch over each other’s shoulders.”

  She met his eyes. They should have been laughing, she thought. Instead, she was only imagining herself sitting with him, her legs around his waist, her mouth against his. Rocking slowly, with Jake deep inside her.

  Oh, dear. She wanted to stop walking. Wanted to lie very still, with her thighs pressed tightly together.

  And she would not look away first.

  Jake’s sword appeared in his hand.

  Alice swiftly glanced around them, saw nothing. “What is it?”

  He dragged the tip of his sword through the sand, drawing a circle. When she laughed his name, he raised his brows at her. “No? Dammit,” he said, straightening. “Okay, so you aren’t gungho for opening-a-portal sex. What about saving-the-world sex?”