Demon Angel

crunch. Sir Pup's triumphant howl reverberated through the house.
    Colin returned his grin, his swords ready at his sides. "I adore that dog."
    Hugh did, too.
    But even a three-headed hellhound couldn't be everywhere, and it did not surprise him when the pounding at the door stopped, replaced by a pounding on the ceiling at the opposite side of the house.
    "They're coming through the floor upstairs," Selah said, and all three moved back, toward the trunk Colin had indicated earlier. Should we 'port ? she signed.
    Hugh shook his head, tucked one of his swords under his arm to sign, Not until we must; this may be our only opportunity to find out more information. Remember, I'm safe from the demon, and we have the advantage of your Gift. They think we are trapped .
    "What are you two doing?" Colin stared at Hugh's hand, his brows drawn together. "What are you saying?"
    Hugh gripped the hilt of his sword again. "I said"—a taloned fist punched through the ceiling, raining down wood and insulation—"let them come."
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CHAPTER 23
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    The bridge swayed as another gust of wind ripped through the bracings, howling across the diagonal ribwork of steel. Lilith clung to the girders with her feet, letting her body swing, her hair whip around her. Below, waves slapped against the center mooring, the froth and caps white against the nighttime water.
    This was beauty, man-made and natural. The symmetry of the bridge, the glittering San Francisco skyline, the dark rise of Angel Island in the distance. Beauty that drew millions—but it was only a thousand or so who had helped create the Gate beneath. Thirty years before, the Gate hadn't been there. But she'd seen it happen before: a site of despair and death, combined with the anger and frustration of a city, and slowly the fabric of the location changed, began to resonate differently. The temple where she'd met Hugh all those years ago had been such a Gate, though rarely used, and the energy reeking of sacrifice rather than suicide.
    But violent death, no matter its form, left its mark. Here, mid-span, the fall was over seventy yards from bridge to water. A quick death. And there had been over a thousand quick deaths in the past century. Though none of them had been provoked by demons, it still served them well.
    She sighed, and the wind stole it away. A mental probe verified the Gate's location directly beneath her; she could sense it as easily as her cache, feel its shape and size—but still, she did not fall. There was no reason to wait, no reason to wonder if it was death or something else that had shaped Caelum's Gates. No reason to remember the many times she'd followed Hugh to one, watched him disappear through it—yet had been unable to sense or use it herself.
    The memory did not bring her as much pain as it had once; and there was no reason to wrap her arms around herself, relive his touch, and recall how everything had faded against the pleasure of it.
    But she was still upside down, clinging to the steel and feeling the vibration of wind and traffic through her, when she heard the distinctive clank of boots against metal, the squeal of brakes and shouts for help. She closed her eyes. If he waited long enough, there were people who were trained for this, who might be able to talk him down—
    Someone screamed, and Lilith swung over, hard, stretching her wings and bracing against the impact. He slammed into her, and she fell with him, rolling over and over until her wings caught air and she lifted them up, up. Cerberus's balls, she was going to be seen. Around, the other side of the bridge, and she threw him onto the pavement between two stalled vehicles, barely remembering to take her human form before she straddled him, slapped him across the face.
    He stared up at her, his eyes wide and stunned. Sixteen years old, maybe. She slapped him again, leaned in close to growl, "You stupid little shit! Are you dying, wasting away? Did you kill your mother or rape your baby sister? Have you torn your girlfriend's head off and smashed her body to pieces? Is it that fucking bad ?"
    "No," he choked, and began to cry. Horns blared, drivers pissed off that traffic had stopped for something as routine as a jumper. Small wonder a portal to Hell had opened beneath them.
    "Come here again when you do, and I'll push you myself. There are things like me waiting for you down there, waiting to eat your flesh and suck the marrow from your bones." Her eyes were