Demon Angel

did. And there was no guarantee that she would love him again; would it not be worse torment to see her, but not have her?
    Nay. Her death would be the worst torment.
    Michael appeared beside him, clamped his hand over the bar. Destroying yourself in this way will not help her , he signed with his other hand. The weights slammed into the cradle, and the bench shuddered beneath Hugh's back. No use fighting against the Doyen; the outcome would be laughable.
    He sat up, bowed his head. Looked at his hands, his chest. "Where are ours?" Perhaps if he cut his out, it would not hurt as much. But, no, he had to remember. If he did not, he could not fulfill the bargain.
    Michael eyed him silently for a moment. "The ritual is a false transformation. The effect is similar, but the method is different. The symbols are there, Hugh—but they are written on every cell, every particle of your being. And the longer they stand, the more they become your own. I can erase the depth of them when you Fall, but I cannot erase the whole without destroying you. I can leave a part of her, but there would be none left of you."
    It did not matter; he could not be that boy again—he did not want to be him. He would carry Lilith with him, even did she exist nowhere else…
    He rubbed his forehead with trembling fingers, then stood, and walked to his desk. In the bottom drawer was a thick sheaf of paper, and he picked it up. "Will you take the book, put it in the library?" A grim smile touched his mouth. Perhaps she would run across it, wonder at its author and subject. "It is not a Scroll and is missing much of her story, but I would be grateful."
    Michael nodded, and it vanished from Hugh's hands. "Will you fill in the rest?"
    "If I live long enough," he said, and ran his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I wanted to be angry at you for failing to tell me that she was a halfling—but I cannot. I should have seen; I knew how to look."
    "You saw what was important." Michael hesitated, then said, "There are parts you don't know, and failings for which I'm culpable."
    "Carthage? I know of it. Lilith said there were no other Guardians, and Selah mentioned that you created the corps after that failure."
    Surprise flickered in Michael's eyes, and he shook his head, a reluctant smile pulling at his mouth. "Lilith was the last halfling made, but all those before had been… not worth saving. Each as inhuman as demons in their own way. And she was no innocent, but not a monster. Lucifer had become too bold, so I recreated the corps."
    Hugh's brows drew together. Recreated? Had there been an Ascension, as widespread as the latest? "There is no mention of an earlier corps in the Scrolls, nor do any Scrolls predate the Latin." No surprise the Scrolls were in Latin if they'd been written after Lilith's transformation; it would have been the language most common to those in the corps after that time.
    The Doyen's mouth flattened. "I destroyed them."
    The former, older Scrolls or the Guardians? But Hugh knew him well enough to see that he would not speak of it anymore. Nor could he speak about the wager. "Savi?"
    Michael gave a short nod. "Well. The nosferatu who followed you were searching for her. It won't be long before they realize she is out of their reach."
    He did not need to say the rest. Nosferatu would not easily change their plans, but once it became apparent using Savi had become impossible, they would try to use others to force Hugh to submit to the ritual: Lilith, most likely—but if not her, his students.
    How well could Lucifer control them? According to the wager, he could not instigate another kidnapping or ritual, but if the nosferatu became impatient and acted without Lucifer's consent…
    Hugh shook his head and turned away.
    Steam filled the small room. Lilith quietly closed the door, began slipping out of her clothes. The outline of Hugh's body wavered behind the frosted glass; his hand was braced against the shower wall, his head bowed beneath the spray.
    She stepped inside, and he turned toward her, gave a halfhearted smile. "Are you here to tempt me?"
    "No." She ran her hands over his shoulders, and she kissed him. His lips were salty; she drew back, studied him. Not all of the moisture on his face was from the shower. "I'm keeping the symbol," she said.
    His eyes searched hers; his muscles were rigid beneath her fingers. "Did you hear my conversation with Michael?"
    "Colin did; he told me." And she knew he could have signed,