Demon Angel

as he jerked her head up by her hair. "Witness the results."
    Furious, she transformed, her horns sprouting from her temples and stabbing through his wrist.
    He did not make a sound, but encircled her with his arms and drew her hard against him. It was like being crushed by a boulder. "Open your eyes and witness !"
    Unable to move, she stopped struggling. What did he speak of—what was left to observe? It was over, she had failed. On the wall walk, Robert tucked Isabel close and led her toward the stairs as Mandeville roughly stripped Hugh of his hauberk.
    The baron descended the steps, and said over his shoulder, "Put down the faithless dog, William. Now, and quietly: the heart as he tried to take mine, then the head for his traitorous thoughts."
    There was no pleasure, only grim duty in Mandeville's expression. "Aye, my lord."
    Isabel made a sound of protest, cut off as Robert shook her with barely restrained violence. "Had he gone further, I would do it myself. Be grateful your youth and inexperience does not put his blood on my hands, and that he didn't get far enough to put a babe in your belly."
    Michael's arms tightened, though Lilith hadn't struggled. "Watch."
    She tried to sound as if it did not matter. "Hugh has beaten Mandeville before."
    "Do you think Hugh means to fight?" His laugh was cold.
    She hated martyrs. "Foolish. How can he be so foolish?" If he ran, he might escape. He was young, strong—much faster than Mandeville.
    Michael clapped a hand over her mouth. "Do not interfere."
    Her heart pounded and she began fighting in earnest against Michael's hold as Hugh rose to his feet. His chest was bare, and despite the lean strength of him, to Lilith he seemed utterly defenseless.
    Why were men built so weakly? What chance did they have against steel or fangs?
    She heard Isabel's weeping as the lady walked across the bailey under the protection of her husband's arm. Did the sound of her tears reach Hugh's ears? Was he glad for them, that the woman he'd sacrificed himself for wept for him? Was it any comfort?
    "I am sorry, pup." Mandeville's voice shook. "I cannot think what evil took you."
    Michael said into her ear, "Look; though he had no love for Hugh, it is not easy to execute a man."
    Hugh raised his head. He must see the burning of her eyes. Could he see that she was held back, that her feet scrabbled for purchase on the roof as she tried to escape Michael—or did he only see that demonic glow?
    "Was a woman."
    "Always is." Mandeville's short laugh held a note of hysteria. "I cannot do this if you do not close your eyes, pup."
    "Perhaps you can still win," Michael said. "Will surely be a mortal wound, but if Mandeville does not have the stomach to take his head, you'll have time to transform him. If you gather the blood, perform the ritual, and call for Lucifer to make his bargain."
    Lilith froze.
    Hugh bowed his head, closed his eyes: a kindness for the man who would kill him.
    A scream of denial built in her throat. Mandeville whispered a prayer for forgiveness, and his blade struck true, slicing into Hugh's heart.
    Michael released her.
    She dove, arrowing toward the allure as Hugh fell to his knees, clutching his chest. Mandeville raised his sword over. Hugh's exposed neck.
    The blade cut deep into her shoulder, but she scooped Hugh into her arms with nary a break in movement. With a terrified shout, Mandeville pulled his sword from her flesh. Lilith hissed and lashed out with her foot, hard enough to numb his hand, knocking the weapon from his fingers.
    "He's mine," she growled. Nodding frantically, emitting a stream of high-pitched whimpers, he scrambled toward the stairs; she was airborne again before he reached them.
    Hugh's skin was cool and slick with sweat, his muscles bunching as he convulsed with silent, heaving coughs. Blood pumped from his wound and streamed in pulsing rivulets over his chest, pooling on his abdomen. With a small, sobbing breath, she lifted his knees higher, cradling him tight against her so as not to lose any of the precious fluid.
    Imbecile . But she couldn't say it aloud, not when her throat burned with acrid fear. What was she doing? Even if the transformation was successful, even if Hugh agreed to his terms, Lucifer would not forgive her part in this. Would not forget that 'twas not cruelty that drove her, but something… human.
    His back arched violently; she fought to regain her balance, angling her wings as he nearly broke from her embrace. Head thrown