Demon Angel

pinpoint an origin. His first language most closely resembled French, but they wouldn't have recognized it as such now. "My formative years were spent traveling throughout Europe. And my tutors were, indeed, very strict."
    He felt Detective Taylor's penetrating gaze on his face before she turned away. "Let's get started on these names. Thank you again, Dr. Castleford."
    "When you find him, I should be relieved to hear from you," Hugh said. His tone spoke for him: alive or not.
    "I'll let you know." Preston touched his pocket. "Thanks again."
    Hugh sat quietly long after their footsteps receded down the hallway. They were very good; they hadn't given away much between them, but Hugh was certain they thought he had been involved in Javier's disappearance. How deep their suspicion went, he couldn't guess, but it was enough to take his fingerprints by asking him to autograph the book.
    He couldn't resent their surreptitious method of collection; if it eased their doubts about Hugh and led them in the proper direction toward Javier, then it was for the best.
    The detectives would find little to act on. The few items in his past that skirted legality—the birth certificate and school records Michael had provided Hugh after he'd Fallen—had been tested seven years before by the FBI, when they'd been investigating the fake identification Savi had been creating for her underage friends.
    No, the only real secrets Hugh possessed were laid bare in the book they'd used to collect his fingerprints.
    An irony, he mused, that only he could appreciate; to every other human, his story would remain fiction. From the date of his Fall, he'd determined not to share the truth about his past. A strange decision from a Guardian whose gift had been Truth, perhaps, but honesty would serve no purpose.
    Who could believe his tale? Even Savi, who considered him as close as an older brother, would look at him askance if he told her he'd been born during the reign of King John. Could Savi, for all her brilliance and trust, really understand the steps he'd taken from a castle in Britain to her side when she'd been a young girl?
    No. Nor did he want to place the burden of trying to believe him upon her; he would continue to isolate his history from those closest to him.
    And in the end, seeing the book in print had done what writing it had not: put his past into its proper perspective. The gaudy cover and horrible prose were silly; so had been his attempt to recreate Lilith.
    He looked around his office, suddenly struck by the institutional paint, the economical furniture, the windows no wider than an arrow-slit. So different than Caelum—but had he simply traded one comfortable institution for another?
    His stomach tightened, heavy beneath his chest.
    He recognized this feeling: futility. It will pass, he reminded himself. But he picked up his keys, and walked out.
    With the sun and physical exhaustion, it always passed more quickly.
    Lilith found the body near the edge of the southern lake.
    When she'd followed the nosferatu's trail through the park, she'd caught the scent of human death and had expected to find a mutilated corpse. But this…
    Death held few surprises anymore, but this one stunned her. For several minutes, she stared with frozen recognition at the arrangement of flesh and bone with her head bowed and her hands fisted in her pockets. She knew the ritual that had been performed here. God, how well she knew it.
    Lucifer must be connected. What bargain had been struck, that the nosferatu also had knowledge of this ritual?
    Dread knotted her stomach and rose like bile in her throat.
    What had they done?
    The crunch of bicycle tires along the recreation trail shook her out of her numb reverie, and she quickly dropped into a crouch to avoid being seen. The remains weren't far off the path, but had been hidden from easy sight by patch of willow scrub. Fewer than twenty-four hours old, they hadn't suffered significant decomposition or putrefaction, but it wouldn't be long before they were discovered. Though this portion of the park wasn't as heavily visited as others, it was typically used by joggers and bicyclists; she hadn't changed her clothing since leaving the federal building, and her suit would be memorable in these surroundings.
    The sound of the bicycle faded, only to be replaced by the light, quick tread of a runner. Lilith breathed a sigh of frustration. Why couldn't these idiots be like normal humans: their asses on a sofa,