Demon Angel

served asking one of my colleagues."
    "What is your area of expertise?" This, from Preston.
    "Sixteenth- and seventeenth-century drama, poetry." This time, he did allow himself to glance at Lilith. "I wrote my dissertation on Milton's use of the demonic female figure."
    Her chin dipped, but from this distance he could not read her expression.
    "And is it from Milton that you got your ideas for your book?"
    "Which one? I have two books that include discussions of Milton's works that have gone to academic press."
    "Lilith."
    His stomach clenched, and he would have done anything for clear vision at that moment. He let his gaze rest on Lilith for a long second, felt no reaction from her. "In part." He turned, opened the side pocket of his bag and pulled out his glasses. "What has this to do with Ian?"
    "Just gathering as wide a range of background as possible, Dr. Castleford," she said. "What of the nosferatu? They are in your book, but Milton makes no mention of such a thing in his work."
    He paused, glad that he was partially turned away so that he could better hide his surprise. They'd made a connection between Ian and the nosferatu? Lilith must have had something to do with it, but why? He slid on his glasses and looked at her. She shifted in her seat, and once again he saw her tightly contained anger.
    How to answer Taylor's question? He had the feeling anything he said would damn him in the detectives' eyes.
    Did Lilith intend for that damnation to be literal?
    He thought quickly. When did the word enter the human lexicon? "The nosferatu has been a traditional part of vampire literature since the late eighteen hundreds. I think Stoker was the first to use it in English."
    "Seventy years later than Polidori?"
    Hugh nodded. The truth was, Polidori might have known it through Colin. Guardians and demons had long called the creatures nosferatu , and a few vampires knew the truth behind their origins. Colin was one of them. "Yes, but again, this isn't really my area. I didn't research the book very carefully."
    He didn't meet Lilith's eyes, afraid he would begin laughing if her expression was even slightly amused. Afraid he would see something other than amusement.
    Had she read it? He fought the slightly sick, vulnerable sensation it left in his gut, forced himself to push that thought aside.
    The detectives exchanged a look. "You're an educated guy," Preston said abruptly. "Do you know any other languages?"
    "Yes. Quite a few." Several that were extinct.
    The older man scratched his chin. "Any ancient languages? Can you read obscure writings, that kind of thing?"
    Were they trying to determine the nature of the writing used in the ritual? Of course—they assumed it was a human language. "Latin and Greek," he said carefully. "But nothing older or nonphonetic, such as hieroglyphs or cuneiform."
    "Why would you study them if your area of expertise is English lit?"
    "In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, all of the English writers read and wrote Latin and Greek," Hugh said dryly. "It was a standard part of their education, so I made it part of mine." Not exactly true, but answer enough.
    Taylor pulled a sheet of paper from the folder. "Have you ever seen writing like this?" Both she and Preston watched him carefully.
    Symbols covered the page. The ink smelled fresh, as if they'd recently been copied by hand.
    He recognized many of them from Lilith's skin, from Ian's corpse, but he shook his head. "No." He pretended to study it. "It looks a bit like Devanagari script, but I'm certain I've never come across a series of glyphs like this in my studies." Raising his head, he added, "Perhaps the linguistics depart—"
    "Thank you, Dr. Castleford. We'll consider that." Taylor snatched the paper back, her impatience showing in the tightness around her mouth, the narrowing of her eyes. She knew he was giving her indirect, runaround answers—but did she want the truth?
    He didn't think she would. And he didn't dare offer anything more without knowing what input Lilith had in their investigation.
    She still sat, her gaze fixed on his face, her long legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed. But for the crimson glow around her pupils—did she not know she did that, or was she warning him of her anger?—her expression was unreadable.
    God, but he needed to get her alone. Needed to question her and break through her defenses. To get to the truth, to bring her humanity to the fore before she destroyed both of