Demon Angel

low growl rumbled from the hellhound's chest. Hugh had to force the words out through the tightness in his throat. "What Punishment?"
    The vampire blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. "She never used it against you," he said, a disbelieving laugh slipping from him. "She cannot speak to me without manipulation."
    Hugh's fingers clenched. "Explain yourself."
    "Tell me about the symbols first."
    "She was human once." His chest ached, as it had whenever he thought of her revelation. He saw the surprise on Colin's face, then the confusion. "The symbols are a part of a ritual that transformed her into a demon."
    "But—"
    "Guardians. Vampires. It follows demonkind would have their own version." Hugh shook his head, anticipating Colin's question. His bitterness was self-directed. "I didn't know, either. I suspect only Michael did."
    "Why the need to mislead the police?"
    "One of my students was killed by the nosferatu, and the symbols were carved into his body."
    Colin was nodding, as if in sudden understanding. "Hence the forgery of Polidori's letter."
    "Yes," he said. "Do you have a copy?"
    "She took the originals. They might be at her apartment, too. You may as well go in my place; being a courier has never appealed to me." He nudged the dog with his foot. "Sir Pup, do you have a key you could give Castleford?"
    "Sir Pup?" Bemused, Hugh looked down at the hellhound, who was flopping his ears from side to side as if in answer to the vampire. A sweet pain sliced though him, left him open and vulnerable. "She named you Sir Pup ?"
    "The detectives are leaving," Colin said softly. "The woman just received a phone call; they're both getting up to go."
    Hugh turned. Taylor and Preston's faces were hard, bleak. Taylor slashed Hugh a look, but they left without speaking to him. "Could you hear the voice on the other end?"
    "No."
    Auntie reappeared, her arms laden with trays, and Hugh stood up to help her. Savi slipped in between them, arranged the chutneys to her satisfaction, and transferred the platters to the table.
    Colin stared at the volume of food, swallowed hard. Auntie waited with her hands folded at her waist, but as Colin continued staring without moving to fill his plate, she began scooping and explaining the location and taste of each dish, stopping just short of spooning bites into Colin's mouth.
    Savi stood by Hugh, her head at the level of his shoulder. "He's very handsome," she murmured in Hindi. Colin glanced up, but the rapacious pleasure in his gaze turned to something painfully beleaguered when she added, "It's too bad he's gay."
    Hugh looked down at Savi, then back at the vampire. Some lies were definitely useful. "Yes," he said, as the vampire choked on a mouthful of rice. "I suppose it is."
----

CHAPTER 20
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    The misting rain formed a halo around a light illuminating the front of a run-down apartment building. Though Savi had lifted Lilith's address from a law enforcement database, he doubted she actually lived there.
    He frowned. Despite eight hundred years spent fighting them, he didn't know what demons did when they weren't convincing humans to create chaos. Like Guardians, they didn't need to sleep or eat, so it was possible there was no downtime; and unlike Guardians, demons were not social creatures— particularly not with their own kind. Lilith's friendship with Colin was an anomaly; any other demon would have considered it a weakness.
    Rain beaded on plastic surrounding the bus stop, and steam slowly crept up the inside of the glass. Hugh shifted on the bench; his nausea from the bus ride across town had passed. He could either get out and check on the apartment—or sit here and do nothing.
    He reached down and picked up the duffel. No matter how unlikely her presence at the apartment was, it would be foolish to go in unarmed. But he kept it covered—if someone else lived in the apartment, he didn't want to brandish a two-foot blade in her face.
    The front security door was broken; inside, the row of dilapidated mailboxes confirmed her apartment number: Milton, 4D. Shaking his head over her choice of last name, he took the stairs two at a time, trying to ignore the smell of cat litter, dirty diapers, and frying meat that permeated the air. The stairs creaked under his weight; if she was in the apartment and listening, she'd hear his approach—and he knew she could probably distinguish his footsteps from the other tenants'.
    Not that he intended to surprise her—he just