Demon Bound

I was saying—”
    “I’m a dick.”
    And an observant one at that. But Jake had that internally amused look again, and Alice couldn’t decide whether he hoped she would return his smile or if he was laughing at her, so she only continued, “I sent the samples to a lab. This fresco is from 1250 BC.”
    His expression changed to confusion. “And that’s the oldest?”
    “Yes.”
    “But, that panel of Michael and the others . . .” Jake moved to the Egyptian piece from outside Abu Simbel. “Yeah. Check out the others—are they Guardians?”
    “I believe so,” Alice said quietly.
    “Hot damn.” He shook his head, then continued, “But the others, they’re lounging—the woman and those two men. Their arrangement, their poses all look more natural. All they need are some potbellies and skinny arms.” Jake turned and frowned at her. “Are the dates in my head screwy? I’m thinking: eighteenth dynasty, the Amarna period—and a hundred years earlier than your Mycenaean fresco.”
    She would lure him away from Ethan, Alice decided. Take over his mentoring, and have him teleport her to archeological sites around the world. She would not even care if each jump made her wobble.
    Oh, my. How very scandalous her fantasies had become in her old age!
    Jake’s eyes narrowed, and Alice realized she was smiling again.
    “You head isn’t screwy,” she said, joining him at the panel. “But when I tell you the date, you might begin to think mine is.”
    “I already—”
    “Your filter is leaking again, novice.”
    His self-disparaging grin was too appealing, she thought. Half-amiable, half-wiseacre. And, when he held out an American five-dollar bill, all cheek.
    “Give it to Drifter,” Jake explained. “He’ll know you’ve kept me in line.”
    “Then I shall keep it.” Alice took the money. “I’ve earned it—and he’ll only gamble it away.”
    And Ethan had fleeced her so many times when they’d been training together, she felt no compunction against getting the jump on his winnings now.
    Jake sighed when Alice vanished the bill into her cache. “I hoped he would. That’s how I planned to get it back.”
    “So when you say these things, your loss is only temporary?” Alice asked, frowning slightly. “Little wonder your behavior hasn’t changed. There are no consequences when you are disciplined.”
    Except that Jake had begun to recognize his more thoughtless responses—perhaps that was all Ethan intended.
    She met his eyes again, and saw that the good humor had deserted his smile. “Golly gee, Alice. I never thought of it that way. Maybe Drifter should make me shape-shift into a girl and crawl around on my hands and knees.” His brows lifted, and the texture of his psychic scent was tipped with sardonic barbs. “But what if I liked it too much?”
    Alice held his gaze, her own expression cool. No, Jake didn’t appreciate a lecture any more than she did. But she had no intention of letting him see that he’d managed to make her feel like a pedantic prig.
    And there was obviously only one topic they could discuss that wouldn’t result in a mutually annoying exchange.
    She turned back to the panel. “Ninth century BC,” she said, and as he mulled over the date, she waited, wondering if he’d reach the same conclusion she had.
    The distinctive naturalistic style had only flourished for a short period—beginning after Akhenaton had converted to monotheism, and ending when an heir restored the polytheistic religion of the earlier kingdoms. The formal art of the earlier kingdoms had been restored, as well—and rigidly enforced.
    And although it was possible that a secret sect of monotheists had carried on the Amarna tradition for five hundred years, another group was far more likely to have created these—particularly considering the subject of the frescoed panels.
    “So either you’ve got a bunch of rebels hiding out for centuries—and building big temples isn’t such a smart way to hide,” Jake said. “Or you’ve got someone—or someones —who saw this style in person. And liked it enough to use it five hundred years later.”
    She could forgive his thoughtlessness, Alice decided. “An immortal,” she agreed.
    “But obviously not a demon.” He gestured to another fresco from the Abu Simbel temple, that one depicting a scene from the Second Battle. A figure’s status could be determined by his size—and the demons were half as tall as the seraphim.
    And Lucifer, at