Demon Bound

Lilith was going to kill him. “I need you in the main conference room. And a lock is a real swell invention.”
    He closed the door, let out a breath, and began to pray. They’d still had clothes on. Maybe he wasn’t dead. She might just order her hellhound to eat his liver.
    Something bumped against his ass. He had no hope it was Alice, so it could only be Sir Pup, prodding him with one of his giant noses, on one of his three giant heads. When Jake turned around, the hellhound appeared mostly dog—which was the reason Jake didn’t teleport. If Sir Pup had been in demon form, standing as tall as Jake and sporting barbed fur, scales, and eyes glowing with hellfire, nothing could have kept him there.
    “Look, I’ll make you a deal,” he told the hellhound. “She offers you any body part, and I’ll counter it with double the weight in raw, bloody beef.”
    Sir Pup grinned at him with his three sets of razor-edged teeth.
    Jake didn’t know if that meant the hellhound agreed, or if Sir Pup was just anticipating the taste of his liver. “Triple the weight. And you probably don’t want to go in there,” Jake added when the hellhound shouldered closer to the door. “What they’re doing isn’t safe for young, impressionable minds.”
    Alice’s laugh might have been in response to his warning or the way the hellhound did a doggy version of an eyeroll—Jake wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t going to ruin her lighter mood. He concentrated on not being a dick on the way to the conference room.
    Which meant he didn’t say anything until they were standing inside, studying the large oval table.
    He glanced at her. “The room’s big enough?” When she nodded, he vanished the table.
    Alice took the chairs, then began calling in bones one at a time, swiftly arranging them on the floor.
    The skeleton had fallen apart as soon as they’d touched it. Despite being forced to replace each bone individually, she only had to consult her sketches twice. Within a few seconds, the skeleton had been restored, and Jake had been treated to a display of grace that made him want to pound his head against the wall and howl his frustration.
    He kept his mouth shut, and called in the sword and iron stakes. Then held on to both when he heard Lilith and Hugh come in.
    Lilith’s dark gaze swept the floor, ran over Alice, landed on Jake. “I might kiss you, puppy,” she said, striding toward him. “Or make Hugh do it. Because I should kick your ass for jumping to Hell. How did you get it away from him?”
    “Who?” Jake waited for it to make sense. Lilith usually did. “What? I didn’t go to Hell.”
    She pointed at his hand. “You have Michael’s sword. Belial had it before the Gates to Hell were closed. Where did you get it, if not there?”
    Astonished, he lifted the sword. Longer and wider than most of the swords he practiced with, and forged of bronze, he thought it was similar to the one Michael had used to slay the dragon, but he didn’t know if it was identical. He’d rarely seen Michael’s, and half the time, it had been on fire. But Lilith was more familiar with it—had even wielded it.
    Beside him, Alice shook her head. “No. Look at the blade.”
    “May I?” Hugh held out his hand, and Jake passed it to him. The overhead lights reflected off his eyeglasses as Hugh angled the sword, studying it. “It’s rather dinged up, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” Alice said. Her gaze warmed as she looked at Hugh, and Jake felt a little twist in his gut.
    Stupid. Everyone who’d trained under Hugh loved him. Lilith had come over from the dark side because she loved him. If Jake batted for the other team, he’d have made a play for Hugh in a second.
    It’d probably have been easier than making a play for the Black Widow. And smarter than wishing she’d look at him like that.
    Lilith appraised her quickly. “You’re the Black Widow. The novices speak of you.”
    Though Alice’s tone was neutral, Jake thought he saw a hint of curiosity in her expression. “And you are Lucifer’s daughter. Everyone speaks of you.”
    That obviously didn’t displease Lilith. She was smiling when she looked to Hugh again.
    He carefully tested the edge of the blade with his thumb. “Dull.”
    And Michael’s sword could cut through stone.
    “Damn,” Lilith said softly, then turned to the skeleton. “A friend of yours, puppy?”
    “Nope. My guess is, he’s been dead longer than you’ve been alive—five hundred years