Demon Bound

it. “But don’t we do the same? Determine what to say based on what we think is best for others?”
    Jake, bless him, let her take that step back. “You mean Michael,” he said. “And whether we’re going to mention what Belial said in the prison about being Michael’s father. Or if it’s different than Drifter deciding last spring to keep what Belial said about teaching Michael from the others.”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s your gut say?”
    “To let it out there. If it is true, Michael can explain it—after all, it still wouldn’t change what he is now. And if it is not true, he can put it to rest.”
    “Yeah,” Jake said. “That’s what mine’s saying, too. But it isn’t the same as what your husband did, not letting you talk to your family. Marriage isn’t war.”
    “In theory.”
    His grin flashed over his lips, then faded as he said, “Michael has been hiding what he knows about Zakril and the temples. And maybe he has a reason for keeping silent, just like Drifter did. But whatever the reason, it’s not staying buried.”
    “And if Michael is Belial’s son?” But how could it be? To her knowledge, demons couldn’t reproduce. Lucifer had created the nephilim, just as he had the hellhounds and spiders—but she did not know by what method. Halfling demons—like Lilith—had been humans once, transformed in a sacrifice. “If it is true, what then?”
    “Maybe nothing,” Jake said. “Or maybe we reevaluate what we know of demons.”
    “And feel guilty for slaying them?”
    “What, and toss my cookies whenever I kill one?” He shook his head. “Have you ever met one that wasn’t evil at its core? Can you think of any demon that the universe wouldn’t be a better place without?”
    She had to admit she couldn’t.
    “So, Michael’s not a demon like the others—he’s something else,” Jake said. “That’s not such a surprise.”
    No, it wasn’t. He’d always been more powerful, had always been more than the rest of them. “How strange that I would rather be lied to by someone with good intentions or ill—to have them hide the truth—than be aware that good intentions were making my decisions for me.”
    “You mean, having a choice? Yeah, I prefer to fuck up on my own, too.” He studied her face for a moment. “So, those good intentions. You didn’t get away.”
    She took a long breath, wondering if she was ready to go back there. And she was.

CHAPTER 14
    “Henry caught up to me in London.” At the docks—and the smell there, she reflected, hadn’t been much more pleasant than the odors in Hell. Of everything that day—the blinding sun, the cacophony of voices, horses, whistles, and engines—it was the stink that remained at the forefront of her memories. “I made such a scene—was such an embarrassment. When we returned to Manchester, he tucked me away. And I was restrained so that I couldn’t run again. For my own good, of course.”
    “Jesus, Alice.”
    She knew he was remembering the attic, the bed there. “Henry brought in a physician, and I was diagnosed with female hysteria. And, despite my protests, was treated for it.”
    “Treated?” His brows drew together in a heavy frown. “You mean the doctor was . . . Onan’s little helper?”
    “Yes.”
    Alice took a small amount of pride in knowing that her voice didn’t betray her humiliation. The physician had seen more of her than her husband ever had, and in his clinical manner had produced more of a response. Not attraction or arousal, but release. And Henry hadn’t thought it degrading at all.
    She continued in the same lighthearted vein. “But I had an outlet, after that—a way to settle my nerves that Henry could not prevent. It was, after all, his suggestion to let me be treated. And so I settled them quite often.”
    Jake didn’t smile, didn’t laugh. She dropped her gaze from his.
    “And it was better, for a while. We traveled to Bath for an extended holiday, away from his family. It was supposed to be a restorative for me.”
    “But?”
    “I believe Henry was trying to make amends. To give me a bit of home. And so he invited a man that we’d known in Egypt—an acquaintance through the exploration society—who would never have been welcomed in the same way by Henry’s family.”
    “Teqon.”
    “Yes. And it began with simple tricks. He would shape-shift into Henry’s form before my eyes, but look like himself again immediately thereafter. I would have conversations with