Demon Forged

herself, “Would you become one of them—one of the Guardians?”
    “In a heartbeat.” Joe studied her face. “Are you worried about this prophecy thing?”
    “No.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Let’s go see if we can find some coffee from a field that’s been proudly slashed and burned.”

    No one knew where Rosalia was, or how to reach her. But since Irena was back in her territory and had to visit Prague’s new community leader anyway, she would drop in on Eva and Petra first. She knew Deacon cared for them; he might have kept in touch.
    If nothing else, she’d find out why they hadn’t stood by him.
    She arrived in Prague a few minutes after sunset, and flew directly to Deacon’s place on the north side of the city. She landed behind the tall stone building as the sun’s orange glow faded from the sky. Thirty years ago, Deacon had converted the second floor of a textile factory into a living area for him and his partners. Through the square, barred windows on the ground floor, she saw the two antique automobiles Deacon had been restoring—both sat abandoned, tools still laid out on a cloth spread over the hood of the vehicle in the first bay.
    Irena frowned and vanished her wings, feeling the first stir-rings of unease. Those cars were Deacon’s; they didn’t belong to the community, and his personal property wouldn’t be transferred to the new community leader after he’d been defeated. Why hadn’t he at least made arrangements to have them stored until he could come back for them?
    Khavi appeared beside Irena as she was walking up the steps to the apartment. The small woman was almost swimming in a bright yellow slicker and boots. Rain from wherever she’d teleported still streaked the plastic.
    Irena paused to let the demon spawn go ahead of her. “Why are you here?”
    “Because I finally have enough boats in my cache.”
    Boats? Irena eyed the back of Khavi’s braided hair. Two thousand years in Hell had driven the grigori insane.
    Irena knocked, then used her Gift to unbolt the locks when the vampires didn’t answer. The scent of stale air and old blood filled her lungs. Destruction met her eyes.
    The living room and a portion of the library had been torn apart. Beside an overturned sofa, a body-sized, irregular patch of dried blood discolored a cream rug. Deacon’s blood, Irena realized. She’d assumed he’d been challenged at one of the community’s gathering places, but Deacon had been beaten here in his home. Perhaps that explained why Eva and Petra weren’t at the apartment—and hadn’t been for some time. They might have felt too vulnerable to stay.
    An hour later, she’d crossed the city four times, and had to face the terrible truth: It wasn’t just Eva and Petra; all of the community was gone. She hadn’t detected a single psychic whiff, let alone a living vampire.
    She left the final, empty gathering spot, her hands in fists, ready to fight—but no one was here. Khavi tromped along next to her, ridiculous in her yellow slicker. Irena could not even sneer at the grigori; at that moment, her dislike of the demon spawn wasn’t half as sharp as the hate she directed at herself.
    She should have come earlier. She should have come back when Deacon said he’d been beaten by a nosferatu-born vampire. She’d wondered then if it had been a demon masquerading as a vampire; she shouldn’t have assumed that Deacon’s impressions had been right. Maybe a demon could temporarily fake cold hands; maybe, in the midst of being pulverized by a demon’s fists, a vampire could mistake their temperature. Maybe it had been one of the nephilim.
    But she couldn’t linger here and try to flush out the demon. She had other communities to visit and to warn.
    Then she had to find Deacon and tell him what she feared.
    She turned, looked out over the city, felt the cold bite of the night wind against her cheeks. Maybe, after the change in leadership, the community had just moved to another location. Maybe one of the other communities would have heard.
    She could not even convince herself of it.
    With a heavy heart, she glanced at Khavi. Teleporting to the other communities would be faster.
    “You will ask,” Khavi said and held out her hand. “I will say yes.”

    Rael waited before coming to SI, but no longer than Alejandro had anticipated. Just enough time had passed—the time it might take for a close-mouthed butler to give in and tell her employer