Demon Forged

am not certain because of the appearance—the composition of the iron feels identical. That only happens when iron is smelted from the same ore. They were probably molded at the same time, as well.”
    Jake shook his head in disbelief. “So some demon has been carrying a stash of these in his hammerspace for two thousand years plus?”
    “They could have been distributed to more than one demon,” Irena said, though she doubted it.
    She sensed that Alejandro also doubted . . . and that he wasn’t surprised that the spikes were from the same source. “Find Khavi,” he said to Jake. “Ask her if she knew any demon who made or used weapons like these.”
    Jake nodded. “Zakril was her brother, so I’m guessing she’d like to know that whoever spiked him might still be running around.”
    “I wonder if she would,” Alejandro said quietly. “But we will ask her, regardless.”
    “All right.” Jake held out his hand for Alice’s. “Let’s get going.”
    As soon as they disappeared, Irena formed her wings and said, “And we should ask the demon who was a friend at the time.”
    Alejandro looked at her, his expression unreadable. What went on behind his dark eyes? She did not know, still . But she could imagine. No one had suggested that Rael was responsible for Zakril’s murder, and yet she’d immediately put it out there based on a flimsy connection to Khavi.
    “I am ready to blame him for anything,” she admitted.
    “Perhaps. But that isn’t reason not to look at him.” He took a step, and his wings arched out behind him.
    She waited on the ground as he launched himself into the sky. Watching him was sheer pleasure. She loved the way he flew, his body as straight as an arrow, each powerful flap of his wings. Smiling, she lifted into the air and joined him. The wind caressed her feathers with silken warmth, teasing the tips. He’d headed southeast—not toward his quarters, but hers.
    Mine. He was. But this time, she would hold on to him.
    He glanced over as she caught up with him. “Consider this scenario: The woman that Rael loved is Anaria.”
    Irena fought her immediate response—that a demon couldn’t love. But they did, in their own twisted way. “Zakril had helped imprison her. So Rael murders Zakril to help Anaria . . . or to get her husband out of his way?” Whatever the reason, Rael would be helping himself.
    “And then kills his own wife after Anaria returns to get her out of the way.”
    “Julia Stafford wasn’t spiked through the head.”
    “No. But we found Rosalia just before his wife was murdered. And that murder has been a distraction enough that we haven’t looked hard in Rome’s direction. Deacon was the one who led us to Rome; now Deacon’s community is gone.”
    Something in her stomach twisted. Caelum passed below in a blur of white and cream. “Do you think Deacon is involved?”
    He shook his head. “That is not what I suggest. Only that a demon like Rael would be able to broker a deal with Acciaioli and the nosferatu in Rome—and if Rael was angry with Deacon for interfering, he might have punished him for it. I am also suggesting that if Rael was once a friend to Anaria—perhaps still is—he might also be a friend to the nephilim, who massacred the vampires in Rome before touching any other city.”
    Friends with Anaria? “And so he was angry when I said I would kill her.”
    “And the nephilim arrived at your forge not long after.”
    The magnitude of what Alejandro suggested finally hit her. Rael positioned himself as loyal to both Anaria and to Belial. Would not Belial’s other demons turn on him? Or had he convinced them that he was manipulating Anaria with the appearance of friendship? Did they know he played both sides?
    She could not imagine the balance necessary to walk such a dangerous line. “Do you believe he could do all of that?”
    “He did not become Belial’s lieutenant by thinking on a small scale. It’s impossible to say how many roles he plays, and how many plots he manages. But he didn’t attain his position by juggling only one or two.”
    “And how many will you take on?” She immediately regretted the question. It would lead to a fight, and she’d stir from this waking dream. But her anger was swelling from deep within, and she couldn’t stop it. “How many, Olek?”
    His jaw tightened. “As many as I must.”
    “Will you lead Belial’s demons? Will you marry a human to forward your political career?”
    “You goad