Demon Forged

nephilim in front of them edged closer together, preparing to catch the vampire if she burst free.
    Quietly, Irena said, “They’ll kill you, Savi.”
    Heedless, the vampire struggled to pull herself forward. “Please.” Savi’s voice had become an almost unrecognizable growl. “ Please , Sir Pup!”
    “Do not let her move, pup.” Ames-Beaumont’s plea was hardly more than a whisper squeezed past Anaria’s choking grip and the sword through his ribs. “Do not fight him, sweet. I can bear this pain. I cannot bear you hurt.”
    Savi went still, her growls dissolving into anguished sobs.
    Anaria slashed his wrist open again. Irena’s fingers clenched at her thighs. She glanced over at Olek, knew he saw her helpless rage.
    He smoothly stood, and she could only see his tall boots, his black trousers. She didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice even, concealing his anger and revealing only his strength when he spoke.
    “You’ve murdered one of us, Anaria.”
    The grigori turned slightly, looking first to Olek, then over at Irena. Her amber eyes were friendly. Her harmonious voice pulled at Irena, drew her in like a warm embrace. “We told the young one not to fight. My children defended themselves.”
    For an instant, Anaria’s explanation made perfect sense. Irena almost found herself nodding before the words penetrated.
    By the gods, what kind of power was that? Terrified, seething, Irena rocked back on her heels, mentally putting distance between herself and Anaria.
    She saw Alejandro brace his feet slightly farther apart. He’d felt that, too. This time, his voice held the barbed silk of aristocratic disdain.
    “And the vampires? Your children needed to defend themselves against young vampires, as well?”
    “No.” Anaria vanished the bowl of blood. “Vampires are abominations. Bloodlust is a curse never meant for mankind.”
    “But you obviously need that vampire,” Alejandro said.
    Anaria tilted her head as she looked up at Ames-Beaumont. With a soft smile, she stroked her fingers down his face. Weakly, he tried to jerk away from her touch, his fangs bared.
    “This one cannot hide what he carries within him. My Zakril was the same; he could not hide his light.” A deep sorrow filled her expression, made Irena want to weep. “But although this vampire has the look of an angel, it is not light that lives inside him. It is only Chaos.”
    Abruptly, her hand fell to the handle of the sword sticking out from his chest.
    Irena called in her knives. “Anaria!”
    Anaria paused, glanced at her. Across the room, a pyramid of bricks appeared in front of Alejandro. He kneeled beside them.
    Irena swallowed hard. Not bricks. Plastique. Enough to destroy the warehouse, possibly more. The explosion would kill everyone inside, but the sacrifice was well worth it.
    Irena could not prevent Dru’s death, or Ben and Echo’s. But if one more died here, then the nephilim and Anaria would, too.
    She projected the full force of her anger and hate. “If any more are harmed, demon spawn, we will not have mercy on you.”
    “I do not wish to harm you. I would persuade all of you to join us.”
    Irena turned, began to slowly circle around the nephilim toward Olek. She needed to touch him again first. “Join you for what?”
    “We will take the throne Below, and slay the demons. We will free the humans in the Pit from their torture.”
    Oh, how Irena wanted to. She forced her gaze away from Anaria. On the stairs, the novices stared at the grigori, their faces yearning, frightened. Irena vanished one of her knives.
    If she kills Ames-Beaumont, Alejandro and I will fight. You will run. Find Michael. He is with Taylor.
    Becca frowned. But—
    You. Will. Run. Each word was a hard, sharp gesture.
    Becca shrank back. Each of the novices nodded, agreeing to flee.
    Her heart aching, Irena wanted to order Alejandro to do the same. She knew he wouldn’t.
    “And the humans here on Earth?” Alejandro asked.
    “No more will be destined for the pain of Hell. My children will ensure there is no sin.”
    She spoke with such conviction, Irena almost believed her. But the uncertain push of Pim’s healing Gift reminded her of the truth behind Anaria’s words.
    The nephilim hadn’t done that to Lilith. Only Anaria, who didn’t have to follow the Rules, could have injured a human without consequence. And once she took over Hell’s throne, her children would have the same freedom.
    “Say what you mean, demon spawn.