Demon Forged

brown eyes, usually warm, were tortured as she looked to Alejandro. “Is it true that the nephilim invaded the warehouse? Or did Rael lie?”
    “It’s true.” Irena knelt, vanished all of the vampire ash, leaving the human and demon blood behind. “We will have a gathering for Dru within a day or two. Perhaps Ben and Echo, if they wished to have their remains rest in Caelum. And now, these vampires.”
    Rosalia closed her eyes, nodded. “I will not be there. But I will pay my respects.”
    Guilt colored Rosalia’s psychic scent. Alejandro frowned as suspicion bit at him. “Did you know Deacon would betray us?”
    She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, as if hugging herself. “No. But I knew that something was not right with him. I’d hoped . . . I’d hoped he might reveal what troubled him. He did not.” She swallowed and looked down at the vampire. “I intend to take him.”
    “Take him?” Alejandro looked around at Irena, saw similar surprise on her face. “Why?”
    “I haven’t decided.” A faint smile curved her lips. She flicked the hood of her cloak up over her hair, hiding her features in shadow. “Either I will chain him to my bed, or give him a five-minute head start before hunting him down with my crossbow.”
    Irena came to stand beside Alejandro. “He’s completely broken. He will not be good for fucking or hunting. He wanted to die, and so he might not even run.”
    “Then I will let him go kill himself. I will not be stuck for another two centuries, caring for someone who cannot care in return.” Rosalia’s Gift pushed out, carrying a hollow yearning, as if she’d made a wish she already knew wouldn’t be fulfilled. Shadows crept from beneath the sofa and wrapped around Deacon’s still form. “I have not been in Caelum for years, and so perhaps my voice and opinion do not matter. But I cannot understand how Rael was given enough room to maneuver as he has. His bargain with my brother, what he has done to Deacon, his association with the nephilim—all could have been prevented if we had slain him instead of allying ourselves with him.”
    “Yes,” Alejandro admitted.
    SI had never trusted Rael, so they’d thought that if the demon turned on them, they’d be prepared to counter him. And so their decision to align themselves with him, born of desperation— or arrogance—had led them down a grievous path. Alejandro couldn’t deny that, or the knowledge that his decision to replace Rael and sever SI’s ties to the demon had come too late.
    Irena, of course, did not respond. And she could have easily indulged in an I told you so , yet he knew she never would. She’d rather have been wrong; being proved right had cost far too much.
    “Good. And when you find Rael, perhaps save a little piece for me.” Rosalia paused, then added, “After Rael and the human—vampire—left, I followed, but did not find an opportunity to slay them. Rael called him Lukacs, and I am almost certain he killed Rael’s wife in exchange for immortality.” She projected an image of an emaciated man, his eyes dark and hungry. “If that is not his true name, perhaps he will have a medical record. He’d been through chemotherapy.”
    If Lukacs was a vampire, his true name would not matter much now. He would never face a human court. “We’ll find them both,” Alejandro said.
    By the movement of her hood, Rosalia nodded. “I trust that you will. Be well.”
    “Be safe,” Irena said.
    As soon as Rosalia and Deacon disappeared, pulled into the shadows beneath the sofa, Irena turned to Alejandro with a frown. “Why did I do that?”
    “Let her take him?”
    “Yes.”
    She would probably not admit, even to herself, that she still hoped for the best for Deacon; her pain and anger were too sharp. But Alejandro could turn her away from them for a moment.
    “Because you regret never doing the same to me.” When her frown deepened with confusion, he said, “Hunting me down and fucking me.”
    A laugh as loud as Irena’s should not be able to lift quietly through him, gently lightening his own spirits, yet it did. But they were not in a location where laughter could last. When she sobered, her soft steps took her through the apartment. She paused now and then, as if remembering a time when life had filled each room.
    Finally, she returned to the living area. “I liked these women,” she said. “And I will not be able to hold my blades back much longer.”
    She did now only for him. But