Demon Forged

emotions in a wild, terrified storm. Irena did not need to read Preston’s psyche; grief and hope etched his lined face as he stood near the center of the room, staring at Michael and Taylor.
    The brilliant light that surrounded them slowly faded, and Irena saw that their mouths were fused together in a deep kiss. She could not stop her laugh. In sixteen hundred years, she had never seen Michael kiss a woman—or a man, for that matter.
    Olek glanced at her, amusement in his gaze. “He did not transform me in such a manner,” he said, and set her laughing again.
    “Me, either,” she said, when she caught her breath. Wiping her eyes, she looked again . . . and her laughter died completely.
    Symbols decorated Michael’s skin. She turned, searching for Khavi, hoping the grigori would have an explanation. But Khavi had gone.
    A frown settled between Olek’s brows. He turned to Wren. “Where is Rael?” When confusion slipped into her psychic scent, he said, “Stafford.”
    She shook her head. “I only saw the vampire.”
    The light of transformation vanished. Michael rose, holding Taylor cradled in his arms. He looked to Olek. “Take her.”
    Preston stepped forward. “I can—”
    “She is strong—she does not know how strong,” Michael said. “When she regains consciousness, she might hurt you without meaning to.”
    The detective looked torn, but nodded. “All right,” he agreed—yet still followed Michael as he gave her to Olek, and hovered as the transfer was made.
    Irena frowned when Alejandro’s face tightened. She glanced at Taylor. Blood collected at the corners of her lips. Her eyes were wide and staring.
    Irena had never seen a transformation affect a new Guardian in such a way. Unconscious, yes. Not empty.
    “This blood on her mouth is yours, Michael,” Olek said. “What have you done?”
    His back was to them. His bare shoulders were low, as if he bore a heavy weight. “I have given her part of myself and my power, and linked her to me. She will be the new Doyen. She will not lead you, but she will be the one who transforms and brings new Guardians to—”
    “ Doyen ?” Irena started forward, her fists clenched. Rage ripped through her—rage and fear. “What does that mean? Where will you be?”
    “I do not yet know.” His terror and dread spiked before he covered it. “Do not fight this, Irena. Please.”
    She could not bear that plea. Tears springing to her eyes, she turned, sought out Olek. His horror echoed hers.
    When she turned back, Michael had straightened and covered the symbols on his body with a black tunic. Khavi stood next to him, sword in hand. Kneeling beside her was Rael.
    If the demon was afraid, he didn’t show it. Despite the blade against his neck, his expression remained quiet, watchful.
    Irena called in her spear. Her chest heaved. She wanted to kill something, anything, and now the demon was here like a sacrifice.
    Michael caught Irena’s gaze, shook his head.
    It took all of her strength to lower her weapon. Behind her, she heard Olek ordering Wren and Preston back into the corner of the room. Carrying Taylor, Alejandro positioned himself in front of the humans. Irena joined him.
    Whatever was happening here, their priority was to protect the people behind them.
    Not a sign of Michael’s earlier fear remained. His face had hardened to stone, his eyes to obsidian as he looked to Khavi. “You were to watch her.”
    “I watched her. And I did what I saw was best.” Her mouth tightened, and she glanced down at Rael. “And then I saw this murdering dog who killed my brother.”
    “I killed no one,” Rael said. “And I would not kill Zakril, who was my friend.”
    Khavi snarled. Her blade drew blood. “Demon liar.”
    “I tell the truth. Put me in front of your Hugh Castleford. You will see.”
    “We do not need to.” Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “I will make you a bargain, Rael. You have only to speak the direct truth—always—and for as long as I live, I will vow to protect you from all harm.”
    Rael’s head whipped around so that he could look up at Michael. The demon’s shock was genuine.
    His shock couldn’t match Irena’s. She clenched her fists on her spear, met Alejandro’s gaze. Why would Michael possibly do such a thing? What could he ever gain from it? What did it matter if Rael spoke the truth? By tomorrow, they would have slain the demon—but if the demon accepted the bargain, Michael would be damned to the