Demon Forged

frozen field in Hell if anyone hurt him.
    Or had she missed something—some slick wording that would enable Michael to claim an advantage?
    The demon seemed to be wondering the same. His brows had lowered, as if he searched for a trap.
    Michael said patiently, “You cannot lie, and you must speak plainly to answer questions you are given—no matter who asks them. In return, I will prevent anyone from harming you.”
    “Even her?” Rael jerked his head toward Khavi, who growled at him. “And yourself?”
    “Yes. Anyone,” Michael repeated. “The only exception would be self-inflicted harm. If you should ever choose to kill yourself, I will not stop you.”
    “There is little chance of that.” The demon smiled. “I agree, then.”
    “Then it is done,” Michael said.
    By the gods. Shaking, Irena looked to Olek. Anger hardened his face, directed at Michael.
    The demon would never suffer the consequences of the deaths—from Julia Stafford, to Zakril, to Eva and Petra, and surely countless others—for which he was directly or indirectly responsible. And if the demon attacked any of the Guardians, none could defend themselves or kill Rael without damning Michael . . . or being stopped by Michael.
    “Why?” Irena could not stop her cry.
    How could this be anything but a betrayal of everything they were? The demon would have free reign . . . or the Guardians would be forced to hurt someone they loved.
    “So that we can see if someone will choose love—and kindness,” Michael said quietly. With amber eyes, he looked toward the sliding doors and the balcony. “What say you, Anaria?”
    Rael stiffened.
    Olek turned, set Taylor on the floor beside Preston. He called in his swords.
    The sliding doors opened. Anaria stepped in, her black hair twisted by the wind. Her gaze never strayed to Irena and Alejandro in the corner. Her dark eyes fixed on Michael, ignoring the demon who stared up at her. Pained adoration filled his features.
    “You knew I was here?”
    Khavi said, “I knew you would come.” She pointed at Alejandro. “That one opened a door when he told you of Rael’s betrayal. You stepped through.”
    Rael cast Alejandro a dangerous glance, as if marking him for death.
    Anaria looked to Rael. “Did he speak true, friend? Did you kill Zakril?” Her voice wavered on the name.
    Rael’s lips drew back from his teeth in a grimace of agony. “Yes,” he forced out.
    She bent over as if stabbed, clutching her fist to her heart. “Why? For two thousand years, all that sustained me was the thought of seeing him again. All that kept me from madness was the hope that he would be waiting. I have never known agony as when my children said their father was dead—and you are the reason, my friend . So tell me, why?”
    “Because I love you.” Rael’s face twisted, as if he suffered the tortures of Hell. “And I have only lived in the hope that you would be free and I would see you again—and that you would find me worthy.”
    She shook her head wildly. “You speak true, but that is not love.”
    “Anaria—” Rael reached for her.
    She stepped back. “Your love is worth nothing to me. I will never want it.”
    It was as if the demon broke. His hand fell to his lap. He closed his eyes. Anaria called in her sword.
    Michael stepped forward. “You heard the bargain.”
    She hesitated, then shook her head. “You made the bargain knowing he was a liar and a murderer. And if he lives, now he will kill without repercussion. You must pay the price for your foolishness.”
    “Do you not think I could prevent him from continuing as he has?”
    Irena’s fingers trembled. Yes, she thought. He would. Michael would have found a way out. Or he would have expected one of his friends—his fellow Guardians—to find a solution. The Guardians’ faith in each other had to go both ways, or they would never trust anyone at their back.
    If Irena knew that, then surely, surely his sister did, too.
    “No,” Anaria said.
    Infinite sadness seemed to come over Michael. “You do not want to believe. You say you will choose love, kindness, forgiveness—yet you will choose vengeance over my soul.”
    As if his disbelief in her ripped off a layer of calm, Anaria spat, “I was not the one to make the bargain!”
    “But you make a choice now.”
    The calm settled over her once more. “Yes. I do.”
    Anaria turned and walked away. For an instant, Irena believed that it was all she would do, and this would be over—and