Demon Forged

Alejandro’s Gift, the ice did not burn. We will return, she swore, and saw Alejandro do the same.
    Khavi bent over him again. We will save you, she signed, and smiled. I have seen it.
    Irena caught a painful breath. Michael’s amber eyes softened and laughter came into them. And here, in the midst of Hell, they looked utterly human.
    She held on to that as they left.
    Almost three months later . . .
    Alejandro looked up from his desk as Irena strode into his office. She closed the doors behind her, locked them. She turned and replaced her gray tailored suit with longstockings and her brief shirt.
    And because he preferred to be in his own form with her, he changed, too.
    Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that Lynne believes I’m a federal agent.”
    “No, she does not,” he agreed. The receptionist had never believed it—perhaps because Irena always left with her hair more mussed than when she’d arrived. “Her latest suspicion is that you are a whore who comes in to relieve my loneliness.”
    That amused her. “Truly?”
    “Yes.” He regarded her closely. “Are you here so that I can talk you out of killing Lilith again?”
    She grinned. “No. Taylor woke up.”
    Relief slid through him. Finally. Though her screams had stopped after their visit to Michael—the first visit of many—she’d remained in a catatonic state. He knew Irena had feared Taylor would not come out of it. And Preston’s face had taken on too many new lines; his new position at SI could not distract him from his worry.
    As it should be, Alejandro thought.
    “How is she?”
    Her grin dimmed. “Confused. Scared.” She came around his desk in front of him, picked up the bound papers he’d been reading through to make room, and sat back on the edge. “I cannot believe we are all not running and screaming.”
    He smiled and touched her hands. They were strong. The others’ acceptance of her leadership had come easily. Not without bumps, but Irena had worked to smooth them all. “Michael was not a fool.”
    She nodded and looked down at the papers she held. “What are you working on?”
    “A health care bill. Do you want me to read it to you?”
    Her lips twitched. “I am a very busy woman now, so only a summary. How will you vote?”
    “I haven’t decided. It has good points. It also panders to lobbyists and partisan rhetoric rather than looking at what is right for the people it is supposed to help. So I must decide whether it is a step in the right direction despite the flaws, and work to make it better—or to toss it out and start over again.”
    He’d gone on so long just to amuse her, but now he froze as her expression changed from amusement to admiration. And, he thought with an ache in his throat, pride .
    She placed her hand over his heart. “You stay loyal to this.”
    “Yes.” He swallowed past the constriction in his throat, and added, “It will likely mean a short political career.”
    Her smile reappeared. “How long, do you think? This does not fit you as well as it should.”
    No, not perfectly. He enjoyed the challenge—but this was not where he would finish. “Only as long as we must keep Special Investigations going—and until we have enough resources to create something similar . . . and autonomous. No demons. No government. No outside interests. Only our purpose. Once we have that, it’s where I will be.”
    “And for now, you work both sides of the fence.” She looked at him again, not with censure, but with admiration. “I would not be capable—so I am glad it is you who does this part of our work.”
    He tried to imagine her in meetings, sorting through details, arguing minute points of conflict. Every scenario he came up with ended with shattered furniture or blood—and in her curses, no animal would be left unfucked.
    “I am glad as well,” he said.
    She laughed and replaced the papers on his desk. “You are speaking in Washington on behalf of SI tomorrow, yes?”
    “Yes. Are you certain you will not accompany me? Michael was at the first meeting.”
    “I will practice diplomacy for a few more decades first.” The laughter faded from her eyes, and they darkened. “But remind the committee that we are all that stands between them and Hell.”
    “They might perceive that as a threat.”
    “So be it.”
    She rose from the desk. His hands slid up her thighs as she straddled him in his chair, then up the length of her bare back. Her arms wrapped his shoulders.
    She did not