Demon Forged

elbows resting on his knees, his gaze steady on hers.
    It was, Irena noted with relief, a few moments after she and Alejandro entered the room before Hugh and Rosalia broke eye contact.
    Trust still existed between them, despite the changes in Hugh after his Fall. He’d aged in the eighteen years since he’d become human again, growing from the boy he’d appeared to be as a Guardian into a man. He wore glasses to correct his vision; he had to eat, sleep, and breathe again.
    But his psychic scent was the same, as was his core of strength. Rosalia would be able to take comfort in that—would need to take comfort in that. Because everything else had changed.
    Little of it was for the better.
    Rosalia glanced at Irena, then looked to Alejandro. A sad smile touched her mouth. “Hugh has just told me of the Ascension.”
    Lead balled in Irena’s stomach. Had Rosalia been in the catacombs that long? More than a decade had passed since the Ascension—when thousands of Guardians had given up the fight, their duty, and moved on to their afterlives.
    After the Ascension, less than a hundred Guardians remained—and half of those had been lost in battle with Lucifer’s nest of nosferatu two years before. Though she’d once counted many Guardians among her friends, Irena despised those who had Ascended. Those who had died fighting—those she still grieved.
    But whether they’d Ascended or been slain, Rosalia had likely just learned that most—if not all—of her friends were gone.
    “Is there anyone?” Alejandro asked.
    Rosalia nodded. “Mariko and Radha,” she said, then looked to Hugh.
    “Radha is on assignment in Calcutta, and Mariko has taken over most of eastern Asia as her territory,” Hugh said. “If you wish, Jake or Selah can teleport them here, or bring you to either of them.”
    Rosalia nodded, and her eyes filled. “I cannot remember anything you say has happened to me. I shouldn’t need to see them, but I do. It is so stupid.”
    In her distress, Rosalia had spoken in Italian, and so Irena’s quiet reply was in the same language. “It is not stupid.”
    “If you say.” Rosalia firmed her jaw. “I left Caelum not long after you Fell,” she said to Hugh, then sliced her hand across the air in front of her when his brows rose in question. “My reason had nothing to do with your Fall. I told Michael I would watch Rome and destroy any threats I saw, but I wanted nothing to do with anyone in Caelum for some time.”
    Irena understood that—she’d left Caelum behind several times. Leaving didn’t mean she wouldn’t hunt nosferatu or protect humans from demons; she just didn’t seek out other Guardians.
    The last time had been after she’d made a bargain with a demon who had copied Alejandro’s face.
    She met his eyes. They’d darkened to black. Yes, he was remembering, as well.
    Shame burned; she looked away before he saw it, and forced her thoughts back to Rosalia.
    If Rosalia had told her friends she was leaving, that explained why no one had been looking for her. And so she hadn’t necessarily been in the catacombs for as long as she’d been missing from Caelum.
    “What date is your last memory of Rome?” Irena asked.
    “It was July of 2007.”
    A year and a half ago. “And after the Gates were closed,” Irena said, frowning. After Lucifer’s nest of nosferatu had been sent to Chaos realm, and Lucifer had been locked in Hell. So Lucifer couldn’t have captured Rosalia for the nosferatu.
    Rosalia stopped rubbing her arms. “The Gates are closed? The Gates to Caelum ?”
    Hugh shook his head. “The Gates to Hell. Lucifer made a bargain with a group of nosferatu. They were slaying humans. Performing rituals.”
    Rosalia studied his face. “Humans close to you,” she guessed.
    “Students of mine,” Hugh confirmed. “Michael made a wager with Lucifer—and Michael won. Lucifer is bound to keep Hell’s Gates closed for the next five hundred years. That was in May of 2007.”
    “But there were demons who escaped Hell before the Gates closed,” Alejandro said. “Several hundred.”
    “There were some in Rome.” Rosalia swallowed. “That is the last I remember—coming across a group of demons in the catacombs.”
    Hugh frowned. “Are you certain? A group of demons—not nosferatu?”
    “Yes.”
    “Lucifer’s demons or Belial’s?”
    “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
    “No,” Irena said.
    “Yes.” Alejandro’s reply smoothed over hers.
    Hugh leaned back in