Demon Forged

she’d known were dead.
    She dredged up a smile. Even forced, the curve of her lips took her from sultry beauty to stunningly gorgeous and almost knocked his legs out from under him. “I have lost too many friends today. But I would like to meet this myth. Shall I take you?”
    “You know where the nightclub is?”
    “Polidori’s, yes. I asked the novices. But I have been waiting.”
    “For what?”
    “I don’t know. For you, perhaps. And now I have a reason to go.”
    She held out her hand. Deacon took it, and she didn’t flinch at the touch of his cold skin. She pulled him back toward the warehouse.
    “The shadows are deeper here,” she said.
    He nodded, expecting her to use the darkness to hide the formation of her wings. Her Gift swept over him, instead.
    The shadows opened up and swallowed him whole.

    Irena waited as Lilith walked around her desk and leaned back against it. Why change position? To emphasize that she wasn’t issuing orders from behind the desk? To emphasize that she was taller than Irena? Or for no reason at all?
    The difficulty in dealing with someone like Lilith was knowing when she was—or wasn’t—manipulating a situation. Lilith’s direct gaze gave no clue; unlike most humans, she could lie without giving herself away. And so the only smart response was to assume she was manipulating.
    “I’m going to put Alejandro on Rael,” she said.
    Investigating the demon’s role in the shooting? “Do you think Rael was involved?”
    Lilith shrugged. “There are factors that lead me to believe either way. His wife was a political asset: She’s good money, and a married politician is always more appealing to voters. Killing her has no benefit that I can see. And in the more than two millennia that I’ve known of Rael, I’ve never heard of him doing anything— anything —against humans. Never tempted, never pushed anyone to murder, never bargained with one to get something. The only thing he needs for a candidacy to sainthood is a different religion than the one he professes to have.”
    Irena didn’t believe it. Rael hadn’t become one of Belial’s highest-ranked demons by playing a saint.
    Of course, Belial claimed he wanted Hell’s throne so that he and his demons could return to Grace. Was it possible that a demon practiced what he preached? That he truly believed it? Or was that just another form of manipulation?
    She would be stupid not to assume that it was. “And the factors on the other side?”
    “He’s a demon.”
    As if to let that sink in, Lilith left her desk, walked to a small cooler installed behind a wall panel. With a bottle of water in hand, she turned back. “The Bureau can’t look where we’ve got to look. That means your friend Alejandro is going to have to get close to Rael. And I need you at his back.”
    Irena stared at her. Her laugh started and she didn’t attempt to stop it. Lilith’s brows arched, and she smiled as she sipped from her water.
    She swallowed. “You think it’s funny?”
    “I was imagining Olek’s response when you ask him.”
    Lilith shook her head. “I won’t ask. His pride won’t allow him to agree.”
    Yes, Olek’s pride was great, indeed. He’d accept another Guardian’s—even Irena’s—help, but never for the purpose of protecting him.
    Irena studied the other woman. She shouldn’t be surprised that Lilith saw it, too. When Lilith had been a demon, she’d had to read the character of men in order to break them.
    The character of men and women.
    “This request makes no sense. I am a risk to you and to SI. You know that I don’t care if Rael is guilty; given the opportunity, I will kill him.”
    “A woman is dead, and we need to know if Rael is responsible. We can’t do that if you slay him.”
    Irena sneered. Throwing her own words back at her was obvious manipulation.
    But it was also effective. Impotent anger surged through her, and she began to stalk a path from wall to wall. “If we determine that the demon is responsible, I won’t hold back my sword.”
    “We’ll see if you do. Perhaps you’ll decide not to slay him.” Lilith’s gaze remained on her; Irena could feel it. “You did not always hate demons so much.”
    “You are wrong.” She had slain her first demon not a week after she’d finished her training in Caelum and returned to Earth. In the centuries since, she’d lost count of the numbers who’d fallen before her blades.
    “I saw you in Walachia after Lucifer made his