Demon Forged

“Ask her also if she knew that Julia Stafford would die, and yet did nothing to prevent it.”
    She was thankful that Michael did not make excuses for Khavi. His face was like stone. “I will.” He looked at her, seemed to hesitate, then said, “There are many reasons I did not say who my father was, and one is that Belial is no longer the father I knew. But I have also remained silent because of the question that no Guardian can afford to ask: Is this demon different?”
    “Are they?”
    He shook his head. “No. Not in any way that matters. But if I am part demon, and I am part human, what does that mean? Is it possible for a demon to be good?” He gave her a wry smile. “Alice told me that was the first question she and Jake asked after Belial told them he was my father. If we ask, if we hesitate—we are lost. Demons cannot be redeemed; any attempt will fail, and endanger the one who tries.”
    Because then Guardians would have to judge before slaying. And hesitating to find out if a demon deserved to die was far too dangerous.
    “Lilith changed,” Irena pointed out.
    And how she hated using Lilith as an example.
    Michael must have known. He laughed. “Lilith was never what they are. She began life as a human, and her transformation did not make her heart a demon’s. If it had, I’d have slain her long ago.”
    He stood, and Irena stood with him. Michael had said exactly what she’d needed to hear. Demons could not be redeemed, and Guardians could not hesitate to kill them.
    But Michael knew her well. Knew her so well. Had he said it for that reason? Was his answer a demon’s manipulation, too?
    She said baldly, “I do not know if I can trust a word you say.” And it hurt.
    She thought it might have hurt him, too. After a long silence, he nodded. “One day, perhaps you will again.”
    She hoped so. Oh, gods, how she hoped so.

    Rosalia pulled him into one shadow and out another. Deacon took one step that lasted an endless time and no time at all, and he was on a downtown street. Muffled techno music and the damp, acrid scent of wet pavement and old exhaust filtered through the suffocating darkness.
    She let go of his hand. The darkness receded. He could breathe again—not that he needed to, but within the shadows, he’d been certain that inhaling meant sucking in the night.
    Rosalia melted out of the darkness after him. “This way, I believe.”
    She followed the music. Her stride was long, all hips and swivel. His gaze dropped from her ass to her feet. A black skirt swung at her knees. She’d pulled a pair of spiked heels from somewhere. Appropriate for a nightclub, and they did illegal things to her legs—but they weren’t much help to a vampire trying to control his bloodlust.
    At the street corner, she came to an abrupt halt. A black lace fan appeared in her hand. Steel glinted at the tips of each rib. Reaching for his swords, Deacon caught up with her.
    A line of people—humans, all of them—stretched down the sidewalk. A vampire couple skipped the queue and headed directly to Polidori’s entrance. The door was unmarked, and guarded by a . . . Jesus Christ .
    A nosferatu. Ames-Beaumont’s bouncer was a nosferatu. Almost seven hulking feet tall, with pale skin, and as bald as a whore’s ass.
    Rosalia made a small, relieved noise, and her fan vanished.
    Deacon took a second, closer look. The bouncer’s ears weren’t pointed, and his arms weren’t as hairless as his head. Not a nosferatu. Just a vampire who superficially resembled one of the cursed creatures—and who guaranteed a jolt of fear at first glance.
    Considering what had been feeding on Rosalia for the past year, Deacon guessed she’d gotten a lightning-sized jolt when she’d seen it.
    “Clever,” Rosalia murmured, her expression on the tail end of alarm and heading into curiosity. “If anyone planned to challenge Ames-Beaumont, that vampire would give them second thoughts before they even made it to the door.”
    Clever, yeah. But not exactly a welcome sign for new-comers.
    “Do you—” He stopped and stared at her. She’d formed fangs. He pushed away the sudden, hot image of her sucking at him. “You aren’t going in with me like that.”
    “The bouncer isn’t letting humans in.”
    “Yeah, but I’m here to get food. You walk in with me like that, and Ames-Beaumont will tell me I’ve already got a source. So lose the fangs.”
    Her tongue ran over the points, and her red lips plumped into a pout.