Demon Forged

wasn’t the one in the room most likely to go flying off the edge, which meant this whole thing had started off much better than Taylor had thought it would.
    Lilith’s hellhound lay in front of her desk, practically on Taylor’s feet. Sir Pup looked normal today—if normal was a Labrador who sported three heads and was the size of a small pony. The huge teeth and steel-spiked fur weren’t in evidence, but Taylor wouldn’t be making any sudden moves.
    Last night, she’d been thinking of questioning Sir Pup as part of an investigation that wasn’t hers. Now it was. That was freaking crazy, but she’d take it.
    She glanced over at Preston. Her partner’s usually droopy face wasn’t so droopy right now, and he watched with undisguised interest as Lilith and the other Guardian—Cordoba—ran through a list of assignments that Cordoba had to delegate while he focused on Julia Stafford.
    Joe was eating it up. Her partner had loved the idea of SI and the Guardians since he’d heard of them. Maybe he’d have looked to transfer here, if not for her.
    If she’d known about this task force, she’d have asked for a place, fought for it. She’d have swallowed her dislike for Lilith and begged her to include them. Hell, she’d have crawled for Joe if that was what it took. He’d been there every time her family had gone to hell, beginning when she was a rookie and her dad had been killed in the line of duty, and again when her brother’s life had been shattered. Later, Joe had faced Hell with her, when Lucifer had come after them to get to Lilith’s dog. And her partner had remained at her side through every reprimand, supporting her, covering her ass.
    And he’d worried all the while. Quite a few of those lines on his face were hers.
    But knowing that Lilith had requested them specifically wasn’t exactly comforting. Taylor’s history with SI’s director hadn’t been smooth—and the antagonism was mutual. They’d butted heads more than once . . . and every time, Taylor had been the only one to come away with lumps.
    Lilith didn’t seem interested in butting heads now. She’d probably had her fill all morning. Since early morning. Jorgenson had made a point to let Taylor know that he’d been woken up.
    She hadn’t shown him enough sympathy, Taylor guessed; she’d barely gotten to sleep by then herself.
    Guardians operated on no sleep. Which probably explained why one Guardian had so many freaking assignments—the case load she and Joe juggled was a joke in comparison to Cordoba’s. Did the list ever end? And was it normal for Lilith to just trot out the entire list in front of everyone?
    Even Irena had stopped giving Cordoba the evil eye and was frowning at Lilith.
    Lilith didn’t look Irena’s way. “And the Argentinean situation?”
    “Will be contained tonight. There’s no need to reassign. I’ll handle it.”
    Lilith gave a satisfied nod, but Joe leaned forward. “How, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    Cordoba apparently didn’t mind. “Two demons have taken over leadership of a vampire community in Buenos Aires. They’ve scheduled a community gathering tonight. I’ll slay them in front of the vampires, so they will know what will happen if they choose to follow demons again.”
    “They chose the demons?”
    “They’ve been promised protection and training. In exchange, the vampires give their blood, because it weakens the nephilim.”
    Joe frowned. “If they’ve chosen the demons of their free will, why not let them lie in the bed they’ve made?”
    “Because they don’t know what that bed is. I’ll tell them.”
    “And if they do it again?”
    “Next time, it will not only be demons that I slay, but the vampires who fought to put them there.” Cordoba turned when Irena snorted. “You disagree?”
    She spoke slowly—and to Taylor’s surprise, without a hint of the accent she’d had the day before. “Not with killing the demons. But slaying the vampires’ chosen leaders and offering nothing in return will only breed resentment. And if you kill the strongest vampires, you leave them with no protection at all.”
    “And so I should wait, and let the vampires find out for themselves what they’ve invited in?”
    Irena’s eyes flashed a poisonous green, but her words were still measured. “You have said the Ascension put a knife to our throat. The nephilim have put a knife to the vampires’ throats. If we cannot protect them directly, what would you have them