Demon Forged

Irena said. “She has no shields. Rael will know she knows. Her ignorance might be her protection.”
    “Or maybe she’d wish that she’d never found out.” Taylor stared at the house with such intensity and warring emotions that Irena wouldn’t have been surprised if the detective was making a deal with herself: that if Wren appeared within a certain amount of time, Taylor would get out of the car and tell her everything. “How old are you, Irena?”
    Old enough to know that trusting fate rarely worked out for the best. Free will meant little if it wasn’t exercised.
    “More than sixteen centuries.”
    The detective made a soft, breathy sound, somewhere between a laugh of disbelief and a gasp of pain. “So you’ve been at this a while.”
    “Yes.”
    Taylor’s lips thinned into a pale line. She shook her head, turned the key. And muttered “goddammit” as they pulled away from the house.

    The press of people in the elevator of the federal building eased as they moved up. Alejandro kept his back to the corner, and swept the psyche of each passenger: all humans. The stairs would have been preferable to being crowded in this small box, but thirteen flights was a hardship on Preston. The detective had already been teleported twice—once to Ohio, and once back to San Francisco—dizzied and weaving each time.
    As they passed the seventh floor, Alejandro’s cell phone vibrated in his coat pocket. His lips thinned in irritation. Lilith had never kept tabs on him during an assignment before; he didn’t want to set a precedent now.
    But Irena was out there, preparing to question Rael. Perhaps she and Taylor had learned something from the Wren woman—although Alejandro suspected that Taylor would have called Preston if that had been the case.
    His irritation became surprise, and then a low, heavy thump in his chest when he looked at the display. Not Lilith.
    Irena.
    He answered quickly. “Cordoba.”
    There was a pause, filled only with the pounding of his blood in his ears. “Olek. We have finished with Wren. What have you learned from Brandt?”
    He closed his eyes, fighting a laugh. Irena spoke in an over-loud voice, and he realized it was possible that she hadn’t talked over a phone before. Like every Guardian, she had been issued one, but she might only use hers to receive messages.
    And he told himself that he only felt so unbalanced by her call because it had been unexpected. It wasn’t the hope that went along with the realization that, no matter how stubborn she was, Irena could change. A phone wasn’t a compromise, just an adaptation—yet perhaps she wasn’t impossibly set in her ways.
    But now was not the time to wonder if she would—if she could —adapt to other circumstances. He concentrated on the question. Mark Brandt.
    The young man had been just as helpful as when he’d assisted Alejandro during the weeks he’d pretended to be Mark’s father. But this time, Brandt did not have any useful information.
    “Nothing.” Mindful of the others in the elevator car, he said carefully, “And on your end?”
    “We do not believe she knew he was—Is anyone there who will overhear me?”
    “No.”
    “Margaret Wren did not know Rael was a demon. Now we wait for his return. Our appointment is in two hours. We are driving now to speak with one of Julia Stafford’s friends.” He heard Detective Taylor’s voice in the background, and Irena repeated, “And then grab lunch.”
    Alejandro glanced at Preston. He’d forgotten about the necessity of food. “We are proceeding as planned and will meet you afterward.”
    “Very well. Be safe.”
    Be safe. It wasn’t personal; Irena said it to everyone. Still, his voice lowered as he said, “Be safe,” in return.
    He’d never been affected by a phone call before. He avoided Preston’s eyes as he pocketed the cell, uncertain he concealed his response.
    “No new information,” he told Preston, and left the elevator on the thirteenth floor.
    Special Agent Bradshaw, whose voice carried a faint memory of the Deep South, met them at the front desk and said they’d arrived in time to sit in on the debriefing with the agents who were leading the investigation. Bradshaw’s medium build, short black hair, walnut brown eyes and skin, and unremarkable features shouldn’t have made Alejandro immediately wary. Demons chose flashier forms to wear. Yet Alejandro still tensed, uncertain why the agent had tripped his instincts—until the agent