Demon Forged

stripped away some of Michael’s layers.
    He made a short bow, kept his voice low and respectful. “It will not happen again.”
    “It will not. From this point forward, she is mine after sunset. You may go.”
    The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. She is mine? That was a peculiar way to phrase it. Perhaps there was more to Michael’s behavior than just concern for Taylor . . . but Alejandro would not leave her alone with the Doyen like this. Not until Michael’s anger had passed.
    “I would, Michael,” he said, and crossed the distance to the car. “But I dislike the rain, and prefer to ride back to SI.”
    He got in, unsurprised to find his fingers shaking. Taylor gave a pointed look at the shattered window before pulling away from the curb.
    Preston was laughing to himself. “For a minute there, I thought we’d be citing you both for public indecency.”
    “Cite both your asses for destroying public property,” Taylor muttered. “But I’d still have to explain it to Jorgenson.”
    If Michael’s words earlier had opened his blocks, Taylor’s seemed to close them. The Doyen’s seething anger vanished. No other emotion replaced it.
    Alejandro didn’t find that reassuring.

CHAPTER 13
    Irena felt the tension immediately upon her return to Special Investigations. As she strode into the hub, she heard the conversation from the novices upstairs fade, as if they were listening. A sigh escaped her. She could not walk into a room without everyone around her expecting a fight.
    Standing in the center of the hub, Taylor and Preston appeared to be waiting for Alejandro, who was speaking with Selah, making plans to teleport to Buenos Aires later. After he was done here, he still had more to do.
    Irena had something she needed to do, too. She jogged upstairs, across the common room, and into the dormitory hallway, noting how the novices avoided her eyes.
    Rosalia waited in front of Deacon’s room. Her black knee-high boots sported heels that Irena would have twisted her ankle in. A hooded cloak draped her shoulders, creating swirling shadows that now concealed, now revealed the black form-fitting pants and shirt she wore. She’d strapped a crossbow to her back.
    Obviously, she spent far too much time among vampires.
    “It is good to see you well,” Irena said.
    “It is good to be well.” Rosalia didn’t move away from Deacon’s door. “He is in the shower. Are you bringing him the nosferatu’s blood?”
    “Nosferatu and demon.”
    “If you don’t object, I’d like to give the blood to him.”
    Surprised, Irena regarded her closely. Rosalia’s expression, though friendly, had a strange intensity that Irena couldn’t read. She remembered Deacon’s reaction to the Guardian at the club. Perhaps that interest was reciprocated.
    “Why?”
    “Because it is good to be well.” A small, sad smile tilted her lips. “And I owe him for that.”
    Irena still didn’t see why, but many Guardians had different notions of debts and obligations than she did. She wouldn’t prevent Rosalia from repaying hers.
    The novices in the common room remained quiet while she passed the blood to Rosalia. Signing, instead of talking aloud. Irena frowned, her irritation with the novices mounting. Why didn’t they just say what they thought? Were they truly so uncertain about her intentions? And if they were—why did it make them so hesitant? What she did had no bearing on them .
    She stalked back to the common room, her shields open and projecting the dull edge of her anger. Eyes wide and wary, the novices watched her approach. Becca sat beside Pim, both twisted around so that they could see over the back of the sofa. Randall, Garth, and Nadia stood stiffly beside the game table. Almost half of all the current novices—and Echo, Ben, and Mackenzie were also at the game table, a few vampires, too. Good.
    Irena heard Alejandro’s light step on the stairs, but didn’t glance that way. She stopped in front of Becca, braced her hands on top of the sofa’s back, and leaned in.
    “I’m heading downstairs to kill Lilith. What are you going to do?”
    A heartbeat of shocked silence fell over the room. The novices barraged her with objections an instant later, but Irena only paid attention to Becca’s.
    Her fists curled. Her gaze held Irena’s. “I’ll stop you.”
    Irena grinned. “Will you?”
    She grabbed the novice’s shoulders, hauled her over the sofa. Before novices or vampires could react, Irena had