Demon Marked

what’s left of the body in there.”
    And this was all exactly the kind of thing that Special Investigations looked for. “So why weren’t you contacted earlier?”
    “The local vampires covered it up. They’ve been taking care of their own in this area for a hundred years. They pay the county coroner to look the other way when something odd comes in.”
    Handy. “But now?”
    “They’ve got a few more dead—but by the time they were found, the bodies were ashed, and it was impossible to determine what killed them. So the community leader is concerned they have a demon on their hands.”
    Taylor studied Revoire’s face. Though his features were of a man in his thirties, he always looked concerned. Not anxious, but careworn, like a much older man. As if he carried the burdens of the world and worried that they’d never be set right.
    “And you?” she asked.
    He shrugged, and she felt the push of his Gift. Behind him, the earth opened and seemed to suck the casket down before closing up again—and leaving behind an undisturbed plot. Taylor was impressed. As Gifts went, controlling earth and soil was one of the more practical powers a Guardian could have. Not as good as teleporting, but still handy.
    “It might be a demon,” Revoire said. “Now and again, there’s one that comes through and challenges Basriel for territory. If I don’t get to them first, he takes them out.”
    “Yay for Basriel?”
    Revoire smiled faintly. “He’s low-key now, changing locations and identities quickly enough that I can’t get a lock on him, but once he’s established his territory, I’m sure that’ll change. He’s got five hundred years before Lucifer opens the Gates again, and he wants to reign over something. The vampires would be a good start.”
    “So why kill them?”
    “Exactly. And this doesn’t fit his pattern. He’s been focusing on maintaining his territory. Doing my job for me, half the time.”
    By killing those other demons. “How far does his territory extend?”
    “There’s a clear perimeter from the Canadian border down to Missouri, including the states on either side of the river.”
    That included the location of the double murder they were going to investigate. “Do you know if he’s ever pretended to be a ghost, and urged a human to take revenge?”
    Revoire narrowed his eyes, considering that. “It doesn’t sound right. Maybe he has before, but not since coming into the area. Not that I’ve been aware.”
    So they might be dealing with another demon. Maybe one coming in to challenge Basriel, or one just looking to get his human-murdering jollies in.
    Revoire must have been thinking the same thing. His wings formed, brilliant white feathers arching high over his head. “We need to stop by the community leader’s place, let him know what I found here. Then we’d best head north, take a look around.”
    “Before Basriel slays another one out from under your nose?”
    “Yes.”
    His wings opened, but Taylor stopped him with a discreet cough. When he glanced back at her, she held out her hand.
    “I’ve got a faster way.”
    Revoire’s wings vanished. His quick grin washed away the impression of care and concern that usually hung over him. Oh, he should do that more often.
    “Good,” he said. “I hate flying.”
    Considering that most of the Guardians she teleported with ended up dizzy and dry-heaving at the end of the trip, he might choose flying next time.
    “You hate it because of the Icarus thing?”
    He gave a short, surprised laugh, shaking his head. “No. That name came from where I did: an Icarian colony, in the 1850s. We’d just come up from New Orleans and settled in this area when I died.”
    “Oh.” A commune. No wonder he looked like a farmer. “I thought you were French.”
    “Most of the Icarians were. I emigrated as a boy—and when I became a Guardian, they called me the Icarian. That eventually became Icarus, though the colony had no connection to the myth aside from the name of an island.”
    “And so you didn’t have a freak flying accident as a novice.”
    “I had a few. Mostly, I just hate flying because it’s so conspicuous. I like being up there. I don’t enjoy feeling like a spectacle.” He took her hand, and all of those cares and worries returned to his face, but this time she could feel the bittersweet ache behind them. “The name fits well enough now, anyway.”
    “You flew too close to the sun?”
    She knew that feeling, every