Demon Marked

“So what are our needs that are being suited?”
    “Isolation until you learn to shield your emotions,” he said. “And training. A lot of training. We were both too slow. Unprepared. I’m sure as hell not ready for Madelyn.”
    No, he wasn’t. “How are you going to get faster?”
    “Not faster. Better able to anticipate a demon’s movements and speed. I’ve never been able to practice before. Now we can.”
    “So you’ll try to shoot at me?”
    “Something like that. And I’ll teach you to fight, so that if a demon grabs you again, you can get at least a punch in.” His gaze lingered on her face this time. “The way I see it, we’re just fulfilling our bargains—because neither of us will be able to help the other with anything if we’re dead.”
    “I’m not arguing.”
    “All right.” He looked back at the road. Comfortable silence stretched between them, until his lips quirked and he said, “We got our asses handed to us, didn’t we?”
    Ash laughed. “Yes, we sure did.”
    “It can’t happen again.” Serious now, he glanced at her. “And time for the first lesson.”
    “In the car?”
    “You won’t have to move. This isn’t fighting; it’s learning to block your mind. I’ll tell you exactly what Rosalia told me, but I can’t test it for you. So understand this, Ash: You have to do it right, and have to keep your shields strong. Because if you don’t, they’ll find us again. So are you ready?”
    She took a deep breath, nodded.
    “I’m ready.”
     
    So Michael wasn’t completely gone. But the shattering pain that Taylor had felt from him didn’t make that knowledge reassuring. God. Whatever he was going through down there, whatever he’d been hiding from her . . . she had to get him out.
    Revoire wouldn’t return to SI to seek out a healer for his injuries, but they’d heal up soon enough, anyway. Taylor dropped him off at the cottage he called his home, where he could celebrate in his quiet, farmerly way that he’d finally taken down Basriel.
    Taylor sought out another teleporter. Only a few other Guardians had the Gift, but Michael couldn’t stop them from checking on him. Jake, maybe. In possession of two Gifts, including a powerful electric burst that could incapacitate most demons, he’d probably be safe—but he was also the youngest Guardian in active service aside from Taylor. Selah was older, more skilled, but at this time of night, she’d probably be with her vampire lover, and Taylor didn’t want to jump into that.
    That left Khavi, who was undoubtedly the best choice, anyway. As old and as strong as Michael, she’d been one of the first Guardians—and like Michael, wasn’t completely human. Michael and Khavi were both grigori, the offspring of a demon who’d been made fertile with dragon blood and a human.
    And after living alone in Hell for over two thousand years, combined with her Gift of foresight, Khavi was also either completely freaking nuts, or the most brilliant strategist the world had ever seen hiding behind a wall of crazy. Taylor didn’t completely trust her, and was certain that Khavi had an agenda that she forwarded with her Gift. Her dedication to Michael was unquestionable, however—as was her ability to kick demon ass to Hell and back.
    The only problem was finding her. The grigori often disappeared for weeks or months at a time, searching for a spell that might free Michael.
    Or . . . her Gift of foresight had told her to return to the Special Investigations warehouse exactly when Taylor needed her. As soon as she teleported, Taylor found herself staring into Khavi’s eyes—fully obsidian, just as Michael’s sometimes were when he was angry, or suppressing deep emotion. Just as Taylor’s were when Michael took over.
    Khavi’s voice was similar, too. A feminine harmony, like many voices speaking together, and didn’t match the rest of her. A woman this powerful didn’t walk around in ripped jeans and a powder blue tank top featuring a glittery unicorn prancing across her breasts. Yet Khavi did.
    She said softly, “Who is it that you’ve met, Andromeda Taylor?”
    “You don’t know?”
    “Not yet. Only that something has changed. Doors have opened.” The beads at the ends of her small black braids tinkled when she shook her head. “But I cannot see what I do not already know. So tell me: Who have you met? Show me.”
    It could only be the demon, Ash. Taylor had met St. Croix and Revoire before. Closing her eyes,