Demon Marked

she pictured the blonde in her head, the vermillion tattoos along the side of her face, and projected it into Khavi’s psyche.
    The grigori’s breath stopped. “Who is she?”
    “St. Croix called her Ash.”
    “No. That is not her name. She hasn’t found it yet.” Khavi tilted her head a little, as if examining the image in her mind. “When she does, it all begins to end.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “I don’t know,” she said, which Taylor knew just meant that Khavi didn’t want to tell her. “Where is she?”
    “Minnesota. For now. What do you see in her future?”
    “Not hers . I haven’t met her. I only see yours.”
    “And I’m doing what?”
    The black cleared from Khavi’s eyes, leaving them dark brown. Human, except that no human ever had eyes that looked so ancient. “Sacrificing her.”
    No. Taylor really couldn’t imagine herself doing that. “I don’t think so.”
    “Not even to save Michael?” Khavi smiled when Taylor’s breath caught. “It is so amazing to me, the lengths to which people will go for love.”
    “I’m not in love with him. You said I never would be in love with him. You saw it.”
    “But I didn’t say that I was speaking of you now.”
    No . . . she hadn’t. Khavi had said “people.” God. Taylor hated talking to this woman, sometimes. “And what about Michael? I—”
    “Want to ask me to teleport to the frozen field to check things out. I know. I already did.”
    Oh, thank God. “And?”
    “And Lucifer found him.”
    The psychic reaction to that softly spoken announcement reverberated throughout the warehouse. Guardians, all with perfect hearing, all listening—a practice that most would usually consider rude, but not when the Doyen and the grigori were discussing Michael. Now they began to appear at the top of the stairs, at the edge of the hub. Leaving the gymnasium, gathering around. But all silent, all waiting for more.
    Their horror echoed Taylor’s. “So what’s happening to him?”
    Khavi closed her eyes, but not before Taylor saw the moisture glistening in them. “What do you think? No, no—that is the wrong way to put it. You can’t think of what is happening, because you are not a demon. Because you are not Lucifer.”
    “So maybe I’m imagining worse.”
    But no. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what could be done to him. Only his face was exposed, and that was a block of ice. Would they scratch him? Poke at him? Try to stab him? He was frozen solid.
    She looked to the faces of the other Guardians. She was not alone, Taylor realized. They, too, knew it would be horrible. But they didn’t know exactly what that meant. Only . . .
    Taylor turned toward the director’s offices—and yes, there was Lilith, standing at the end of the hallway. Her hand rested on the scruff of Sir Pup’s center neck. Shape-shifted down to the size of a Labrador, he was rubbing his left head against the former demon’s leg. Comforting her, though it was almost impossible to tell by her face that she needed it. But the hellhound knew.
    So did Hugh Castleford. He’d come up behind Lilith, slid his hand around her waist.
    “Lilith?”
    Taylor’s voice cracked when she spoke her name. She didn’t want to know. But she had to. Michael had made this sacrifice for them. They would all bear it, too.
    Lilith’s hand found Castleford’s at her waist, and she threaded her fingers through his before she began. “An ice pick would be first, because it’s instant gratification. The eyes are open, so Lucifer would focus on those at the beginning, digging all the way in, but then he’d realize that pain was pain, and it didn’t matter where it came from, so he’d start in on the rest of the face. Hammers, maybe to finish shattering the ice, and he’s strong enough to do it. And when the face and eyes regenerate, he can do it all again.”
    Oh, God. Taylor covered her mouth, uncertain whether she’d scream or begin crying. A few of the novices already were.
    “You go easy on them,” Khavi said, and Taylor couldn’t determine whether there was appreciation or accusation in her voice.
    But how could there be more? How could there be worse ?
    She looked to Lilith, and knew that it was true. “How?”
    “For fuck’s sake, Taylor—” Lilith stopped, glanced up the stairs at the novices. “He’s being eaten by dragons in Chaos. Over and over, chewed and devoured, and then torn apart and eaten again. Do you really think that an ice pick to the eye