and hed left Sheol in search of the demon destined by a sadistic Ultimate Power to be his bride. To destroy her would be to destroy one more source of evil in this misbegotten worldand ensure that that particular curse never came to pass.
The speedometer was climbing, but the road was empty, and if he lost control he would walk away. Nothing could kill him but fire or another otherworldly sourcethe Lilith, the Nephilim, Uriels host of angels, who were more like Gestapo storm troopers than seraphim. But no one would put him out of this pain that had slid from unbearable to merely numbing.
He heard the unearthly howl, ululating as the last spike of sunlight shrank below the horizon. He was too far awaythere was no way he could actually hear the Nephilim as they caught the scent of her and moved inbut the sound shrieked into his mind, and he could see her, the tangled red curls, the pale skin and soft mouth, the frightened eyes. The eyes that called to him. The soft mouth that moved him more than he wanted to admit.
He slammed his foot on the brakes.
The car went into a spin in the swirling dust, coming to a stop sideways at the edge of the road. He soared upward, smashing through the metal roof as if it were aluminum foil, straight into the rapidly cooling air.
The Nephilim were already advancing on the deserted house. He slammed through the remainder of the roof, bits of lumber and debris coming down with him as he landed a few feet behind her. He folded his wings swiftly and moved toward her.
She sat absolutely still, and her eyes focused on him, on the knife in his hand, as he stepped in front of her. Decided to do it yourself? she said in a voice that didnt hide her fear. The Lilith was afraid of nothing, not even death. Could he have been wrong about her?
The groans and grunts of the Nephilim as they converged on the house were chilling, and their stench preceded them, the filth of decomposing flesh and ancient blood and maggot-ridden organs. She could hear them as well as he could, and she was trembling.
He slid the knife through the ropes. He looked out the empty frame of the window and could see them approaching. He would be no defense against so many, and he could simply stand there, wait for the monsters to take both of them.
There was no time to find the key to the lock that held her chains. He yanked, shredding the chains, pulled her out of the chair, and shot upward into the night sky, the howls of the Nephilim following them into the darkness.
HE LANDED LIGHTLY ON THE deserted highway, her body limp in his arms. The car was where hed left it, the metal roof peeled back as if a firecracker had exploded inside. He angled her into the backseat and quickly ripped away the shackles he hadnt managed to unlock. Her slender wrists and ankles were raw and bleedingshe must have struggled after he left her. It wouldnt have done her any goodhed used iron chains on purpose. Only iron could chain a demon, and she would have been helpless.
But supposedly she didnt know that. She claimed she knew nothing about who and what she was, and the torn and bleeding flesh almost seemed proof of that. He closed his hands around her ankles, so delicate that he easily encircled them. He released her, and they were smooth and unmarred once more.
He paused. Thered been times in history, when women wore layers upon layers of clothing, that ankles had been considered one of the most erotic parts of a womans body. Nowadays, when everything was on display, one forgot about ankles, but hers were well shaped and surprisingly arousing.
This was the Lilith, he reminded himself, reaching for her bloody wrists. She was the original siren, luring men to their doom.
The warm, earthy scent of her blood hit him then. He pulled back, leaving her wrists healed, and squatted down, staring at her limp body, absently licking his fingers. And then he realized what he was doing.
He jumped away, spitting, gagging, trying to drive the taste and the smell and the lure of her blood from his body. He struggled to the ditch beside the road and threw up.
It hurt. His body fought him, craving the soothing balm of her; but he had always been in control of this strange human flesh of his, and he emptied himself of every trace of her. And then he rose, wiping his mouth, and went back to her.
He had no idea whether the Grace of forgetting would work on a demon, but he put his hand over her face, not touching her, and let it sink in. There was dried blood on his long fingers, her blood, and he cursed.
He shoved her all the way in and closed the door, then climbed into the front seat. He grabbed his bottle of water, swished his mouth out, and spat again, then poured the rest of it over his hands, rubbing away every trace of her blood. It wasnt
his fault that he could still feel it there.
The car started easily enough, ignoring its ill treatment, and he pulled onto the road again. He could hear the muted noise of the Nephilim, screaming with rage at being denied their prey. They would follow, and he couldnt afford to linger. He could always move faster than they could, but having her with him would slow him down. He needed bright lights; he needed people.