turned into the heavy weight of despair. She had to know. “How?”
Irena’s eyes flared a venomous green. “Anaria.”
That seemed to be enough explanation for Irena. Rosalia looked at her helplessly, hoping for more.
Alejandro elaborated, “Anaria weakened the barrier between Hell and Chaos. If she took the throne, her nephilim would return to Earth and rule over mankind. And if Lucifer broke through to Chaos—”
“He’d bring another dragon,” Rosalia whispered. Dragons, demons, hellhounds—the Lord knew what other terrors.
“Yes,” Alejandro said. “Michael sacrificed himself to strengthen the barrier. He’s in the frozen field now.”
In Hell. Tortured, with the dragons eating his body in Chaos, his face frozen into the floor of the territory that surrounded Lucifer’s throne. Oh, God.
Rosalia’s knees wouldn’t hold her. She staggered back. In a blur of movement, Alejandro raced forward and slid a chair behind her. She sat heavily, her elbows on her knees, trying to breathe despite the drowning weight that seemed to be filling her chest.
“We’ll get him back,” Irena said, and again, Rosalia was at a loss. Get him back? From death ?
“How?” she repeated, feeling stupid. She didn’t like asking questions unless she already knew the answers.
“Khavi.”
Khavi, the one powerful grigori the Guardians had left on their side. But was she powerful enough—knowledgeable enough—to pull Michael out of the frozen field? Could it possibly be done?
Once again, Alejandro filled in what Irena had left unexplained. “As we speak, she is searching for a spell that will keep the barrier strong, and to return Michael’s spirit to his body.” He hesitated before adding, “It may take some time.”
Rosalia’s every thought seemed sluggish. She forced her mind to work. “She has the Gift of foresight. Has she seen his return?”
“Yes. But she does not yet know when or how it is done.”
It was a relief, but not a significant one. In the meantime, one grigori and fifty Guardians stood against all of the demons, the nephilim, and the nosferatu. Only the Doyen, Michael, could transform more humans to Guardians. Unless Khavi could do that as well . . .
“Can she make more of us? Can we increase our numbers?”
“Khavi cannot.” Irena’s sigh seemed to soften her, and was filled with worry. “Michael bound himself to a new Guardian: Detective Taylor. You have met her.”
Rosalia had a brief memory of a fragile woman with red hair. Tired, pale. “Yes.”
“She can make new Guardians, but no humans are dying.”
They were, but not in the manner that called for transformation: self-sacrifice while saving the life or soul of another from a vampire, demon, or nosferatu. With the Gates closed, there were fewer demons now, and Belial’s demons weren’t focused on tempting humans. Lucifer’s demons concentrated on their individual ambitions rather than collecting souls to fuel Hell’s throne. And they were all careful around humans, so that they didn’t risk breaking the Rules—and calling a nephil, who would slay them.
She felt lost, again. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear when she’d come. Not at all.
Alejandro crouched beside her. “Has something happened, Rosalia? We have not heard from you since you took the vampire.”
Although that was Alejandro’s subtle way of asking about Deacon, he wasn’t why she’d come. Belial’s demons were.
Belatedly, she also realized why Jake had brought Irena and Alejandro to her. With Michael gone, Irena—the oldest Guardian and the fiercest warrior—must be leading them. And so Irena and Alejandro were who she needed to speak with after all. “I’ve come to discover if you know anything about Malkvial.”
He nodded. “We have heard some.”
“Do you know his human identity?”
“No. Do you?”
She shook her head. “Tell me what you know.”
Alejandro rose to his feet again. “We’ve intercepted communications
Irena’s eyes flared a venomous green. “Anaria.”
That seemed to be enough explanation for Irena. Rosalia looked at her helplessly, hoping for more.
Alejandro elaborated, “Anaria weakened the barrier between Hell and Chaos. If she took the throne, her nephilim would return to Earth and rule over mankind. And if Lucifer broke through to Chaos—”
“He’d bring another dragon,” Rosalia whispered. Dragons, demons, hellhounds—the Lord knew what other terrors.
“Yes,” Alejandro said. “Michael sacrificed himself to strengthen the barrier. He’s in the frozen field now.”
In Hell. Tortured, with the dragons eating his body in Chaos, his face frozen into the floor of the territory that surrounded Lucifer’s throne. Oh, God.
Rosalia’s knees wouldn’t hold her. She staggered back. In a blur of movement, Alejandro raced forward and slid a chair behind her. She sat heavily, her elbows on her knees, trying to breathe despite the drowning weight that seemed to be filling her chest.
“We’ll get him back,” Irena said, and again, Rosalia was at a loss. Get him back? From death ?
“How?” she repeated, feeling stupid. She didn’t like asking questions unless she already knew the answers.
“Khavi.”
Khavi, the one powerful grigori the Guardians had left on their side. But was she powerful enough—knowledgeable enough—to pull Michael out of the frozen field? Could it possibly be done?
Once again, Alejandro filled in what Irena had left unexplained. “As we speak, she is searching for a spell that will keep the barrier strong, and to return Michael’s spirit to his body.” He hesitated before adding, “It may take some time.”
Rosalia’s every thought seemed sluggish. She forced her mind to work. “She has the Gift of foresight. Has she seen his return?”
“Yes. But she does not yet know when or how it is done.”
It was a relief, but not a significant one. In the meantime, one grigori and fifty Guardians stood against all of the demons, the nephilim, and the nosferatu. Only the Doyen, Michael, could transform more humans to Guardians. Unless Khavi could do that as well . . .
“Can she make more of us? Can we increase our numbers?”
“Khavi cannot.” Irena’s sigh seemed to soften her, and was filled with worry. “Michael bound himself to a new Guardian: Detective Taylor. You have met her.”
Rosalia had a brief memory of a fragile woman with red hair. Tired, pale. “Yes.”
“She can make new Guardians, but no humans are dying.”
They were, but not in the manner that called for transformation: self-sacrifice while saving the life or soul of another from a vampire, demon, or nosferatu. With the Gates closed, there were fewer demons now, and Belial’s demons weren’t focused on tempting humans. Lucifer’s demons concentrated on their individual ambitions rather than collecting souls to fuel Hell’s throne. And they were all careful around humans, so that they didn’t risk breaking the Rules—and calling a nephil, who would slay them.
She felt lost, again. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear when she’d come. Not at all.
Alejandro crouched beside her. “Has something happened, Rosalia? We have not heard from you since you took the vampire.”
Although that was Alejandro’s subtle way of asking about Deacon, he wasn’t why she’d come. Belial’s demons were.
Belatedly, she also realized why Jake had brought Irena and Alejandro to her. With Michael gone, Irena—the oldest Guardian and the fiercest warrior—must be leading them. And so Irena and Alejandro were who she needed to speak with after all. “I’ve come to discover if you know anything about Malkvial.”
He nodded. “We have heard some.”
“Do you know his human identity?”
“No. Do you?”
She shook her head. “Tell me what you know.”
Alejandro rose to his feet again. “We’ve intercepted communications
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