Demon Bound Read Free Page A

have to ask the Black Widow.
    The shiver worked its way back down. The woman was straight-up creepy: always draped in black, playing with her spiders, and moving like a mechanical bird that’d been wound too tight. Talking to her made him feel eight again, his buddies daring him to trick-or-treat at Old Man Marley’s house.
    Finding the courage had been easy enough, but he’d still walked away with runny Jell-O for knees.
    They almost gave out again when he turned and his phone illuminated the chamber. Whoa, boy.
    The bath had been enormous; this was a cavern. His light didn’t penetrate to the ceiling. The black granite floor had been polished to a mirror sheen—and at the opposite side of the chamber, a winged statue overlooked the room.
    Her braids were a crown, her wings folded behind her, her arms bare. Despite the sword she brandished in her left hand, her expression was serene.
    Jake estimated that, even at an inch over six feet, he stood no taller than her ankle.
    There’d been crazy bastards living here, for sure. But they were talented crazies. The statue all but breathed with life.
    But damn if he would be intimidated by it.
    Awe was acceptable, though, he decided, forming his wings and crossing the chamber by air. He did awe very well: wide eyes, slack jaw. Hell, the first couple of decades in Caelum, surrounded by amazing architecture and beautiful, often-naked women, he’d done nothing but awe.
    He missed those years.
    Unfortunately, the statue wasn’t naked. Even in granite, her draped gown appeared fluid, as if caught by a wind.
    Jake landed, casting measuring glances to the sides of the chamber. His gaze narrowed on the walls behind the colonnade. There were the friezes he’d expected throughout the temple, ringing the room with their life-sized scenes. From this distance, shadows obscured their details.
    And, he realized, the primary statue was just off-center. Judging by the large rough patch on the floor, there’d once been another figure in front and to the left of her.
    Kneeling, he thought. Her face was downturned, and her right hand extended before her thigh, like a benevolent queen bestowing grace upon her subject.
    Had it been a willing supplicant, he wondered . . . or a conquered one?
    The tips of her fingers were broken off. She’d probably been touching the other figure, had been sculpted from the same stone. So removing it had destroyed part of her, as well.
    Jake eyed the fingertips. They were too lifelike, and he was too accustomed to scaring himself—he expected blood to drip from them at any moment.
    Time to move on, then. Fighting his girly shudder, he crossed to the south side of the room.
    As soon as his light revealed the first sculpted panel, Jake froze.
    He’d seen this before.
    There was the dragon that Lucifer had called forth from Chaos during the Second Battle, and the human Michael thrusting his sword into its heart.
    And it was a near replica of a frieze carved into the doors of Michael’s temple in Caelum.
    Why was it here ? Jake’s heart kicked into overdrive.
    And he heard a footstep from behind him.
    A gloved palm slapped over his mouth before he could react. A slim hand rose in front of his face, fingers flashing a warning in the Guardians’ sign language.
    Do not move, novice. Do not even breathe if you wish to live.
    He nodded, but didn’t relax. Demons also knew how to sign. And like a demon, she had no odor.
    Quickly, he tucked his phone into his jeans pocket, leaving the backlit screen exposed, and raised his own hand. How do I know what you are?
    As if not being dead wasn’t a gigantic hint.
    The gloves vanished; the fingers pressing over his lips were strong, slender—and warm. A demon’s would have been hot.
    All right, he signed, and she released him after another warning to be silent.
    The moment he faced her, she asked, Can you teleport away?
    Probably not. Right now, he was more curious than afraid. Since she’d known about his Gift, she