“I'm not agreeing to anything.” Kilian followed her into the hall.
“Of course not.”
Her smug voice annoyed him. On the one hand, Kilian admired the strength required for a land witch to leave her territory. On the other, he violently resented anyone who manipulated him. But since arguing with a witch rarely ended well, unless one had backup, Kilian followed.
The lack of windows made the base feel like an oversized coffin, which was the antithesis of what Kilian expected from a land witch. She should want to revel in the sight of her territory, but perhaps she was not typical for her breed. Kilian understood that one's status did not define one's choices; it only determined which choices were easiest.
She escorted him down three levels in a freight elevator and then led them through a warren of corridors with security posts and armed guards at strategically-placed intersections. The high number of soldiers who wore wolf regalia suggested these were elite troops. “Either Stephen is as dangerous as you say or this is overkill,” Kilian said as they passed the third pair of armed guards.
“It is not overkill. I doubt all this will stop the demon if it breaks away from Stephen, but we do try to give ourselves as many advantages as we can.” She stopped in front of a red door with a caution sign that forbade a dozen different items including unapproved personnel, weapons, electronics, and informational texts. That last surprised him. Ignorance was dangerous, and the Army always encouraged training and education.
She pressed her thumb to one security lock before a guard stepped forward and used a manual key on the second. The door opened to a replica of a very middle-class apartment. Someone sat in front of a video game console playingWolves of London— his character leaping from rooftop to rooftop in acrobatics that no actual werewolf could reproduce.
“Whuzzup, Mia?” he drawled. His voice was lazy, but every move was controlled... contained.
“Stephen, would you like to come meet your guest?”
Stephen bent backward over the low couch so that his head hung upside down over the back. He gave Kilian one cold look and then dropped into his seat again. “Yep. That’s a guest. Good for you. Get out.”
“Stephen,” she said in a warning tone that Kilian's mother had often used when he hadn’t cleaned his room or eaten his vegetables.
“Mia,” he returned in a mockery of the same tone.
“Stephen, I would like you to come say hello to Kilian. He has come a long way to see you again.”
“So, is this going to be my new guard?” Stephen stared at his game. The joy for life and hyperactive curiosity Kilian remembered were gone. He wondered how much of that was a result of Stephen having grown up and how much was the demon smothering his personality. Kilian understood since the vampire instincts sometimes threatened to do the same. Anger and hunger would swallow him if Kilian didn’t guard against his more base nature.
“Did they warn you that I disemboweled my last guard when he annoyed me?” Stephen asked.
Mia gestured for Kilian to move into the room without her. Kilian closed the distance between the door and the couch, but then stood there awkwardly, not sure how to interact with this twisted version of the person he had known. “She did. I had trouble believing you would do that to anyone, but perhaps you’ve changed.”
Stephen gave a dark laugh. “I don't think anyone can carry a demon without changing, not even the idiot witches who think they can.” Stephen glanced over, and then a flicker of confusion crossed his face. On the screen, his electronic wolf was tackled off the roof by an opponent, and he died with a video game dirge. Stephen scooted around on the couch to study Kilian. “Do I know you?”
“You used to,” Kilian said. “You traumatized me by running your face into the corner of a coffee table. I refused to babysit anyone ever again.”
Stephen had his mother’s dark eyes and his father’s strong chin. In other circumstances, he would’ve been handsome, but exhaustion had stolen some of that beauty. Kilian had seen soldiers at the end of a long battle, and Stephen had that harried expression.
Stephen tossed the video game controller to one side. “You aren’t him, so whatever game you're playing, Mia,” Stephen arched his back so that he could glare in her direction, “it's not going to work.”
“People change, Stephen. I assure you that this is Sergeant Kilian Kildare.” Mia didn’t even blink when Stephen’s eyes blackened and dark veins appeared at his temples.
“Yep, not buying.” Stephen dropped back to the couch and gave Kilian an amused look. “For one thing, Kilian was mundane.”
Kilian settled into a tacky armchair covered in a checked material. Whoever had decorated this room in second-hand furniture and put-it-together bookshelves was either a sadist or nostalgic for college-chic decor. “Do you know how few supernaturals are born as supernaturals?” Kilian asked.
“In the United States? Fewer than five thousand per year. Most supernaturals reproduce through altering the genes of others rather than through giving birth, although being born within a supernatural line and possessing a certain base genetic code does improve the chance of turning. I wonder if the inherent violence of supernaturals makes pregnancy difficult or if the common healing abilities make the woman’s body reject the fetus. Did you know that a uterus is designed to kill all but the most robust fertilized eggs?” For the first time since Kilian had arrived, he could see the Stephen he had once known under the darkness. He still had the same ability to be both inappropriate and childlike.
“I was mundane until I chose not to be.” Kilian shrugged. That was a long story—one he didn’t want to get into now.
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “You're not a wolf. You're not a witch. You're not a demon, but there is something of darkness and death in you. I can see the shadow on your soul.”
None of Kilian's vampire features were showing, which meant that the demon allowed Stephen to see more than human eyes could. “Judas vamp,” Kilian said.
Stephen's eyes got large. “No fucking way. If you are Kilian, I know for a fact that his parents would give birth to cows not kittens if he ever said yes to Judas vamp.”
“Entire herds of cows,” Kilian confessed. “My mother hasn’t spoken to me in four years now.”
“Shit. Really? But you were always so...” Stephen hesitated before he added, “Catholic.”
