Demon Forged

closed-door meeting in Washington, D.C., to five members of the Senate, the Secretary of Defense, and the Secretary of Homeland Security, May 2009:
    Two years ago, the senators and I met in this room to discuss the formation of Special Investigations, which now operates under the Homeland Security umbrella. Madam Secretary, Mr. Secretary, in that meeting, your counterparts in the former administration heard the story of the First Battle, during which rebel angels, led by Lucifer, were defeated and transformed into demons. These demons were tossed into Hell, but were able to travel to Earth through the Gates until the events two years ago that brought the Guardians to the attention of your government.
    In addition to the demons, nosferatu—angels who refused to take a side in the First Battle, and who were cursed with bloodlust—were banished here to Earth. Although the nosferatu have been hunted almost to extinction, those who come out of hiding still pose a terrible danger to humans.
    Initially, warrior angels loyal to Heaven protected humans from both demons and nosferatu. When humans began worshipping them as gods, however, Lucifer became jealous. He summoned a dragon from the Chaos realm, and used it to wage another war upon the angels—but this battle took place on Earth, instead of Heaven.
    Mankind joined the side of the angels, and one man, Michael, struck down the dragon by severing its heart. With Lucifer’s most dangerous weapon slain, the angels prevailed.
    After the Second Battle, the angels bestowed upon Michael the powers of a Guardian, and gave to him the power to change any other men or women who sacrificed themselves to save another with the same power. The Guardians’ only duty is to protect human free will and life from the threat of the nosferatu and demons. . . .
    In the past two years, however, new threats have arisen. The nephilim, created by an alliance between Lucifer and one of the grigori—a half-demon, half-human offspring born before the Second Battle—now intend to take the throne in Hell, and suppress human free will. That grigori, Anaria, was imprisoned by the Guardians more than two thousand years ago; she has recently escaped, and now leads the nephilim. . . .
    Despite our recent losses, the Guardian corps is strong, and Special Investigations remains committed to protecting mankind against those who threaten human lives and free will. Defending human life and liberty is our purpose, our duty. We will persevere with or without your support, with the utmost faith and confidence that we will prevail against our enemies. I trust, however, that we have your support and that recent events have clearly demonstrated the necessity of our continued operation.
    We are all that stands between you and Hell, gentlemen.

CHAPTER 1
    Three months earlier . . .
    Once upon a time, all roads had led to Rome. As a human girl, Irena had been marched into Rome on the Via Salaria, as frightened by the imposing city walls as she had been of the shackles binding her mother’s wrists. Frightened—and forbidden the comfort of remembering the home that had lain at the beginning of their journey. They hadn’t been allowed to look back; all that lay ahead of a conquered people was service to the Empire.
    Twelve years later, the Visigoths had sacked the city, and Irena had escaped by the same road. She’d looked back then, but only because she’d hoped to see Rome burning behind her.
    It hadn’t. To Irena’s bitter disappointment, the barbarians had shown restraint. Although fires had lit the nighttime sky, the city hadn’t been consumed by flames.
    Time consumed it, instead. Over sixteen hundred years, all that Irena had known of Rome slowly crumbled. In another sixteen centuries, the celebrated remnants of the empire might collapse into nothing. Humans labored to preserve and restore the ruins, but Irena wouldn’t be sorry when they were gone. She preferred what had risen in their place.
    Now, as she jogged across the Via Salaria, she relished the feel of smooth concrete beneath her leather soles rather than paving stones under bare feet. Automobiles with their blinding headlights and blaring horns swerved to avoid her. One driver shouted obscenities, and Irena grinned at him through the windshield. One of the few things she’d liked about Rome had survived—and Italians were still inventive.
    Irena suspected she’d soon be coming up with a few curses of her own.
    The vampire she was