Demon by Kristina Douglas Page B

desolation. It was illogical and had nothing to do with the reality of the situation. I wanted him gone.
    The food on the sideboard in the dining room was abundant, brown, and horrible-looking, but I managed to use my sense of smell to choose what I wanted. I wondered if there actually wasa kitchen in this house, or whether some caterer had brought all this food. For that matter, were we alone in the house? I’d heard no footsteps, no voices. If only Azazel and I were in residence, there would be a lot of food going to waste.
    It wasn’t my problem. I ate slowly, knowing that once I was done I’d have to face Azazel again. When finally I could eat no more, I pushed away from the table and went looking for him.
    He was nowhere to be found. It took me long enough to search the place—it was large and rambling, with living rooms and parlors and a library, dining rooms and breakfast rooms, and upstairs half a dozen large bedrooms, including my own. As far as I could tell, Azazel hadn’t set foot in any of them.
    Fine, I thought, heading for the front door. It was already afternoon and I was damned if I was going to sit around waiting for him.
    The front door was locked. I shook it, beat against it, but nothing helped. Enraged, I headed for one of the tall windows, but they were locked as well. For one moment I considered throwing a chair through the glass and escaping that way, but I didn’t quite have the nerve. I would sit and wait, and when he came back I’d tear into him.
    If he came back. Maybe he was planning on being gone a long time. There was too much foodin the dining room—maybe it was supposed to last for days. Maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, and I’d slowly starve to death. No, I could throw a chair through a window before that happened. Assuming the glass wasn’t some kind of bulletproof composite that would resist being smashed by an angry woman.
    I headed back into the library. The walls were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with colorless texts of every shape and size. I moved closer, and started reading the titles. Maybe I could find a mystery to keep me occupied. Though it looked as if there was nothing from the current century and very little from the last.
    It was in plain sight: Angels and Demons. I grabbed it, hoping for Dan Brown. Instead it was a heavy tome, ancient and thick, with an engraved cover. I almost shoved it back, then thought better of it. Maybe I could do a little more research on Lilith.
    It opened to the right page. Someone else had been reading this, but the pages were too worn for it to have been caused only by Azazel. Maybe they’d been bringing hapless women here for decades, convinced each one was Lilith.
    If so, what did they do when they discovered the women were simply human? Would it be any better than what they planned for the real Lilith?
    I curled up on one of the sofas, pulling my knees up under me as I opened the huge volume in my lap. I started reading, pleased to discover my dreaming memory had been correct. The Lilith myth originated in Sumer, and had been found in some shape or other in most religions, up to and including Christianity. For some sources, she’d been a benevolent mother goddess, to others an all-devouring Kali-esque demon. And everything in between.
    But nothing sounded right. None of the citations had the ring of truth, though a bit here and a bit there sounded reasonable. Still, history and mythology were written by men. It was no wonder they got it wrong.
    Lilith was fated to wed the demon Asmodeus, and together they would rule a secret place and bring forth many demon children. Great. If they thought they were marrying me to a demon, they had another thing coming. Though they were probably not looking for a happily-ever-after for the monster they imagined me to be.
    But why in hell weren’t they out looking for this Asmodeus character? If Lilith’s future was to pop forth tiny demons, wouldn’t getting rid of the prophesied father