Demon Blood

their business affairs . . . and raised a son who reminded Rosalia of a demon.
    It sounded so very similar to Rosalia’s story, and to Lorenzo’s—except she suspected that two key players had been moved around.
    The door opened and Deacon came in, showered and dressed and smelling like her soap. She loved the scent of her fragrance on his skin. But did it bother him?
    His gaze fell to the file open in front of her. “You got something on him. Something bad?”
    She wondered what he’d seen in her face to draw that conclusion. But although she hadn’t been thinking about St. Croix, she could cover it.
    “It could be bad. Or it could mean that he’s on our side.”
    “Your side.”
    Her side? Uncomprehending, she glanced up at him. He stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest, his features unreadable. Completely withdrawn.
    “My only pony in this race is killing Belial’s demons, princess. I’m not on one side or another.”
    “I see.” She looked back at the screen. Her throat ached. “Well, what I’ve found could mean that St. Croix hates demons as much as we do. Look here.”
    On-screen, she accessed a newspaper article that included details into the investigation of his father’s death twenty years before.
    “We knew the father was dead,” she said. “But until we pulled this out, I didn’t know there were questions surrounding the circumstances. It was ruled a suicide, and St. Croix’s mother took over his company.” She paused, glanced up at him again. His gaze was fixed on the screen. “Many humans still think of men as the superior gender, so demons don’t usually take a woman’s place. But maybe one did.”
    “The mother? Shit.” Standing next to her chair, he flipped through the file on the desk until he came to the picture of a beautiful woman and her unsmiling ten-year-old son. “A demon raised him.”
    “I think so. And that is why it could be good or bad. Perhaps he joined Legion because he’s just like them. But perhaps he joined them so that he could tear Legion down from the inside.”
    He stared down at St. Croix’s picture for another moment, as if trying to read the soul inside the man. “You aren’t meeting him by yourself.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Say he brings a demon friend with him. St. Croix grabs on to you and holds you for the demon, and you’re screwed.”
    She turned away from him, closing out the newspaper article and bringing up St. Croix’s financial data. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Deacon.”
    Humans had often been connected to demons—and some humans had known the Rules she had to follow, while others didn’t. It hadn’t mattered. Every human had been a danger to her, so she knew how to stay out of their grasp.
    She had to smile. The one time she hadn’t evaded two drunk humans . . . led her to Deacon.
    He slammed his hand on the desk. Startled, she looked up. Anger darkened his face. “You almost died last night, Rosie, because this guy brought in something you weren’t ready for.”
    She was ready for the nephilim. She just couldn’t beat them alone.
    Deacon didn’t wait for her response. As if he had the final word, he said, “You’ll wait until tonight. I’ll go with you.”
    “Tonight, we have to be in—”
    “Fuck your plan, Rosie. You’ll wait.”
    Fury stabbed through her chest, hot and sharp. “ My plan means you slay another of Belial’s demons. That’s what you’re here for, remember? Unless, Deacon, you’ve suddenly got another pony in the race. Do you?”
    She waited for an answer, desperately hoping that one reason would be her . Even if it was just: I need you to point me toward the demons, Rosie. Anything.
    She waited . . . for nothing.
    Her anger slipped into pain, like a sharp stone lodged near her heart. She had to get out of here. She didn’t need to meet St. Croix for several hours, but she couldn’t stay and let Deacon continue to shove her away.
    She stood, moved to the rack of surveillance equipment along the wall, selecting everything she might need. She could feel Deacon watching her.
    “So you’re going?”
    “Yes.” Her voice sounded flat. Good. Maybe he’d think she didn’t care. “Vincente and Gemma are here. They’ll be in contact with me while I’m talking to him.”
    “Observing you?”
    “Yes, here in the War Room. Stay near them. If Taylor shows, she can’t get through humans any more than the nephil could.” She turned, offered a humorless smile. “You