Demon Blood

me going.”
    “It can’t,” she assured him, though the hatred seething within him could certainly drive a man for a lifetime. “If Madelyn isn’t in Hell, you will probably find her in one of two ways. The first, it’s likely she will be doing to another family what she has done to yours.”
    When he glanced at her, frowning, she said, “Demons are creatures of habit. Rarely do they think or act in an original way. If something succeeds once, they will do it again.”
    “So I’d look for a family that resembles mine, with a suicide as a red flag.”
    “Yes. Though it is still a daunting task. Thousands of families might fit the criteria in Europe alone. I can help you there.”
    Though his sudden suspicion didn’t show on his face, she felt it in his psychic scent. He didn’t trust anyone who offered him something for free. That was fine. This wasn’t an offer, but an exchange.
    “How?”
    “There are others like me. We search for demons, to slay them—and that is all we do. We’re familiar with their patterns, their scents, even the human forms they take. If we come across a woman who fits Madelyn’s pattern, I will tell you.”
    He regarded her without expression for a long moment, but she could sense the wariness and temptation behind it. “And what do you get?”
    Smart man. “I need to know who is directing the demons at Legion. Who stepped up after Belial’s lieutenant left?”
    “The new executive director—”
    “No.” She’d already looked at that demon, an American, and discarded the possibility. “It’d be someone who isn’t as visible. Someone who, for the past six months, has been moving people around and pulling strings. He’d be based in a European office, high-ranking, with a solid foundation of supporters, but not at the top. Not yet.”
    He frowned. “I can make enquiries—”
    “And reveal your interest? No. It has to be done quietly.”
    His gaze sharpened. He apparently enjoyed a challenge. “I’ll get names for you, then, if you do the same for me.”
    “Mine won’t come as quickly, but they’ll come,” she promised.
    “And if Madelyn takes the second route? You said she would likely try one of two things.”
    Rosalia suspected that he would prefer the second. “She spent twenty years building your father’s small firm into a financial powerhouse. When you took it over, you tore her work apart.”
    “She’ll come after me,” he realized, and dark pleasure swept through him, so reminiscent of a demon’s.
    Rosalia battled her revulsion. “Yes.”
    “If she comes after me, I won’t need a name. What could you offer?”
    “Knowledge, Mr. St. Croix. To start, how to better guard your emotions.” She smiled as surprise and unease suddenly radiated from him. “Like those I’m feeling now. The shields Gerald and Sally taught you to create might have been sufficient to block a vampire. They won’t a demon.”
    His eyes narrowed. “And you?”
    She deflected that with a deliberate misunderstanding. “And I’ll teach you how to recognize Madelyn if she comes for you. To begin with, she’ll have hot skin.”
    “Hot—” He broke off, his face paling. Repugnance and horror crawled through his psychic scent before hatred surrounded it with ice. “And they can change their human shape, too?”
    Oh, dear God. Rosalia stared at him. Her father had been cruel. But he’d never done what she suddenly suspected Madelyn had to St. Croix.
    “Yes,” she finally said. “And there is more. I will tell you all—but I have something I must finish first.”
    “And that ‘something’ is why you need me.”
    “Yes.”
    He nodded and stuck out his hand. When she took it, her warm skin the same temperature as his, relief moved through him. “You’re not one of them.”
    “No. As I said before—I’m something better.” She left her card in his palm, the paper blank except for a phone number. “I look forward to your call.”
    She watched him leave, shaken by the depth of Madelyn’s depravity. Nothing a demon did surprised Rosalia anymore, but she was still sickened by it.
    And St. Croix . . . She could pity him, but she could not like him. Where another man—like Deacon—might be angry and withdrawn, and just as determined to have his revenge, he didn’t resemble the demons he wanted to destroy. Deacon had suffered, but he was still a good man, and a generous one. He didn’t look at others simply to see how they could be used.
    Perhaps when St.