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Demon Blood

Demon Blood

Titel: Demon Blood Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Meljean Brook
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having to ask her son whether his wedding dinner would be here. And never had she imagined the possibility that the answer would be no.
    But it needed to be asked, and so there was no use delaying. She started across the courtyard, her footsteps over the grass like a scrape in her ears. And a heartbeat, strangely muffled.
    No . . . that was a heartbeat.
    Whirling around, Rosalia called in her sword. Her gaze searched the empty gardens. If the person had a scent, it was covered by chlorine and roses, lavender and the lemon tree. A soft ripple drew her to the swimming pool.
    Taylor floated beneath the water. She’d removed her shoes, but still wore a jacket and trousers. Her eyes were closed. Meditating—or trying to.
    When had she come? Rosalia’s heart pounded, and she listened again to the sounds from the War Room. She hadn’t been mistaken. Deacon was up there, alive.
    Vanishing her sword, Rosalia retraced her steps through the courtyard, but didn’t head upstairs to Gemma’s room. Stopping at the fountain, she sank onto her favorite bench, cradling her head in her hands.
    Last night’s encounter with the nephil, St. Croix, even Taylor . . . So much had begun to spin out of control, and Rosalia felt as if she was holding it all together with her fingernails. What would be next? And what would she do if it was worse ?
    The sun shone hot and bright overhead. In Caelum, the sun was the same—always the same. It never moved from its position, never clouded, never darkened with the night.
    Her first years there had been like a dream. Everything had been so clean, so bright. And there’d been so much to learn . . . Guardians from parts of the world she’d never heard of or imagined.
    She’d been so filled with hope, and she’d let herself forget her life before Caelum, to forget everything but Lorenzo. And so she’d never thought about how her father had railed at her nurse because Rosalia hadn’t been clean enough, and had ordered the woman to hold her face in a basin. She’d let herself forget how the woman had cried, but complied. The nurse had left afterward, and Rosalia had been the one who’d made certain Lorenzo never had a speck of dirt on him, never a hair or a collar out of place—always remembering her desperation, the nurse’s hand on the back of her neck, the dark blooming spots in front of her eyes . . . and the relief, the dizzying, overwhelming relief when she’d been able to breathe again.
    Those years in Caelum had been like that: Gasping for air, so dizzying and so full of hope that she’d felt faint. Now she sat, feeling as if her face was back in that basin, desperately trying to lift her head, blinded and unable to breathe.
    But she didn’t know if the hand on the back of her neck was the nephilim’s, the demons’, or her own.
    She heard a door open upstairs, but didn’t look up until Vin’s shadow crossed her face. Heavens, he was a mess, as if he’d slept in his clothes—even though, like everyone else in this household, he hadn’t slept at all. She suspected, however, that he wouldn’t welcome her straightening him up. She tucked her hands into her elbows, and remembered the advice that Father Wojcinski had given her three nights before. For now, she would only listen.
    “Gemma needs to leave the abbey,” he said.
    Rosalia frowned, but didn’t reply. With a tilt of her head, she invited him to sit next to her.
    Vin shook his head and remained standing. “Her nightmares are worse when she’s here. They always have been. But she stayed, even after everyone was killed, because she felt obligated to keep up the abbey after you disappeared. And she hasn’t told you, but she can’t walk through these rooms at night without seeing them drenched in blood.”
    Rosalia closed her eyes. Oh, God. How it hurt that the woman she considered her daughter was going through this. It hurt that Gemma hadn’t said something. And it hurt because Rosalia couldn’t make it better for her.
    But Vin had known. No wonder he’d been so adamant about not living here. But he hadn’t told her about Gemma then, either. Why was he now?
    “I need you to convince her, Mama. It has to be you, or she won’t leave.”
    “Okay.” If he said so, she believed that. “I’ll try.”
    “Thank you.” With a short nod, he turned away.
    “Vin.” When he looked back, she said, “It would help if I knew why you can’t convince her, and I must.”
    Suddenly agitated, he pushed stiff fingers

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