Demon Blood

Room, and Rosalia had been thankful for the respite.
    But she’d already delayed so long. Once, she could have called the delay prudent. Now it was just cowardice.
    Knowing that didn’t make telling him any easier. She met his eyes, and wished the pounding of her heart wasn’t so loud. “To slay the nephilim, we need demons to break the Rules.”
    “So a nephil teleports wherever the demon is.”
    “Yes. If it’s just one demon, however, the nephil will probably kill it. But if Malkvial gathers all of his demons together and they bring in the nephilim one at a time . . .”
    Something like amazement softened his features as he looked at her. The frigid hand around Rosalia’s lungs squeezed tighter. He hadn’t heard the rest yet.
    “A slaughter,” he realized. “And so fucking simple.”
    Only simple when all of the pieces were in place. “But they’ve never thought of it. Perhaps they can’t think of it; they’re all too entrenched in thousands and thousands of years of being the same. And a Guardian can’t propose it to Malkvial.”
    “But a vampire can?”
    She nodded, and Deacon’s eyes went cold and hard. Rosalia had to do the same, or break down. Calling upon three centuries of hiding, she wrapped herself in her reasons, until they were all she saw.
    “Not just any vampire,” she said. “A ruined one, who’d already made a deal with a demon and betrayed the Guardians. Vampires and Guardians were once human, so they can forgive—and they can understand the choices you made, even if they don’t agree with them. A demon can’t imagine forgiveness and understanding. So when you approach him, he’ll be suspicious, but he won’t truly think that you’re with a Guardian.”
    “With you?” His laugh was bitter. “And look where I am now. After what Caym did, you want me to make another bargain with a demon?”
    “Yes. He’s trying to win their support and the lieutenant’s position. Arranging for the slaughter of their enemy and fulfilling part of Belial’s prophecy will secure it for him.”
    “And you want me to make a bargain with a demon?”
    “The appearance of a bargain. In reality, this will destroy them. And you’ll have your revenge.”
    That didn’t move him. He stared at her, his jaw clenching. “Jesus fucking Christ, princess. You don’t ask much, do you?”
    “I know how much I ask.” If they lost, if this went wrong . . . they would both be destroyed, too. Perhaps they wouldn’t be dead, but to every other Guardian and vampire, they might as well be. And even if they succeeded, Rosalia still might lose everything. “The demons need humans to break the Rules, Deacon. I’m already arranging who it’ll be . . . and they won’t be coming of their free will.”
    He turned his face away from her, staring blindly down the street. The gravel in his voice sharpened. “Another reason you need a vampire?”
    “Not just one. They’re all going to get behind you and help.”
    Another bitter laugh escaped him. He shook his head, and looked down at the bag in his hand as if a poisonous snake lay curled inside instead of a demon’s head. “So it’s not just me, Rosie, is it? You’re playing everyone.”
    The disgust in his voice tore away the layers she’d wrapped herself in, speared straight into her heart. She struggled against anger, against tears—and above all, to make him understand. “I’m not playing. I’m trying to save them. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask for them to put a hand in.”
    “You’re asking them to help ?” He lifted the bag, and for an awful moment, she thought he would hurl it down the street. But he only looked at her again, face unreadable, his gaze flat. “Then why this? Why not just ask them?”
    “Because I need you to lead this and to bargain with Malkvial, and they won’t help you without it. They need something to hold on to, something tangible, because they can’t just believe . They don’t know you like I do.”
    Her impassioned response only made him withdraw further. “You don’t know shit, Rosie.”
    The words pierced like arrows. You don’t know shit. He’d said that to Belial’s lieutenant, at the end. Trying to save his people, Deacon had almost nothing left in him. He’d still been fighting, but he’d been scraping the bottom, and that reply was all that remained.
    This time, she’d brought him there—right back to Caym and Belial’s lieutenant, and Eva and Petra poured out in ashes onto the