Demon Blood

sensed it.
    “The demons won’t retaliate? The other communities are worried.”
    Deacon shook his head. “They won’t stoop to retaliation. Any demon who admits that a vampire could do this would seem weak.”
    Nodding, José looked to Rosalia, and she felt his gentle probe against her psychic shields, followed by Maria’s. Rosalia pretended not to notice.
    After a moment, Maria smiled at her. “Would you like coffee?”
    Rosalia glanced at Deacon, her brows lifting. The less she participated in the conversation, the better. It would be simpler all around if she just didn’t speak, but knowing that neither José nor Maria understood Czech was the next best thing. “Nerozumím.”
    “Dáš jsi káva?”
    Rosalia turned to Maria, shaking her head. “Neděkuji.”
    “No, thank you. We won’t be here long,” Deacon explained, and when their curiosity didn’t lessen, he added, “Her sister, Anna, was a young member of my community.”
    “I see.” Nodding, José returned his attention to Deacon. “We’d heard that a human was with you, though no one knew who she was. But yes, that makes perfect sense. Do you plan to turn her?”
    Deacon laughed. “No. She’s far too good for the likes of me.”
    José smiled before turning serious again. “What are you intending to do? Kill them all?”
    “What do you think my chances of that are?” Deacon smiled faintly when José didn’t answer. “I’ll find some other way of making certain we’re safe from them.”
    With an elegant wave, Maria gestured toward the bag. “We’re already safer than we were.”
    “It’s never enough,” Deacon said, then looked to Rosalia. “And we have more to do. We should go.”
    José extended his hand. “Thank you. If you need a community, Deacon, you will always have a place here.”
    Deacon stared at the other vampire for a moment before slowly taking his hand. His voice had roughened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    At the door, Rosalia managed to butcher a simple adeus and left, satisfied. Almost satisfied.
    She frowned at him as soon as they reached the street. “ I’m too good for you? What were Eva and Petra—dog meat?”
    “I sure as hell didn’t mean that.” Deacon’s mouth flattened. “They were too good for me, too. They deserved a lot better than they got.”
    Better than a man who destroyed himself trying to save them? But no argument would matter, she knew. This was his burden.
    As if he read her thoughts, he said quietly, “It doesn’t matter how hard I tried, Rosie. I failed.”
    Yes. She understood that, too well. It wouldn’t matter how hard she worked to destroy the nephilim and Belial’s demons, or how well parts of her plan succeeded. If she failed . . . all of the good intentions in the world would not make up for it.
    And as many reasons as she had for doing this, she had just as many ways to fail.

    A chartered flight waited to take them from Lisbon to Paris. If the demons had begun to track Deacon’s movements, Rosalia didn’t want to point them to Rome. At the Paris hotel, she checked on her surveillance equipment before taking a train to the edge of the city. From there, Rosalia formed her wings and carried him.
    She flew too fast to talk. They were vulnerable in this position—and they’d lost an hour returning east. If she didn’t reach home before dawn, Deacon would be making the end of this trip covered by a body bag.
    When they arrived, the abbey was empty. Rosalia wanted nothing more than to fly straight to her bedchamber with Deacon, but the ringing of a telephone in the War Room called her there instead. She landed on the second-level walkway, vanishing her wings.
    “St. Croix?” Deacon asked.
    Rosalia shook her head. The number she’d given St. Croix had a different ring. This was the number she’d given only the vampires within her community.
    For a brief moment, she let herself hope that it was someone she hadn’t accounted for—a vampire who’d managed to escape the nephilim. But even before she looked at the display, she knew who it must be: Camille, and with Deacon standing by to hear every word.
    Her heart thundering, she answered. “Camille.”
    A brief silence was followed by the sound of someone rushing across the room. She must have been letting it ring over speakerphone for some time. Yes, Camille was tenacious.
    “ Bonjour , Eliska. Yves sends his love.”
    Rosalia had never officially met Yves, and so Camille was simply telling her that Yves