Demon Blood

before throwing a girl into the deep end.”
    Rosalia outlined it all. From Theriault, to the first demon had slain in Budapest, all the way to how she saw the end. Christ. Laid all out, Deacon could see how many places it’d could have gone wrong—but hadn’t, because she’d considered so many angles, understood the personalities of so many involved. And even though she still didn’t know every detail of when or where or how the battle between the nephilim and demons would go down, Deacon believed she could pull it off.
    Hell. She’d already pulled off one miracle. Every night, vampires had been greeting him with smiles and handshakes instead of disdain and hatred. If she could do that, then he could easily imagine everything she said would happen here.
    Taylor asked few questions until Rosalia spoke of the humans she planned to bring in. Then her eyes became obsidian and her voice a dark, disapproving harmony. Taylor fought him, and Rosalia finished the outline of her plan with her hands shaking.
    As she fell silent, waiting for Taylor’s response, the phone began ringing in the War Room. Rosalia glanced upward, as if torn. Finally, she rose to answer it, leaving through the hole she’d smashed through the connecting wall. Both he and Taylor remained quiet, listening to her half of the conversation.
    Rosalia returned and told them what they’d already heard. “St. Croix’s waiting at the church, with possible names.”
    And Deacon wouldn’t try to stop her from going this time. “You’ll bring the surveillance equipment down so that I can listen in here?”
    “Yes. If you’ll turn the air-conditioning back on.”
    “Consider it done.” Air-conditioning wouldn’t do much now with a giant hole exposing the garage to the sun-warmed chamber on the opposite side of the wall, but what the hell. He’d burned enough for one day.
    Smiling, Rosalia looked to Taylor. “Will you stay? If St. Croix bumbled around at Legion and revealed his interest in Malkvial, he might have brought thirty demons along without knowing it. If I need help, a teleporter would be a big one.”
    Taylor’s eyes brightened. “Listening in on wire surveillance? Just like old times.”
    “If you enjoy that, you should come around more often,” Rosalia said dryly, and turned to go. She paused when Taylor spoke up again.
    “Rosalia? I can do this thing. I’ll bring Anaria in.”
    Her eyes shining with sudden tears, Rosalia’s face collapsed in that devastating way women had. Relief, pain, dread, joy—Deacon wasn’t sure what lay behind it. But a man would have to be stronger than he was not to take that step toward her.
    “Rosie.”
    She waited while he crossed the garage. When he lifted his hands to cup her face, brushed away the tears with his thumbs, she gave him a watery smile. “It looks like we’re almost there, preacher.”
    Almost finished, and it felt like a hole in his chest. God, what he wouldn’t give to ride along this way for a few more weeks. Hell, a few more years. But he’d be damned before he screwed this up, so that everything she’d done was for nothing.
    “Then go get that demon bastard’s name,” he told her.

    Once again, Rosalia took the roundabout route to the church, using the opportunity to contact the Guardians in San Francisco. Someone would be sent to investigate why the demon had been in the desert when he’d killed the human—although, with the nephil and demon already slain, it was unlikely that much would be discovered. And from what she’d glimpsed of the scene before the nephil had arrived, she suspected the human’s death had been an accident. The demon had been desperately trying to revive the man, his shock palpable.
    She didn’t mention to anyone at Special Investigations how Deacon had been called to the scene. The horror she’d felt when his eyes had emptied and the demon language spilled from his tongue hadn’t completely abated. And she didn’t know what it meant for him now. Would he be called every time a demon broke the Rules? She feared he would be. With so few demons on Earth, it wouldn’t happen often—and the chances would be less after Belial’s demons were gone—but even a small chance was too much.
    He hadn’t been released from that call until the nephil had slain the demon. Perhaps with time, he might gain control over his response—but he could only learn that control with experience. He couldn’t afford to gain that experience during the