Demon Blood

daylight hours.
    And he couldn’t afford to run into one of the nephilim again. That creature had too easily recognized the blood in Deacon’s veins. Deacon had become stronger through it, but that blood had come with dangerous strings.
    Rosalia hadn’t needed yet another reason to carry this plan through, but now she had one, as vital as the beat of her heart: Slaying the nephilim would cut those strings. After that, only Anaria would be left, and as long as she couldn’t connect the slaughter of her children to the Guardians or vampires, she’d have no reason to retaliate.
    Praying that Anaria wouldn’t find out gave Rosalia another excellent reason to visit the church.
    She arrived almost an hour after St. Croix’s call—primarily to prevent him from pinpointing how far she’d had to travel, but also so that she did not seem in a rush to come at his bidding. She was certain that if he knew exactly how important the information he had was, St. Croix would try to claim power over her. And it was strange, but although he was providing her with something she needed, Rosalia didn’t feel as though she owed him. Perhaps, after three hundred years, she’d overcome her tendency to overcompensate and bury herself in obligations.
    Perhaps it was because St. Croix only served himself. She didn’t like the idea of helping a man such as him—the type of man who, she suspected, would have kept on walking if he’d come across a woman being accosted in an alley. Unlike Deacon, who had helped—and who expected nothing in return.
    And who now thought he deserved nothing.
    She would fight until he saw differently. But no managing him. No manipulating him. Simply letting him see that he was worthy of her heart. That she couldn’t love a man who didn’t deserve her admiration, her respect, and her trust. He might reject them all. But in her life, she’d never taken any risks. She should with him.
    Oh, God, if he felt anything in return, if there was any hope . . . it would be well worth the risk. So she just needed to open herself to him—and pray he would take her as she was.

    St. Croix was a patient man. He waited in the back pew, tapping the screen of his multifunction phone. He put it away when she approached.
    He didn’t bother to greet her. Without a word, he produced a folder from the satchel by his feet. Rosalia flipped through the pages, each complete with a name, financial and vital data, and a photograph.
    He’d included Theriault. Good. He couldn’t have known that she’d already ruled out that demon, but it said that St. Croix knew what to look for. She flipped to another page— Baumhauer, a demon who she knew was loyal to Malkvial. The next one made her pause. Karl Geier, a marketing VP in the Munich office. She’d passed over him when his name had come up in Gemma’s search. His unspectacular appearance and modest lifestyle hadn’t fit the usual demon template.
    Hiding in plain sight?
    Of course. Of course. Oh, Lord but she was the blindest fool who’d ever walked the earth.
    St. Croix said, “For Geier, I had to dig deeper. Baumhauer placed your boy Conley in the Prague offices, but it’s rumored that Geier’s the one who made the decision.”
    “That’s not a marketing decision.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    She closed the folder, feeling hopeful. She’d look deeper, set up surveillance . . . but from the right angle, Geier fit.
    “Thank you,” she told him.
    His sharp smile said that he didn’t want her gratitude—he wanted something else. “Tell me what you plan to do with those names.”
    “That isn’t possible, Mr. St. Croix.”
    “No? I could make a single call to any one of those demons and expose you.”
    And she could point out that if he told them that he’d spoken to a woman in a church who’d claimed that her father was a demon, or that he and two vampires had trapped a nephil, they’d probably laugh at him. But she suspected that any type of challenge would force St. Croix to follow through on his threat. He wouldn’t be able to help himself—he needed the upper hand.
    If she let him have it, Rosalia could keep him where she needed him: out of her way. With St. Croix, that meant keeping him close.
    “And if I said that I intended to destroy them all, would you be so determined to expose me? Though I am convinced your mother was one of Lucifer’s demons, I cannot be certain. She might be with those I intend to have slain. Do you want to stop me?”
    His reply