Demon Blood

hands through his hair, looking wildly at each of them. Then, like a pricked balloon, he suddenly deflated, his hands falling to his sides.
    “They are all in the ossuary,” Rosalia murmured. “Several are blocking the entrance. None are left in the corridor. What has Malkvial told them?”
    She looked to Taylor, who ticked off the demon’s instructions on her fingers. “Don’t let the nephilim escape. Don’t kill the humans. Don’t inflict permanent physical damage. Converge on the nephilim in groups of five.”
    “Don’t kill,” Rosalia repeated, and let out a breath. “At least he adheres to that.”
    “You have a few minutes,” Taylor added. “They are choosing which demon within each group will break the Rules.” She smiled thinly. “Apparently, they all want to.”
    Rosalia nodded, then looked to Deacon. Long lengths of chain appeared in her hands. “You are ready?”
    He backed up against the cell, pushing his arms between the iron bars and clasping his hands together. “I hope to God I am.”

    Rosalia wrapped his wrists in the chain, then wound the steel links around his arms and through the bars. She used another to secure him across the neck, chest, and stomach. A final chain bound his feet and legs.
    Irena watched her in astonishment. “What is this?”
    “He drank the nephil’s blood.” Rosalia tightened the chains and locked them. “A few days ago, a demon broke the Rules, and Deacon was called. He couldn’t resist it. If it happens again—if it happens every time a demon breaks the Rules—he’ll be called continually until this is over.”
    “And maybe I won’t,” he added. “But considering that the sun’s up and I’ll head straight for that church, I don’t want to take that chance.”
    Irena’s lips parted and she glanced at Taylor. “Khavi did not think Rosalia’s plan would succeed because the balance between action and consequence is never lost. Is it Deacon who maintains the balance? Is it he who will enforce the Rules in the nephilim’s stead?”
    “Khavi wasn’t sure,” Taylor said. “And we won’t know until all of the nephilim are dead.”
    “They are beginning,” Alejandro said.
    Rosalia wrapped her arms tight around Deacon and looked up at him. His heart pounded against her chest. From the speakers, she heard a smack of flesh against flesh. She felt Irena’s instinctive anger in response to the demon’s abuse. Deacon’s eyes emptied.
    He jerked toward her, straining against the chains. The bars groaned, but they held him for now.
    She turned her head to look just as the nephil teleported into the catacombs. One , she counted.
    Swords clashed. A demon was almost immediately killed—the one who had broken the Rules. Deacon went limp. Four demons came at the nephil, and the creature fell.
    Deacon looked down at her, his eyes dazed. “It’s over?”
    “Only one.”
    The demons jeered. Malkvial kicked the head of the fallen demon. He shouted, and the others shouted back.
    “The weak and the dead are unworthy to stand at Belial’s side,” Taylor translated in a harmonious voice.
    Rosalia glanced over and her blood chilled. Taylor’s face was pale, her eyes fully obsidian. Her hair had darkened to black.
    Just like Michael’s.
    A human shouted. Rosalia’s gaze snapped to the monitor. A demon approached a tethered man, shifting into the form of a little girl with sharp teeth.
    “Can I have a lollipop now?”
    “Stay away . . . Don’t touch me!” The human’s shout became a thin, terrified scream.
    “Goddamn son of a bitch,” Deacon growled. “You’ll get what you deserve.”
    Rosalia wasn’t sure if he meant the demon or the human. She wanted to turn away, but made herself watch. She had to count.
    The demon-child ripped the human’s trousers open and touched him.
    Deacon went rigid. On-screen the nephil teleported in, sword raised high.
    Two.
    The demon-child didn’t fall. Deacon didn’t stop straining. The demons killed the nephil, but they didn’t have time to torture another human. Another nephil teleported in.
    Three.
    Shouts of surprise came from the demons. Seven died before they overwhelmed the nephil.
    Four.
    Malkvial began shouting orders, and this time the demons were better prepared. The humans screamed as demons raced around them, swords flashing, blood spattering. The demons’ laughter was just as loud.
    Five.
    The chain around Deacon’s right arm snapped. Mindlessly, he flung her away from him. Rosalia flew