Demon Blood

bin,” Mariko said dryly.
    “It’s the thought that counts.” Hopping forward, Radha placed the ribbon over Rosalia’s head. For an instant, the Guardian’s dark eyes lost their sparkle, and her serious gaze met Rosalia’s. “It’s the intention, right?”
    Rosalia’s throat swelled. “Right.”
    “Just like Radha doesn’t intend to show everyone her tits. It”—Mariko made quote marks with her fingers—“ ‘just happens.’ ”
    “I’m doing my part to make the world a better place.” Radha stepped back. “But I’m going to have to run around naked all of the time if I want to catch up to Rosa. You’re our hero now.”
    “Stop that.” Laughing, Rosalia shook her head. She’d worried about their reaction. This might be worse than the cold shoulder she imagined. “There are still plenty of demons and nosferatu—”
    “Oh, God!” Mariko threw up her hands. “Shut up, Rosa. Tonight, we party.”
    “Actually, I have to—”
    “Don’t even argue,” Radha warned her.
    “—clean the abbey, and prepare for the wedding.”
    They gaped at her. Mariko croaked, “To Deacon ?”
    Pain stabbed through her heart, but she swallowed back the tears. She’d shed enough for one day. “No. That’s over. It’s my son’s wedding, three days from now. That’s why I’m here—to invite you both.”
    “Oh, congratulations! Of course we’ll come,” Radha said sweetly, and immediately followed with—“What the hell do you mean, it’s over? Does that mean it started?”
    “And already ended?” Mariko stared at her.
    “Quick and clean,” she confirmed.
    Mariko shook her head. “That’s not your style.”
    “That’s how he wanted it.” Her chest was aching. It’d been aching since she’d left him in that hotel room. She didn’t know when it would stop—but it wouldn’t be tonight. Probably not for many, many nights.
    “Oh, my God,” Radha said in disbelief. “Is he stupid? Look at you!”
    Yes, look at her. Look at everything you are. Deacon’s outburst had echoed in her mind for days. It wasn’t that Deacon didn’t believe she loved him, but rather: He couldn’t believe that she loved him . He saw himself as too damaged, too ruined. She’d tried to tell him, to show him that he wasn’t—but there was nothing she could do unless he saw it, too. And knowing she couldn’t change that ripped her apart.
    “He’s not,” Rosalia said. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
    Mariko snapped her mouth shut. A second later she opened it again. “All right. I declare girls’ night at the abbey, then. We get naked, we swim, we eat until we shape-shift into pigs, and Radha will entertain us with oiled, dancing men. Then we clean up and help you get the place ready.”
    Rosalia couldn’t think of anything better—and she was grateful for any activity that might take her mind from Deacon and the enormous hole in her heart. “All right.”
    Radha grinned. “And should we spread the word?”
    Her abbey, full of laughter and voices again? And she had so much food that still needed to be eaten. “Definitely,” she said.

CHAPTER 25
    The moment Taylor teleported into Hell, Michael tried to take over—tried to teleport her out. She fought him, stumbling across the frozen faces. Jesus God they were cold, burning her bare feet. Every breath seared her lungs, then billowed out in ragged clouds. Silence reigned. She couldn’t hear her footsteps or her heartbeat, but the screams filled her head, the familiar screams, so loud here.
    She hadn’t known how many of the damned were down here. The field stretched almost as far as she could see, faces packed together with no room between. And rising over them all, their eyes all frozen on its great height, Lucifer’s black tower speared against a crimson sky.
    And she found Michael, right where she’d known he’d be. His amber eyes were frozen open, staring at the tower, but she saw that he was in there, aware. Crouching beside him, her toes digging into an eye, her heel into a mouth, she blocked his view of the tower with her face.
    For an instant, the darkness within her stilled. Then he was pushing again, harder, trying to take her over and take her out of here. She put her hand against his cheek—an ice block, painfully cold. But if she could feel his cold, perhaps he could feel her warmth.
    “I figured it out,” she told him, but the words didn’t emerge, just silence. She thought he understood anyway. “I figured out