Demon Blood

gaze sharpened. “And your vampires?”
    “They are gone.”
    “They were in Rome when the nephilim massacred them all?”
    Hatred sat bitter on her tongue, her heart. “Yes.”
    “And Deacon?” Irena asked. Both Rosalia and Alejandro had danced around the vampire. Apparently Irena would not. “Is he still with you?”
    “No. He is killing Belial’s demons.”
    Approval flared in Irena’s eyes. And realization. “And what task do you need to finish?”
    “I’m going to help him.” That was not all she intended to do, but she had no plan yet for the nephilim—and even if she had one, what good would it be without Michael? In the meantime, she would assist Deacon. She had her reasons for killing Belial’s demons, too.
    Alejandro began to shake his head. She cut off his protest.
    “I will not reveal myself. I will give Belial’s demons no reason to hurry and follow Malkvial, or to strike against us. Not when we are so . . .” She trailed off. Weak was not the right word.
    “Weak?” Irena’s smile had a dangerous edge.
    “Not weak. Outnumbered.”
    “You split hairs,” Irena said, but Rosalia didn’t think it was an accusation. “You should know that I do not disagree with killing demons at any time.”
    Alejandro appeared amused again. “We have only held back because the risk was so great,” he said. “If you think you can assist Deacon without turning Belial’s demons on us, do.”
    Irena frowned. “Won’t they turn on vampires?”
    Alejandro gave the same answer that Rosalia would have. “They would never admit that a vampire could damage them. And if the suggestion was made that Malkvial wanted to slay vampires out of fear, the others might balk. It might delay his taking the lieutenant’s position.”
    Rosalia nodded. “What of the nephilim?” she asked. “Has there been any sign of them?”
    “No,” Irena said. “Not since Michael was killed.”
    “Has Anaria given up?”
    “She is probably regrouping. We killed half the nephilim’s number in Chaos.”
    “Half?” Rosalia could not stop her smile. “Good. That is good.” And on that note, she would take her leave. “I will return to Rome, then. And I will keep you abreast, should I learn anything new. Be well, Irena. Alejandro.”
    “Be safe,” Irena said.
    Rosalia gathered the shadows, letting them pull her into their dark cocoon. Safe, yes. She would be. But the vampires? Her fear for them would not diminish. She felt so protective of vampires. And although Belial’s demons and nephilim were enemies of each other, always it was the Guardians and vampires caught in the middle. The nephilim were focused on slaughtering vampires except when a demon broke the Rules. And now, instead of protecting the vampires in hope of fulfilling the prophecy, the demons would be killing them, too.
    Demons. Nephilim. They all had to be stopped. But how would it be done without uniting the demons against the Guardians or the vampires, and without drawing Anaria’s wrath? How to remain untouched?
    How to stand by, watching and listening, as they destroyed one another?
    Rosalia stopped. Darkness swirled around her. Her thoughts raced. Her body was still, though a storm of shadows raged outside and a maelstrom of possibility raged within. What would be the demons’ downfall?
    Their arrogance.
    It was a lightning strike, illuminating the dark. Rosalia ripped apart the shadows, like tearing a veil away from her face. In the tech room, Irena stared at her, two curved knives in her hands. Alejandro stood slightly in front of Irena, his body angled protectively. Rosalia could not imagine what her shadows had looked like from outside, but it must have been terrifying for Alejandro to respond that way.
    “I will need you to stay out of Europe,” Rosalia said. “All of you. If there is something a Guardian must do, contact me. No Guardian can be near Deacon or me if we are to be safe—if all of us are to be safe. And if you discover who Malkvial is, I will need to know.”
    Irena vanished her knives. “Do you plan to have Deacon slay him?”
    “Not just Malkvial.” Rosalia smiled. Her heart shed the despair, was buoyed by hope. “We’re going to kill them all .”

CHAPTER 4
    If the vampires following Deacon through the Paris streets were shooting for stealth, they’d missed by a mile. Fine by him. He’d make a meal of them if they came too close. Better than wasting half the night softening up a human woman with a bottle.
    A bead