Demon Blood

demon’s life, too.”
    The way she skimmed over the details told him that it must have been bad. He focused on the good part. “You killed the demon?”
    “Michael did.” A shadow passed over her face. She adjusted her position, bringing her knees up beneath that long cloak. After a moment, she continued. “When I finished training in Caelum, I returned to Rome, where Lorenzo was already heading a community. I tried to help him—to change him. But obviously I did not; I barely contained him.”
    Because Acciaioli hadn’t just been a vampire. He’d been nosferatu-born, and strong. Unsurprisingly, he’d ruled his community unchallenged. The only surprise was that he hadn’t tried to take over the other European communities.
    Only recently had Deacon realized that they had Rosalia to thank for that.
    Almost seven years ago, Acciaioli had come to Prague looking for a fight. With Acciaioli had been his weird little brother; Deacon hadn’t known then it was Rosalia, shape-shifted. In that strange, pubescent-vampire disguise, she’d kissed Deacon—a halting, awkward kiss that had turned his stomach—and Acciaioli, who’d witnessed the kiss, had left Prague as fast as he could charter a flight.
    Whether Acciaioli had been embarrassed or disgusted, Deacon didn’t know. But Rosalia had obviously known what to do and how her brother would react—and had probably saved Deacon’s life.
    “Why didn’t the other Guardians slay him?”
    “He wasn’t breaking the Rules, so they left him alone.”
    And Guardians rarely interfered with vampire communities. “They couldn’t have liked it, though.”
    She shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I wasn’t in Caelum or with other Guardians enough to worry about it. When I wasn’t trying to manage Lorenzo, I served the Church. I owed them for taking me in.”
    When she’d been human? Three centuries had passed. She had a completely fucked-up sense of obligation. “You work for the Vatican?”
    “I did .” She tugged at her cloak sleeves before hiding her hands within the wide material. “Now the Church doesn’t acknowledge my existence. Lorenzo is gone, and most of my family has been slaughtered. So I am just a Guardian again. Perhaps it’s what I should have been all along.”
    That bothered him. Whatever she’d been, “just a Guardian” would never fit. From just talking to her for ten minutes, he’d learned that much.
    And to think he’d imagined that he had Rosalia figured out, based on the little he knew. But he hadn’t guessed any of this about her. He’d been better off not knowing. Pushing her away was easier when she was just a gorgeous face, sad eyes, and a great pair of tits.
    Goddammit. She wasn’t supposed to matter. But now he knew what drove her. He just didn’t know how far she’d take it—or how long she’d drag him with her.
    Deacon glanced at her, realized she’d been watching him. Those sad eyes were back, and with a sigh, she uncurled her legs and sat forward in her seat.
    “I have to withdraw my Gift. If I wait until we’re in Athens, someone might feel it and know a Guardian is near.”
    Withdraw her Gift . . . and put him back to sleep? Oh, hell. Not yet—

    Gritting her teeth against the pain sawing at every nerve, Rosalia reclined Deacon’s seat before collapsing into her own. Using her Gift during the day felt like being shredded from the inside out. And like a physical injury, it took time to recover.
    Long, shallow breaths helped her focus. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes. Deacon lay in the next seat, his big body motionless, his heart barely beating.
    Had anything she’d revealed had made a difference? She didn’t know. Though he hadn’t been as angry with her tonight, she still felt his resistance.
    What if she couldn’t persuade him? What would she do then?
    Despair followed her uncertainty; she forced them both away. She couldn’t afford to consider failure.
    But, dear God, she needed Deacon to believe that slaying the nephilim was important enough to see his part through to the end. Needed him to see that it wasn’t enough to kill as many of Belial’s demons as possible before one killed him. And Deacon had to believe that she could pull off the endgame—because after Deacon brought the communities together, Rosalia needed him to make an alliance that he would never consider otherwise. Not if he simply walked a path of revenge.
    But she had to believe in him, too. She had an advantage, though.