Demon Blood Read Free Page A

could not blame them. Like every demon she’d known, they’d disguised themselves in sinfully handsome human forms—sensual lips and blade-straight noses, black hair glinting under the crystal chandeliers, as if they’d each used an advertisement in a men’s fashion magazine as a template. With a backdrop of priceless paintings mounted on gold-painted walls, they formed a would-be triumvirate with Bernard and Gavel as the base and Pierre Theriault at the top.
    Of the three, Theriault ranked the highest in both Belial’s army and Legion Laboratories, the corporation that both concealed and supported their activities on Earth. Two years ago, when the Gates to Hell had closed, preventing Belial from overseeing the demons that remained on Earth, Legion began to serve as a communication network. Through it, one of Belial’s lieutenants issued orders and received reports—until he’d been slain by the Guardians. Now, with no clear successor to the lieutenant and no contact from Hell, Belial’s demons were maneuvering for his position, and all of them were arrogant enough to imagine themselves in the spot. But if Bernard and Gavel thought they’d ride the wake of Theriault’s ascent, they were as foolish as he was. Theriault’s particular brand of arrogance bordered on stupidity.
    No, Rosalia amended. Not bordering stupidity. He’d flung himself over that line the second he’d begun discussing the alliance in a public room, and using English instead of the demonic language. Good Lord, the idiocy. Though the chateau was just north of Paris, perhaps fifteen people out of the hundreds in the ballroom didn’t understand at least rudimentary English.
    Even if Theriault imagined that the string music floating over the room and the crowd’s chatter would conceal their voices from humans, he hadn’t made sure there weren’t any Guardians or other demons in the vicinity. Though strong enough for Rosalia to feel, Theriault’s psychic sweep hadn’t penetrated her mental shields. At that shallow depth, her mind would seem no different from a human’s.
    Careless. Stupid. Rosalia had many reasons to slay the demons, but at this moment, making the consequences of that carelessness the last thing they ever saw was the most tempting reason to shove her swords through their eyes.
    But she wouldn’t slay them. Not tonight. She’d come to the gala to observe Theriault, and to judge how much of a threat he’d be if he led Belial’s demons. Not much. But it hadn’t been a wasted trip. She’d overheard repeated mention of one demon standing in Theriault’s way, one he’d considered too powerful to take on alone: Malkvial.
    She hadn’t yet learned who Malkvial was. Rosalia didn’t know many demons by their true name, only by the human identities they used. She needed to find this one out, soon, either by listening in on Theriault or by other means.
    A soft crackle sounded in her ear, and her attention shifted. The noise indicated that Gemma had opened the microphone connecting the tiny receiver bud in Rosalia’s ear to the surveillance van outside the chateau. Rosalia couldn’t perform a psychic sweep without revealing herself to the demons, but she hadn’t gone in blind.
    Rosalia possessed her share of arrogance. But unlike some demons, she was neither careless nor stupid. At least, not most of the time.
    “Mother, infrared is picking up either Davanzati or Murnau approaching the chateau. He’s moving south across the grounds. On foot.”
    Davanzati or Murnau. Code words for vampires and nosferatu. Though the receiver’s volume was probably too low for a demon to hear unless he was standing next to her, Rosalia wouldn’t risk drawing the demons’ attention. Both demons and Guardians could hear everything said in the ballroom, but they couldn’t listen to everything. Even if whispered, however, certain words and names pierced background noise like a candle lit at midnight.
    To cover her reply, Rosalia turned as if