Demon Blood (39 page)

For all their strength, Guardians didn’t truly have much power. There was so much they couldn’t do. Vampires wouldn’t have those limitations—only what the sun denied them.

Deacon repeated flatly, “Not like me?”

“Trustworthy,” she said, but still felt uncomfortable. From a Guardian perspective, her answer was about protecting humans. But Guardians weren’t prevented from denying a vampire’s free will, or even from slaying them. So from Deacon’s perspective, Guardians possessed all of the power that she said vampires shouldn’t have over humans.

“That’s bullshit. We could kill people now if we wanted to. You Guardians would just have a harder time policing us if we were stronger, because we could defend ourselves better.”

She nodded. He was right. She knew he was right. And she knew most of the vampires in Europe, yet could only think of a few she
would
fear giving the blood to.

She knew all of that. She still felt sick at the thought of passing out nephil blood.

“We wouldn’t all be your brother, Rosie.”

“No. No, I know that. But it would be . . . unfair. No matter how we distributed the blood, it would create too much conflict within the communities. There is not an unlimited supply of nephil blood.” Though if she and Deacon were successful, she would soon spill
all
of the nephilim’s blood—but even that amount would not be enough for every vampire in the world. “And who would choose who received it? The Guardians? The community elders? What would it mean if some got it and others didn’t? What kind of division would that make?”

“Would it matter so much if it meant the vampires didn’t have to get on their knees for demons? If they weren’t scared shitless that the nephilim were finally coming to their city?”

“It’d matter to you if you were the vampire who didn’t get any.” She sighed. “At most, it could be a onetime distribution, and there’s not enough for everyone. What if I wanted to hold some back? What if Vin and Gemma decided to become vampires? Wouldn’t I want to keep some for them so that they wouldn’t be . . .”

Like a normal vampire. Like Deacon had been before the nosferatu blood, before the nephil blood.

He didn’t let her trail off and take the easy way out. He finished for her, “One of the weaker ones.”

“Yes. Right or wrong, that’s how I would feel. If what I am brings violence into my son’s life, then I want him to have the defenses to handle it. Right now, as a human, his best defense against demons and nephilim is the Rules. He wouldn’t have that as a vampire. So I’d want him to be one of the strong ones, too.”

“Right or wrong?” He shook his head. “You think I’d blame you for that? Who wouldn’t want it?”

“Exactly. Everyone would want it, but not everyone could have it. What happened to you—or when one of the nosferatu-born is made—that difference in strength almost always comes by luck or chance, and it doesn’t happen often. But for Guardians or vampires to gather the blood and distribute it
creates
a difference. It creates widespread envy and superiority in communities where there is none.”

“Except for what is already there from when we were human.”

“Well, yes. Because vampires, Guardians—in many ways, we’re still all human.” She paused, holding his gaze. And despite every claim she’d just made, despite the reasons behind her uneasiness, she had to admit, “And because of that, I would have given anything for my friends to have been strong enough to fight the nephilim. Or for you to have been strong enough to fight back against Caym.”

“So, if you could, you’d let vampires have the nephil blood.”

“Probably. But the better solution is: Slay all of the demons and the nephilim. Then vampires won’t need it.”

His wide grin exposed his fangs. “One thing’s for certain: When you have a plan, Rosie, you stay focused.” His gaze dropped again. Leaning forward, he cupped her breasts in his large hands. “But when you’re sitting naked like this, I can’t say the same for me.”

She breathed slowly, fighting the urge to throw herself against him. “I’ll hang bells from them, next time.”

“And win every argument we might have.” His thumbs stroked her nipples, and he smiled when she shivered. “Are we still getting out of bed?”

“Yes.” And with another sigh, she made the effort. Aware that Deacon was watching her, she formed her panties and put them on as humans did, a long slow glide up her legs.

“Rosie,” he warned.

Laughing, she pulled in a brassiere—a scrap of lace that supported very little and displayed too much.

“I’m going to rip that off with my teeth.”

Oh, she hoped so. “Later,” she said, and to remove temptation, covered the lingerie with her black trousers and shirt. As she walked across the room, the hunger in his gaze told her that she hadn’t buried temptation very deep.

He reached for his jeans. “If you did have to choose vampires to give the blood to, who would it be? Community elders?”

If Deacon hadn’t already been strengthened, he’d have been at the top of her list. She didn’t think he’d believe her, though.

“No, not necessarily the elders. I’d find vampires who would fight with the Guardians—like those vampires who’ve begun training at Special Investigations. God knows we need the help.”

“
Guardians
need the help?”

“Considering that there are only fifty of us left . . . Yes, we do.” When he stared at her, she said, “I thought you knew. That Irena or someone—”

“No. She didn’t.”

“Oh. Well, the Ascension happened ten years ago, and even I didn’t know until six months ago. The Guardians have kept it quiet, so that the demons don’t find out. They don’t know about Michael, either.”

Deacon still looked slightly stunned. She couldn’t blame him. Fifteen years ago, there had been thousands of Guardians. She couldn’t even imagine how empty Caelum must seem with so many gone. Just sun and stone and water—beautiful, but more like a tomb than a city.

In a low voice he said, “So Belial’s demons could wipe you all out.”

“If they knew, yes. And unfortunately, Taylor is the only Guardian who can transform humans and create more of us . . . which
also
depends on a human sacrificing himself to save someone else from a demon. So we haven’t been able to rebuild our numbers.” She opened the bedchamber door. Early afternoon light spilled into the far end of the corridor, but it wouldn’t touch Deacon as they crossed to the War Room. “So there you have another reason for my focus. If the demons find out how small our numbers are—and I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t realize it, eventually—both vampires and Guardians are in danger of being destroyed. So I have to stop them before that happens.”

He followed her into the War Room, wearing only his jeans. Heavy muscle and hard flesh invited a long, slow look, but it was his face that fascinated her. So strong and uncompromising, so often unreadable, yet the irregular lines revealed so much of his life. His features told the story of a man who hadn’t come through every fight unscathed, but he’d
come through
—and despite the hardness, he could still soften with a laugh or a kiss.

She wanted to kiss him now. She wanted to touch him. Not to straighten, and not to lead him to bed, but the kind of casual caresses that she’d seen between lovers and friends. The kind that said,
I love that you are here
.

Pulling out her chair, she sat at her desk instead. She could touch him that way while lying in bed. She did not know how to here.

“Theriault spent the morning telling his pregnant wife she is a fat whore.” Resting his shoulders against the wall, Deacon leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I’d have considered killing him even if he wasn’t a demon.”

And if Deacon had, Rosalia would have considered not stopping him.

“It’s unfortunate his wife cannot do it.” Of course she wouldn’t. Humans had rules, too.

“Unfortunate that she won’t fight back?”

The sudden edge in his voice made her look up. Warily, she took in his rigid stance, his dark brows drawn together over a hard stare. “What?”

“I don’t know what pisses me off more, Rosie. That Vin said all that shit to your face, or that you took it without calling him an ungrateful little—” He clenched his teeth, cutting himself off.

“You tell me to my face that Lorenzo deserved to die, but won’t call my son a . . . ?” She raised her brows, inviting him to finish it.

“You didn’t love your brother. Only felt responsible for him. Your son’s a different matter.” While she dealt with her surprise that he saw that so clearly, he narrowed his eyes and said, “Didn’t you turn that neatly?”

Stalking forward, he grabbed the chair next to hers, flipped it around, and straddled the seat. “You just deflected me away from you sitting out there, your son’s hand holding your bloody heart, and you letting him squeeze it.”

“Deacon—”

He lifted his hand, cutting her off. “I didn’t believe it, you know. That first night here, I heard Gemma say you don’t fight back. And I was thinking,
Rosie’s put me in my place so many times, snapped back at me—Gemma’s got it all wrong.
But she was right. And you sat out there, just taking it.”

And that had upset him? It must have. Anger rolled off him, dark and hot. “Is that why you called me up here?”

“To fuck it out of you? Yeah.” His jaw clenched. Grabbing her seat, he hauled her close, until only inches separated their noses. “You did it again. Deflected me away from you and Vin. You don’t want me to push on this? Fine. Tell me to back the fuck off. Or convince me that you deserved it, because the next time Vin throws that shit at you, I’m not going to sit—”

“He was right.” Her own anger boiled up. He wanted to know? Fine. Another item for the list of things a Guardian didn’t do. “Everything he said was true. A Guardian has no business being a mother. It flips everything around. So back off.”

“No business . . . You
believe
that?”

“I know it.”

His voice lowered, all gravel and frustration. “Oh, I get it. You beat him. No, you can’t do that—you had a human do it. And you didn’t care for him, didn’t feed him or clothe him, didn’t kiss him good night, and you never made sure he had support when he needed it.” He paused, watching her. With a shake of his head, he spread his arms out wide. “Do you see why that makes no fucking sense? If you were anything like the mother I imagine you were, he should be on his knees thanking you for what was probably the best childhood any kid could want.”

Rosalia couldn’t remain angry when he said things like that. But it didn’t change the facts.

She stood, began to pace the room. “Vampires and Guardians . . . we can’t have children after we’re transformed.
Can’t.
Don’t you think that’s for a reason?”

“I don’t know what the big guy Above was thinking. But if you’re about to argue that it all has a
purpose
, my response is that I don’t give a fuck what He plans.”

Though she’d suspected he felt that way, she had to catch her breath at such blasphemy. But she understood why: His community had been slaughtered. Thinking that their deaths had a purpose didn’t offer any comfort. The opposite, in fact.

But in Rosalia’s opinion, that hadn’t anything to do with those Above. What happened to Deacon’s community, what happened to her friends . . . that was on the shoulders of the demons.

“No. That’s not what I mean. We can’t take care of them. Not as babies. Who would care for a vampire’s child during the day? A Guardian has to follow the Rules, and has responsibilities that often take her away from home. But it is more than that, and it is not just babies. There are times when a child must be led where it doesn’t want to go, just to keep it safe.” She turned to him, spreading her hands, hoping he’d see. “I had Gemma’s grandmother to help me. Thank God I had her. But I should have known better. I
did
know better. But Father Wojcinski brought Vin here, and he was so small, and so afraid and angry and I just . . . fell in love. I didn’t want anything more than to see him happy.”

And she’d loved that little boy so fiercely—so unexpectedly. She’d never dreamed of being a mother. The others had called her “Mother” as a joke, because she’d had the habit of straightening their clothes. She’d never thought a child would come into her life and change everything.

“And you think you were wrong to take him in?” He remained sitting, but his green eyes followed her every move.

“I think that the moment I decided to be a mother, I should have stopped being a Guardian. I should have Fallen and become human again, so that I could have been what he needed. Not always holding myself back. Not always finding ways around him.” She sighed when he shook his head, and repeated, “I should have Fallen. But before I Fell I would have to kill Lorenzo, just to be safe . . . and I still had hope that he could change. I still wanted to work with my vampires. I wanted to be both mother and Guardian—and I loved Vin, so I kept him. But I should have chosen one or the other. It was a selfish decision.”

“Because you didn’t Fall? Jesus, Rosie. Are you telling me that if he’d been standing in front of a bus and wouldn’t move, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way to save him?”

“Of course I would. But motherhood and love aren’t the grand, hypothetical gestures. They are the little, everyday ones.”

He shook his head again, but she cut him off before he could argue.

“And you
must
see that it is more than that. He said everything is turned around . . . and it is. He’s not immortal, Deacon. And even if I became human again today, I’d be younger than him.” She saw the understanding in his face. Good. Just knowing that one day she would experience what no mother should squeezed her heart into nothing. She couldn’t have explained without breaking down. “Every day,
every single day
, I realize: I should have Fallen when I took him in. But now I have to live with what I’ve chosen. And so does Vin.”