"Sizemore, Susan - Laws of the Blood 2 - Partners" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sizemore Susan)

"Better than lead," she muttered.

She was tired now, too tired to follow her attacker, too weak from healing her own injuries to finish psychically probing for murder clues. All in all, the evening was a bust, and Daniel was no closer to being found. And it wasn't getting any earlier. It was time to head back to Jimmy's.

She did wonder, as she started back down the mountain, what sort of person really fired first and asked questions later.


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Chapter 7
"He won't eat. It's a perfectly good heart. Why won't he eat it?"

"If he won't, I will," the Demon answered the Prophet's petulant question. "I like hearts."

"You most certainly will not take the Angel's heart."

"He doesn't want it."

"Cannibal."

"Can't be a cannibal if you don't eat your own kind," the Demon countered. "Never been human... not like some people."

The Prophet, of course, rose to this insult and the pair of them kept bickering loudly over in one corner of the room. The Disciple hugged himself tightly, hunched up his thin shoulders, and tried not to listen. He knew the outcome of the argument anyway. He stared at the beautiful creature on the bed and fought to keep from reaching out and touching the marble-smooth flesh he adored.

He was worried about the Angel. Anyone who really looked at the beautiful, perfect angel-boy could tell there was something wrong. The Angel gave and gave of himself, sharing his blood and seed night after night. He bestowed love and immortality, but the Disciple knew the Angel wasn't getting what He needed. They all worshiped him, but no one loved him.

I love you. He whispered the words deep inside his mind, but the Disciple felt an answering touch in his soul. He was sure that the sleeping Angel heard.

"Your so-called magic taints the meat. That's the problem."

"So-called! Need I remind you what my magic has accomplished so far? We wouldn't have the Angel if it weren't for me. And without the Angel - "

"Your magic wears off. Someone's going to come looking for the little bastard. We have to hurry."

"Of course it won't wear off. Where'd you hear such nonsense?"

"Demons know about these things."

"You're just showing off. No one's looking for him. And we are proceeding the way the ritual prescribes. I can't perform the final ritual until Blessing Night. You have to wait until then."

"There should be a death every night. I know the rituals, too."

"Let me give the Angel a new death," the Vessel said. "I will bring him a heart like no other. The new heart will give him what he needs. I'll place it before him, and he'll smile upon me."

The Demon was sneering. The Prophet sounded petulant. The Disciple paid very little attention until the Vessel spoke up. He turned jealously toward the Vessel.

"This is your fault!" The Demon's claws grasped him by the shoulders before the Disciple could speak. The Demon shook him hard. "All your fault! You brought us the wrong sacrifice, didn't you? Maybe I should eat your brain. Or let the Angel take your heart."

The Angel already had his heart, but not to eat. The Disciple knew the Angel would not take him that way. They were lovers now. He had taken nothing but the Angel's blood for months. It burned in him, purified him. He was not ready yet. There was much burning left to endure, but he was certain he would not be merely the lowly Disciple forever. The Prophet and the Demon would not control the fate of the Angel forever. The Disciple would save him.