Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,11
floor, the demonic essence evaporated, exorcised to oblivion in a swirl of smoke.
The corpse turned as black as tar.
With a mouth full of blood and a vicious grin, Dorian looked to Gabriel and said, “Well don’t just stand there, brother. Bring in contestant number two.”
Chapter Five
Five vanquished demons and an ocean of rancid blood later, Dorian and Gabriel were no closer to finding Sasha, uncovering Rogozin’s grand scheme, sussing out Rudy’s angle, or learning a damn thing about Charlotte’s mark than they were when they’d begun this dreadful day.
But one thing was certain.
Among the warring demonic factions of New York City, someone needed to get his story straight.
Wiping the last of the foul-tasting demon blood from his mouth, Dorian said, “Chernikov suggested at our meeting—quite convincingly—that Rogozin had been working with dark witches to open the demonic portals and flood the city with demons. But if these pricks are to be believed, Rogozin’s got an entirely different modus operandi, and Chernikov is the one building up his armies.”
“That’s the thing,” Gabriel said. “I did believe them.”
“As did I.”
“Maybe they’re just not privy to the boss’ master plan.”
Dorian shook his head. “You don’t plan an operation of that magnitude and leave out your key enforcers. Something isn’t adding up.”
“You think Chernikov’s bullshitting you, then?”
“Oh, he’s absolutely bullshitting me. The question is… what about? And to what end?” Dorian toed one of the blackened corpses at his feet. “The only thing I’m certain of is that he desperately wants the Mother of Lost Souls. As long as he believes I can procure it for him, he’ll string me along by the balls for an eternity. How can I trust a word from his greasy mouth?”
“So what’s our next move? There’s another Rogozin stronghold a few blocks down—a butcher. That could be… fun.”
“I’m not sure it would net us anything new.” Dorian sighed, the stress of the last twenty-four hours finally catching up. He missed Charlotte. After all the bloodshed, all the burning flesh, all he wanted to do was go home to her, crawl into bed beside her, and let the warmth of her body and the sweetness of her scent take him someplace infinitely better.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“We need to clean this up,” he said, glancing around the bloodied garage. “Burn it, spread a rumor it was Chernikov demons. Better to let them fight it out amongst themselves.”
Gabriel nodded. “We need to clean us up too. Bloody hell, these creatures are disgusting.”
The brothers washed up in the men’s room, eradicating all traces of demon blood. Then, with Isabelle’s help, they obliterated the devil’s traps, burned the corpses, and torched the interior with a magical fire no one would see from the outside until the place was nothing but ash.
A lot of trouble, perhaps, but better than the alternative—having Rogozin show up at Ravenswood, demanding answers Dorian had no intention of providing.
Back out on Sixty-First Street, the sun shone bright overhead, casting their trio in a wash of unforgiving light.
Dorian winced, immediately stepping back into the shadows. His eyes throbbed, his mind going hazy.
That the copious amounts of demon blood he’d ingested hadn’t been enough to stave off such sensitivity was surprising and concerning on its own. But worse?
Gabriel had shown the exact same response.
Dorian turned to him, eyes wide with surprise. Dorian had been experiencing similar symptoms for months, but it was the first evidence he’d seen that his brother was suffering a similar fate.
“Gabriel, are you—”
“All good.” Gabriel forced a smile, but his eyes still held an echo of pain. He reached into his shirt pocket for his sunglasses and quickly shoved them onto his face.
Dorian wanted to press the issue, but they were no longer alone. A woman strolled by on the sidewalk, her long black hair fluttering in the breeze. She flashed a warm, flirtatious smile at Gabriel, blood rushing to her cheeks.
“Hello, love,” Gabriel said smoothly, returning her smile.
She held his gaze another beat, but continued on her way.
“I can help,” Isabelle said when the woman had finally passed. She reached for his hands, just as she’d done with Dorian the night she’d recharged his magical tattoos, but Gabriel jerked away.
“I appreciate the offer, Isabelle, but I’m fine.” Then, turning his attention to the raven-haired beauty’s vanishing backside, he grinned and said, “Just a bit famished. Nothing I can’t fix with a quick… snack.”
“Gabriel,” Dorian said, “I don’t think—”
“Fear not, brother. I always ask nicely.” He clapped Dorian on the back, and then he was off,