Pax Demonica Read Online Free

smile. “Sorry,” I repeated. “Mind wandering. I’m tired. But yeah, it’s good to be back.” I glanced out the window again and saw that traffic had cleared and we’d made some serious progress. I hadn’t recognized much of the area around the airport, but now that we were circling the southern edge of Vatican City and approaching the Tiber River, I was noticing familiar landmarks. Places I’d walked with friends. Alleys I’d crept through on the hunt.
    I caught a glimpse of the Ponte Sant’Angelo as we turned on to the Piazza Pia , and remembered the time that Eric and I had taken out a vampire that had interrupted one of our very first romantic strolls. I shot a quick glance at Stuart’s face and decided not to mention that.
    “That’s the Castel Sant’Angelo ,” I said, pointing to the magnificent structure that had been commissioned by the Emperor Hadrian as a mausoleum for himself and his family. “I used to spend a lot of hours wandering those halls. It’s a museum now,” I added in response to Stuart’s querying glance.
    “We should go tomorrow,” Stuart said. “Or even this afternoon. A quick nap and I’ll be up for playing tourist.”
    “Sure,” I said, even though what I meant was, “No.” I wanted to go to Forza . I wanted—no, needed —to see Father Corletti. I wanted to give him a hug and hear his familiar voice. And I wanted him to brush his hand over my daughter’s cheek and say, “Ah, mia cara, how much you have changed since last I saw you.”
    And wasn’t that the truth?
    Father Corletti had come to San Diablo after my first post-retirement adventure. He’d come to take personal charge of the Lazarus Bones, the ground-up remains of the bones of raised-from-the-dead Lazarus himself. Turns out that kind of thing is pretty important to demons, and a very nasty one had swept down on San Diablo hoping to do a little mischief. I’d managed to put a stop to it, and Father had come personally to retrieve the sack of mystical dust and to welcome me back to active duty. What can I say? I’d gotten a taste for the excitement again. More than that, though, I understood exactly what I was fighting for. My family.
    I glanced at Stuart and felt my heart twist a little. Truth was, I was still fighting for them. And so long as Stuart was trying, I would, too.
    I drew in a breath and smiled. “Sure,” I repeated as I reached forward to take his hand. “We’ll do the museum whenever you want.”
    Beside me, Allie shifted. “ Now are we there? Or at least close?” The van was maneuvering the narrow Roman streets, the driver frequently laying on his horn and swearing quite creatively in heavily accented Italian.
    “Not far,” I said. “If I’m remembering right, it’s just a few more blocks.”
    “I think we could get there faster walking,” Allie said, and I had to concede she had a point. Our plane had landed just after seven in the morning local time, and we’d come into the city during the morning rush hour. All things considered, it was amazing we’d arrived as quickly as we did.
    “If you’d packed lighter, walking might have been an option,” I teased. Though I’d begged, Allie had insisted on taking more or less everything she owned. I’d explained about the extra cost for overweight baggage. She’d countered that she was willing to pay it herself.
    What can I say? I caved. So long as she lugged them and paid for them, she could bring all the bags she wanted.
    “We can pile them all on Timmy’s stroller,” she said, then groaned loud and long. “I just want to be there.”
    “Me, too, kiddo,” I said, thinking that her suggestion wasn’t half-bad. The stroller was one of those massive contraptions that did pretty much everything for the active parent other than diaper the kid. It bent, folded, collapsed and maneuvered rocky trails. It boasted every possible amenity with the exception of a built-in DVD player, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that showed up