The Demon King Read Online Free PDF

admittedly felt a little guilty for having said
it. But the guilt passed very quickly. Which was also strange for
Laz.
    After a bit, he could hear
D’Angelo take a few quiet steps toward another window. Beyond these
floor-to-ceiling windows of the 52 nd floor of the John Hancock
Tower, technically known as the Clarendon or 200
Clarendon , was the city of Boston, the
Charles River, and Cambridge beyond it. It was early morning in
late spring, and fog rolled in off the water to disappear in the
streets and alleys that wrapped around Boston’s metal architectural
monuments.
    The other buildings’
windows glittered like diamonds in reflected beams of rising
sunlight. He had a clear view of the sci - fi architecture of 111 Huntington,
and the Boston Public Library between it and the John Hancock. The
Charles River below split Boston from Cambridge and its Harvard
treasure and offered more glittering diamonds to the view
above.
    Laz could see now why the Vampire King had
chosen this particular room, in this building, in this town, and at
this time for their meeting. The windows faced west, and the room
was blocked from the direct rays of the rising sun, while still
allowing in daylight. Not that D’Angelo wasn’t plenty protected
from the sun and its dangers at this point, being the seasoned
warlock he was, but that didn’t mean he was fond of it.
    “ Is there something you
aren’t telling me?” the vampire king finally asked.
    This time, it was Laz who hesitated before
answering. When he did, he turned to face the vampire and stared
him hard in the eye. D’Angelo blinked. Laz felt a kind of victory,
and had no idea why. “You know how it is, your majesty,” he said,
still speaking softly though his words dripped with a new born
acid. “Being a king is a full time job, and I had one already.” As
if to reinforce what he was saying, he looked down at his watch.
“In fact, I have it still,” he said, lowering his hand to lock eyes
with the vampire again. “I’m late for a precinct meeting.”
    The Vampire King continued to hold that
gaze, and Laz could almost see his wheels spinning. “You still
haven’t found your queen.”
    Now it was Lazarus’s turn to blink. The
change in subject took him starkly by surprise. He honestly hadn’t
been thinking about his “queen” in any capacity. Not even a little
bit, and not in any way, shape, or form.
    Had he?
    His gaze narrowed. “Come again?” he
demanded.
    “ It doesn’t frustrate you
in the least that she hasn’t yet made an appearance while they seem
to be pouring from the woodwork around you and making other kings’
dreams come true?” D’Angelo smiled slowly at that and though it was
a hard smile, filled with knowledge and challenge, it was also
self-deprecatory because he, himself was one of those men whose
dreams had come true. “Nor does it bother you that the other men
and women who sit at this table might be having second thoughts
about you because of it?”
    Laz felt something nasty move through him,
like a disease he’d been trying to ignore that had finally moved in
to his blood. There was no other way to describe it. The Vampire
King had all but just admitted that everyone who’d been in that
room earlier thought of Lazarus as the traitor.
    He thought he’d known why the meeting
was held in Boston this time. But now he realized he’d been wrong.
It wasn’t because of the location or the sun or anything like that.
It was because of Laz.
    Since he’d been both unconsciously and
consciously wondering if the others were doubting him, this wasn’t
really so much a surprise as a highly unwelcome confirmation. But
it was uncomfortable, nonetheless.
    Normally, he would have dealt with it using
reason and a calm demeanor so hard, nothing could crack it. But now
that hard, calm demeanor was a still shell over something a little
less reasonable and a lot more angry.
    He smiled, tamping down the
turmoil inside as if he’d had centuries of practice.