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Eliana watched in horror as a wet and bloodied D staggered into the cool, candlelit opulence of her father’s private library. “Demetrius!” She leapt from her chair, scattering the newspaper she’d been reading in a flurry across the floor. He was bare-chested and panting, his face was bruised, gashes on his neck oozed blood in dark rivulets that coated his tattooed chest in a sheen of red. On his left bicep just below the Eye of Horus a deep, ragged wound exposed muscle and a sliver of bloodied white: bone. “What happened?” demanded Dominus, rising from his desk. “There were three new males—like the one we saw at the Vatican—three of them were at Alien—” “Three more!” said Dominus, astonished. “You were in a fight!” cried Eliana. She rushed to his side. “My God, your arm—” “You never
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