by Rye Brewer
“You remember my mentioning him, then.”
“Yes.” His expression darkened. “I remember you speaking of his other son, Landon. The one with plans to seduce you.” The flickering candlelight only served to intensify his glowering.
“He might have tried, but he was unsuccessful, remember?” I touched his face. “My heart belongs to a shifter, in case you forgot in the time I was away. You. Always you.” This seemed to mollify him, even if his jealousy was a bit of a turn-on. I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t. “At any rate, I was imprisoned and accused of having something to do with the murder.”
“Did you?”
“No, of course not. What would I have to gain by killing him? I suppose I was considered suspect thanks to my previous plotting.”
“You escaped, then?”
“In a way.” I didn’t want to talk about it yet, as that would mean admitting the terms of my release. “What about you? What’s happened here?”
His voice took on a bitter tinge. “Oh, you know. My mother insisting I marry another shifter so I might produce heirs for the family. Nothing important.”
“You must be joking.” The hands which I’d rested on his arms turned to claws which dug into his skin. “She’s out of her mind if she thinks such an arrangement could be reached.”
“Do you believe you have to tell me that?” he spat. “I know it. I have no desire to marry a shifter or any other woman.”
My blood fairly boiled at the thought of my love being sold off into marriage with some pathetic little nothing. There was no chance of such a thing happening—was there? I had no doubt as to his love for me and knew he cared next to nothing for archaic practices such as arranged marriage. Even so…
“Of course,” he continued with a sigh, “there wouldn’t be a question of my producing heirs if it hadn’t been for that stupid brother of mine. How could he be so careless? Getting himself killed as he did, and by vampires no less.”
Understanding took root and began to bloom. It all came together. “Your brother exposed himself to vampires in North America and was killed.”
“Along with his entire group, yes,” Anton muttered, shaking his head. “How could he be so stupid?”
“And because of this, the vampires are aware of your existence.”
“I would imagine so. He was working on something out there, something he didn’t dare tell me much about, though I had the impression it related to humans. Testing, perhaps? I’m unsure.”
“Why would vampires kill him, then, if he was working with humans?”
“I tell you, I don’t know. Perhaps he was taking samples from vampires and they didn’t appreciate it? Have you heard anything about this?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not about that, specifically. No. But I did hear of the presence of your kind in America, which was how I managed to secure my freedom.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
I took a deep breath. This wouldn’t be easy. “Jonah Bourke, head of his clan and interim leader of the League. I made a deal with him in order to escape. He demanded information on the European shifters in exchange for helping me.”
He stood, breathing heavy. “You did what?”
“Please, Anton.” I was able to stand and face him, strong enough to support myself. “Do you believe I have any intention of revealing you to him or anyone else? Do you think me mad? But what else was I to do? I had to get out of there, out of that dungeon.” I rubbed my hands on my arms, remembering the desolation. The loneliness. “I had to get back to you.”
He grunted his understanding before pulling me into his warm, strong arms. “I know. Whatever it took, I’m glad you did it if it meant being back here with me. But we’re going to have to do something about this. We cannot allow it to go on.”
I rested my head against his expansive chest, nodding in agreement. “I know. I only need a little time to work something out in my mind.”
22
Naomi
I glanced over my shoulder to double check that no one read the contents of the message other than me. It wouldn’t do for them to know the identity of my friend and informant.
I typed out a quick reply after memorizing the information he’d sent me.
Thank you, Anastagio. I owe you, as always.
I deleted the message as soon as my reply went through, then closed the browser. No sense in leaving incriminating messages lying around. My old friend was not supposed to be in contact with me or anyone else—it was only when I managed to slip away one night while Micah and the others were hunting that I’d set up an account for myself on a computer at the public library. It was then that I’d first used the address Anastagio had given me years earlier, the last time he’d come through Paris.
It had been a long shot, and I’d known it at the time. What if he no longer used that address? What if he was no longer alive? But he did, and he was, and he had just illuminated me on more than one topic.
As was his specialty.
Cari was with Gage and Raze, all three of them leaning over a map which Raze had spread out over the kitchen counter. Plotting the best course to Italy. It was a bit like shooting an arrow into the air at random, however, and all of us knew it. After all, Italy was a big country. There was no indication of exactly where Cari’s father lived.
Well, as far as they were concerned. I knew something they didn’t.
I slid between Gage and Raze, scanned the map, then jabbed at it with my index finger. “Here. This is where we’re going.”
“How do you know?” Raze chuckled. “Suddenly psychic? Something you haven’t shared with us?”
I shot him a withering look, hissed and bared my fangs teasingly; all in fun. “No. I just received word from a friend of mine. He tells me Gil Riviera lives right there, in a villa on a hillside in San Polo dei Cavalieri. Just far enough from metropolitan Rome for the sake of maintaining privacy, but close enough that a person might still take advantage of the city’s proximity.”
“Who’s this friend?” Raze asked, no longer teasing.
Was it my imagination, or was he slightly jealous?
“Just a friend of mine who lives and works in the area,” I sidestepped. What would he think if he knew I was close with an excommunicated shade who worked in Vatican City? I doubted Anastagio would appreciate my revealing his identity to a stranger, no matter how I trusted my new friend Raze.
“He lives there?” Cari whispered, touching the place where my finger had just made contact. “I wonder why.”
“You said he was involved with the government, didn’t you?” Gage asked, sliding an arm around Cari’s shoulders. “It makes sense that he would be in a big city such as Rome. Perhaps he’s an ambassador now.”
“Yes, but why would it be such a secret? Why was it so difficult for us to find him? It’s all such a mystery.” She glanced up at me, chewing her lip. “Your friend is sure?”
“He’s sure. I made certain to give him the correct name, and it hardly took him any time at all to get back to me with the information. He’s very skilled when it comes to finding people.” Likely because of his shade blood and the fact that they had been tasked with keeping safe the memories and histories of ancient cultures and diverse races. It was nothing for him to research, or even to ask questions of those within the city walls. They tended to know quite a bit about quite a lot, too.
That wasn’t all he’d told me, either. My smile faded when I remembered, when I considered the repercussions of his revelation.
Micah was not killed in Paris. He still lives. And there is a price on your head. You’re a wanted woman—not dead or alive. Simply dead.
A chill ran through me. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find out Micah had survived. It had all been such a blur, between setting my sights on killing him for all the evil he’d created and the sudden appearance of his acolytes. The vampires who’d spirited me away to another park, who’d chained me to a statue after draining me of my blood.
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I hadn’t seen him fall, hadn’t seen his final moments, and therefore hadn’t taken for granted that he was gone forever.
Now, I knew it for certain. He was alive, and he wanted me dead.
Yes, it was high time to get out of Paris.
“I have to go to my father now.” Cari looked up at Gage, eyes wide, searching his face for signs of understanding. My heart went out to the poor girl. She’d been ripped away from everything which had made her life her own so suddenly, she hadn’t the chance to adjust.
I related all too well.
“Now that I know where he is, I can’t possibly stay away,” she murmured, looking to Gage for understanding.
Gage ran a gentle hand over her blonde hair. “How could I refuse you? I understand what this means, how important it is. We’ll see to it that you lay eyes on him, at the very least.”
“We said we’d go, didn’t we?” Raze asked as he folded the map. “Now that we know where we’re going, there’s less reason than ever to second-guess ourselves.”
I frowned, glancing at Gage and Cari to be certain they were lost in each other as always before pulling Raze aside. “You don’t have to go, you know,” I whispered as the two of them spoke in similarly low voices. “This could be a lengthy journey, and it might mean exposing ourselves to unknown dangers.”
He blinked, frowning. “Where is this coming from? I thought it was the four of us. Why are you trying to push me out all of a sudden?”
“I’m not trying to push you out.” I refrained from touching him, though all I wished to do right then was to offer comfort because it seemed as though I was hurting him. “Believe me. I only want to help you avoid what could be a very difficult situation. You have a life here, and a comfortable one. Do you want to jeopardize that?”
“Who cares about comfort?” he whispered, looking around. “I had comfort back in America. I lived in a mansion. I had friends, or so-called friends. Where did that get me?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, not knowing much about him outside of his present life. We’d never discussed his past.
His face relaxed a bit. “If it got me anywhere, do you think I would be here?”
He had a point. My argument fell to pieces. “I suppose not.”
He stared at me with nearly unnerving intensity. “I want to go. It’s important to me.”
I wished he wouldn’t stare at me that way. I wished he wouldn’t stand so close to me. I wished he wasn’t so appealing. That was why I didn’t want him to come along, though I could hardly admit it. I didn’t like the feelings he stirred up in me. They were a reminder of what I had felt when I first met Xavier.
Because of me, Xavier was dead. Even if I hadn’t been the one to lock him away and starve him until he’d lost his mind, it was still my fault he came to such a terrible end.
How could I take a chance like that again? How could I risk the life of another, especially with Micah still breathing?
He could have been in the streets at that very minute, looking up at the windows, wondering which one I sheltered behind. Imagining how he would kill me and anyone with me.
If that was the case, it would be best for Raze to leave the country, too.
“All right,” I relented, since there was no other choice. I had nothing more to say on the subject, anyway. I left him with the others, turning toward the balcony.
I needed fresh air, even if it wasn’t really fresh. Nothing in that neighborhood was. Still, it was better than being inside, with my thoughts bumping against each other and Raze looking at me in that intense way he had. It was both unnerving and welcome.
Which frightened me terribly.
But what did I know? I took a deep breath as I asked myself the question, leaning against the wrought iron railing and surveying the scene below. A typical evening in Paris, especially in that area. Drunks staggering about, young men wearing sweatshirts with the hoods pulled over their heads. Trying to blend in as they went about their dark deeds.
And beyond, the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower. It still dazzled me after so many years.
Just as Micah had dazzled me, which was why I had to question my feelings. I’d thought I loved him, turning to him after losing Xavier. The way he’d lied and pretended to have nothing to do with my love’s disappearance… it made me sick with rage. But at the time, I’d only known the comfort he offered. I’d fallen under his spell long before I’d finally followed him to the deserted jail that fateful night, where he’d been visiting my poor, darling Xavier.
None of it was real. I’d told myself I loved him, lied to myself about how he could help patch up my broken heart. All of it a charade. I’d come to need him, to depend upon him. Just as he had depended upon me in the same sick, twisted way.
I was more than likely fooling myself into thinking Raze was something special. He deserved better than me.
23
Naomi
“It’s incredible,” Cari murmured as the four of us made quick work of walking through the narrow streets of the ancient town.
“What is?” Gage asked.
The two of them—holding hands as always—walked in front of Raze and me.
She motioned around us with her other hand. “All of it. To think, the oldest architecture in America dates back to—what—six or seven hundred years later than any of this was built.”
“Perhaps even more than that,” I offered. “The first official record of the town dates back to 1081, but it might be much older by far.”
“Unreal,” she marveled, letting her hand graze the surface of a stone wall. Raze and I exchanged a smile at her naivete. There was so much more for her to learn, so many horizons for her to explore. She truly was like a little sister to me.
Then, I reminded myself to refrain from sharing those quiet little moments with Raze. No matter how natural it felt.
The moon was full, ripe, painting the edges of the billowing clouds which drifted around it, making them glow. They sailed over the majestic Monte Morra, which stood high above the rolling hills and mountains which surrounded it.
We were just outside the town itself by the time we approached Gil Riviera’s villa. It gleamed like a jewel nestled into the hillside, the windows which lined its walls allowing the light from inside shine to forth. It was a beacon, an oasis in the middle of old, crumbling—albeit charming—structures around it.
A winding trail led down from the entrance, to the road carved into the very hill. A wall of mortared stone separated the estate from the road, while another such wall separated the road from the drop-off just beyond. The road itself was hardly wide enough for two cars to pass one another, and the one which led up to the house was not much wider.
It would suit a man with a complicated life. Living behind a wall, high up on the hill, with only a narrow road leading to where he made his home. Little chance of an ambush from one’s enemies when that was the case—assuming the man had enemies, which Anastagio had not revealed to me.
“I doubt we can walk through the gate,” I whispered, eyeing up the very modern automatic monstrosity. “Perhaps there’s another way in somewhere on the hillside.”
With that in mind, the four of us coursed up the hill, following the stone wall which delineated the edge of Riviera’s property. Cypress and stone pines decorated the landscape, sometimes hanging over the edge of the wall.
At the rear of the property was a second gate, much smaller than the one leading from the main road. There was an alley there, barely wide enough for a car to fit down. The four of us stood there at the gate, taking in the sights just beyond.
It was beautiful, like something out of a fantasy. Lush gardens surrounded the house, the scents of which floated up to greet us. The paths around and through it were paved in gray stone which turned almost pearlescent in the moonlight.
The house itself was majestic, all three floors and three wings of it, though it wasn’t imposing. Someone had taken the time to give it a warm, homey feelin
g, if such a place could be considered homey. Tan stucco and terra cotta tiles on the roof, large, open seating areas under pergolas just dripping with juicy grapes and large, fragrant blossoms.
Whoever lived there was fortunate, indeed.
I glanced at Cari, whose eyes filled with tears she tried to conceal. I thought I might know what made her cry: she’d scraped by for so long, virtually on her own, while her father’s second family had lived in luxury. How many happy afternoons had been spent poolside, dipping into the clear water before lunching on the patio, all of it under the Italian sun?
“Come on,” she whispered, now determined.
“What do you expect to do?” Gage asked.
“Scale the wall, of course,” she nearly snarled.
“Wait.” I threw an arm in front of her, because once I’d finished admiring the scenery I’d taken note of another aspect to the villa: armed guards.
“Why does he need them?” Raze muttered.
“Wouldn’t you want to remain safe if you lived in a place like this?” Gage asked. “Guards at the front gate, guards around the house. I wouldn’t take any chances with my safety, or that of my family.”
“Yes, but why does he need to be so concerned for his safety?” Raze countered, and I couldn’t help but agree.
What, indeed, did Gil Riviera do with his time?
We were about to find out.
“Oh, my God,” Cari whispered, then clamped her hands over her mouth.
The four of us watched a handsome, middle-aged man with gray-streaked blond hair striding from side of the villa closest to us. He wore what even at a distance was clearly an expensive suit, and a large watch glittered on his wrist. Even his shoes shone as he walked toward us.
Toward the rear of the property, away from the main road. Away from the cars parked in front of the house.
“That’s him,” she confirmed. There was so much pain and wonder and sadness in her voice.
“What’s he doing?” Gage wondered aloud, as Gil seemed to sneak away from his own home. There were no guards following where he walked, which was a clue, along with the way he kept casting looks over his shoulder. Whatever he did, he didn’t want his own men to know about it.