She was tired, overwrought by recent events, and on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Asking for the truth seemed a small thing.
“Like what?” The detective paused in mid step and nodded a silent greeting to an agent who walked past them in a hurry.
“Like I have grown another head,” she said.
An amused smile graced Lane’s face for the briefest of moments before he answered, “There’s something about you—”
Lavinia frowned. “Something like what?”
The detective’s nostrils flared, then he shook his head and shrugged. “Not sure. Just a hunch.” He resumed walking, exchanging a few words with the other agents who passed by.
Finally, he stopped in front of a dark paneled door and opened it for her. “It’s not much, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
Lavinia stepped into an airy foyer and thought his idea of the place being “not much” greatly differed from hers, but she didn’t voice her opinion. Instead, she walked further inside, taking in the large room with several other doors around. She counted six entrances in all. “Which one is the bedroom?”
“First to your right.” Lane moved to open the door for her. “It has an en suite bathroom, and breakfast will be brought to you tomorrow morning.”
Lavinia entered the room and recoiled. A strong sense of dread gripped her heart, and she brought her hand to her chest.
“What’s happening?” Lane asked.
Lavinia shook from head to toe. “Something evil,” she said. Her teeth rattled in her mouth. “Blood—” The metallic tang of stale blood coated her tongue, and she gagged. Her throat burned. A scream escaped her mouth as she collapsed to the cold marble tiles.
Unbidden, the image of a young woman appeared in front of her. She was dirty and had holes all over her arms.
Lavinia blinked, trying to get rid of the unwanted intrusion, but the woman didn’t go away. Instead, the hallucination became clearer. The woman’s eyes stared in horror at Lavinia, and her mouth opened in a silent shout that contorted her features. Lavinia’s werewolf teeth lengthened in her mouth. Blood coated her tongue, and she gagged and screamed at the same time for the nightmare to stop.
“Lavinia!” The detective reached for her shoulder, but she jerked away from his touch. He raised his hands high. “It’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.”
A searing pain tore her apart. In her panicked state, Lavinia mumbled, “It’s too early.”
“What’s too early?” The hovering shape of the detective came in and out of focus as she tried to stay awake.
“The full moon is in two days,” she said, her voice hoarse as if she had been shouting for hours.
“Are you in the shifting throes?” The man crouched close to her, regarding her with the same curious stare from earlier.
“Yes,” she answered, only to take stock of her condition and realize that it was the wrong answer. “No—” She shook her head, unable to process what was happening to her. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Okay.” He stood and offered her his hand, but then thought better of it and lowered it by his side. “Do you feel better now?”
This time, before answering, Lavinia assessed her situation. The sensation of doom that had followed that strong sense of despair was gone. “I’m better.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She didn’t need to think about this answer. “No. I’d rather forget all about it.”
11
Adrian sat on top of Castel Sant’ Angelo.
He didn’t know how he had reached the medieval fortress overlooking the Tiber. Stale blood coated his mouth. He had raided the first blood bank he’d encountered in his hasty escape from the bridge and gorged on bagged blood from donors. The place had been deserted when he forced the locks—a small blessing on an otherwise hellish night.
At least, he wouldn’t have to explain to the Directive why he had gone on a rampage, and almost drained a woman. The mortal police would investigate the blood bank’s pillage, but Adrian had ensured the cops wouldn’t find any prints.
Barely sated, his eyes staring at the dark waters of the river, Adrian tried to find his center again. Never in his long life had he felt at a loss like he did now. The unbearable thirst wreaking havoc in his neat existence was now officially out of control.
Adrian couldn’t lie to himself any longer. He was powerless to stop the attacks from coming. Every episode was stronger and longer than the previous. Soon, it would overcome him completely. The next time, his prey wouldn’t escape his fangs. He wasn’t even sure how he had stopped himself this time. That woman had been lucky.
He had been lucky.
The Directive’s law regarding feeding on live donors didn’t admit ignorance. Undead could only drink from willing partners. Forcing a mortal against her or his will was a punishable offense. Draining a donor would unleash the Directive’s fury. Death by Sun was usually the sentence. For a day-walker like Adrian, decapitation and a wooden stake would do the trick. His corpse would be exposed to the sun afterward.
Adrian wished he were a religious man like Marcellus had been. His undead father had been more than two thousand years old when a vampire hunter killed him during the Dark Ages. Adrian had always suspected that Marcellus had made it easy for the hunter to find him because he wanted to die. A believer, his maker had never embraced his vampire nature and lived his long life trying to atone for his sins.
Differently from his maker, Adrian loved being immortal and wasn’t ready to die. He was also painfully aware that whatever bit of luck he had experienced tonight, it wouldn’t last. That voice in his mind had stopped him in the nick of time. He couldn’t count on the strange phenomenon to happen twice to save his hide.
As much as he hated to be in Lando’s debt, Adrian’s life was at stake.
Several minutes later, after a long walk along the Lungotevere, Adrian had regained a semblance of normalcy and stood before Lando’s Roman residence in the exclusive Parioli neighborhood. Big and with an opulent façade, Carenzi House was as flamboyant as its owner.
A brass knocker shaped like a lion’s face waited for Adrian’s touch. If the situation weren’t dire, he would have started laughing. Never in a million years would’ve Adrian thought he’d need his blood-brother’s help.
Paolo, Lando’s mortal majordomo opened the door at Adrian’s first knock. If the man was surprised to see Adrian, his face didn’t betray any sentiment. Rather, Paolo moved to the side and greeted Adrian with a small bow of his head.
“Duke Alberti,” Paolo said, observing Lando’s obsolete usage of conceited titles that didn’t mean anything any longer in Italy. “Please come inside.” He motioned for Adrian to follow him into the house.
Adrian stepped into the lavish foyer with its gilded décor and the overabundance of mirrors. Instead of electric illumination, golden candelabra lit the high-ceilinged room, one of Lando’s many affectations. Nothing had changed since the last time Adrian had visited more than a decade ago.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Paolo motioned for him to sit in one of the settees artfully arranged in groups of two and three across the room. “May I offer refreshments? We have some excellent B Negative raised vegan in the house.”
At the mention of the blood offer, Adrian’s fangs lowered by their own volition. He maintained a pleasant expression and politely refused the beverage before lowering himself into a dainty piece with spindly legs and cushions of robin-blue brocade.
“Count Carenzi will descend shortly. If you need anything, just ring the bell.” Paolo pointed at the antique bronze bell on the coffee table by Adrian’s settee.
Adrian thanked him and was left alone with his thoughts, but not for long.
The sound of feminine giggles and laughter wafted into the foyer. Lando stormed into the room a moment later, eyeing Adrian with a bright smile. At his side, a blonde with the physique of a pinup stared at Adrian with big blue eyes.
“Dear
Adrian, it’s so nice to see you,” Lando said, pulling the woman closer for a loud kiss.
Adrian’s nerves were too frayed to exchange pleasantries with his blood-brother. “Can we talk alone?” he asked, pointing at the blonde clinging to Lando’s side.
His brother’s eyebrow shot high before the corner of his mouth turned up into a calculating smile. “Darling, can you wait for me in my playroom?”
The woman gave Adrian a wink, then turned and giggled when Lando’s hand playfully landed on her rump.
Once they were alone, Adrian said, “I need to look at the Satan Archives.”
“So you said on the phone.” Lando went to the antique liquor cabinet under the large arched window. He poured wine into two matching crystal flutes and walked back to Adrian. “Why?” He handed him one of the flutes.
“It’s personal—” Adrian started.
Lando shook his head. “I’m afraid that only the truth will open my library.” As if he didn’t have a care in the world, he lowered himself into one of the settees and crossed his long legs at the ankles, regarding Adrian with an amused expression. He rolled the flute’s stem between his fingers before taking a sip.
Adrian knew his blood-brother was a curious man who would not be bought with promises of money because he was as rich as Adrian and could buy anything he wanted. It was what he couldn’t buy that interested Lando, and Adrian had just provided him with a priceless treat.
Sipping from his flute, Adrian gagged as his stomach revolted. He stood at once, ready to flee.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lando stood and grabbed the crystal from Adrian’s shaky hand. “That’s a rare vintage you just spilled all over my Persian rug.”
Adrian swayed and had to reach out to the wall to steady himself. “I’m sick,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Sick?” Lando placed the flute back on the liquor cabinet. “You are a vampire. One of the perks of being undead is that we don’t get sick. Ever.”
Adrian locked eyes with Lando. “And yet, I’m sick.” A tremor ran through him, leaving him exposed to Lando’s perusal.
His blood-brother frowned. “You are sick,” he finally said. “What’s ailing you?”
“I don’t know.” Adrian feared he was going to have an episode any moment now. He eyed the hallway.
“What are your symptoms?” Lando asked, walking to the entrance of the foyer as if to cut Adrian’s escape route.
“An insatiable thirst is consuming me,” Adrian answered, and in speaking the words, an enormous weight lifted from his chest. “It’s dark… and undeniable.”
12
Lavinia was tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept or had a proper meal. On top of that, she was having hallucinations. What was happening to her? Had Carolina’s death unhinged something in her?
Maybe she should have remained in the guest apartment the detective had offered her and try to rest, but her nerves had been too frayed to remain alone with her thoughts, so she had asked him to take her somewhere else that was equally safe. Lane had opted for one of the empty meeting rooms. After tapping on several doors, they finally found one that was unused.
“I apologize it took me so long—” Lane’s voice echoed from outside, muffled by the closed door.
Raising her head from the large wooden table of the meeting room, she watched as Lane pushed the door open with his hip and entered, bearing a cafeteria tray.
“It’s not much, but you need some sustenance,” the detective said, pushing the tray toward her. “I’m sorry, but the guy manning the night shift at the cafeteria left an hour ago. Family problems or something to that effect.”
“Thank you.” She looked at the bagged croissant from the vending machine and the cappuccino in the plastic cup. Her stomach gurgled, making her blush.
The detective smiled in encouragement as she tore the plastic open and bit a big chunk from the croissant. She washed the second bite with the cappuccino that was too hot. The pastry was gone by the third bite, and she burned her throat with the rest of the scalding beverage.
Lane frowned. “I always forget how much the living eat. I’ll go fetch some more—” He made to rise from his seat, but Lavinia waved him down.
“You must retire soon,” she said.
Even in her preoccupied state, she had noticed that the vampire’s eyes often cut toward the large window behind her. Dawn neared, and he needed to reach a safe place himself before the first light of day would illuminate the morning sky. Lavinia pitied the undead. She loved the moment when the night sky brightened, and both moonlight and sunlight existed at the same time. It was magical.
“Yes, I have less than thirty minutes left, but don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone,” Lane said. “I’ve contacted one of my diurnal colleagues. Her name is Maia Conti, and she’s a werewolf. Maia will take care of you during the day, and I’ll be back in the late evening.”
Fear gripped Lavinia. “Is this werewolf going to report me to the Wolf Council?”
Lane shook his head. “As I told you when we met, the Directive is interested in solving the mystery of Carolina’s death, not in enforcing the Half-breed Census, which I strongly disagree with in any case. I think it’s barbaric to catalogue people based on their parents’ race, only to use it against them.”
The Half-breed Census was one of the Wolf Council’s many tools to regulate the purity of the race in Italy. In recent years, extremist fringes from other shifter breeds had adopted the Wolf Council’s stance on mixed couples’ offspring, creating a racist environment that made the lives of people like Lavinia hell.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Lavinia said.
Lane interrupted her with a raised finger and a gentle smile. “I’m only doing my job.” Soft steps resonated from the hallways. “Maia is already here,” he said with a relieved sight and pushed his chair back, standing.
A beautiful woman with ebony skin and the most stunning pair of liquid eyes Lavinia had ever seen appeared when Lane opened the door at the first knock.
“Maia, thank you for coming on such short notice,” the detective said. “Lavinia, this is Maia Conti, the Directive’s senior psychologist. Maia, this is Lavinia.”
The psychologist walked to her. “Pleasure to meet you, Lavinia,” she said in a cultivated British accent.
Lavinia took the Maia’s proffered hand and immediately felt an affinity for the she-wolf. It was also nice to see a woman of their species in a position of power inside the Directive. Maybe the Directive was a better institution than she had been led to believe it was. Maybe it was just the shifter world that was backward. On top of being racist, the werewolf society was male-dominated, and the few sanctioned alpha she-wolves fought tooth and nail to maintain their titles.
“I must leave, but I’ll be back as soon as I rise,” the detective said, rushing to the exit.
“It’s so inconvenient to be under the rule of the sun, don’t you think?” Maia asked when they were alone.
“I don’t know how they can cope.” Lavinia loved to bask in the sunrays. She had accepted the night shift at the pub because it paid better and left her time to study during the day, but she looked forward to working days.
“Lane mentioned that you had a strong reaction when you entered the guest apartment and that you haven’t slept yet,” Maia said, looking at her with a motherly expression. Her eyes then cut to the tray with the crumbles and empty plastic cup. “You had something to eat at least, but you still need to rest, though.”
“I can sleep here—” Lavinia eyed the small couch against the wall.
“Nonsense. I live nearby and can work from home today. You’ll be my guest as I take care of some boring stuff I’ve been putting off for some time.” Maia motioned for Lavinia to stand. “And I’ll even have something hot ready for you when you wake up.”
Suspicious by nature and careful by necessity, Lavinia studied the woman in front of her, looking for any sign that Maia had secondary motive
s for her offer. She couldn’t find any and nodded. “Thank you.” As she rose, her legs buckled under her.
Maia was immediately at her side, helping her up. “Do you think you can walk a block?”
“Yes. I’m not sure what happened,” Lavinia answered, once her head stopped spinning.
“Trauma, stress, lack of sleep, lack of a proper meal…” Maia ticked the items of the list, raising her fingers one by one. “Pick one.” She smiled.
Lavinia smiled back, but the episode had felt different somehow. Since she didn’t know how to explain it, she waited for her dizziness to lessen, and then followed the psychologist outside.
The short walk from the Directive’s headquarters to Maia’s apartment restored Lavinia’s senses. By the time the she-wolf opened her apartment’s door, Lavinia felt her usual self, albeit tired and still hungry.
Maia’s place was sophisticated, but not intimidating. Resting on top of a hill, the house had a glorious view of the rest of the neighborhood. She gave Lavinia a quick tour before opening a room. “This is the guestroom, and there’s en suite bathroom you can use if you want to refresh yourself.”
“Thank you.” As soon as Maia closed the door behind her, Lavinia sank onto the bed and Giulio’s spell prompted her to fall asleep.
Late in the afternoon, the smell of bread, fresh from the oven, wafted into the guestroom and woke Lavinia. She paddled through the corridor and reached the kitchen where Maia was placing a loaf of white bread on a rack—the kind with the soft crust used to make toast and fancy sandwiches.
“Slept well?” the woman asked as she moved to the fridge.
“I sure needed it.” Lavinia grabbed a chair from under the table and watched as Maia removed marmalade jars and savory spreads and placed them in front of Lavinia.
“It’s not a proper high tea, but close enough,” Maia said. Her expression became serious, and she tilted her head, looking at Lavinia with a sweet smile. “May I ask you something?”
Lavinia’s first instinct was to say no, but she nodded instead because the woman had been beyond nice to her. In the back of her mind, there was also a nagging suspicion that Lane had chosen the psychologist for a reason.
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