I leaned back in my chair and tossed the phone onto the table.
“No news?” Adam asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing useful.”
“So,” Alexis said, polishing off her bag of blood, “what time do we head out?”
I glanced at the windows. The gray hues of evening had descended over the city, but brilliant orange streaks still flashed on the horizon. “As soon as it’s full dark.”
Alexis took a second bag of blood from the refrigerator. “Where is Persephone staying?” She pierced the silicone with her fangs and started gulping. Adam watched her with a look of distaste. He might be more comfortable with the idea of me taking his own blood, but I guess watching Alexis gulp down cold type O neg wasn’t the most appetizing sight.
I ignored him and wrote down the address on a pad. “I’ve been thinking, and I’d feel a lot better if Erron went with you.”
“Why?” Alexis demanded.
“Because that way if there’s trouble, he can flash you out.”
She laughed, exposing her blood-tinged fangs. “Sabina, don’t be ridiculous. I think I can handle myself.”
“What if Cain decides to use you to get to Sabina?” Adam pointed out.
“I’ll kill him.” Alexis shrugged.
“Not possible. Remember?”
“Shit,” Alexis said. “Okay, fine. I’ll take the Recreant with me. But he better stay out of my way. This is vampire business.”
“Trust me, he may look like a slacker,” Adam said, “but I trust him to get my back when shit goes down.”
Alexis glanced at me for confirmation. “It’s true. He’s a great wingman.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Alexis said, surprising me. When we’d worked together in New York, she’d spent most of her time questioning my skills and accusing me of losing my edge. But I guess we’d made more progress than I thought.
“All right,” Giguhl said, clapping his claws. “Who’s ready to go meet Sabina’s dad?”
Chapter 11
Tourists swarmed across the Spanish Steps like hungry ants. In the piazza below the steps, the lights of the Fontana della Barcaccia glowed on the eager faces of those who tossed pennies into the blue waters hoping for a blessing from Poseidon.
The public location should have added a measure of safety, but I was anxious. I suppose some nerves were understandable given I was about to meet my father for the first time. But this wasn’t your average family reunion. Especially when I expected Cain to swoop in like that creepy uncle no one ever wanted to invite.
Adam lounged on the steps. He’d purchased gelato from a cart in the square and nibbled at it while staring meditatively into the fountain. Despite his fairly convincing ruse, his shoulders were tense and his gaze alert. Meanwhile, Giguhl, in cat form, crouched in a tree on the balcony level below me, ready to get my back should the need arise.
I stood high above them in the upper piazza in front of the Trinità dei Monti church. I’d chosen the location because of the obelisk that rose at my back, preventing a rear attack. Plus, from this vantage point, I could see the entire steps, the plaza below, as well as the Keats-Shelley House on the left.
After standing in the cold until half past eight, I wondered if Tristan changed his mind. But just as I was about to call the mission, he arrived.
It wasn’t that he stood out in the crowd. Quite the opposite. Among the hunched shoulders, heavy winter coats, and hats of the mortals at the base of the steps, he fit right in. In fact, he blended too well. Instead, it was the overpowering punch in my gut that warned me a real magical threat entered the vicinity. The power vibrated in my molars and made my hackles rise like tiny daggers.
I rose to my full height, raised my chin, and stayed put. If he was making me jump through hoops to get this meeting, he could come to me. He might know more about me than I did about him, but I’d be damned if his first impression of me had any hint of vulnerability.
He’d made it past Adam and had begun his ascent up the steps. As if compelled, the crowd between us parted. Time slowed. Wind picked up the edges of his black coat, which flew out around him like black wings. His pace was confident, unhurried as he climbed. Deliberate. A black hat cast shadows over his face, revealing only a strong jaw and lips set into a hard line.
Closer now. My pulse ratcheted up with each step he took. A wide circle of power surrounded him and reached me well before his body did. Several steps behind him, Adam kept pace with his movements. Far enough back not to raise alarm but close enough to intervene. A flash of gray in my peripheral told me Giguhl had taken position as well. I kept my gaze on Tristan and prayed they wouldn’t jump the gun and spook him off.
Even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. Whether he held me in his thrall through magical means or he was really that magnetic, I couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter because my eyes couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave him.
He made it to the top of the stairs and started my way. His chin tipped down, but I could feel his gaze like a spotlight. But then he stopped short. Utterly still and alert. There was no sense of him hesitating or doubting his next move. Instead, I felt more like I was being judged. Weighed and measured. I stayed still, not wanting to betray one hint of insecurity.
You’d better be worth all this fucking drama, I thought silently at him.
That hard mouth quirked, as if he’d read my mind. He moved forward, his pace determined. My knees locked and a cold chill passed over me that felt a lot like fear.
It’s not every day a girl meets her father for the first time.
He pulled off his hat, revealing a head of thick black hair and piercing blue eyes.
I gasped. He looked exactly like the painting I’d seen of him in the library at the mage compound in New York.
It really was Tristan Graecus. My father was alive. Gods help me.
I opened my mouth to say… something, but a frigid wind rushed through the piazza. Tristan froze, lifted his chin, as if sniffing the air like a predator tensed for flight… or fight.
His head jerked toward me. “I told you to trust no one.”
My first instinct was to get defensive and tell the guy off. What kind of idiot did he think I was to expect me to come here without backup? I put my hands on my hips. “I—”
Before I could say more, he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the street. At first, I was too shocked to resist, but then my brain started working again. I dug my heels in. “Wait just a damned minute,” I yelled.
He paused to shoot me an icy glare. “Cain is here,” he hissed.
I jerked my gaze toward the piazza. It took only a second for my eyes to spot the fire-engine-red head at the base of the steps. Emerald-green eyes flashed with recognition. A snake smile spread across full lips.
Cain.
“Fuck!” My stomach dropped like it had been pitched from the top of St. Peter’s Basilica.
“Giguhl!” I shouted. “Go help Adam.”
The cat sped off down the steps, winding through people’s legs. Adam, meanwhile, was running up, his gaze flicking between Cain and me.
“We’ve got to go!” Tristan urged, pulling me.
I jerked my arm from his grasp. “No! I’m not leaving my friends.”
“You’re who he wants.”
While we argued, my eyes were on Cain’s progress. He moved in an unhurried manner, like a man out for a stroll. But despite the languorous pace, his intent was clear. Cain was coming for me.
“My people are down there, too. They’ll aid your friends.”
As he spoke, I finally noticed a redhead, a male with a ponytail, break free from the crowd. Nearby, a willowy blonde wearing brown leggings and a green tunic wound her way toward Cain, too. The male had vampire written all over him, and the female was most likely fae.
Before they reached Cain, Adam came up behind the father of vampires and threw a small black bag at him. The bag bounced off of Cain’s head and erupted into a small puff of black smoke. He whipped around to see who’d attacked him, but Adam had already disappeared.
I searched the crowd for signs of the mancy. He waved at me from ten steps below and mouthed, Go!
That was all the permission Tristan needed. He grabbed me again and we took off running like the hounds of hell were chomping at our feet. I was surprised he didn’t just flash us out.
The last thing I saw before we exited the area was Cain dancing down the steps like a crazy man. His jerky movements told me that Zen’s vexing spell was already working its magic. But it wouldn’t last long.
“Where are we going?” I wasn’t having trouble keeping up with Tristan’s pace, but I needed answers.
“Safer ground. Faster!”
Like rats in a maze, we wound our way through the narrow Roman streets, dodging tourists and cars. Eventually, we burst out of the narrow streets and into the Piazza Barberini. The enormous Trevi Fountain loomed over the square. The lights from inside the water up-lit the faces of the stone gods, giving them an ominous appearance. Tristan ran straight through the piazza and turned onto Via Veneto.
Just past the piazza, he slowed and veered right to a small church. By this point, my legs burned from exertion and I was thankful for the respite. Tristan tossed a few euros at the outraged monk standing at the door as he pushed me through it.
“Where are we?” I whispered.
“The crypt of Santa Maria della Concezione,” he said in a clipped tone.
The chapel itself was pretty standard, but below it was the creepiest tomb in Christendom. But I didn’t know all that when I followed him in.
All I knew at that moment was that the instant I crossed the threshold into the crypt, every synapse in my body flared. The low-level vibration that usually hit me when I entered a cemetery exploded into a full-on shock, like I’d shoved my finger in a light socket. I stopped and placed a hand on the wall for support.
“Let’s go,” Tristan said, nudging me.
“Give me a second,” I gritted out, my eyelids shut tight. I was incapable of moving while my body adjusted to the onslaught of energy. I swallowed and tried to get a hold of my galloping pulse.