Blue-Blooded Vamp (10 page)

I didn’t stop until the bedroom door was closed firmly behind me. I slid down the panel until I was crouched on the floor with Maisie’s necklace clutched between my trembling hands. The rumble of low male voices reached me beneath the door. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could imagine Giguhl and Adam filling Erron in on what had gone down the night Maisie died.

My own memories forced me back to that night, too. After we’d figured out Maisie was responsible for four murders under Cain’s influence, I’d entered the dream realm to try and free my twin’s subconscious from Cain. Unfortunately, his hold was too strong. Just after he forced Maisie to break the binding spell, Cain slit her throat. She bled out in my arms.

I lifted the necklace to the light. It spun in blurry, hypnotic circles. The Hekatian symbols engraved in the gold caught my eye. In my mind, I translated the words:
For she is the torchbearer, this daughter of Hekate, she will light the way
.

I snorted and closed my eyes. Maisie wouldn’t light the way for anyone. Not anymore. Not since Cain had snuffed out her flame.

I bit my lip to hold back the sobs I’d stored up. Things had been so hectic since we left New York that I hadn’t really had time to mourn my sister’s death properly. In all honesty, I hadn’t wanted to. Not because I didn’t miss her. Not because I didn’t think she deserved to be mourned. But because I worried that if I unbridled my grief, it would consume me. Far better to just be angry about it and use that anger to fuel my resolve. Anger made me a better fighter. Crying just made me weak. Then I remembered what I’d told Georgia about the only way to get over pain is to face it head-on.

Maybe it was time to take a dose of my own bitter medicine. I allowed the tears to fall. Fat, hot drops rolled down my cheeks. Sobs made my throat ache and my stomach cramp. I gripped the amulet until the metal cut into the skin. But that pain paled in comparison to the deep ache of Maisie’s loss. The void she left behind haunted me like a phantom limb.

“Maisie,” I whispered brokenly. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

My left shoulder warmed. It wasn’t the warning sting I’d felt right before Asclepius arrived, but almost like a comforting hand’s weight. Maybe it was just some trick of my mind born from a longing for connection. As much as I liked to believe my sister was communicating with me from the grave, I knew better than to indulge in the fantasy.

Maisie was dead. Period. And mixed with the pain of loss was an all-consuming guilt. Because no matter what anyone said, I felt responsible for what had happened to my sister. If only I’d seen the signs earlier. If only I’d intervened faster. If only I’d killed Cain before he’d killed her.

The irrational side of me whispered that it didn’t matter that killing Cain would have doomed us all. Given Cain’s murderous track record, I wasn’t so sure any of us would survive, anyway. It was only a matter of time before he killed again. And now that he knew how to hurt me, he’d go after each person I loved until I gave him what he wanted.

To make things worse, I’d just found out that in order to get to Cain, I’d first have to get through my father. Gods, how fucked up was that? The very idea of meeting the man who was responsible for my birth and the subsequent punishments I’d faced for carrying his blood in my veins made me nauseous. I had no interest in knowing that bastard. But if I wanted to save everyone, I’d eventually have to deal with dear old dad so I could finally ask the questions that needed to be asked.

I
was dreaming again.

I hadn’t had much sleep in the last three nights, so the fact that I was able to rest long enough to enter the REM state should have been a positive thing. But my subconscious had ulterior motives.

Maisie stood in the Sacred Grove at the mage estate in Sleepy Hollow. She wore the ceremonial chiton that identified her as the Hekatian Oracle, and she stood in front of the old stone altar in the center of the clearing. For some reason, a peacock in full display was strutting around in the background. I ignored the bird and focused on my sister.

“Maisie?” I whispered. She looked so… alive. So vibrant and healthy. So unlike the gaunt specter who haunted my waking hours in the months before she was murdered.

When I arrived, my sister smiled widely and raised her arms to greet me. I ran to her, wanting to believe her death had been the nightmare and this dream was reality. Soon, her arms were around me and I breathed in her copper and sandalwood scent. Felt her warmth and heard her pulse.

“I thought you were dead.” The words squeezed out of my tight throat in an agonized whisper.

She ignored that and pulled back to look me in the eye. “There’s no time for that. I’ve had a vision.”

My stomach tightened. From the sound of her voice, this prophecy wasn’t going to be positive. Not that they ever were anymore. “Tell me.”

She stepped back and took a deep breath. I crossed my arms to brace myself for the news. “The Great Goddess Hekate has blessed me with a vision. I have painted the symbols and am ready to deliver my interpretation.”

In her role as Oracle, Maisie had prophetic dreams and then took those images and painted them to interpret the message the gods were sending her.

I nodded to encourage her to continue, but the scene shifted. Suddenly, hundreds of other beings filled the space. In fact, the area looked almost exactly as it had the night of the botched peace treaty signing in New York.

Over to the side, a black dog entered the clearing. I instantly recognized the animal as Asclepius. He didn’t approach me, though, just hung off to the side, watching the proceedings.

On a raised dais behind Maisie, High Councilman Orpheus, Despina Tanith Severinus, and Queen Maeve watched over the proceedings like judges. Behind me, mages, vampires, faeries, werewolves, and a smattering of demons waited to hear my sister’s verdict. I frowned. Why did I suddenly feel like I was on trial?

Maisie didn’t seem bothered by the sudden appearance of so many observers. She raised her arms and called out in a loud, clear voice, “I will be murdered.”

Gasps filled the clearing. I frowned, confused. Time tangled in on itself.

“I know the identity of my killer,” Maisie continued in a dire voice. She paused dramatically. In real life, Maisie had been murdered by Cain. But I suddenly had a very bad feeling that his name was not the one on her lips. “Sabina Kane!”

“No!” I yelled. “It was Cain!”

But my denials were lost among the outraged shouts of the dark race leaders and the angry boos and growls from the crowd. Suddenly, the mass of beings swarmed me. Rough hands pulled my clothes, my hair. Sharp nails scratched my face. Someone punched me in the gut. There were too many of them, so all I could do was cover my head with my arms and scream impotent pleas for mercy.

Over the cacophony, Maisie’s voice rang out loud and clear. “How could you do it, sister? How could you kill me?”

“It wasn’t me!” I screamed.

My attackers knocked me to the ground. I blinked through the blood running in my eyes and saw a feminine figure standing over me. At first, I thought it was Maisie come to do me in. But Maisie didn’t have midnight-black hair. Plus, the instant the female appeared, all of my attackers backed away and bowed like they were in the presence of royalty—or a goddess.

“Lilith?” I whispered.

The Great Mother’s lush red lips spread into a seductive smile. “Finally, you’re mine.”

She pulled back her lips, revealing black metal fangs.

Time slowed. Lilith launched at me, her fangs aimed at my jugular. In a flash, my entire life passed through my mind’s eye. All the beings I’d killed. Everyone I’d hurt and betrayed. Every mistake I’d ever made, every lie.

I wanted to close my eyes but couldn’t. A scream ripped from my chest an instant before the fangs broke my—

I woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. My heart
galloped in my chest. Cold sweat glued my clothes to trembling limbs.

Beside me, Adam turned over restlessly. I wiped my brow and glanced toward the window. Dim light shone through the black curtains. Judging from the weakening pressure on my solar plexus, it was close to dusk.

Since going back to sleep meant the possibility of more fucked up dreams, I carefully crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Inside, I closed the door behind me and clicked on the overhead light.

The woman staring back at me from the mirror looked haunted—or hunted.

I splashed cold water on my face. It woke me up like a slap in the face. “Keep it together, Sabina,” I said to my reflection. The dream about Maisie had been just that—a dream.

While it was understandable that my subconscious needed to sort through the guilt I felt about Maisie’s death, I wasn’t about to tempt fate and go back to sleep. With my luck, Asclepius would show up again and remind me about my promise. No doubt that’s why he’d been eavesdropping in my dream in the first place. The thought of him analyzing the contents of my subconscious made me want to rinse my mind out with soap.

It looked like sleeping had become almost as dangerous as being awake.

I grabbed a quick shower and dressed before heading out to the living area. When I tiptoed through the room, Adam was still asleep. I decided not to wake him. Just like me, he’d had little sleep since we’d left New York.

The night Maisie died, she’d still been under Cain’s influence and kidnapped Adam. She’s strung him up and whipped him until he’d passed out from blood loss and
pain. However, the physical wounds he’d suffered were nothing compared to the emotional ones. I’d lost my sister, but Adam had lost his best friend. A best friend who’d tried to murder him not once, but twice.

So, yeah, I figured he needed the rest.

I walked out into the living room of the apartment and found Erron and Giguhl sitting in front of the suite’s laptop.

“Hey,” I said, surprised to see them up. “I didn’t expect anyone else would be up yet.”

Until I’d spoken, neither had noticed me, but now Giguhl looked up from the screen and blinked. “Oh, hey, Red. We’ve been up for hours, actually.”

I frowned. “What? Why?”

Erron looked up finally. “I got up first because the demon snores like an asthmatic wildebeest.”

Giguhl nudged the mage with his elbow. “Please, it’s not that bad.”

“You’re right.” Erron shuddered. “But the dry humping was fucking terrifying.”

I raised an accusing brow at the demon. Giguhl’s randy nocturnal activities were well documented. Several months earlier, in fact, he’d tried to sleep-sex Adam.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was dreaming about having a three-way with a hot demoness and a nymph,” the demon said with an eye roll. But judging from his defensive tone, he’d been dreaming of something—or someone—embarrassing. “Anyway, I woke up not long after because I’m still stuck on New York time. We both figured since we were already awake we might as well get a head start on tracking down Dicky’s clue.”

The scent of coffee beckoned me toward the kitchen. I yawned and headed toward lifesaving caffeine as I spoke. “Oh yeah? Find anything good?”

Giguhl leaned back and put his claws behind his head. “Oh yes. Turns out Pasquino is pretty famous around Rome.”

I stopped pouring coffee and looked at them over the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. “Wait, it’s a person?”

The demon and the Recreant shared a grin. “No, actually,” Erron said. “It’s a statue.”

They waved me over to the laptop for explanation. A website on Roman tourist sites popped on-screen. The site showed a picture of a timeworn statue without arms or a head. “Pasquino is one of Rome’s famous talking statues.”

“
Talking
statues?”

“They don’t literally talk,” the demon explained. “But apparently there’s an old tradition of people using these statues to post poems criticizing the government, and they’re all signed as if the statue wrote it.”

“Hmm,” I said, going in closer. According to the site, Pasquino was the original statue used for the purpose. “Where is it?”

“It’s near the Piazza Navona,” Erron explained. He clicked on a map link, pulling up a layout of the area in question. “It’s like a fifteen-minute walk from here, actually.”

“Well, that’s something,” I said.

“Assuming we’re right and this is the correct Pasquino,” Erron said. “We’re thinking your father probably left a clue on the statue for you. So all we have to do is go check it out and find the right one.”

At that moment, Adam appeared in the doorway. “Evening,” he said. He wore nothing but boxers, sleep-mussed hair, and a yawn. He looked so adorable I almost forgot about the statue as my mind filled with images of me inviting him back to bed for some sleep-sexing of our own.

“Hey, mancy!” Giguhl called, interrupting my naughty thoughts. “Erron and I found out what the clue means.”

Adam perked up. “Oh?”

While Giguhl and the Recreant talked over each other in their rush to explain their findings, I got up for more coffee. While I poured, I thought about whether to talk to the guys about Asclepius’s appearance in my dream. Probably not a coincidence he showed up on my first night in Italy. He’d promised not to demand results for a few days, but I assumed more of these subtle reminders would follow until he confronted me directly. Since I didn’t really expect Georgia’s inquiries to lead anywhere, I probably needed to do some asking around of my own while we were out, which meant letting the dudes know what was what.