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Tristan nodded toward the vampire and faery, who’d come through the airshaft a couple of moments earlier. I noted that all of Tristan’s people wore small golden pins bearing his sword and chalice symbol.
“Now that Horus and Calyx have returned, we need to move to the safe house up north.”
“Excuse me?” I interrupted. “But how in the hell are we going to defeat him if we leave Rome?”
Tristan tilted his head. “Your ignorance is breathtaking. The trick with Cain is to stay a step ahead. If we’re in Rome, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
My eyes flared and my fists clenched.
“Sabina…,” Adam began, no doubt trying to intercept an outburst. I held up a hand to cut him off. I drew in a long, slow breath through my nose. Despite my father’s crappy personality, I needed him if I was going to defeat Cain.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve had a really shitty night,” I said. “But I appreciate you helping us.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed, like he expected a trick.
“Really. But how did you guys manage to find me?”
Tristan’s gaze swiveled to Adam. The mancy held up his cell phone. “A little mortal magic.”
I frowned. “What?”
He smirked. “Your phone had a GPS tracker.”
I remembered then that Cain had my cell phone in his pocket the entire time. “Well, thank the gods for small favors.”
“Speaking of,” Tristan said, “before we continue, I need all of your cell phones and other means of communication.”
“Why?” I asked, making no effort to hide the suspicion in my tone.
“Because from this moment on, we’re going on blackout. We can’t risk Cain tracking our devices like we tracked yours. Plus, I need to be sure none of you are going to communicate with anyone who might be tortured to betray our location.”
His logic, annoyingly, made total sense. Besides, if we needed to talk to anyone back in the States, Adam could just flash there. Since Cain still had my cell, I looked to Adam. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and passed it to Tristan.
“Thank you for understanding,” Tristan said. He dropped the phone to the ground and smashed it to tiny pieces with his boots.
“So what’s the plan, people?” Giguhl asked.
Tristan shot the demon an annoyed look, like Giguhl had overstepped. He answered, but when he did, he spoke to me as if I’d asked instead of my minion. “First, we need to get out of Rome. We have a farm near Tuscany. Between me and Lazarus”—he nodded at Adam—“we should be able to flash all of us there.”
“How far is it?” I asked.
“Far enough,” he evaded. “If we head out now, we can reach it before sunrise.”
“Does this mean you’ve changed you mind about working together?” I said.
Tristan’s mouth hardened into a thin line. “No. It means I can’t trust you to leave Rome on your own, so I’m taking you away myself.”
I suddenly understood why so many people bitched about having parents. All my life, I’d longed for a benevolent parental figure to nurture and support me. But if my experience with Tristan so far was a taste of what being parented was like, I decided being an orphan was the way to go.
I opened my mouth to tell Tristan I had no intention of allowing him to hide me away while he got to have all the fun, but Adam elbowed me. Shooting him a glare, I noticed Giguhl was making cease-and-desist gestures, too. Traitors.
“I believe your friends are trying to hint that you should hold your tongue. Smart of them,” Tristan said, his tone dry. “I’m well acquainted with the infamous Kane temper and I assure you it will do little to sway me.”
I crossed my arms and glared at my father. Why the hell had I wanted to work with him again? Oh, right. I didn’t have a choice. But I suppose he was right. Blowing up at him now might convince him to change his mind and leave us there. Besides, I’d have plenty of time to convince him to work with us once we were in a safer place.
I forced my shoulders to relax and cranked my lips up into what I hoped was a genuine smile. Judging from Tristan’s dubious expression, I failed. Still, I forged ahead. “Lead the way, Dad.”
Chapter 18
When Tristan had said we were going to a farm, I expected something with wide-open fields and possibly a red barn. A few cows, maybe a tractor—that kind of thing. Instead, Tristan’s “farm” was really a gorgeous villa set among Tuscany’s rolling hills. The place looked like something from a sweeping period piece where the dashing Italian count sweeps his virgin bride away for a deflowering.
We materialized at the base of a hill. The villa sat above us like a genteel reminder of an era gone by. On our way up, we passed a small building on the right. From my brief glimpse, it seemed to be some sort of family chapel, judging from the small gold cross over the doorway, which was so low I’d have to duck to enter. Across the path from this squat building was a small rose garden. I’d have been charmed if I wasn’t so on edge.
Tristan and the vampire whose name I hadn’t gotten yet led the way. My senses were on high alert for signs of trouble. Only instead of finding any, they were overcome by the countryside’s deafening silence.
Beside me, Giguhl inhaled deeply. “The air smells weird.”
“You’ve been in the city too long,” Adam said. “What you’re smelling is fresh air.”
Giguhl’s nose wrinkled. “No, it’s not that.” He sniffed again. “I think it’s cow shit.”
Adam laughed. “Like I said, fresh country air.”
“Are you coming?” Tristan snapped from farther up the hill. Obviously he wasn’t as impressed by the idyllic setting. Part of me was starting to wonder if Tristan Graecus was ever impressed by anything.
At the top of the hill, we reached a gravel courtyard. Buildings surrounded the area—the manor house, a small brick structure filled with chairs and tables for gatherings, and another medium-sized building that I couldn’t identify without further investigation. Beyond the building, black shapes set against the near-dawn sky implied an orchard or copse of trees just beyond.
“Now for the introductions.” Tristan started at the far end of the line. “Horus and Calyx are our weapons experts.”
The male, Horus, was as wide as he was tall. The hilt of his sword jutted out from behind his dark red ponytail. Both the weapon and the shade of hair told me he was probably a few hundred years old. As for the fae, she was… surprising. Most female faeries were petite. She was certainly shorter than me, but her finely muscled frame made her appear taller. A quiver of arrows was strung to her back and she leaned against a longbow. They both nodded curt greetings.
