Mr. Alexander’s eyes tightened, as if he found her mercenary sensibilities distasteful. “I believe our interests align. You want knowledge and power, and we want your help. We’re prepared to offer whatever carrots are necessary to ensure that happens.”
Cally wondered how far they’d go. “Such as?”
Mr. Alexander smiled again, snake-like and cold. “The current balance of your bank account is six thousand, three hundred and twelve dollars. We could add two zeros to that.”
She stilled. He was probably right, though she hadn’t checked since she made the most recent large payment to a fishing boat captain. Had they seen that? Had they wondered? “I don’t like you prying into my affairs.”
“Of course not,” he said congenially. “Who would?” He leaned forward. “But we’re not playing games. There’s too much at stake. I needed to know who you are, who we’re placing our trust in.”
“And what did you find?” Cally asked, keeping her voice calm with an effort. Had they discovered her connection to Antoine? To Gabe?
“Calista Emily Davis, born March 7, 2000, at Newton-Wellesley Hospital in Boston,” he recited, watching her as he did. “Mother died in childbirth, father is semi-retired, never remarried. Raised in Milton, where your father still lives. Only child. Graduated from MIT, class of ’22, with a master’s in computer science, specializing in threat analysis. Currently working as a contractor in cybersecurity.”
Darian watched her too, his head cocked slightly to one side, but Mr. Alexander hadn’t finished.
“Your early years suggest a sharp, independent nature. High academic performance. No criminal record, though some minor infractions—trespassing citation in your teens. No long-term relationships. You rent an apartment in Allston.
“Your background in taekwondo is of note, in which you hold a third-dan black belt and have placed in several competitions—though none in the past year.” He paused for a self-satisfied smirk. “Driven, competitive, and, if I may say, not easily impressed. But we do try.”
Cally released the breath she’d been holding, slow and subtle. No mention of Antoine, of fishing boats, of fires in dojangs or trips to police headquarters. “Is that all?”
Mr. Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Well, would you like to know what your father’s 401k is currently valued at?”
Cally stilled, her eyes narrowing. “That sounded an awful lot like a threat, Mr. Alexander.”
He held her gaze, unflinching. “I mentioned carrots; if those don’t work, we also have sticks.” He nodded toward Eve. “This lovely lady sitting next to me clearly matters to you. But neither of us want to go there, do we?”
Eve gripped the tablecloth, and looked at Cally in alarm.
Cally tensed, desperately holding onto the threads of her control. They were stupid to have come here and given the Order this much leverage.
She forced civility, though it required a sheer effort of will. “How can I trust you if you threaten me?”
“How can we trust you if I don’t?”
Beside her, Darian stirred. “We do want your help, Cally,” he said, using her preferred name for the first time. “Unfortunately, we also can’t take no for an answer.”
“You’re asking me to work for you, and threatening those I love if I refuse.” It was an effort to keep her tone civil, her anger cold and held beneath the surface by only the most tenuous of threads.
Darian inclined his head. “Which is why we’d much rather you chose to help, rather than be forced to.”
“I’m not quite finished,” Mr. Alexander said. He gestured at Eve. “Depending how far you’ve read through that book, you may have discovered the relationship between vampires and witches.”
“I was just getting to that section,” Eve murmured, concern in her eyes.
“Your mother, Anna.” Mr. Alexander fixed Cally with a penetrating stare. “Do you know how she died?”
“Postpartum hemorrhage,” Cally said woodenly. Did they know the truth?
“On paper, yes. I have a different theory. What would you say if I suggested that the source of your power is a vampiric bite, administered to your mother hours before your birth?”
“I’d say it was wild speculation,” Cally replied, fighting to keep her voice moderate as nerves prickled along her spine.
Mr. Alexander pursed his mouth. “Come now, we both know it’s more than that. I can even put a name to it: Nico Aldobrandini.” He paused for effect. “We know where he can be found.”
Cally swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. Eve stared at her in horror.
“Revenge, Miss Davis. Does that interest one such as you?” He smiled at her silence. “We really do prefer carrots to sticks. Agree to help us, and the first vampire we target will be the one that murdered your mother.”
