Orfeo and Misha laugh. “Who remembers a demon’s name?” Orfeo teases, wrapping an arm around my chest, pulling me back against him. “Amore, they are like Kleenex. Disposable.”
“All right, fine.Sorry.” I throw back my espresso shot. “Who else?”
Leo opens another picture app on his phone. “We have a bunch of strigoi from Canada who want Alfo’s head on a pike.” The next set of photos Leo scrolls through are…barelyphotos. I see the ghoulish blue impression of faces, the distant black pits of nostrils, and red-glowing eyes.
“Let me guess, strigoi don’t show up in pictures?”
“Hah, no. They don’t, but we captured them on the club’s infrared cameras.” He opens a different file and hits play on a video. It’s a green-black grainy security video taken from above Hades House’s front door.
A pack of strigoi, tall and lean with rangy arms and big feet, approach the door. They’re dressed like they just got off a bus from the hottest club in Berlin—long PVC trench coats, skin-tight jeans, heavy combat boots. Their fangs are long, catching the light in a way that they basically shine on camera. Their facial features are impossible to decipher, but their physicality is so unique, I know I won’t forget them.
“Got it. They’ll help me hunt Alfo?”
“Strigoi are extremely fast and strong, the strongest of all the vampires. We’ll put one at each tunnel that leads in and out of the altar room in the catacombs—except for the main way. You’ll cover that.”
I blow out a breath. “Got it.”
“Don’t worry about all the little pieces,” Orfeo says in a kind voice. He lays his hand over mine, giving me another reassuring squeeze. “You know what you need to do.”
“We’ll handle the rest,” Misha adds. “Believe me, we’re good on our feet. If something goes wrong, we’ll recover—everyone involved has been wanting to destroy this motherfucker for a long time. If we need to freestyle, we’ll freestyle.”
“Brava.” Orfeo smirks. “Misha, as usual, is exactly right.”
Orfeo
Diantha staysunder the porch light, arms crossed over her chest and tired eyes tracking us as I lead Leo and Misha into the forest.
“She thinks she’s not ready,” Misha says softly, once we’re out of earshot.
I take a long draw of my cigarette, then flick at the filter. “Her anxiety is…it is oppressive in my body.”
“She’s a fucking demi-goddess, she just hasn’t seen that part of herself yet,” Leo says, obviously irritated with our need for small talk. He spins around and pokes a finger into my chest. “Don’t let her fear take hold in your brain.”
I suck my teeth at him. “Ma per favore. I know well enough which feelings are mine and which are hers.”
“You say that now. Of course it’s easy when we’re standing around and she’s right there, looking at you. But when we’re in the fucking thick of it and someone has a stake to your chest? Do not. Fucking. Choke.”
I narrow my eyes at Leo. “Inspiring. I’ve never felt better.”
“Seriously, big guy.” Misha claps him on his mid-back, since neither of us is quite tall enough to reach his shoulder. “Trust our favorite Roman vamp. He’s gotten this far.”
Leo extracts a leather pouch from his back pocket, handing it over. “This is her weapon. Be careful.”
I nod, taking the satchel and tucking it into my own pocket. “Got it.”
“Your family will be here tomorrow.”
“I won’t allow myself to think about it.”
“Orfy.” Misha smiles, pinching my cheek. “You’re a little too sweet to be a vampire, aren’t you?”
“He’s going to give us all diabetes,” Leo says, pushing one of his bulky fists into my shoulder. “Try to save some energy for tomorrow, and leave a bit of blood in her veins, okay?”
“Goodbye, you foolish deadmen,” I call after them, an involuntary and unwanted smile pulling at my lips.
Misha tilts her head back and cackles. “Goodbye, lover boy!” Her voice echoes over the treetops and a murder of crows caw in response.
When I return to the front porch, I find Diantha sitting on the first step, her head buried in her arms.
