An expert in human art and antiquities, Charlotte had identified it as a Russian artifact known as the blade of theBessmertnym Soldat—the Immortal Soldier—complete with a long and sordid history about all the human wars it’d helped win, all the human blood it’d spilled.
But eventually, they uncovered the truth of its origins—much older than the Russian tales. Much older than the entire span of human history.
The weapon Gabriel stared at now was the Blade of Azerius, forged by the demon himself in the bowels of hell.
Dorian had given it to Rogozin after the battle at Bloodbath as a downpayment for wiping out Chernikov’s organization and aligning with House Redthorne. In addition to assassinating Chernikov, Rogozin had been prepared to pay Dorian ten million dollars for the thing.
Dorian had refused the money, using it to broker goodwill instead.
To say it was valuable to Rogozin was a gross understatement.
The fact that Rogozin had so easily left it behind—the fact that he’d even brought it with him tonight at all, well before he’d known the full extent of Viansa and Azerius’ connection—could only mean one thing.
Alexei Rogozin, the formidable head of the most prominent demonic syndicate in the United States—arguably the most powerful demon on the earthly plane—was fucking terrified.
“We’re going to need another plan,” Gabriel said grimly. “And a hell of a lot more bourbon.”
Chapter Thirteen
When Jaci was a child imprisoned in hell, she used to dream about spending Christmas in New York City.
Her father didn’t celebrate the holiday itself, but he loved telling her about the lights, about the tourists ice-skating beneath the tree in Rockefeller Center, about how the entire city seemed to turn into a magical snow-globe village all at once. If you turned your head and squinted just a certain way, he’d said, you could almost believe it was all make-believe. Magic.
He’d painted such vivid pictures that Jaci almost felt like she’d grown up here too.
“We’ll go one day,” he’d said. “Soon as we get out of here, I’ll take you to see the tree.”
In the seven years she’d been in New York, Jaci still hadn’t gone. She was never more than a subway ride away, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go; as badly as she’d wanted to see it in person, the idea of visiting the tree without her father felt like giving up. Like she was accepting the fact that he’d never be able to take her himself.
Now, sitting alone in front of the fireplace in the Ravenswood study, watching a fresh snowfall gather on the windowsills outside, Jaci wondered whether her father evenrememberedChristmas. Remembered New York.
Remembered his daughter.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away and headed for the small bar, grateful Dorian hadn’t run out of alcohol as quickly as he’d run out of blood.
“Gotta hand it to you royal vampires,” she muttered, selecting a bottle of dark rum from the stash. “You sure know how to drink.”
She poured a healthy shot into her mug of mint tea, then settled back into the soft leather chair in front of the fireplace, once again gazing out the frost-covered windows. Outside, the gardens of Ravenswood called to her—Charley had told her Dorian’s roses bloomed year-round, and she’d hoped for a glimpse. But most of the blooms were covered in ice and snow, and it was much too cold tonight for an evening stroll anyway.
She needed Gabriel—missed him, even though it’d only been a few hours since she’d seen him. But she’d spent the entire afternoon and most of the evening poring over occult texts and playing magical mix-and-match with Isabelle, and with no obvious progress on their spells, she was barely clinging to hope.
One kiss from her vampire prince had the power to chase the chill from her bones and the weariness from her heart, but Jaci wasn’t sure when she’d get to see him tonight. He was currently locked in the dining room for the meeting with Alexei Rogozin. She had no idea what they hoped to accomplish in there, but Dorian seemed to think the demon could help them take down Viansa.
Worth a shot.
At this point,anythingwas worth a shot.
The fire popped, the snow blanketing the world beyond the windows, and Jaci tried to enjoy a few peaceful moments with her tea, grateful she even got them.
She exchanged a few texts with Maritza, who assured her Obsidian hadn’t imploded in their absence, but Jaci demanded proof. Maritza sent a selfie—she and Enzo posing in front of the crowd at the bar, big smiles, half the vampires wearing goofy Santa hats. They’d even strung up some colored lights along the bar, totally breaking Gabriel’s sleek aesthetic.
Don’t you dare tell the boss!Maritza teased.
The scene sent a pang of longing through Jaci’s chest.
She missed it, she realized. The city. The club. The bartending job. The life she’d been building here, the roots she’d never intended on planting somehow snaking into the ground without her permission, latching onto things she was still too afraid to admit she wanted.
Would she ever feel safe enough to call New York home?
