“You don’t just walk away.” His throat worked. “Not from this life. Not from Giovanni. Not once he’s sunk his claws in you.”
“That’s not true,” I countered. “There is always a way out.”
He studied me for a long moment, his grief turning to something more calculating.
“Who are you? Why are you telling me this?”
“Just someone who’s been used as a pawn and seen plenty of bad things in her life. Enough to know you can come out on the other side. You’ll be okay, Signore DiRavello, you just have to believe in yourself hard enough.”
He nodded slowly.
“Would you mind if I stayed?” I asked softly. “Just for a few minutes? Long enough to pull myself together before I have to face them all?”
“Ishouldescort you back to the party.” He tipped his head, considering me. “If Giovanni finds you in here, he’d use my negligence as an excuse to have me flayed. But…” My brother rubbed his temples. “I understand not wanting to go out there, more than you’ll ever know. A few minutes, no longer.”
“Thank you. You’re a good male.”
“Not anymore,” he muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t be here.”
“Trust me, I won’t,” I muttered, glancing at the faint glowing outline of the safe.
Exactly nine minutes later,sweat running down my spine, I closed the door behind me and reactivated the wards, one name etched into my head. A name I held onto with every piece of my being.
Tazroum.
I’d left everything untouched inside the safe—except for the token I’d stolen for Emilia. But my uncle’s ledger noted regular payments—exorbitant amounts—paid out once a week like clockwork, ever since the day Dante disappeared.
Nothing but a town noted beside the amount…Tazroum.
I’d heard my father mention that name once. Only once, in a conversation I’d overheard between him and an elderly council member from a rival dynasty long ago.
There was an even larger amount paid out on the day of the explosion, with the same town listed, and another note, neatly scribed in my uncle’s precise handwriting—for services rendered.
I threaded my way through the crowd, and in passing, I slipped a small white key carved from bone into Emilia’s hand, a gift to my father from the High Priestess of an American coven, who claimed it unlocked the door to theUnderworld.
“Knowing your taste, I think this is right up your alley,” I whispered, “Thank you for helping me tonight.”
“Two more hours and your glamour will be gone,” she cautioned. “Be safely hidden by then, and as far as your gift…” Her fangs flashed when she looked down at the bone key. “I know just what to do with this.”
Nico watched me leave from the far side of the glittering room. I stepped into the cool night air, Emilia’s glamour still wrapped around me, and turned my back on my own remembrance ceremony and dematerialized.
I hopscotched across the city until I was sure I hadn’t been followed, then slipped back into the empty safehouse, sitting down in front of Gabriel’s laptop, only to be stumped by a request for a password.
“Soon,” I whispered, slowly typing in a series of letters, only for the damn screen to say ‘Invalid username or password’.
Damn. Stymied again by technology.
“We’re getting close, Dante. Hang on, we’ll be there soon.”
11
DANTE
The Fossa reeked like a grave that had been ripped apart, and the bowels of the earth had spilled out to rot in the sun.
Never-ending heat baked the yellow-red stone by day and turned the air unbreathable. Dust storms abraded skin off bones. At dusk, the cold crawled in through every crack like ice, freezing damaged, torn flesh.
I lay on my side in the shallow hollow that served as my bed, facing the bars, my shoulder pressed into sandy grit, my still-healing ribs aching with every breath. I’d stopped counting bruises after the first week. Stopped hoping they would fade after the second. By the fourth, pain had become a constant song, varying notes of throbs and stabs, a symphony of suffering.
