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“So—some familiars, they’re okay? Even after they never have it again?” she asked hopefully.
“Sure. Not everyone becomes addicted. It becomes this thing you learn to live with, like a sadness that doesn’t go away.” Oliver shrugged. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
They stood outside on the dirty sidewalk. Mimi felt like putting a comforting hand on Oliver’s shoulder, but she didn’t know if he would appreciate the gesture. Instead, she said, “You’re never going to end up like him. Don’t even worry about that.”
“I hope not,” Oliver said. “But never say never.”
For a moment, Mimi hated Schuyler Van Alen more than ever, but this time it had nothing to do with Jack.
The Changeling
Florence, 1452
Giovanni Rustici, or Gio, as everyone called him, was the group’s newest Venator, but already one of the best. He was also a fine sculptor, much more talented at the work than Tomi would ever be. In the space of a few months, he was already the Master’s favorite apprentice. Dre was still away; he had some business in Siena, which meant he would not be home for another fortnight. By day, Tomi and Gio worked on the Baptistery doors, and by night, they patrolled the city streets, restless and uneasy.
Tomi confided in Gio that she was worried about the Red Blood connection and what it might entail. “Perhaps it is time we paid our friend the Changeling a visit,” Gio suggested.
The Changeling lived in the sewers of Florence. The creature had not seen daylight in a century, and was shriveled, blind, and wretched. It was too weak to be of any danger to a vampire anymore, and so Andreas had decreed that no one could touch the Croatan, as it was a valuable source of information. In exchange, the Venators let it live. The Changeling had alerted them to the news that one of its kind had infiltrated the palace guard.
The Changeling was not pleased to see them.
Tomi ignored its hisses and drew a symbol on the cave wall. “We found this mark on a human. Tell us what you know.”
Gio prodded the Silver Blood with the tip of his sword. “Answer her, beast, or we shall send you where you belong.”
The Changeling laughed. “I do not fear Hell.”
“There are worse things than the underworld. Your master is sure to be unhappy with you for forsaking him since Rome. If he has returned, he will exact vengeance on the followers who deserted him,” Tomi warned. “Who gave the human the mark? What does it mean?”
Gio battered the creature with a volley of hard blows. “Answer her!”
“I do not know, I do not know!” The Silver Blood cowered. “Only that today, your friend Savonarola was made Cardinal,” it said with a crafty smile.
“And?”
“The good friar is a Silver Blood.”
“He is lying. Savonarola is no Croatan,” Gio scoffed.
Tomi nodded. The Petruvian friar had been a Venator before he entered the clergy.
“He has been Corrupted, turned into Abomination after Trieste,” the Changeling told them. In Trieste, the advance team had been attacked by the hive of Silver Bloods they had been tracking. Still, the Venators had won the day—or so Tomi had always believed.
“Who else knows this?” Gio demanded.
“Andreas del Pollaiuolo,” the Changeling whispered.
TWENTY-ONE
The Regis Doctrine
Endless meetings. Ever since she’d assumed the title of Regent, Mimi felt as if her life was measured out in marathon conference calls and discussions that went nowhere. Today was a school holiday, some sort of teachers’ conference, and in her former life she would have spent the day in the usual comfortable routine: a late brunch followed by a massage, then a leisurely stroll through the boutiques on Madison, stopping only for tea at The Pierre, and then a nap before setting off for dinner at the newest restaurant.
There was no time for such trifles anymore. She spent the day locked in her office, reviewing notes and checking in with her various subcommittees. The Venator team assigned to find Forsyth Llewellyn was the last to check in. While Kingsley’s subvertio kept Leviathan and Lucifer trapped in the underworld, their coconspirators were still at large. The Venators reported a tip that put Forsyth in Argentina, and Mimi agreed to send the team in that direction.
As for Victoria’s fate, Mimi was starting to get worried. They were as much in the dark as they had been on day one, and the moon was waning fast. Soon there would be a new moon on the horizon, its first appearance what the Blue Bloods called the shadow crescent—the sliver in the sky that meant a new dawn was at hand.
Since Sunday night there had been no more strange e-mails, but Mimi found the quiet unsettling. Sam and Ted had every Venator in New York on the case, but it might not be enough. Centuries of war had armed her with an inherent understanding of battle strategy, knowledge of armies and combat—but this was a new danger, clever and unpredictable. She was worried the Blue Bloods were too accustomed to their dominance, overly reliant on force and hammer, that they lacked the talent to address kidnapping and subversion.
