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“Who are you?” Constantine demands.
“You’re that heiress from Harrington Hills who disappeared. Madison something.” Nero cocks his head to the side. He regards Eli with his usual wry amusement. “She’s my stepson’s girlfriend.”
“She’s so much more than that,” Eli says.
“Some people call me Mackenzie Malloy, but that’s not my real name.” I smile. “I’m Claudia August.”
The room falls instantly silent. My name is a magic spell, an incantation that renders dangerous men mute.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nero chokes out. “You’re not Julian’s daughter. Brutus killed her five years ago.”
I touch my hand to my sleeve. “I’m willing to submit to a DNA test to satisfy you. But when you hear what I have to say, I don’t think you’ll need it. My father told me that if I ever needed to call on the Triumvirate for help, I could give you this.”
I motion to Gabriel. He steps over the body and produces a cardboard box from the shadows, presenting it to Nero with a flourish. Nero undoes the ribbon on top and lifts the lid.
“What is it?” Constantine leans across the table.
“My, my.” Nero leans back in his chair, clutching his belly. He throws his head back and laughs and laughs.
Constantine grabs the box and upturns it. Big mistake. Blood and gore splatter the dishes as Brutus’ severed head slides across the table.
Claudia
My little gift has the desired effect. Constantine’s eyes flick to me, annoyance tinged with admiration. Nero laughs, but I hear the higher pitch in his voice that Daddy taught me to watch for – a sign he’s unnerved.
There’s a flash of shadow and the clatter of a chair flying across the room. Noah steps forward to protect me, but he’s not fast enough.
A hand closes around my throat.
Cold talons squeeze.
Pain flares through my skull. My brain batters at the bone, desperate to explode. I gasp, but I can’t find air. My knife is in my hand and I stab without thinking, but it’s blind panic driving me and my swing has no power. She knocks the blade from my hand. I know any second now I’ll pass out and it’s bye-bye, Claudia.
The edges of my vision close around me – the shadows swallow the room until the only thing that penetrates the darkness is the glow of her flame-filled eyes.
“You killed my love,” she hisses. “I’ll enjoy feeling your last breath slip through my fingers—”
THUMP.
The fingers on my throat are torn away. My body collapses into warm arms as I gasp and splutter. My chest heaves, sucking in precious air. Red spots dance across my vision, and I have to blink several times before I can see the shapes in the room. My attacker is sprawled out on her back. Noah straddles her, his gun pressed against her cheek.
“This is insolence,” she screams. “See the mockery they make of your precious rules. This murderess cannot come in here and take a hand to your tribune. Strike off her head at once—”
“Cali,” Constantine barks. She blinks, her body rigid. “That’s enough. Your personal vendetta has no place within the council. You can play with your food later.” To me, he says, “Call off your guards. She won’t attack you again, or I’ll kill her myself.”
I don’t trust the guy, but I have no choice. My hand flies to my swollen throat. I nod to Noah. He backs off Cali, but he doesn’t lower his weapon. Cali leaps to her feet and spits on my shoe. I’d admonish her for the slight, but I can’t speak. She walks back around the table, her body slinking and unfurling like a snake circling its prey. Her eyes don’t leave my face.
I grab a wine glass from the table and swallow it down. The liquid burns my throat. I grip the back of Brutus’ empty chair, forcing my shaking limbs to obey, to remain upright. I need a moment to collect myself, regain my voice, but I’m out of time.
Constantine leans forward and shoves his finger into Brutus’ gaping mouth. If you don’t wire a corpse’s mouth shut, their mouth falls open into a silent scream. Just an exciting little fact Eli the undertaker’s son shared with me while we removed the head from the freezer and packed it into the car this morning. Constantine scrapes his finger around in Brutus’ mouth before he fishes out his prize – a small silver coin stamped with the sword and laurel of my family. The coin that formed one side of my locket.
Nero picks up the seal from Constantine’s fingers and holds it up to the light. “This is Julian’s, all right. But how do you have it?”
“I told you. I have it because he gave it to me.” I manage to choke out the words. Each one tears at my throat. “And I took that bastard’s head because of what he did to my father. She can’t hurt me for it. Look at the hand. He still wears the sacer.”
“His daughter was buried alive alongside him.” Nero lifts Brutus’ hand from the pile of gore and waves it in the air, his fingers running over the scars of the brand, the evidence. “I saw the graves, freshly dug.”
I bet you did. I bet you danced on my father’s grave dirt, you rotten bastard.
