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I hesitated, suddenly reluctant to tell him Zoe was with me. She’d stuck her neck out for me. The least I could do was keep her presence a secret.
“I spoke to her, yes. She says that Victorine has nothing to do with Zaq’s disappearance.”
“And you believe her?”
“I believe thatshebelieves it.”
“So, what is this lead you are following?”
“I’ll know more when I get there. I’m sorry, I don’t have much time. My flight’s about to board. Just let my dad know I’m on my way to Paris, okay?”
“Do not hang up,” he barked out. “You have spoken to Gabriel?”
I gritted my teeth, but said, “Not since Monday, and that was just a text.”
“Good, good. Do not speak to him. Do not text him, either.”
My nape tightened warily. Something seemed off.
But this was Tomas. The man was practically family.
“Why not? What’s the matter?”
“He has taken that human woman into his home. Camila.”
“She’s back?” Camila Vittore had broken Gabriel’s heart, not that my big brother would admit it.
“Yes. And your brother, he trusts her immediately.” Tomas’s tone was thick with disapproval.
“He loves her,” I said simply.
“Bah. What is love? You are both too trusting. He does not see this woman for three years and now, she returns—and Zaquiel disappears.”
“Yeah?” I thought about it, shook my head. “Mila’s good people. She just got scared when things got serious between her and Gabriel. She didn’t want to be mated to a Syndicate man, so she ran.”
That’s what my brother had said, anyway, and he’d know.
“She could be a slayer,” Tomas said.
“Mila? A slayer?” From what Gabriel had said, she was just a young, in-over-her-head human who’d freaked when she realized she’d fallen for a syndicate prince. “They were together for two years. If she’d wanted to stake him, why not do it then? Why leave and then come back three years later?”
Tomas grunted. I knew that grunt. It was his I-know-better-than-you grunt. I’d heard it enough times as a kid.
I darted a glance around me. I’d left Zoe alone and unprotected for too long.
“They’re calling my flight,” I lied.
“I will let Karoly know you are on the way. What day will you arrive?”
“Tomorrow night. Or Sunday at the latest.” It was Friday night. We’d land in Paris early Saturday morning, but Zoe would have to sleep until nightfall. “Don’t contact me—I’m switching phone numbers when I land in Paris. I’ll be in touch if I find anything important.”
He started to object, but I pretended I hadn’t heard and ended the call.
Zoe didn’t appear to have moved since I left except to remove her leather jacket, which she’d folded and set on the suitcase by her legs. Her hood was still pulled around her face, her glamour dimming her allure. She would’ve looked like just another young human, if not for her straight back and neatly folded hands.
I concealed a grin. We’d have to work on that finishing-school posture of hers.
“Hey, beautiful.” I dropped onto the seat next to her.
