“I cannot. We must talk and I do not feel safe doing so in Venice,” he finally admitted. I paused, noticing for the first time a tension around the corners of his eyes and an unusual brittleness in his smile. “Reach out and touch Tristan’s mind. See that he is safe. Touch the hunter’s mind.”
I frowned but said nothing. Touching Danaus’s mind was tricky and I doubted if I could do it from that distance. However, I did reach out and touch Tristan’s thoughts. He was just awakening from his daylight slumber. His thoughts were sluggish and confused, but he was calm.
When I met Valerio’s gaze again, my frown eased a bit. The nightwalker’s shoulders slumped slightly as some of the tension flowed from his body. “So now you believe me?” he gently asked, a soft smile haunting his lips again.
“For the moment,” I snorted, walking away from him. The door between my mind and Tristan’s was left open a crack. I wasn’t in his mind reading his thoughts because I wanted to give him some privacy, but the constant connection would allow me to know the second anything was wrong.
I returned to the far wall and pulled open the curtains on the three windows there, giving me the opportunity to look out on the grand old city. It had been a long time since I last visited Vienna, and my reason for leaving then had been grim. Yet, the long, endless years had dulled the pain and muted the memories. I was more disturbed now by the fact that the pain I thought I should be feeling was little more than a hollow ache.
“I haven’t lied to you, Mira,” Valerio continued. There was a whisper of cloth rubbing as he walked over to me. “I have missed you.”
“You were never one to lie, Valerio. You just preferred to omit crucial information,” I said, not bothering to turn to look at him, but continued to stare out the window. My hands rested on the smooth wooden windowsill, letting the tips of my fingers absently trace the fine lines created when the white paint dried.
Laying his hands on my shoulders, his strong fingers kneaded my tense muscles, rubbing away the several days’ worth of tension. Slowly, he let his hands slide down my arms, pulling away the lace wrap to bare my shoulders. “We were so good together,” he whispered, gently pressing a kiss to my right shoulder. “Remember our fun in Morocco? I don’t think we stirred from that apartment for nearly two weeks.”
“Or the bars after the bullfights in Pamplona,” I volunteered with a little laugh. “It was a shame about the matador. I don’t think he ever properly recovered.”
“What’s that American saying? He could have been a contender,” he chuckled, pressing another kiss to my bare skin, only this time a slight whisper of teeth grazed my flesh. Only after his chuckles died did he speak again. His voice was heartwrenchingly soft, like an ex-lover’s touch on my cheek. “Since traveling to the New World, you have not returned to visit.”
“You could have come to the United States,” I countered, twisting around slightly so I could look him in the eye. “You obviously have the ability to make it a quick trip.”
“You never invited me.”
My brows furrowed and my eyes narrowed at his strange comment. “My domain is a single city within the country. That’s all. You don’t need me to invite you into the country should you wish to visit.”
“Most would question such a statement from you. It is well known that nightwalkers within that country defer to your judgment in most matters, particularly if they wish to continue their existence. Don’t lie to me or yourself. You know your reach extends far beyond the boundaries of your quaint city.”
Turning completely around to face Valerio, I stepped away from his touch. The fresh smile on my lips wilted and died in a breath. “I know the question without reading your mind: Do I plan to take the empty seat on the Coven? I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else. No. I don’t want the seat. I don’t want anything to do with the Coven.”
Valerio threw his head back and laughed. The noise seemed to echo and skip as he sped to the opposite end of the room and plopped down in a comfortable chair.
“Mira, my little firefly, maybe you should wonder why so many are asking you that question,” he suggested with a chuckle. “You’ve set up your own little kingdom in the New World.”
“My domain is only the city of Savannah,” I interrupted.
“But you’ve hunted and destroyed nightwalkers who were a threat to the secret from one coast to the other in that darling country,” Valerio countered. He folded his hands over his stomach as he rested his left ankle on his right knee.
“At the request of the Coven.”
“A group you’ve never hidden your lack of respect for. And now you’re back in Venice after being absent for more than fifty years—”
“Again, at the request of the Coven,” I interjected, but my voice was losing strength and my fingers were shaking. I was beginning to see all my actions in a new, horrible light.
“Maybe so, but you walk in with your head held high and a nightwalker killer in tow, making no secret that he is under your protection.” I had no argument to make against his words, so he continued, laughter filling his voice. “Then, as if to top it all off, the pièce de résistance, you steal one of your own maker’s children from her and stage a bloodbath in the Great Hall I’ve not seen the likes of in more than a few centuries. Hell, probably not since you appeared before the court the last time.”
“Valerio,” I whispered, his words crushing my throat. “I don’t want a seat on the Coven. I’m just trying to survive.”
“Survive?” he gasped, sending him into new peaks of incredulous laughter. “Surviving would be keeping your head down and your mouth shut. Surviving would be allowing the court to have its fun with Tristan and the hunter. Surviving is not pissing off both your maker and members of the Coven.”
He pushed out of his chair and was at my side in a flash. His large hands cupped my cheeks and his thumbs wiped away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “I have always marveled at the cautious way you’ve lived your life,” he softly began again, his sweet voice a gentle caress on my frayed nerves and fractured thoughts. “But recently you’ve acted in such an impulsive fashion. I can’t begin to fathom why you’ve acted with such a suicidal fervor unless you truly wish to die.”
Lifting my haunted eyes to meet his confused gaze, I wet my lips and forced the two words past the lump in my throat. “The naturi.”
I could feel the jerk in his muscles as he flinched at my whispered words, but his hands didn’t fall from my cheeks as his gaze narrowed into cold blue slits of ice.
“The naturi are coming,” I continued.
“What are you talking about, dearest?” he demanded. His deep voice was firm, but not as steady as I would have preferred, as his hands dropped from my face.
Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath, catching the hint of cinnamon mixed with the scent of roses in a crystal vase on the other side of the room. When I looked at Valerio again, I launched into my tale, starting with Nerian in my own domain and stretching through the attacks in Egypt and London. I told him of the massacre at Themis and the discovery that not only would Danaus be a part of the triad that would push back the naturi, but that I was also the weapon they would wield. I even told him of the female naturi that appeared to walk freely in the Great Hall. I talked until my throat was raw and choked with tears I was no longer willing to shed. I spoke of fear and blinding pain and night after night of death until I was sure that the grim reaper himself now hounded my every step.
I talked until there were no more words and I was on my knees, shaking and exhausted by just the memory of everything that had happened and the horror still to come. Looking up, I found Valerio standing on the opposite side of the room, one hand resting on the wall as if to steady himself. His beautiful face was blank except for the look of horror he could not push from his eyes. The distance between us made me feel as if my very presence carried with it a pestilence that would destroy all of our kind, and maybe it did. Those around me didn’t seem to live long lives.