Misha nodded and said, “I can’t help noticing that your brothers were cursed. Meaning they’re not anymore. I saw Dominic for myself, and he’s no longer cursed. How were they broken?”
“Shoshanna,” Paris blurted. “She knows how.”
“You know more than you’re saying,” Misha said.
“I always do,” Paris said.
Misha loomed over him, squaring those broad shoulders. “Tell me.”
Paris scowled and rose. As commanding as Misha’s presence was, Paris was no shrinking violet. He stood a mere inch beneath Misha’s height, with centuries of experience to give him confidence. “You have work to do,” Paris said firmly. “Besides, the last time you wanted something out of me, you were much more convincing.”
Misha’s hard stare faltered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Stubborn fool,” he muttered.
“Indeed,” Paris said.
He had to fight the urge to step closer, to draw Misha into a kiss. Beyond his yearning for contact, he felt an agonizing tension as he stared at the other man, fighting with the instinct to protect himself. He knew precisely how to break his curse, and that was dangerous knowledge. To say it aloud would risk everything, this fragile little bit of spun glass that he was entrusted to hold for a blink of an eye.
Instead, Paris simply smiled and said, “You’re sure I can’t help you?”
“Positive,” Misha said.
“And you’re working on finding Lilah, not just on helping me,” he said.
Misha nodded. “I need to process her blood, and it takes time. Once it’s going, I’ll work on you. I can multitask,” he said.
Paris caught his arm. “If you can help me recover, couldn’t you help Dominic?”
Misha bent to open the small refrigerator and took out two vials. “Bold of you to think I didn’t already think of that,” he said.
Paris felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “When did you get that?”
“Before we left for New York,” Misha said.
Paris smiled faintly. “Good. Call me if you need anything.”
After leaving Misha to work, Paris returned to his office, where he’d stopped just long enough to drop off his carry-on. On his way back, Julian called his name, and Paris stepped into his office. He looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping.
Join the club, he thought.
“Welcome back,” Julian said. “Any progress?”
“We’re fairly certain that Lilah’s blood is connected to Shea. Misha thinks we can use it to find both of them,” he said. He sank into a chair across from Julian and shook his head. “I’m sorry. This is a mess.”
Julian nodded. “You walked into a trap without realizing it. I spoke at length with Piotr Vasiliev, who was very surprised when he summoned his court and found a third of them were no longer even in New York.”
“They’re here,” Paris said.
Julian nodded again. “It seems that when Jonas Wynn attacked the clinic and stole our records, he was able to put together a connection to the Mausoleum. I’m not entirely sure how.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Hugo would know, if he hadn’t lost his head.”
Paris nodded.Their former Scythe was a cold-hearted shell of a man, but he had honored his oath to protect Eduardo to the bitter, bloody end. An oath that Paris had broken.
Julian continued, “Whatever happened, hegot to one of the administrators at the Mausoleum. Vasiliev told me half a dozen of his followers had been killed in the last week, but he assumed it was a hunter. One of the Crown investigators got some very interesting information out of Allegra Roman. A few days ago, when she got the call from us requesting to see Kieran and Lilah, she called Shea, and he told her to spring a trap.”
Paris cocked his head. “Why didn’t he break them out earlier if he knew where they were? I find that strange.”
Julian shrugged. “Maybe he wanted Misha to have leverage over the Sanguine Crown.”
“At the risk of putting my overworked ego on display, this wasn’t about Misha. Lilah wanted me, or at least, one of the Auberon,” he said. “Just like the little shit that we caught at Infinity. Lilah wanted us alive to bring back to Shea, and she was quite disappointed that Nikko wasn’t there.”
