“I’m forever twenty-nine, baby,” she says. “But I’ve been that way for eleven years now.”
“Hmm,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “I keep hearing this word immortal when it comes to vampires, but so far, the oldest one had only been immortal for eighty years. I mean, that’s pretty old, but honestly not that impressive.”
“That psycho I said I was engaged to?” Juliet says as she looks over at me. “He was 119 when we met. Is that more impressive?”
I lift an eyebrow and tilt my head. “That’s a little better. Did that ever feel gross, though?”
“I’d rather not talk about Sebastian,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, sliding her hands into her back pockets.
So, it was her former fiancé who betrayed her.
Ouch.
I don’t press anymore.
“Okay, we’re scanning,” Roman declares as he pushes back from the keyboard just a little. Up on the screens, dozens of video feeds start scrolling at a high speed. There’s a little green square in each one, scanning faces. It’s all moving rapidly. Technology can be amazing sometimes.
“It’s really scanning all this footage at once?” Ares questions, his intense eyes never leaving the screens.
“Yep,” Roman confirms, a small, controlled smile on his lips as he watches his work. He’s proud of what he’s done here.
It’s pretty wild. There are eight million people who live in New York City. Roman is trying to latch onto the face ofoneof those people. It sounds impossible.
There’s a beeping sound, and one of the screens freezes. Before my eyes can even latch onto what’s changed, there is another beeping sound, followed by a third.
“Got him,” Roman says as he leans in, his gaze fixed on the screen.
“That’s the necromancer?” I ask, my eyes flicking from one screen to the next.
“That’s Markus,” Juliet confirms with a nod.
He’s so… average. If I were to pass him on the street, I would just walk right on by him. Ethnically ambiguous, he’s neither handsome nor ugly. He’s average built, the way he dresses doesn’t stand out. I’d guess he’s in his younger thirties.
“Wait a fucking second,” Ares says as yet another screen locks in on a still image of Markus, the necromancer. “These…” Ares licks his lips and shifts his stance, his eyes boring into those screens. “Every one of those buildings is a building I own.”
“What the hell?” I balk, my brows furrowing as I focus on the buildings more.
Sure enough, I recognize two of them.
Roman turns and looks at Ares with confused, surprised eyes. “All five of these separate buildings?”
Ares nods. “Two of them were mine before. Three of them I inherited from my father.”
“This doesn’t seem like a coincidence,” Roman says, his gaze shifting back to the screen as yet another hit pops up.
“Holy fuck,” I say, taking a step forward. “That’s James!”
And indeed, not only is Markus on the screen, but beside him, obviously talking to him, is James St. Claire, Ares’ assistant.
“That can’t be a coincidence either,” Roman says darkly as his eyes slide to Ares.
“What the fuck?” Ares breathes, leaning in closer. He watches as the frames of the video jump forward. It isn’t a smooth video. It’s only two frames per second. But it’s clear as day. That’s James talking to Markus, the two of them walking down the sidewalk together.
“I don’t think we have any clue who the hell James really is,” I say coldly.
“And I’ve trusted my entire portfolio to him,” Ares says, his tone hard.
“What if whomever Markus is looking for is tied to one of your buildings?” Juliet says.
