These things are precious. Irreplaceable. Worth any amount of risk to retrieve. I’m not sure Luca is capable of understanding, even if I had tried to explain. He’s been alive for hundreds of years, and I am guessing that life hasn’t treated him kindly. That if he ever had any sentimental attachments, he abandoned them a long time ago.
Packing the picture and hairbrush into my bag makes me feel sad to be leaving the place that I have called home off and on for so long. Who knows if I will be back. Who knows if I will return here, to my little haven in the sky.
I make coffee—this is definitely an evening that requires caffeine—and head out onto the balcony where I sit in one of the fold-out chairs and let the last of the day’s sun wash over me as I watch the world go by. Lord knows when I’ll have time for such small pleasures again. I could end up locked in a Cosca vamp safe house for the next ten years.
I watch the people below going about their business and the tour boats float by on the river. Work and pleasure; beginnings and middles and ends. The sounds of laughter and traffic float up to me, along with the booming microphoned voice of one of the tour guides out on the water, pointing out the bridges.
It’s all so good, so easy. The people down there have no idea of the other world that is wrapped around them like an invisible fist. No clue about the vampires that wait for dark, the witches hiding behind their herb gardens, or the shifters who work beside them in their human forms. The wolves who roam free in the woods. They lack any awareness of the myriad of other types of beings that share their existence, hidden in shadows and stories or striding along in plain sight. Of people like me, sitting here watching them, technically over a hundred years old.
Right now I feel every one of those years. I’m weary and washed-out and wish I could be blissfully ignorant alongside the humans.
Taking a long sip of my coffee, I give myself a mental kick in the ass. Wallowing in self-pity will get me nowhere. My time alone is dwindling, and I need to gather my thoughts. Say goodbye to childish dreams and welcome an unknown future. The part of me that still yearns for family, that pines for love and safety and longs to go home, must be silenced. It’s just a dream.
Five stories down, two young lovers stop on the street to kiss. I can almost feel their lust, their affection, and it makes me smile.
The smile vanishes when I hear my front door swing open, and I jump to my feet. I have been foolish—I am out here without a weapon. The sun will protect me from vamps, but these days my enemies come in more mundane forms. Thankfully, my amulet remains cool, which means it senses no danger. Still, adrenaline floods my veins. I’m pinned on my balcony, only a flimsy drape between me and whoever entered my apartment.
The list of people on my approved visitor list who also have a key is small, but it includes my alleged family. Telling Brian to take them off the list would have contradicted my breakup story, and I was confident my brother and grandfather wouldn’t come after me themselves.
I grab a heavy terracotta planter and heft the weight between my hands as footsteps approach.
“Sis?” His voice—a voice I once loved—fills me with dread. The coffee curdles in my stomach, and my hands develop a sudden tremor. “It’s me. I’m on my own, and I didn’t come here to hurt you, so whatever you’re planning to hit me with, please don’t.”
Pietro doesn’t scare me physically. Even with his height and meatier build, I’m stronger than he is and far better trained—not to mention infinitely more ruthless. But there are worse things than physical fear.
I can’t trust him. He was willing to go along with Tomasso’s sick plan. Willing to violate me—his own sister. Whatever I once felt for him needs to die.
He pulls aside the drape and stares at me and my planter. I briefly imagine smashing it straight onto his skull, scrambling his brains. I imagine it, but I don’t do it.
Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he walks toward me. Dark, heavy rings around his eyes contrast the paleness of his face. The last time I saw him, he was unconscious, and I suspect he has a splitting headache.
“Can we talk?” he asks simply. “Or will you listen is what I really mean. He doesn’t know I’m here. I disabled all the cameras, the tracking device on the car—not that he’d know how to use it without me anyway. Nice job on the Spider, by the way. He was furious.”
Despite the circumstances, that makes me smile. Ha. Sometimes, when you don’t have many good choices in life, an act of petty revenge can really perk a girl up.
Pietro edges closer, still holding up his hands, his sandy hair blowing in the gentle breeze coming up from the river. He needs a haircut.
My mind clings to that trivial detail to try and distract me from the ugly truth—that my brother is not a good man. That this man was willing to screw his own sister.
“I’m sorry,” he says, tears shining in his eyes. “I can’t believe I let him make me do that. I have no excuse—I’m weak. Pathetic. He’s been this powerful presence in my life since I was little. He’s shaped me, and I’ve always believed in him. I… I let myself be blind to so much. I could say a million things here, but there’s only really one that matters. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It’s over, okay?”
He runs out of steam, sits down on the other chair, and scrubs his face with his hands. “Please, Rosa, put down the killer pot. Sit with me. Let me beg your forgiveness at least. Hear me out.”
My amulet is still calm, and all I see when I look at him is a broken man. Against all logic, sympathy and affection rush through me. I want to pat his back, tell him it’s all going to be okay.
I put the plant down, drag my chair farther away from him, and sit. My coffee is cold, but I gulp it down to give my hands something to do.
“So,” I finally say. “Speak, then.” My words are harsh, my tone cold, but he deserves worse.
“God, now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say… Except you know what he’s like. He’s so convincing, and I’m so used to listening to him—to his word being law. He made it all sound so reasonable, so sensible. He was obsessed with this whole idea of the Capellis being the only family with a living Seer, and how we had to protect our heritage and keep the world safe and blah blah blah… It sounds unhinged now, I know, but he persuaded me. He really made me believe it all.”
Part of me is immediately intrigued. Tomasso said something about me being the last Seer last night, but it made no sense then, and it makes no sense now.
I slam my mug down on the table. “What’s this only Seer crap?”
“I’m not really sure, but a few things aren’t adding up. Looking back, he hasn’t been right for a while now.”
“He was never right, Pietro. You just couldn’t see it the way I did.”
