“Why do you want her?” I reply. He won’t appreciate the lack of respect, but I need information. I need to know what the hell he has planned for her, if anything. He hisses, and every cell in my body recoils. His displeasure physically hurts me, but I suck it up. If I carry on down this path, there’ll be plenty more to come.
“That is not your concern, boy. You have your orders. You kill her or you bring her to me—nothing more. Though I wonder why you ask,” he taunts. “I wonder if the pretty little malocchio has caught your eye.” He pauses, and his voice deepens. “I wonder if you understand the consequences of disobeying me.”
When he’s finished speaking, pain worms its way through my chest. My heart might beat slowly, but it still beats, and like any creature, once that stops, I stop. Vincenzo is silent, but I picture his smile as he rummages around in my rib cage. He enjoys this. Enjoys my pain.
I hold my hand to my chest, screw up my eyes against the agony. I won’t give him the satisfaction. “I understand,” I say through gritted teeth. The searing hurt abruptly ends, and I take a deep breath before continuing. “I only ask because things are… complicated here. I don’t want to let you down. Don Vincenzo, what do you know about the Capellis? About Tomasso Capelli?”
This could go either way—he could be intrigued, trust my judgment enough to hear me out. Or he could decide I’m being insolent and squeeze my heart until it explodes. I steel myself, but the silence stretches without any accompanying pain.
“He is old,” he finally answers. “He is Vecchissime. He is not what he seems. Why do you ask? We have heard the news about the Bianchi malocchio. In case you were curious, child, it was not us.”
By “us” he could mean the Firenzes, he could mean any of the Cosca families, or he could mean vampirekind in general. Impossible to know—and dangerous to push.
“What is he, then, if not what he seems?” I ask, aware that Tomasso Capelli is not some classic old granddaddy figure, some genial nonnino with a twinkle in his eye and candy in his pocket. Aware that there’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye.
“He is the head of a centuries-old Italian family. He has a small army at his fingertips and controls business interests all over the world. He moves in the shadows, though he pretends to be a creature of the light. He crushes all of those who oppose him and puts the needs of his own above all others,” Vincenzo answers, a hint of amusement in his voice now. “What does that sound like to you?”
“It sounds like a Cosca Don.”
“Sì, it does, doesn’t it? In all but name, it is. I have been watching him for some time now, figlio mio. Seeing the changes he has been making. Studying the way he moves pieces across the board, even when they don’t belong to him. He is a man who will sacrifice anything, including their precious children.”
I turn over his words. There’s more he isn’t telling me. He wants me to feel ten steps behind. He wants me to try and catch up before he deigns to carry on. Everything’s a power play with Vincenzo.
“Anna Lombardi,” I finally say. It all makes sense. “He was the one who killed Anna Lombardi—and then stepped up to play peacemaker…”
“Exactly, Luca. He secured his preeminence among his own kind and gained the respect of ours by averting a war that he himself had started. It was bold—the work of a mastermind. I would very much like to pin him down, open his skull, and see what is inside his brain.”
I have no doubt he means this literally. This is a man who was born in the 1400s, and no amount of science will ever change him.
“He’s been fascinating to watch,” the Don continues. “He has extended his power, overshadowed the other Vecchissime. He owns senators and congressmen and the heads of corporations. He even owns vampires, pays them to do his bidding. What do you think would happen if the Capellis were the only Vecchissime family left?”
“The same that would happen if the Firenzes were the only Cosca left. There’d be a power vacuum, and you’d move in and take control. Of everything.”
Blood feuds, greed, brutality, power grabs—those are all things I understand. Things I grew up with. Men like Vincenzo and Tomasso do not think the way others do. They are never content, never happy, and are constantly searching for more. Looking for avenues to gain, to take, to expand. And if the Capellis end up as the strongest of the Vecchissime families—the only one with a viable Seer bloodline—then that would put Tomasso at the top of a damn tall tree.
“I can hear the cogs of your brain turning, Luca. Is this all clear enough for you now? The Vecchissime are nothing without Seers. They are the heart—take them away and the Vecchissime are shit.”
“But why? I mean, the Seers are useful, powerful in their own right, but so are the Makers and Healers. Why are Seers so important to their structure?”
Another scream erupts in the background, and Carlos yells at someone.
“You have been around for a long time, Luca, but not as long as me. Before the Bargain, things were different. The Seers then were not what they are now. You do not need to understand it all. You simply need to understand why the Capelli girl must be killed—to cause chaos—or brought to me, to be kept… safe. If Tomasso continues the way he is going, and if the others who might restrain him are weak, then he will have too much power. He will challenge us, and he might even win. I will not let that happen, and neither will you. I will give you some rope for now, Luca. Make sure you don’t hang yourself with it.”
A blast of pain hits my chest, and I fall back onto the bed gasping as the line goes dead.
It stops as suddenly as it began, leaving me weak with relief. I rub my ribs and drag myself back upright. That was him putting me in my place. Playing with me.
Some of what he said makes sense, but a lot of it doesn’t. The Seers have been an effective tool against vampires for centuries. What would happen to the families without them? I need to ask her. And to do that, I need to reach her. After that, a whole world of pain is headed my direction. I really did not like the way Vincenzo said he would keep her “safe.”
Damn. I can’t sit here thinking about it all day, waiting for the sun to go down. Every second she’s away from me is a second she could be harmed. I’m up and out within minutes. The sun is still infuriatingly bright in the sky, and my skin sizzles as I dash through the shadows of concrete and find a small gift shop, its shelves brimming with tourist tat. I emerge with a golf umbrella to use as a parasol and a baseball cap that tells the world I heart Chicago. Jesus, what has Rosa done to me?
I make my way to the place she showed me last night, staying under cover of the buildings when I can, using the parasol when I can’t. There are some minor burns, but I make it to her place in one piece and find a nearby restaurant with shaded outdoor seating.
I’m unsure which building is hers, never mind which apartment, and I spend a few minutes scanning them all. Eventually, I catch sight of her. Five stories up, facing the river behind me, on a balcony that is still drenched in sunshine. Clever girl.
A man is on the balcony with her, his face obscured by the glare of the sun, and I try not to panic. They’re both seated and appear to be having a conversation. It’s too far away for even my hearing to pick out individual words, but there’s no sign of conflict. I remind myself that Rosa isn’t some damsel in distress. No matter how much I want to scale the side of the building and carry her away, she wouldn’t thank me for it. She doesn’t always need the monster in me, because there’s a sliver of monster in her as well.
I strain my ears, hoping to pick up a thread, but all I get is a low-level mumble. As I watch, the man stands and moves to the edge of the balcony.
