Chapter 38
VALERIA DEMENTE
Imaterialized in the central chamber of La Sala and adjusted my sunglasses, frantically scanning the expansive ceiling without appearing obvious, then blew out a trembling breath.
There was nothing above my head except ancient paintings of disapproving saints and cobwebs.
I took a moment to shove my sunglasses in my bag and freshen up my lipstick.
I’d chosen my favorite Valentino dress for today, wearing the cream turtleneck and cashmere jacket more like armor than couture since these meetings felt more like battles than protocol.
Heading for the council chambers, I nodded to the black-suited guards posted every few feet, nervously eyeing every dark corner.
Those assholes.
I couldn’t believe those fuckers didn’t tell me this place was full of soul-sucking monsters, that they kept something so godsdamned important from me, the person who saved their asses.
They were all gone this morning when I’d woken—presumably on one of their important missions—but when I got back to the villa tonight, I was giving them a piece of my mind. We were allies, damn it; I deserved to know important shit.
Like soul-sucking monsters existed.
Muted voices drifted out of the council chambers, and I sighed, heading toward what was sure to be an interminably boring discussion of politics and finances. Who knew taking over a Dynasty was such tedious business?
I thought these council meetings would be a good way to gather intel to take the fuckers down, but when Blackwood turned every one into a…
I stopped dead in the threshold, shock freezing me in place for one blink before instinct kicked in.
I smoothed my face back into an emotionless mask and slammed my mental shields into place.
The spread-winged raven that formed the back of the golden chair welcomed me as I slid quietly into my seat, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as a thousand questions flew through my head.
Did they suspect me?
Is this a trap?
Am I well and truly fucked?
At the head of the table, Giovanni DiRavello sat in the Don’s chair, his plump, unremarkable face peering up at Severin as the Master explained… something to him in a hushed tone, hands flying to make his point.
Blackwood sat unbothered to his right, the picture of old-world elegance, his white cravat perfect, embroidered waistcoat a testament to an expensive tailor, his coat perfectly fit across his wide shoulders without so much as a wrinkle. Nothing about his appearance indicated anything out of sorts.
But the ancient male was fuming.
Anger bled from his silver eyes, from the turn of his mouth, from the way one finger tapped on the edge of the table, like a metronome counting down the seconds until an imminent explosion.
Severin finished up and took his seat, giving me a nod. Cool. Informal.
Like two people who barely knew each other.
Not allies working overtime to bring these bastards down.
Fuck.
Should I run? No. That would only make me look guilty. With shaking hands, I pulled out a notebook—the front decorated with bright pink and gold butterflies—rooting around in my purse for a pen, taking my time, trying not to rush.
Giovanni watched with the intensity of a viper, brown eyes like knives, smile even sharper.
“Well, we are all here. Except Vincenzo, of course. I sent word to the temple, but my messengers were turned away, so we shall proceed without him.”
There was no judgment in those words, no clue as to what his game was, but that was part of Giovanni’s political skill.
He was impossible to read, his motives securely hidden behind that doughy facade of his.
Father always claimed he was the most dangerous vampire in our Dynasty, and while there was a time I’d laughed, I was laughing no more.
“Welcome back, Don DiRavello,” I murmured, dipping my head to an angle of flawless respect. “It is good to have you back.”
“Lady Demente.” His simpering smile was edged with malice. “I am so glad you are attending today. We have a busy schedule. But with your help, I have hope we shall cross all the items off our agenda.”
I was imagining trouble where there was none, I told myself. Everything seemed… as fine as it could be, given I was surrounded by back-stabbing, power-hungry immortals.
At least my days of making small talk with Blackwood as he ogled me had finally come to an end, thank fuck.
And if Giovanni was back to making public appearances, we had a chance to strike. I was privy to the council meeting schedule. We knew where he would be. Severin could provide the manpower, and Dante would be happy enough to burn this fucker to ash.
And that’s if Emberline didn’t stab a dagger into his heart first.
Once he was gone, we’d drive Blackwood out of Venice, and Gabriel would become Don and put things back to rights.
Leaning back in my chair, I took a deep, calming breath, already feeling better about the future.
“To our first order of business.” Giovanni lifted his hand. “Bring them in,” he announced to someone outside in the hall, and I turned my head, expecting some member of a royal family pleading for a bigger cut, more territory, better smuggling routes.
That was the thing about the mafia—everyone always wanted more.
Blackwood’s guards came through the door, but with them… suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
Fear paralyzed me, because this was surely a trap and I was caught.
They dragged my cousins, Sophia and Leon Demente, through the door, followed by my aunt and uncle. All of them had been tortured, my uncle Louis so badly beaten, he hung unconscious between the two guards, blood dripping from his mouth, leaving a trail out into the hall.
“Please,” my Aunt Aurora begged, her voice shrill with desperation. “We haven’t done anything. Whatever this is about, we’re innocent.”
I gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the dark wood, terror clawing up my throat as my aunt was dropped messily onto the marble, hands still clasped before her.
I had to do something.
I had to stop this.
“No one in this Dynasty is innocent,” Giovanni answered cheerfully.
“The question is, are you loyal? Now that Marcello is gone, we are returning to the old customs and the ancient rites. I will decide who is loyal, and your family,”—his pale eyes settled on them like an executioner’s blade—“are not. Thus, you have been selected for extermination.”
My aunt turned her desperate gaze on me, and I thought I was going to be ill. “No. No. Tell them, Valeria, tell them. We have served faithfully for decades. Whatever you’ve heard is a lie. We are innocent. We are loyal. The Basin itself judged us worthy.”
Beside her, Sophia wept as Leon lowered his head, bending until he touched the floor. “Mercy, Don Giovanni,” he pleaded hoarsely. “We will swear any oath to you and your bloodline. We will serve wherever the council commands. We have done nothing wrong.”
I didn’t know what to do.
There was no doubt in my mind that if I interfered, I’d be on my knees, right alongside them. And if I was locked up, how long before our plot was discovered?
I glanced over to Severin, who gave me the slightest shake of his head.
Do not interfere.
I calculated frantically, running through every possible scenario I remembered about extermination. We still had time. There was a clear process in place for purging a bloodline. They had one appeal. Then a retrial.
Two days, maybe.
Some of the tension seeped out of my shoulders. In the meantime, they would be placed in cells here in the palazzo. And we would free them, like we’d freed Rocco and then… we’d fucking end this travesty, because this was bullshit.
Except… why had they chosen my bloodline? Coincidence?
Or were they sending a message?
“Please,” Sophia whispered, lifting her gaze toward me, and then, when she found nothing on my face except indifference—the others. “We’ve given our lives to this Dynasty.”
Her plea echoed against the soaring ceiling, my heart racing as Giovanni leaned forward, his round face glowing with anticipation.
“And so you shall.”
My heart beat faster when he looked over at Lord Blackwood, who scowled, then begrudgingly lifted his hand, fingers flicking in a pattern too complicated to be anything but a spell.
The air inside the chamber rattled, the hair on my arms lifting, my body stiffening as black, skittering spiders, bigger than dogs, poured through all three entrances, crawling across the walls, up onto the ceiling.
They had no… faces.
So many legs the walls seemed alive.
Mouthfuls of teeth and elongated mandibles, honed like razors. The body was a smooth, black shell, supported by spindly, jointed legs. Shock made time move differently, my mind fighting the horror I was seeing play out right in front of me.
The air thickened with a chemical reek that made me gag, stomach lurching, hands squeezing the arms of my chair, unable to move, even while my head was screaming for me to run, run, run.
Then everything happened in slow motion.
The way the guards stepped back, dropping my uncle to the ground, my aunt tugging at his arm, trying to drag him toward the doors, leaving a smear of crimson-bright blood against the white stone.
My cousins scrambled to help her, feet slipping on the slick marble, picking up their father’s other arm. My aunt begged them to leave her behind and flee.
And then they all looked up.
Froze.
I followed their gaze, and everything inside me went quiet. Still.
Some primitive instinct was taking over, warning me to stay invisible if I wanted to survive.
Black spiders—Drax—dropped from above, landing on jointed, outstretched legs before they pounced, taking down my family like prey. Screams echoed my every heartbeat as my cousins and aunt were slaughtered, those mandibles clicking and clicking until that was the only sound I heard.
They saved my uncle for last, feasting on him for what seemed like hours, his body desiccating down as if he’d been mummified.
Then Giovanni clapped his hands, and the beasts skittered back up the walls, leaving four ruined husks on the floor for the guards to haul away. I’d watched my family be slaughtered, and I hadn’t said a word.
Hadn’t moved.
Couldn’t fucking move.
I choked on my fear, waiting for something to drop on top of me and start ripping.