Chapter 2
EMBERLINE
Three days after father’s death and we were no closer to finding his killer.
Tonight, on our private island, his soul would be sent to the Underworld.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, cursing the male—because I fucking knew it had to be a male—who’d invented high heels as me, my uncle, my brother, and a crowd of two hundred vampires waited for Enzo’s funeral boat to arrive.
My father—ever the optimist—would have had a pithy saying ready tonight.
Although he could have chosen something appropriately macabre, like, “Mark my words, Ember, no matter how fast you run, fate follows your scent and Death will always keep her promise.”
Right now, I didn’t give a shit about fate or promises.
But Death… that I cared about a great deal, given we were saying goodbye to our last remaining parent.
Luca and I were orphans.
The thought hit me out of nowhere, followed by a pitiful sort of gloominess that kept haunting my footsteps these past days. A wonderful addition to my personal little pity party about my ruined future.
“Em, are you holding up?” Luca bent his dark head to mine, his brown eyes spilling over with so much emotion, I might as well be staring straight into his heart. Ever since he was born, Luca was too much like our father—kind to a fault.
And in our world, kindness was a death sentence.
My twin’s long, dark hair was gathered into a tail, showcasing his high cheekbones.
His dark golden skin was set off by the charcoal gray suit, which hugged his rangy body a little too tightly every time he shifted position, something every mafia princess in attendance took note of, tracking his movements like a flock of circling crows.
“I’m fine, Luca.” I touched his hand. “Let’s just try to survive these next few hours.”
He straightened, mirroring my rigid pose—shoulders back, head held high, hands clasped in front of him.
The breeze off the lagoon picked up, carrying the unforgiving Italian summer heat and, beneath that, the limey scent of the ancient city looming beyond our island, glowing like the jewel set in a crown of gold—Venice.
Finally, the parade of black boats knifed toward us in silence. I ignored the urge to reach up and rub my aching chest. I’d gone old school tonight, choosing a demure black dress with a high collar because this was not a day to show weakness.
And I had a reputation to uphold. They called me principessa del ghiaccio, the Ice Princess, and tonight, that lethal calm was on full display.
Besides, today of all days, I would not dishonor the family code.
Not at my sire’s Bruciore Notturno.
Eternal Power, Immortal Grace was the family motto, drilled into me from the day I was born, which meant I had to act every inch the DiRavello princess, and Luca the prince, and besides… tears were a luxury I’d long denied myself.
I remained dry-eyed as our guards unloaded the funeral boat, carried Enzo’s ebony casket past us, then set the torch to my father’s funeral pyre.
I shivered in horror when the flames licked at what was left of him, lifting his soul to the Pale, where he’d hopefully meet my mother in the afterlife.
They’d finally be together, after meeting such violent ends—Duke Enzo DiRavello, at the edge of an assassin’s blade, and my mother. ..
Well, they would finally be together again.
That was the pretty lie I told myself.
Power hung over the crowd like a threatening blanket, tendrils of magic creeping out like the deepest shadows of night.
Some, like the DiSangue family’s, were tinged with red, some green, others blue.
Almost all vampires possessed some form of innate magic running in their bloodline.
My uncle could read minds. Like our father, Luca had an uncanny ability to predict the future.
I had been born barren of magic.
Forced to compensate in other ways, to sharpen every sense and skill at my disposal so I could hold my own against my more powerful peers.
“We should head back to the palazzo, Ember,” my brother nervously scanned the crowd, golden flames reflected in his dark eyes as the pyre roared, throwing sparks into the dark sky. “The family is being targeted, and we’ve been out in the open for too long.”
“Good. I hope the killer is watching,” I hissed, a seething, reckless rage heating my blood. “They need to know we are not afraid. I want our enemies to come for us, Luca, so I can stain the marble red with their blood.” I turned back to the fire, blinking back the tears I refused to let fall.
No, I would do Enzo proud.
“I’m staying until the last spark goes out.” I insisted, refusing to acknowledge the concern on my brother’s face.
“Always so damned stubborn,” he sighed, dropping his head, his shoulder bumping mine.
Another breeze swept up from the lagoon, colder this time, tinged with unnatural darkness, and the hair on the back of my neck rose.
Someone was watching us.
Someone uninvited.
Subtly, so none of these nosy bloodsuckers noticed, I swept my eyes over the rocky shore where black water lapped incessantly at the rocks. In the end, I found nothing but the shadowy figments of my imagination staring back at me.
But my instincts were seldom wrong.
As the funeral pyre burned down to glowing embers, the sense we were being watched never died away.
Someone was here.
A stranger trespassing on our island.
What if it’s the same person who’d killed Enzo?
A burst of cold, black fury darkened the edges of my vision as the crowd filtered past, with whispered condolences and promises of support, shaking our hands and hiding behind their false sympathy and carefully chosen words before they loaded into the boats waiting to carry them back to the golden city.
When only the three of us were left, I sucked in a smoke-filled breath. “Any news?”
“I found no sign of forced entry,” my uncle offered quietly, watching the wind pick up a trace of gray ash and carry it away. “No obvious way in or out of the palazzo; none of the servants admit to seeing a thing. I interviewed them twice.”
I slanted my uncle a sideways look, wondering if all the staff survived their interviews.
Giovanni’s round, doughy face was forgettable, his expression bland. Sandaled feet poked out from the bottom of his dingy brown robe, tied at the waist with a cord of hemp. A disguise that served him well because behind that unassuming facade lurked the most lethal vampire I’d ever known.
To have Giovanni as an enemy… I shivered. No, I’d always been grateful he was family, the mentor I could always trust to have my back.
“The staff are all loyal, down to the last male,” Luca stated, as if fealty was an indisputable truth. “They’ve been with Father for centuries. The threat came from outside our walls.”
Giovanni and I traded a knowing look. “We must consider every angle, Luca,” I explained softly. “You cannot discount a possibility because you believe you already know the answer. Analyze the situation, don’t let preexisting prejudices cloud your judgment.”
“Sage advice from your elder sister.” My uncle sighed as the wind picked up, embers igniting, sparks whirling past, carried out over the dark water like a thousand glowing souls.
“Elder by two whole minutes,” Luca groused.
“I’m not criticizing, Luca,” I rested my fingers on his shoulder. “All I’m saying is don’t jump to conclusions. Uncle Gio and I will find the bastards who did this. Once we do, we will make them bleed.”
Luca made a sound of disagreement, and I wanted to sigh as loudly as Uncle Gio. My brother, the dreamer who believed there was still good in the world, was next in line to take over the DiRavello Family Court, and he was too young.
Too green, too trusting.
Too nice, too kind-hearted.
In short, my brother was too everything, except ready for the task that lay before him.
And I could no longer shield him from what was coming.
The wind shifted, the smell of ozone and rain sweeping over us, along with the faint hint of something else.
Rotten, almost, or rotting—like a dead fish washed up on shore.
Once again, the nape of my neck prickled, and I studied the shoreline, sliding my fingers down my thigh to confirm my knife was still there.
“You two go on ahead to the palazzo,” I told my uncle and brother. “I will meet you there in a few hours. I’d like some private time with father… to say goodbye.”
“It’s not safe, Em,” Luca’s eyes narrowed in warning. “You should…”
“Your sister can handle herself.” Giovanni demurred, dipping his head, his gaze flashing to the shoreline, as if he knew exactly why I was staying.
“Don’t be late, niece,” he cautioned, “and don’t leave a mess behind you.”