Chapter 70
EMBERLINE
One moment I stood in the Arsenale, my eyes locked on Valeria, and the next…
Sands crunched beneath my feet. Salt filled my lungs.
Not the ripe, canal-soaked pungency of ancient Venice, but something cleaner.
The ocean.
I lifted my head, the horizon a straight line of black, moonlight glittering like silver stars as waves shifted.
Behind us, tucked into a jagged crescent of dark cypress trees, stood a villa that looked as if it had been carved straight out of the rough coral rock—low, rustic, and utterly invisible to the outside world.
No lights. No boats. No signs of life.
“Where are we?” Luca asked, his voice quieter than usual. His hand tightened over my shoulder, his other holding a knife, as if he was thinking about plunging it into Valeria’s exposed back.
I don’t like this, Em, he said, mind to mind.
Well, I like it even less, trust me on that. Stay sharp, be ready for anything.
Dante was with us, but he was still… burning.
Smoldering, more like, embers glowing through his old scars, throwing off enough heat, I knew better than to touch him, but so far, he—like us—seemed willing to give Valeria a chance to explain why she’d saved us.
She stepped past us like a queen, her gown whispering over the sand, the hem wet from the waves.
Gods, I despised her.
For how poised and perfect she looked while I was a sweaty, sodden wreck. For the past she and Dante shared, for the way she used this situation to her advantage, even though that was simply vampire nature.
For whatever she wanted from us and would probably get, given our options were nonexistent.
Jealousy writhed in my gut like a living thing, and I was helpless to do a damn thing about it.
“You are safe here,” she said slowly. “This place has remained a secret for hundreds of years; no one knows it exists, outside of our bloodline. In fact, you are the first outsiders to ever set foot on this ground.”
“No one knows, not even Giovanni?” Gabriel was doubled over now, blood spilling freely from his wound over his hand like a red waterfall. “You’re certain?”
“I’ll find you my best healer,” she deflected coolly, “before you bleed out. Once you’ve recovered and cleaned yourselves up, we’ll talk.” Her eyes paused on Dante, her expression flickering before she headed for the house. Her guards surrounded us, intent on herding us behind her.
Dante was working to bring himself back under control, head hung low, hands clenched, chest rising and falling as if he was in negotiations with whatever was inside him. An errant wave raced up the beach, washed around his knees in a froth of white.
The last of the flames instantly vanished, then he scooped up a handful of seawater and splashed it on his face, slicked back his hair and gave me a fierce nod. His eyes were still glowing. So brightly they looked like aquamarines, but there wasn’t a hint of gold.
I let out a shaky breath.
Nico and my brother slid their arms under Gabriel’s shoulders and hauled him to his feet, then began a slow, painful slog uphill. Dante was still staring out over the water, as if he could see the future.
I picked up the pace until I caught up to Valeria. “Why help us when it would be to your benefit to have us out of the way?” The sharp question stopped Valeria in her tracks. When she turned to face me, her expression was unreadable in the moonlight.
“Straight to the point,” she murmured, the jewels at her throat glittering. “I can see why they’re all in love with you.”
“They’re not…”
“Answer the question, Valeria,” Gabriel warned.
Her gaze flicked between us, her lips tightening.
“My father believed power belonged to a chosen few. But he also believed power should not be abused at the expense of the vulnerable and that his arrangement with Giovanni kept the Dynasty stable,” she continued. “Which it did, until he discovered Giovanni’s plan to turn us all into slaves.”
Nico went rigid beside me. “And?”
“He made an ill-advised gamble, approaching Blackwood,” she explained, her voice trembling just slightly. “Rocco thought he could control such a monster. I could have told him he was wrong. But of course, he never asked me, since I’m only a female.” Her smile was filled with bitterness.
“What could we possibly know about business and strategy?”
“What indeed,” I said, a cold weight settling in my stomach. Hadn’t Giovanni said the same about me? Hadn’t he killed my father—and me—to remove that possibility from the equation?
“Blackwood has no code of honor.” Her eyes darkened. “He is not loyal to anyone but himself. And his dark magic…is dangerous.”
“What’s in this for you?” Gabriel asked, so pale, I pressed my hand over his to apply more pressure, but he pushed me gently away. “Forgive me, but the Dementes don’t have an altruistic bone in their bodies.”
“My father will be executed,” she added, quieter now. “Branded a traitor to the Dynasty. I will be hunted, and eluding Giovanni is one thing, but Blackwood is quite another. And for all his faults…” she pursed her lips. “Rocco is still my father.”
“And you still care,” I whispered, watching her face shift into emotions I recognized all too well. Grief and anger, regret and sympathy.
“Yes. Not that I would expect you to understand.” The honesty in her voice made my heart ache and irritated me at the same time. I had nothing in common with Valeria.
“So, you’ve had a change of heart, and you brought us here… why?” I pressed.
“Not exactly a change of heart.” Her lips curved faintly. “A shift in priorities. I am helping you because our interests align.”
“Of course, they do. How convenient for you,” Nico grumbled.
“Yes,” she agreed. “It is, isn’t it?”
She took a single step closer. “Blackwood must be convinced the Basin is not what he believes it to be. Your uncle must be removed. And the Dynasty must be stabilized. For now, this place,” she swept her hands across the island, rings sparkling, “is your safe haven. Out of reach of your enemies.”
“And in return?” I asked.
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“You free my father from La Sala before his execution. Then our three families work together to undo your uncle’s madness and Rocco’s mistake.”
“No,” Gabriel said immediately. “I’m not a fool. Any offer from a Demente is a trap. Your father dug his own grave.”
Valeria lifted her chin.
“That was my father’s version of the Demente organization,” she continued, pulling a small silver knife from her bodice. “Mine will be very different. We will stand with you. Every soldier. Every resource. Everything Giovanni believes he can rely on—we will turn them into weapons against him.”
She swiped the blade across her palm, then held her hand out to Gabriel. “I swear this, as a promise of our alliance.”
I looked at that outstretched hand, that false offer of friendship, something hot and sharp twisting in my chest.
Jealousy.
Because every time she flicked her fingers, I remembered them wrapped around Dante’s arm, toying with his waistband, like all she wanted to do was…
“I accept your offer, Valeria,” Gabriel said, clasping her hand, his palm already coated in blood.
The ocean crashed against the rocks, relentless, unbothered that we were making a deal with a literal devil. “But I’ll warn you, like I did your father. Betray me, and your life is forfeit.”
“I have my best Demente healer waiting at the house.” Her eyes flickered over Gabriel’s bloody clothes, his swollen eyes. “Tonight, you rest. You recover. You regain your strength. Tomorrow, we plan.”
Then she resumed her walk up the sloped beach, leaving me to follow in her wake, stewing in my anger and jealousy and the knowledge Valeria was far more dangerous as our ally than as our enemy.