Chapter 9
EMBERLINE
One ankle rested casually across Blackwood’s knee, a smile on his still-handsome face.
He was immaculately dressed in a mix of old-world elegance and a vampire’s love of luxury, the exquisite mix of brocades and silks stopping just short of foppishness. His dark hair was parted in the center, framing an aristocratic face and gleaming silver eyes.
Like before, his superior power hit me like a fist, pounding through my blood, softening my knees. Only my determination not to bow to this fucker kept me upright.
Beside me, Luca was panting, his body trembling as he fought the same smothering compulsion to obey.
At Blackwood’s side stood the same male I’d seen in my father’s old study.
Tall, white-haired, green eyes glinting like emeralds, he was motionless, expressionless, showing no more animation than one of the pillars of marble holding up the ceiling above my head.
Blackwood regarded us with the expression of someone mildly entertained, but there was an edge of fury to his cold smile. Anger seeped from the Ancient’s every pore, and I knew one thing for sure—whatever came next, it was not going to be pretty.
“I wondered how long it would take my little pets to herd you here like rats in a maze,” he murmured, staring down at us like we were dirt under his manicured fingernails.
“I wonder, did you believe you’d escape, or did you realize you were already caught the moment you set foot inside this building? ”
“If you’re just planning to kill us, stop talking and get on with it.”
He smiled. “If I wished you dead, child, you wouldn’t be standing there, your eyes burning with hate.”
That’s it, I thought, keep all your attention on me.
Luca, you need to get ready to run. I rubbed my fingers together. I had one more knife, one working hand, and I’d send that blade spinning through the air before this bastard could so much as blink. I’d bet good money even Cesare Blackwood wasn’t faster than me.
He can’t kill you, Em. He wants the Basin, and he thinks you know where it is.
Gods, even now my brother was poking around in this bastard’s head, which would definitely get Luca killed, or worse, given the varieties of monsters wandering the hall outside these doors.
Instead of positioning himself to escape, Luca stepped beside me.
Don’t do anything stupid, Em. He’s not planning on hurting us. He… wants something, but I can’t see clearly enough to know what.
Blackwood folded his hands. “Let me tell you a story.”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
“And here I thought you thrived on family drama, Signora Dominico. You told me your tale, now let me tell you mine.” Those silver eyes settled on my brother, curiosity brewing as he studied Luca with an intensity that had my skin prickling.
“Do you know how your mother died?”
“She was assassinated,” I said quietly, trying to pull Blackwood’s attention back to me.
“Assassinated?” His lips quirked up in a way that made me want to murder him where he sat.
“Surely you can do better than that. After all, you simply relished the story you told about your uncle losing the Basin.” He leaned forward, all sense of humor gone. “Tell me what happened to your mother, Emberline. Every bloody detail.”
I thought I’d grown accustomed to cruelty. After all, vampires were renowned for their creativity when it came to such things, but this…
“You really are a heartless bastard, aren’t you?” Beside me, Luca made a small sound in his throat, but finally, I nodded.
I would give this bastard what he wanted.
Our suffering. Or rather, the pleasure of watching someone else’s suffering. My only regret was that my brother would have to suffer with me.
I dropped my hand to the hilt of my blade and made myself a promise—to make this bastard pay for the pain of these next few minutes.
“Enzo was many things, but he was a good businessman, so when the Basilio Family—allies of yours, I believe—threatened to cut into his banking operations in the south, he enthusiastically protected his business interests.”
“Naturally. Go on.”
“The Basilio Family was strongly urged to abandon their pursuit of my father’s empire, and in retaliation, they decided Enzo should be removed altogether.
Whoever they sent to plant the bomb was good; our family never found the assassin, but they got past our security and planted a bomb inside my father’s desk. ”
Beside me, Luca was still, staring at Blackwood like he was considering ripping his face off.
“My mother opened the desk drawer, looking for something. The explosion leveled that room and half the palazzo… and her. There was nothing left to burn on the pyre. Enzo was never the same, or so they say. We were very young, and I barely remember her.”
She was pretty, Luca murmured inside my head. That’s all I can picture.
“A virtual Shakespearean tragedy.” Blackwood’s flippant tone had Luca lunging forward, gun in hand. Me, throwing my arm across his chest to stop him.
The fact Blackwood left us armed made it perfectly clear we presented no threat, and I wondered just how egotistical this fucker was.
Even his silver-haired henchman didn’t flinch, face so blank I wondered if he was breathing.
“You could say that. Any particular reason you asked for a story? Is it nearing your bedtime? I heard you’re old as fuck, maybe you’re ready for your nap?”
I mean, not my best work, but seriously, fuck this asshole.
“Firstly, I think you can deduce who planted the bomb. Or are you still blind when it comes to your uncle?”
“And secondly?” I whispered through numb lips, shock stealing my ability to think straight. Giovanni. Of course he’d killed my mother. Ottavia had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. One final betrayal and anything I’d ever felt for my uncle crumbled.
Shock bled into something deeper, colder, sharper.
Just when I thought I couldn’t hate any harder, Blackwood kept talking.
“And secondly, your dear mama survived the blast. Moreover, your father could have saved her. But Enzo let her die.” Blackwood’s smile turned vicious. “All this time, growing up motherless, when he could have given you the one thing you never had.”
She could have been saved.
True or not, the words landed like a blade between my ribs. But my heart was steady in one thing. Enzo loved my mother with every last piece of himself. And while there was magic strong enough to raise someone from the dead—I should know—not everyone should come back.
“My mother was killed in that blast. Whatever was left of her… I would never blame my father for choosing mercy over greed.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll never know for sure, will we, since she’s dead.” A smile curved his lips, one that sent dread shivering through me. “It’s not like you could… go to the Underworld and ask her, is it?”
I kept my expression blank. “Like you said, we’ll never know.”
Lord Blackwood had to be reaching about me going to the Underworld. About talking to Ottavia. There was no possible way he could… unless he could see inside my mind. I raised every single mental protection I possessed and locked them into place.
“At least we agree on something.” The slimy bastard shrugged. “Now, you have something of mine, Signora Dominico. I’m a reasonable male. I’m sure we can come to an understanding.” He flicked two fingers and his henchman—Romulus—stepped forward.
“That Basin belongs to me. Give me the location, and I’ll let you live. All of you. I’ll even offer you the same deal I gave your uncle. I’ll let you run this Dynasty however you see fit and pretend you’re in charge, if that makes you happy.”
“Like I would trust a single fucking lie that came out of your mouth. Hard pass.”
“Or I can sew your mouth shut and feed you to the Drax,” he said pleasantly. “They are hungry, and you are an uncooperative little bitch. Your choice.”
Black liquid splatted down onto the council table, splashing up the front of Blackwood’s immaculate waistcoat. He didn’t even flinch. Ever so slowly, I looked up at the hand-painted, ancient ceiling. The entire thing was covered in spiders.
Too many to even count.
Luca’s shaking fingers found mine, his grip tightening as Blackwood watched us with infinite patience.
You can’t give him the location, Em. He’ll use it to enslave everyone.
Yeah, no shit, but we’ve got to get out of here, Luca, before…
A plume of black smoke exploded through the chamber, billowing until I couldn’t even see Blackwood’s face, so thick I was choking, trying to breathe through the sharp tang of ozone.
I couldn’t tell where the smoke came from, but I wasn’t arguing with good fortune. I hauled Luca sideways, dragging him toward the hidden door behind Severin’s chair, and we sprinted, thigh muscles straining toward the escape.
Twenty feet.
Ten.
Five.
The door was in arm’s reach when spiders dropped from the ceiling, landing all around us. Jointed legs moving, the second they hit the ground, skittering straight toward us.
Move, Luca. Move.
We blasted through that door, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact, skin tearing, bones shifting in their sockets. We were halfway down the hall—little more than a tunnel of stacked stone—when behind us, Blackwood lifted one hand.
Darkness coiled from his fingertips, turning shadows into a blade forged from liquid night.
And like a sharpened spear thrown true, those shadows rocketed straight at Luca. I knocked my brother to the side and sent him stumbling. Instantly, the blade disintegrated into a floating puff of smoke between us, leaving a reek of spent magic staining the air.
“Fucking go,” I hissed, shoving him toward the exit. “Get through that fucking door.”
We burst out onto the empty fondamenta and were gone, nothing but disorganized particles speeding over the sleeping city towards the safehouse.
But the last thing I remembered was the gloating expression on Lord Blackwood’s face as he stood surrounded by a host of eyeless spiders, watching our escape with the satisfied expression of a male who had gotten exactly what he wanted.