Chapter 22
Frederica smiled at the man in front of her, trying to keep Amelia's interested warmth in it. Agrippa was still studying her.
"Vienna is a small city. I hope wherever your friend is now that she's well," she replied.
"I hope so, too," Agrippa said, and his smile was enigmatic and a little too smug. He knew exactly what had happened to her, and Frederica would bet that he knew where she was buried.
Frederica sensed Dario a second before the familiar weight of his arm settled around her waist like he had been doing it for years. He looked at Agrippa with Gabriele Ferraro's polite expression.
"Forgive me. I don't think we have met," Dario said, and extended his hand. "Gabriele Ferraro."
Agrippa shook it. "Alvise Morosini. Your wife has a remarkable eye for relics. You should have bid higher on case seven."
"She told me to stop," Dario said with a lazy shrug. "I've learned not to argue with her and just give her what she wants. Her happiness makes me happy."
"Wise man, and a lucky one," Agrippa said in the same friendly tone. He had looked at her like an acquisition. He looked at Dario as if he were a threat. "Your collection, Signor Ferraro. Mostly early modern, I understand. Northern European in emphasis?"
"My wife's influence," Dario replied with a charming laugh. "I came to collecting late, but she has always had a wonderful eye for treasures."
"The best things are often found late." Agrippa held his gaze for a moment longer than the conversation required, and lifted his glass of wine to them. "I hope you find something in the remaining pieces that you can appreciate. Good evening."
Frederica didn't watch him go. She finished her wine and commented on some other pieces in the collection she liked. Dario's hand stayed at her waist.
In her ear, Iz said quietly, "Safe house. Now."
They cleared security and were getting in their car within ten minutes. Dario drove, and Frederica navigated, trying to keep her heart rate down as she double-checked that they weren't being followed and scratched her temple.
Once the safe house door was closed behind them and the locks were thrown, Dario opened his laptop and called Iz.
"Agrippa has left the venue with the mirror. Serapis says not to try to pursue under any circumstances," Iz answered, her hair a wild mess around her. "Leo is going to try to track his security and the vehicles he has taken through traffic cams."
Frederica stood at the kitchen counter and listened to all of it, feeling like she was slightly outside her own body.
That had never happened to her before. She didn't get rattled from one conversation with a creepy, rich old white guy.
Most rich white guys were creepy. There was something so wrong with Agrippa that it rattled her cage.
Altun would have the words for it, probably. She would say something about energy and auras. Sorcerers tended to be weirder than most, but Kon and Altun didn't feel that way.
She scratched at her temple again, the touch of Agrippa's cool fingers still on her.
"Something is wrong. I shouldn't be this afraid," Frederica said numbly.
Dario was beside her in a moment. "What is it?
"I'm scared, like terrified. That's not me… I can't control it," she said, tearing at her hair.
"Did he touch her?" Serapis demanded.
Frederica nodded and scratched again. "Yes, he did."
"Get the salt from the kitchen, fill the tub, and dump it in there. Get her in it right now!" Serapis demanded. "He's done something to her, and the salt will neutralize it."
Dario grabbed the bottle of salt from the countertop, took Frederica's hand, and dragged her to the bathroom.
"Oh, God, it's burning," she said, the itch moving across her scalp and setting it on fire.
Dario turned the taps on in the bath. "Strip unless you want to go in the water wearing that."
Frederica gritted her teeth against the burning pain and pulled down the side zip. "Help…"
Dario gripped the hem of her dress and dragged it over her head. She didn't get as far as her bra and panties before he was picking her up and putting her into the salt water. She thrashed, fighting against putting her head under.
"Big breath," Dario said before he put a hand on her head and dunked her. Frederica stopped fighting him, her scalp stopped burning, and she tapped his wrist to let her up.
"That…was…" she said, wiping water from her face. "What the fuck, Dario?"
"Show me." Dario turned her head and checked her temple. "It's red from the scratching, but you have no broken skin. How do you feel?"
Frederica wanted to cry. Instead, she growled. "Pissed off and ready to shoot that fucker in the face."
"Good. That sounds more like you," he replied. "Did he say anything to you? Anything that could have been some kind of spell when he touched you?"
Frederica shook her head. "He said I reminded him of someone."
"That's all? Doesn't seem like a spell to me," he replied, his brows drawing together.
"He said she was gifted. He said it like…
like he owned her. Not that she was talented in some way.
Maybe he meant both. Who do you think it was?
" It was the question that had taken root in the back of her skull the moment Agrippa's pale eyes had gone still with recognition.
"Who could I possibly remind a five-hundred-year-old monster of? "
Dario shook his head and wiped the wet hair from her cheek. "I don't know, but he can't have you."
"I'm staying in here a while, if it's all the same to you," Frederica said when his eyes became too soft. "You had better go and let Serapis know the salt bath worked."
Dario gave her a long look. "I'll cook you something to eat. Call me if it starts to burn or you feel the fear coming back."
Frederica nodded and slid under the water again, drowning out anything else he might have said.