Chapter 8 #3
Francesco’s voice rose out of nowhere, soaring in an aria that penetrated the office door.
Carlo had gone as still as a mannequin. He stayed like that, his doll’s eyes fixed on Jesse. When he spoke at last, his lips were the only part of his body that moved.
“Do you accuse me of lying? Or do you believe me incapable of overseeing my territory?”
Oh, shit.
“Neither,” Jesse said smoothly. He retrieved his phone and leaned to one side so he could slip it into his back pocket. “Although, I believe you would lie if it suited you.”
It took everything I had not to jerk my head toward him. Because what the fuck? Why was Jesse provoking the guy?
Carlo’s lips curved. “Perhaps I would, wolfseeker. But it doesn’t suit me in this instance.
” He narrowed his eyes—the most human expression he’d displayed since we entered the office.
“Nin and Stefanos aren’t ones to waste resources.
If they sent you to Rome looking for this Ulfrik, that means they’ve lost control of the situation. ”
Jesse was silent, his face unreadable.
Carlo waved his hand in a languid gesture.
“I’m sympathetic to your rogue troubles, van der Meer, but they don’t concern me.
Werewolves have never posed a threat to my kind.
” He shrugged, but this time the human gesture was awkward and stiff, as if he’d practiced it in front of a mirror so he could mimic it later.
“If I see the rogue, I’ll contact you. That’s the best I can do. ”
Jesse stood. “We appreciate your help.”
“Figurati.”
The door opened before we’d turned, and Alessia stood in the doorway, her dark eyes emotionless.
“Please follow me,” she said.
We trailed her back through the maze of corridors. Francesco had stopped singing, his rehearsal apparently finished. Or maybe he was fang-deep in a pet somewhere.
Alessia walked us to a different door than the one we’d entered. She opened it without a word, and we stepped into a narrow side street that smelled like mildew and car exhaust. When Jesse and I turned back, she was gone, the door sealed behind her.
Jaw set, Jesse jerked his head toward the street.
Night had fully settled over the city, the stars surrendering their battle with Rome’s light pollution.
The chill seeped through my clothes and bit at my skin.
Above the rooftops, a bank of dark clouds promised more rain.
I waited until we’d put some distance between us and the opera house before I spoke.
“What happened to not provoking the master vampire?”
Jesse was the picture of nonchalance. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You pretty much called him a liar.”
“Because he’s lying.”
I slowed. “You’re sure?”
He stopped, his jaw tightening as he looked back at the opera house in the distance.
“Yes, and it’s hardly a surprise. He knows everything that happens on his property.
The second a werewolf stepped through those doors, Carlo would have gotten word of it.
” Jesse turned to me. “But I don’t know if he’s involved. ”
I shoved my hands in my pockets as I reviewed everything we knew: the photos, Ulfrik attending an opera performance, the fact that Carlo was a creep. “I mean… He has to be, right?”
Jesse’s mouth was as tight as his jaw. “We can’t assume anything. All we can do is follow the trail in front of us.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Even if the trail is a goddamn circle.”
I grabbed his hand. “So we make sure we don’t get dizzy.” I winced. “Sorry. I’m not good with metaphors. Or whatever.”
His smile was a slow, easy reveal that softened all the hard edges he’d carried from the opera house. “You look just fine from here, college boy.”
A scooter shot past us, nearly nipping my heels.
“Fuck off!” I shouted after it.
Jesse’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh.
“We’ll figure out this Ulfrik thing,” I told him. “Maybe just kill him again. Put Carlo out of his misery while we’re at it. Burn down the opera house? Get really wild with it.”
He pulled me into a walk. “Jesus. Don’t tell Stefanos that plan.”
I huffed. “Like he’d ever listen to me.”
The Colosseum rose in the distance, its lights burning gold against the dark. Wind whipped down the street, kicking up dead leaves that swirled around our ankles.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
Jesse looked at the Colosseum, but I got the sense he didn’t really see it. “We go home. I’ll text Stefanos and let him know how the meeting went. Then we wait for instructions.”
Emotion moved through my chest—a sharp burst of uneasiness there and gone before it could fully register.
But I’d felt it. Jesse was worried.
He kept his gaze fixed ahead. The channel between us was smooth and blank, the flow of his emotions carefully shielded. He’d locked it down with the same skill he used to track rogues.
Meanwhile, my gift was still MIA. Leave it to my so-called supernatural ability to duck out right when it might have been useful. Maybe it could have given us a glimpse of what Carlo was really up to. Some advanced warning of what to expect. But my “magic” was apparently on its own damn schedule.
On impulse, I reached over and took Jesse’s hand.
He looked down at our joined fingers, then up at me. His eyes softened, the warm brown chasing the chill from the air. He tugged me closer, our sleeves brushing, and kept my hand.
It was such a small thing: holding someone’s hand on the street. People did it without thinking. But I’d never imagined a time or place where I could do it. The Caleb Lawson who’d attended Vacation Bible School every summer had never dreamed of holding hands with the man I loved in public.
My gift was out of order, but I had this. It wasn’t nothing.
Jesse ran his thumb over my knuckles. “After I talk to Stefanos, I’m taking you to bed.”
I swallowed the stupid lump that had formed in my throat. “Just so you know, I have no intention of either of us sleeping.”
Jesse’s smile was as big and bright as the ancient monument in front of us.
“I was counting on it.”