by Sue Wilder
“My god, that was a mouthful.”
One corner of his mouth ticked up, not a smile, but close enough. “How would you like me to phrase it?”
Her amber eyes flicked to his. “You are ancient,” she said.
“I cannot help the circumstances of my creation.”
“Birth. Most people say birth.” It was an unexpected concession. “If I promise not to violate your rules, will you promise to listen and respect my point of view?”
Christan nodded, noting again the faint pulse beating in her throat. She pretended a calm she didn’t feel, as did he. There were few moments throughout his long life when he doubted his decisions, but what he’d done to her all those centuries ago in Florence was one that stood out in his memory. It caused him to think of himself as something beyond redemption, a cold immortal who deserved every word she’d ever thrown at him.
Ti odio, Christan.
I hate you.
It was why he hated Florence.
Why he would go back there now. With her.
Because she deserved a proper ending.
Christan studied her, his eyes hidden in the shadows as he stood with his back to the window. Her defenses were up, which was a good thing considering the volatile nature of their relationship. He gave a hard nod of agreement and it was done. They would face the ghosts of Florence, and when it was over they would either pick up the ashes, or she would move on.
CHAPTER 20
Florence, Italy
Three provided the executive jet that took them from Portland to Chicago, where another private jet, larger and more luxurious, completed the transatlantic flight to Vienna. Lexi slept most of the way, waking once to the warm male scent beneath her cheek.
Her head was in Christan’s lap. Her fingers were petting the inside of his thigh and his hand was tangled in her hair. When she moved restlessly, his fingers drifted against her nape, and she slipped back into sleep.
The next time she woke, the plane was landing at the International Airport in Schwechat. Lexi stumbled through the customs line, then Arsen was leading her across the tarmac and they boarded a nondescript commuter flight to Florence.
Entry into Italy was completed without notice through a private office at the far end of the airport. Christan helped her into a large black vehicle while Arsen sat in front. The driver veered in and out of traffic, avoiding the motor-scooters swarming the streets despite the late hour. When they reached a building with a tall iron gate, Christan lifted her from the back seat and grabbed their travel bags from the trunk.
“Where’s Arsen going?” Lexi asked as the vehicle pulled away.
“He has his own flat about a mile from here.”
Christan maneuvered them through the gate. Stone steps opened onto a square courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings. Windows framed in stone were shuttered. Plants spilled from balcony rails, with the occasional bits of laundry. The earth memories were happy and nostalgic as if welcoming her home. Lexi tipped her head to stare at an inky black sky decorated with stars.
“I love stars,” she whispered, as Christan steered her through an arched wooden door. “Do you look at stars, Christan?”
“Yes,” he answered. “But only the first five stars.”
“For strength, faith—”
“Visione, coraggio e amore,” he finished before she could. Vision, courage and love. Lexi’s knees went weak, and not because Christan was dragging her up two more flights of stairs. When he opened another door, he held her against his chest with one hand and dropped their bags in the front hall with the other. The moment was soft and intimate and familiar. Then he guided her toward the bedroom.
“Sleep,” he commanded as he removed her shoes and settled her beneath a soft blanket. “You can work it out in the morning.”
Or at least that’s what she thought he said. The words had the haunting pain of memory that disturbed her as she drifted back to sleep.
The bright yellow light woke Lexi from a fitful sleep. For a moment she wondered why the room felt warm; her cabin was usually cold in the morning. Then she noticed the windows with the shutters thrown wide and remembered where she was. The floor was terra-cotta tile, cool against her feet. The walls were a soft salmon. An open door revealed the bathroom.
Lexi showered and dressed quickly, then explored the apartment. In the tiny kitchen, a carafe of coffee was on the counter. A box of fresh croissants sat beside the carafe with a note taped to the top.
Yogurt in the refrigerator, don’t leave, Giam will call at noon to see what you need, do not leave, we will be gone all day, I mean it Slick, I will kick your ass if you leave this flat. Arsen.
What the hell? Arsen was her minder now? Tossing down the note, Lexi opened the refrigerator, found a container of strawberry yogurt and poured a cup of the coffee that was still hot.
Her phone chimed, a startling sound, but then she remembered Ethan had loaded software that would allow the phone to operate on the European mobile networks. She slid the unlock function and answered the incoming call. Giam’s voice was jovial; Lexi glanced around, searching for a clock. Was it already noon?
“Have you acclimated yet?” Giam switched to lightly accented English as if he’d asked her a question in Italian and she’d missed it.
“Yes, just struggling with the jet lag, that’s all. It’s beautiful here.”
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself. Arsen left a note, and I don’t mean to state the obvious, but things are a little tense, so… no exploring on your own.”
“Got it,” she said, spooning yogurt into her mouth.
“I’ll send groceries—you can’t go out to eat. What would you like?”
“Haven’t been awake long enough to think about it.” And there was no way Lexi wasn’t going out. She hadn’t come to Florence to hide.
Giam laughed, a rich male sound that carried through the phone. “How about I send over a selection? Do you cook?”
“Yes.” The answer was mumbled around another spoonful of the yogurt. “Pasta, fresh vegetables in season, grated cheeses—I sound like a snobby American stereotype. Sorry. But I like red wine. Italian wine doesn’t give me headaches,” she added, revealing too much and feeling embarrassed. “I see a laptop here.” It was on a simple desk. “Okay if I use it?”
“They told me you’d want to research. We’ve completed our own investigation, and I left the information in the file labeled Lexi.” He laughed at the joke and she smiled.
“I appreciate the heads up, but I have a few sources I’d like to explore.” Not to mention any earth memories she could pick up. “Did you include Katerina’s last known location?”
“I believe Arsen left you a note,” Giam reminded smoothly.
“Uh-huh,” she agreed, reaching for a croissant. Giam didn’t need to know about her reaction to the note, nor her sources.
As for the computer, Lexi’s “research buddy Ethan” had been following along during the earlier searches, and no doubt he would follow her now. She remembered his laid-back persona from the video conference and had enjoyed playing with him once she realized what he’d been doing.
But Lexi saw no reason to expose the mentor from her college days, the one who, at fourteen, had hacked into some rather high-level and forbidden computer systems. The reward for his brilliance had been an obligation to the government until he died of old age. Occasionally, the official minders allowed him out to do community service, a service that including tutoring innocent college girls, and when she’d met Matthew, he’d been an awkward, gawky kid of eighteen.
Now Matthew was twenty-four. He’d became a friend and one overlord was enough; Lexi wouldn’t dangle Matthew’s secrets in front of immortals. She would slip in through the backdoors he had designed and taught her to access, from any computer or smart phone regardless of tracking software or hidden encryption. And Ethan would never realize where she’d gone.
“Don’t answer the door unless you get a text telling you it’s safe,” Giam was saying. He sound
ed satisfied, as if he had everything under control. He ended their conversation with a traditional Italian phrase and Lexi returned the phone to the counter.
It would be a long day but not in isolation. The sun-washed stones, the light brush of dry air, the layers of emotions—love, passion, laughter—were all embedded into this landscape and called to her with a siren’s song.
Welcome home… Gemma.
She would not resist.
Christan met Arsen outside the tiny flat, hidden on a narrow side street just off the Via Del Presto, near the Casa di Dante. It was the last known location of Katerina Varga.
“I thought Luca was coming.”
“Something came up.” Arsen didn’t elaborate and Christan didn’t ask. They would find out soon enough. Around them, the shadows held the coolness of the morning and the buildings were tall. Shutters had not yet been closed against the coming heat.
“This is their last known location,” Arsen was saying as he prowled around the alley. “I think I can track her.”
That came as no surprise. Arsen had an affinity for it. “Are you sure she’s your mate?” Christan asked out of courtesy.
“Yes.” There was no joy in the word. “She was here with two other girls. Luca was right, I sense traces of Kace here, too.”
“How long ago?”
“Five days for her. Kace, less than two days.”
The flat was on the second floor, reached by an external tiled staircase still in shadow. Entering would be easy. If challenged by curious passersby, Christan would remove any human recollection of the warriors’ presence.
The door was heavy, old oak, painted green and caught in a splash of sunlight. Little gold numbers identified the flat as number 19. Christan knocked once, just to be sure. When no one answered he manipulated the lock. As both warriors entered the darkened room they automatically searched the shadows, looking for hidden threats. The room held a shrouded sense of vacancy until a quick, hesitant voice sounded behind them.
“Oh… scusi?”
The girl stood in the doorway. Sunlight rimmed her slim figure and red hair. The awful attempt at Italian meant she was probably American and had learned the basics from a computer program.
“We startled you,” Christan said. He tried to sound non-threatening, not sure if he lessened her apprehension or increased it.
“Oh, good, you speak English.” The girl kept a cautious distance. “Are you the new tenants? I needed to check if we left a phone behind. We packed in a rush.”
“We just got here ourselves.” Arsen’s killer smile flashed and Christan let him take the lead. Soothing human anxiety was Arsen’s talent, not his.
“You wouldn’t mind if I checked?” she asked.
“We’ll help. What does your phone look like?”
The girl shrugged. “Just a smart phone.”
“You’re American—I can tell by the accent.” As Arsen spoke, the girl glanced nervously around. “Are you here on vacation?”
“We rented by the week,” she admitted after a moment. “I really shouldn’t talk about it.”
“It’s okay. We’re connected to the Embassy, contacting our citizens, making sure everyone’s safe. Just a few concerns, nothing to worry about.”
“That’s attentive service. I mean, from the Embassy.” She sounded embarrassed, uneasy. “I didn’t realize there was a consulate in Florence.”
“We keep a low profile.”
“Oh.” Christan realized Arsen was easing into her mind when the girl visibly relaxed. She was starting to trust them. It was a talent Lexi found less than admirable, calling them all “bastards” for doing it. But it was necessary.
Arsen asked, “Have you had any issues that concerned you?”
“Well, Kat—my friend, she’s here doing research,” the girl admitted. “She was getting kind of spooked.”
“Do you know what it was about?”
“She thought someone had been in the apartment, and she might have been followed. Carol and I, we never noticed anything like that.”
“Has she been doing anything unusual?”
The girl shook her head and looked away. “Her godfather is this famous British expert on ancient civilizations,” she said after a moment. “He got Kat a six-month research grant in a private archive. Normal people don’t get access, only those academically connected types, but she’s brilliant. She has two degrees, you know. Amazing.”
“Do you know what she was researching?”
“Something to do with Italian history—the really ancient history, but I don’t think she was finding what she expected. She kept saying they only showed her the obvious.”
“Was she having dreams?”
The girl hesitated, surprised at the question. Christan saw her flinch when Arsen pressed deeper into her mind. Then she relaxed and leaned forward as if to confide.
“She’s been dreaming for several weeks now. One was so bad it woke me when I heard her crying. I asked her about it but she wouldn’t tell me anything, just said her entire existence was a lie. I think she blamed some guy, but I’ve known her through college and she never dated anyone.”
A muscle clenched in Arsen’s jaw. “Is she leaving Florence soon?”
“No, she still has several months left on her research grant. She wouldn’t give that up.”
“Do you know where she’s staying?”
Either the girl was protective of her friend’s secrets, or Arsen’s touch in her mind was slipping. She said, “We… decided to split up.”
“Was there anywhere she enjoyed visiting? Cafes, restaurants, museums?”
“No, none I can think of. And she didn’t tell us where the archive was located, other than it’s here in Florence, said it was a big secret. A lot of security.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
The girl shook her head.
“You said she had two degrees?” Christan asked before they lost her completely. He’d seen the awareness darken her eyes.
“Yes, computer science and ancient languages. Weird combo, right?”
Arsen straightened. Christan nodded, and both warriors walked outside, leaving a puzzled girl wondering who she’d been talking to while she tried to find a missing phone.
CHAPTER 21
Lexi finished her second cup coffee as she read the final document in the files. The Italians had been thorough, but they hadn’t traced Katerina’s movements back for more than a few weeks. Lexi didn’t need surveillance to track a person’s movements. Habitual patterns were not as random as people thought. Earth energies had a lot to do with how attractive or repulsive a location felt, and it wasn’t always the taste of the coffee that drew people to a certain cafe.
According to Marge, what people didn’t see had more influence on their actions than what they did see. Actually, it was what people felt and didn’t feel, but they’d been sitting on Lexi’s deck at the time, watching a pair of grown men and laughing hysterically about what people didn’t see. The idiots had been flirting with what turned out to be sneaker waves. Some people needed to get knocked on their asses before they realized their own stupidity.
Still, Lexi assumed the Italian warriors had loaded their own tracking software onto the laptop. They were good, not as skilled as Ethan, but talented enough Lexi began the first swift keystrokes that would lead her to Matthew’s secret backdoors.
An hour later, Lexi acknowledged that Katerina knew how to hide her presence from the cyber world. The girl never posted on social media, sent or received email, commented on her friend’s posts or did any electronic banking. And if she used a cell phone, it was encrypted.
But Lexi discovered the posting on social media from one of Katerina’s friends, about how thrilled Katerina was to be visiting Florence “because of a research grant.” Katerina’s godfather was identified as a scholar, with a particular interest in ancient European civilizations if an obscure book he’d written ten years ago was any proof. Lexi found it in an online archiv
e through her old university, used a password and quickly scanned the contents.
Lexi followed another lead and discovered a brief announcement posted by the godfather’s academic institution: the professor had turned down a coveted research grant for health reasons and his goddaughter, Katerina Varga, had accepted in his stead. Kat had majored in computer science and ancient languages. One of her published papers had been on the lost Etruscan language. It was not an Indo-European language but based on the ancient Aegean languages with elements of Raetic, spoken in the Eastern Alps. Katerina had proposed using computer algorithms to cross-reference with known ancient dialects. The paper had been moderately received, with some skepticism. Multiple theories were argued as to the origin of the Etruscans since the Romans had obliterated almost all of Etruscan culture. Katerina had then been accepted into a doctoral program at her godfather’s institution, which she turned it down two months later to accept the research grant.
And there is was. Katrina had come to Florence to research the Etruscans.
Lexi felt energized. She gathered the hair at her nape and wrapped it into the knot for convenience. In skinny jeans and a black top, she would look like every other tourist visiting the Museo Archeologico—the one place in Florence Katerina would not have overlooked. The museum housed one of the most extensive Etruscan collections in Italy. If Lexi was lucky, she would pick up some imprint of the girl’s presence, a trace that might lead her to more interesting clues. And since it was within walking distance, not more than a few blocks, she might find other interesting memories along the way.
Florence had a long and ancient history. It was calling to her.
And yeah, Arsen could just try to kick her ass, Lexi thought as she walked out the door.
Luca was waiting at the end of the alley leading to Katerina’s old flat, leaning against the armored black vehicle blocking the street. Angry pedestrians swarmed around the shiny metal, shouting their displeasure in typical blunt fashion.
