Blue-Blooded Vamp (9 page)

Finally unable to stand the suspense any longer, I grabbed the parchment and unrolled it. Holding it close to my chest, I peeked down. A single word written in bold calligraphic strokes stood out starkly against the yellowed paper.

Pasquino
.

Almost as an afterthought, someone had written in hasty scrawl at the bottom, “Trust no one.”

I frowned and flipped the sheet over, wondering if I’d missed something. I held it up to the light in case Abel had used invisible ink or something, but no other clues appeared.

“What’s it say?” Dicky tried to move closer, but I held it out of reach.

“I’m not sure.” That wasn’t a lie. But I also wasn’t eager to share this one meager clue with him, either. Abel had gone to great lengths to magically guard this word from any eyes that were not mine or my sister’s. So even though I didn’t know what the hell it meant, I wasn’t about to share the single word with anyone I didn’t trust implicitly.

Pasquino.

Adam caught my eye and raised his brows. I shook my head slightly. We’d discuss it later. In the meantime, I needed some answers from the expat. “When did he give this to you?”

He frowned and pursed his lips, thinking back. “I told ya, two weeks ago.”

“What?” I said, my voice rising in shock. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?” Erron asked.

“Tristan told Dicky that one of his daughters would show up with two birthmarks.” Adam jerked a thumb toward my back. “She got the second one only forty-eight hours ago. How in the hell would he know that was coming?”

Giguhl shrugged. “Maybe he’s got prophetic skills? After all, Maisie was an Oracle. She could have gotten the skills from him.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Maisie got those skills from Tristan’s mother, Ameritat. She was the Oracle before Maisie. Plus, Rhea told me explicitly that Tristan was a Chthonic mage like me.”

Adam blew out a breath. “Look, the only one who can answer your questions now is Tristan Graecus. We need to follow that clue and find him.”

“That’s what worries me. This secretive shit he’s pulling right now? The fact he’s hidden his existence for more than fifty years? Reminds me of some of the Caste of Nod’s tricks.”

Adam put his hand on my arm. “I know it’s suspicious but think about what you’re saying. According to Erron, Abel—or Tristan, rather—is the one who imprisoned Cain. If Dicky’s telling the truth and Abel is your dad, then I think it’s safe to assume he’s on our side.”

I shook my head. “I think it’s dangerous to assume anything.”

“That may be a nonissue,” Erron said. “After all, we’re not even sure he’s still alive.”

A hush fell over the room as this sank in. Other than putting a major crimp in my plans, I wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about the possibility that the father I thought was dead was… dead again.

“This is all making my head hurt,” I said.

“Word,” said the cat.

“What do you want to do, Sabina?” Adam asked.

“I want to get the hell out of here. The longer we’re in public, the better the chance Cain will discover we’re here and set a trap. Let’s get to the hotel and then we can figure out our next step.”

Adam nodded resolutely. “Let’s go.”

Erron turned to the Brit. “Thanks for your help, Dicky.”

He waved away the thanks. “Abel was a difficult man to be friends with, but he did me favors more than once. This was the least I could do for his daughter.” The word “daughter” made my eye twitch. But Dicky wasn’t done. “If you find him, tell him we’re square.”

“If we find him, we’ll tell him,” Adam said.

After I punch him for putting me through this bullshit, I silently amended.

W
e made it back to the street and walked in silence for about two minutes before Giguhl broke the tension.

“So,” the cat said with exaggerated slowness, “your dad’s alive.” He sat on my shoulder and his hot cat breath added insult to the injury of his words.

“Not now, G,” I snapped.

“Sabina, we’re going to have to talk about it,” Adam said.

“I know that,” I said, picking up my pace. “Eventually. But first I need everyone to lay off so I can wrap my head around what the hell just happened.”

Adam put his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “Okay.”

“How about you tell us what was on that paper instead?” Erron said.

With a sigh, I switched from avoidance mode into business mode. “Okay,” I said, waving them in closer. We were huddled on a street corner. “Pasquino.”

Adam pulled back with a frown. “That’s it?”

I nodded. “That one word and a note not to trust anyone.” I glanced at Erron. “Any idea what it means?”

“No clue,” he said. “Could be anything, really.”

“Maybe we should have asked Dicky,” Adam said.

“No offense, but I don’t entirely trust that guy,” I said.

Erron waved away my apologetic tone. “Me neither. You were smart to keep it to yourself.”

“Wait a second,” Adam said. “If you didn’t trust him, why take us there?”

“Because besides the cell number no one’s answering, Dicky was my only point of contact for Abel and his team. Anyway, he can’t be all bad if Sabina’s d—” He cut himself off when I shot him a warning glare. “I mean, Tristan trusted him to keep this message.”

“Apparently Tristan’s trust was conditional, too,” Giguhl said. “Otherwise, why ward it so heavily?”

“Good point,” Erron said. “So it looks like we’re on our own to find out what this Pasquino is.”

Adam smirked. “That would have worried me more before the Internet age.”

I nodded and kept walking. In my mind, I worried over that one word and what it could possibly mean. “Pasquino,” I said, testing the word. “Could be a person.”

“Or a city or a restaurant or a street,” Adam continued, talking it out.

“Gods, why all the cloak-and-dagger bullshit?” I asked.

“Who knows?” Giguhl said with a feline shrug.

“It’s probably more productive to try to figure out the ‘what’ instead of the ‘why’ at this point,” Adam said.

By then, we’d reached the hotel where Erron had made reservations before we left New Orleans. “Here we are,” the Recreant said with a grand gesture. “Hotel Caligula!”

I looked up and my mouth fell open. The building rose ten floors and looked like a palace. “Jesus, Erron. Does the phrase ‘low profile’ mean anything to you?”

“What?” He shrugged. “This is where I stay in Rome when I’m on tour. The location can’t be beat since we’re in the center of the city. Plus, the suites are big enough for all of us and the security’s tight.”

I made a mental note not to trust a famous rock star with the sleeping arrangements again. “Rhea’s going to shit a brick when she sees the expense report,” Adam said.

“I, for one, say we deserve a little luxury,” Giguhl said.

“Of course you do,” I said, my tone arid. To Erron, I said, “I was hoping for a small apartment or something that we could easily ward against attack.”

Erron waved a hand. “No problem. I’ve reserved the penthouse so we can ward the entire floor.”

Twenty minutes later, our enthusiastic bellhop showed us into the largest suite I’d ever seen. The place was larger than the apartment I shared with Adam at Prytania Place in New York.

“Well,” Adam said, setting down my backpack, “it’s certainly… stark.”

The décor must have been planned by a dominatrix with a fetish for modern art. Everything in the place was black and white, from the parquet floors to the black leather sofa to the ebony statues of women’s torsos.

“Awesome, right?” Erron exclaimed, shoving a few euros in the bellhop’s hand. After he shut the door and locked it, he turned to give us a rundown. “Two large bedrooms—a master with a king-sized bed and a smaller one with two queens—a full kitchen, a wet bar, and a rooftop terrace with a garden.”

“Nice!” Giguhl said. “I call the biggest bedroom.”

I shot the demon a look. “Dream on. You and Erron will take the one with two beds. Also, I feel I need to remind you we’re not here on vacation. The hotel’s nice but we
won’t be around long enough to pretend we’re in an episode of
Lifestyles of the Rich and Hairless
.”

“Party pooper,” the cat grumbled. “I’m gonna go check out the garden.” With that, he swung around and sashayed toward the spiral staircase leading to the roof.

Erron clapped his hands. “Let’s order some room service and get down to business.”

Thirty minutes later, we all gathered around the table to eat. For a little while the only sounds in the room were the occasional clink of a fork against porcelain and Giguhl’s exaggerated slurping.

“Dude,” I said. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to use a spoon when you eat pasta?”

The demon looked up at me. His black lips were glossy from butter. “Um, hello? They don’t exactly stress table manners in Irkalla, Sabina.”

“Obviously.”

In all honesty, it’s not like this was the first time I’d witnessed the demon’s abysmal eating habits. They’d never really bothered me before because, as he pointed out, you can’t exactly expect a demon to care much about etiquette. But for some reason it grated on me that night. I grabbed my glass of wine and took a long gulp. Probably it was just stress talking. Nothing a little liquid Valium couldn’t fix.

“Giguhl,” Adam said, changing the subject. “You find anything interesting on the terrace?”

The demon shrugged. He was in his demon body now and wore a plush terry-cloth robe with the name of the hotel embroidered on the lapel. “The view’s pretty awesome. I saw that big old dome for that temple the mortals worship at.”

“The Vatican?” Adam said.

“Is that the place where the guy with the pointy hat lives?”

“You mean the Pope? Yes.”

“Yeah, that. Anyway, there’s a kick-ass hot tub and an herb garden.”

“Adam, we should check out the garden after dinner to see if there’s anything useful in there,” I said.

Erron, who’d been pretty quiet, spoke up then. “I didn’t know you did herb magic.”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t, really. But my aunt Rhea taught me a few things. Sabina actually knows more about them than me.”

I looked up from my wine. “I doubt that.”

Adam didn’t comment on my denial. “Anyway, we’ll check it out. Wouldn’t hurt to have some backups for Zen’s amulets.”

I fingered the one she gave me before we left and smiled. It’d been good to see both Zen and Brooks before we left. Although, to be honest, considering the gravity of our mission, it was as much a good-bye as a quick hello.

Giguhl set down his fork suddenly and scooted his chair back. “Oh! Speaking of amulets,” he said. He walked over to the small bag he’d brought with him. “I almost forgot. Rhea gave me this before we left New York. Things were so hectic in New Orleans, I almost forgot to give it to you.”

He removed something from the bag and clasped it in his large claw. I couldn’t tell what it was beyond the brief flash of gold. Frowning, I held out my hand to receive the mystery object. “What’s this?”

The instant the warm metal touched my hand, a zing of magic zipped up my arm. But I was too busy dealing with the emotional pain of seeing the amulet that I didn’t register the brief flare of physical pain. The moonstone in the center of the gold setting winked at me like some sort of cosmic joke. “Why did she give you this?” I choked the words out over the pain tightening my throat.

Adam craned his neck to see what the demon had given me. When he recognized the necklace, he hissed out a breath.

Giguhl patted me on the shoulder. “Rhea thought you might want it. You know, for strength.”

I’m sure Rhea’s heart was in the right place when she’d taken this necklace off my sister’s corpse, but it was having the opposite effect. My hand started to tremble.

“What is it?” Erron asked, clueless.

“It belonged to Maisie,” Giguhl said. “It’s the amulet that identified her as the High Priestess of the Chaste Moon. Sabina’s got one just like it.” I normally wore my amulet inside my shirt, so at that moment only the one Zen had given me was visible.

Adam scooted closer and put an arm around me. “You okay?” he whispered.

I looked up at him. The tears stinging my eyes made him blurry. I didn’t know what to say. Was I okay? How could I be? My twin was dead and my fucking father was alive.

Instead of answering, I groped with my free hand for my wine.

“Speaking of Maisie,” Erron said, oblivious to my impending breakdown. “You never told me exactly what happened with her.”

My hand stilled with the wine halfway to my mouth. When I’d approached Erron in New Orleans to ask for his help, I’d kept the details pretty vague on Maisie’s death. I feared if I’d told him everything, I wouldn’t get through the request without tears. She’d died four nights earlier and the extra ninety-six hours hadn’t done much to ease the pain.

Luckily, Adam sensed my chaotic emotions and said, “I’ll tell you later.”

I appreciated him sparing my feelings, but the damage was
already done. The legs of my chair screeched against the marble floor. All the males froze and stared at me with concern. “Excuse me,” I whispered, and rushed out of the room.