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  Maybe I’d been wrong about what I told Danaus. Maybe I was evil. I could argue that I had killed those nightwalkers of the Coven court to stop them from hurting another vampire. I could argue that I’d done it to protect Tristan. But that would have been a lie. I did it to prove my own power and exert my control over them. I killed them simply because I could.

  FOURTEEN

  The night closed in around me, warm and wet like a lover’s lips on the hollow of my throat. But I wanted to shove the feeling away. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to hear another heartbeat or feel heat radiating from another human body. I didn’t want to look up and meet Tristan’s haunted gaze, asking questions I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

  For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I was alone. Gabriel, my guardian angel, was hundreds of miles away, and Danaus remained safely ensconced in a church—protected from me and my kind. Tristan had been left curled up on the bed. After a quick shower to remove the fresh coating of blood, I slipped down to the landing.

  As I flew across the Lagoon, a roar rose up from the engine of the tiny speedboat and I could feel it rumbling through my bones. Waves slapped against the sides of the boat and the wind pulled at my hair, tangling it. The darkness crowded close as I headed away from the lights and sputtering heart of Venice.

  I needed to be away from the pulse of humanity so I could think. Yet, something in me was afraid to plumb the dark depths of my feelings too deeply. I didn’t regret the destruction I had brought at the hall. I didn’t regret the lives that I took or the joy I felt in doing so. And it wasn’t the act that was gnawing away at me—it was my complete lack of remorse. I don’t know whether it was some wrinkled remnant of my humanity or if I truly believed it, but something was screaming inside of me that I should be horrified by the bloodbath I had created. But I wasn’t.

  Beyond the screaming, another, more insidious voice mocked me. Nearly two centuries ago Valerio had warned me there was no escaping what we were—heartless, cruel, and violent. I had left Europe professing that I could be different, I could avoid what he believed was fated. Less than twenty-four hours back in Venice and I was covered in the blood of my compatriots, basking in their terror, and laughing like a madwoman struck by the moon.

  As I neared the dark island, I cut the engine and let the small boat glide into the dock. I had gone to the one island where I knew I would be completely alone. No human lived here, and no vampire would dare find rest here due to the constant traffic of people during the daylight hours. I had come to San Michele—the cemetery island.

  The entire island was ringed with an enormous redbrick wall, and a pair of graceful white stairs and gates led into the sanctuary. The shadows were deeper on the island, thrown down by the countless cypress trees that reached up past the walls. Most of the island was thickly lined with graves, marked with headstones of varying size and decoration, from the traditional white cross to the more elaborate family crypts. The lanes were laid out in a neat grid, but due to the need for space, they were narrow, forcing visitors to walk single file in most places.

  With my head down, I wove my way to the east. It had been a while since I last visited, but I remembered a small section that was left as a park. The scent of jasmine and roses drifted to my nose. The air, thick and humid, left me feeling I was pushing through wet cotton. As I turned the last corner, I allowed myself to release a soft sigh as my gaze fell on a small patch of earth that had yet to be turned into a resting place for the dead. The park had shrunk in size, but it was enough for me to sit in silence, surrounded by cypress and what appeared to be a pair of hybrid poplar trees.

  Yet, something was wrong. I felt as if I wasn’t alone, though I knew I was. No human lived here and nightwalkers had no reason to visit this place. Despite my logic, I still scanned the entire island with my powers, but I sensed no one. Shoving my fingers through my hair, I shook my head and forced myself to walk into the clearing. I was frazzled from the long night and the seemingly endless battles with the naturi.

  I sat on the ground and threaded my fingers through the cool grass, wishing the silence of the island would seep into my soul and wipe away the pain caused by Calla’s sweet memory. Behind the great stone walls, I could no longer hear the waves of the Lagoon and the clang of the buoy bells were faint. There was just me and the wind and the dead.

  “I have grown very weary of you, little princess,” someone above me announced.

  Rolling over to balance on my hands and toes, I looked up into the poplar tree that had been at my back. But I didn’t need to see him. Frustrated tears welled up in my eyes at the sound of Rowe’s taunting voice. I was too tired both in body and spirit to fight the naturi now.

  “Leave here,” I snarled, the muscles in my calves starting to tremble from the awkward position I remained in. “I didn’t come here looking for you.”

  He snorted and stood easily on the branch he had been sitting on. His large black wings brushed and scraped against leaves and branches as he resettled them. “You leave. I was here first.”

  Was it that simple? I wasn’t surprised to find him in Venice after seeing the female naturi in the Great Hall. Hell, I was sure there were several other naturi wandering around the city or even swimming in the Lagoon. But he didn’t honestly seem to be there for me, since his best weapon was the element of surprise.

  Letting my knees fall so I was kneeling in the grass, I quickly glanced over my shoulder in the direction Rowe was facing. By my best guess, he was looking out toward San Clemente and the Great Hall.

  I had to get off the island and find some way to alert Jabari or Macaire. Stopping the naturi meant stopping Rowe, but I couldn’t accomplish that alone. I had no idea what the wind clan was capable of, but I was willing to bet there was more to it than just a nice pair of wings. Unfortunately, I had succeeded in pissing off everyone in the Coven, as well as angering and/or scaring the shit out of all the flunkies. I couldn’t reach Jabari, Elizabeth would rather see me dead at the hands of Rowe after what I did to Gwen, and Macaire…well, the only way I could reach Macaire was through the flunkies, and that wasn’t going to happen. My only potential contact inside the Great Hall was Sadira. I could have screamed. No matter what I did, I kept wading deeper and deeper into the mire until there was simply no escape.

  With a shrug, I made a show of dusting off my hands as I rose to my feet. I was on my own. “Fine. You can have the island. I’m sure this is the only way you can tolerate being surrounded by humans.”

  “I have to know, Mira,” Rowe began, halting me before I could take my first step. “Do you regret your decision?”

  “No,” I said, far too quickly to be convincing.

  A low chuckle rippled from Rowe as he shook his head at me.

  There was no question about what decision he was referring to. He had given me a chance to change sides, to help the naturi in exchange for their protection. I chose my kind without hesitation, but within minutes questioned whether it had truly been the wisest choice. If anything, I realized that I should be searching for a third option instead of trying to figure out which was the lesser of the two evils.

  “No? You’re pleased, yet you run away to the one place in this wretched city where there’s not a single vampire to be found?” he said. Rowe threaded a loose stand of hair behind his ear, keeping it from blocking his one good eye. Between his long black hair and the leather eye patch, he still reminded me of a pirate straight from a romance novel.

  A smirk twisted on my lips as I looked up into the tree at my enemy. “I like the view of the city from here.”

  His head snapped up to look out across the island. Another low laugh drifted down from the tree to me. From the ground, the only thing that could be seen in all directions was the massive brick wall that edged the island like a piece of industrial strength lace. I wanted to keep him laughing. It meant that he wasn’t trying to kill me. Rowe’s laughter was better than Nerian’s. My old tormentor’s laughter haunted
me, skipping back from memories that were sealed away under blocks of steel and concrete. Nerian’s laughter was the sound of madness and pain.

  “I made a mistake with you,” Rowe unexpectedly announced, again stopping me from walking back toward the gate I’d used to enter the cemetery.

  “What? When you helped Nerian torture me? Or when you tried to grab me in Egypt?” My indifferent, easygoing tone withered. “No, wait! You mean when you threatened to poison me in London.”

  “No, none of that was a mistake,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I mean when we first met.”

  “Machu Picchu,” I supplied. I honestly didn’t remember him being there, but he’d said on more than one occasion that he had. And maybe it was true. There were a lot of things that were blurry about my two-week captivity on that mountain. I might have blocked him out.

  Rowe dropped down from the tree branch he had been standing on, landing only a few feet from where I stood. I immediately darted backward, putting more than twenty feet between us, and even that still felt too close. Surprisingly, he lifted both hands, palms out, giving the international sign that “It’s all good.” Of course, I was hoping that was what the gesture meant in naturi.

  “You honestly don’t remember me,” he said softly, staring at me with a strange intensity. His large black wings were hidden now and he vaguely reminded me of a somewhat muscular elf, without the pointed ears, of course.

  “No, I don’t remember you,” I snapped, pacing to my left then back again. The ground was sloped and the grass was slick under my feet. Not the best location for a fight. “There’s a lot about Machu Picchu I don’t care to remember.”

  “We met in Spain,” Rowe corrected.

  I jerked to a halt, my lips parting at this sudden bit of unexpected news. Had he been among those who kidnapped me from Spain and took me to Peru?

  “It’s been more than six centuries,” he continued. “I looked different, but you haven’t changed much. Your hair seemed longer, and you were human. Sort of.”

  “You’re lying,” I whispered, shaken to my very soul. He knew me when I was human. That didn’t seem possible. Was I a magnet for these twisted creatures? Sadira had found me living on a small farm in Greece, the nearest village almost a day’s walk away. And now Rowe claimed to have known me during my brief human years.

  “It was four hours from sunset and you were sitting near the edge of a lake,” Rowe stated. His voice grew harder and colder with each new detail. His hands fell limp back at his sides. “You sat in the sun wearing a green dress. A strand of black pearls was woven through your hair.”

  While my memory of that day had faded during the long stretch of years, his memory remained crisp and fresh. But there was no question of the day he was recalling. I had worn that dress just once and then burned it, destroying the last bits of my human life. Rowe had met me on the last day that I was human.

  A fine trembling started in my fingers and a knot jerked tight in the pit of my stomach. I started to shake my head, denying what he was saying, when the fog around my own memory started to clear. A man had walked up out of the nearby woods. He was tall and lean, with bright green eyes, the same shade as wet grass after a summer storm. His shoulder-length hair was a pale blond almost like milky sunlight.

  “I warned you…that the landowner didn’t—”

  “Like trespassers,” Rowe finished. He leaned against the tree he had been perched in only moments ago. A soft laugh escaped him as he tilted his head back, staring up at the canopy. “I would never have guessed you were talking about a flock of vampires.”

  “I was only trying to keep you from being dinner,” I replied. I couldn’t raise my voice above a whisper as my mind struggled to comprehend this information.

  “And I let you slip through my fingers,” he muttered, looking at me again. “I came out of the woods because I sensed you. Something strange sitting on the edge of the lake. Not naturi. And yet, not quite human. A little bundle of energy as warm and sweet as a zephyr.”

  “Human,” I firmly said. “I was human.”

  Rowe shrugged his broad shoulders at my comment. “Maybe.” His eyes then narrowed on me and a frown pulled at his lips. “You managed to convince me back then. ‘I wanted to see the sun one last time,’” he mimicked in a high falsetto voice that sounded nothing like me.

  “It was the last time I ever saw the sun,” I confirmed.

  “I thought you were dying,” he barked, pushing off the tree, but he didn’t approach me. He stared at me, his fists clenched at his sides. “Humans were dropping dead all over the land. I thought you would too.”

  That was part of the reason Sadira offered to change me. The Black Plague had swept through Europe for several years, and she began to fear that I wouldn’t be able to escape it. If I caught the illness, she could not heal me and would have had to watch me die. So she offered to change me into a nightwalker. I’d recently discovered that there was much more to it than that, of course, but none of that was a part of my own memories, so to me Sadira remained my maker alone.

  “No, I had another kind of death in mind,” I murmured.

  “Aarrgh!” Rowe shouted, shoving both of his hands angrily through his hair as he took one step toward me then back over to the tree. “If I’d done something that day—anything—so much could have been different. If I had just killed you then, or taken you away from those vampires, everything would have been different,” he ranted.

  It was an interesting viewpoint that I had not considered. If I had not been at Machu Picchu, the naturi would have most likely opened the door and returned to the earth. Things would have been vastly different if I had not lived. After looking back on so many of my seemingly harmless decisions that had gone horribly wrong during the past several days, it was nice to be faced with someone dealing with the same horror. Six hundred years ago, if Rowe had killed a somewhat strange human, his wife-queen would be walking the earth beside him along with the rest of the naturi horde. They would not be facing the battle that was looming now. A broad smile danced across my lips and brightened my eyes. I wasn’t the only one to royally screw up without realizing it until it was far too late to fix.

  “We would be free,” he said in a low voice full of wistful longing.

  My smile withered. “And I would be dead. Countless humans and nightwalkers and lycans would be dead. The bori would be free. The old war would start again,” I said, my voice gaining strength for the first time since I had seen Rowe.

  “You think the bori would be free if the naturi returned?” he countered, leaning against the tree again. He seemed to have gotten over his moment of frustration, but then, he’d been dealing with that little bit of truth for more than five hundred years.

  “Of course. It’s the only option any non-naturi would have left.” I took a couple steps closer to him, shoving my fingers into the front pockets of my leather pants. “When the nightwalkers discover that we have no way of defeating you, we would find a way to set the bori free, your one and only equal in power.”

  “It’s a sad future you paint,” Rowe said with a shake of his head.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” I said, a wide grin returning to my face. “You could walk away now. Give up these plans to break the seal forever and let the naturi return to obscurity.”

  To my surprise, Rowe snorted again and folded his arms over his chest. “You would protect me from my kind?”

  I smiled. It was the same offer he had made to me nights ago. Change sides. Betray your own people. “Of course.”

  “I was serious, Mira. You don’t belong with them.”

  “I am nightwalker, Rowe. It’s the only place I belong.”

  He sighed, then frowned at me as if disappointed. “Regardless, getting rid of me won’t solve your problems.” I noticed that as he spoke, his eyes darted back toward the wall over my shoulder. Toward the Coven and the female naturi within the Great Hall.

  “Probably not, but it would be a gre
at starting point,” I conceded. “Of course, I’m getting the feeling that I should start with the female on that island you keep looking at. A friend of yours? Or maybe she keeps you warm at night, considering the little woman is stuck on the other side.”

  There was no mistaking the snarl that jumped from the back of Rowe’s throat. The light banter we had enjoyed early was over and it was now time to get down to business. I just hoped I survived the next few minutes. While I could comfortably contend that killing him would halt the naturi’s attempts to break the seal, my death would also ensure that nightwalkers had no way of reforming the seal or closing the door again if the naturi actually succeeded.

  “You know of her?” he demanded, to which my grin only grew. Rowe took a couple steps toward me, and I matched him by stepping backward. The air seemed to swell with energy. The wind picked up, causing the trees to violently sway. I chanced a glance up at the night sky to see the clouds churning and bubbling like witch’s brew. The stars had been blotted out and a low roll of thunder growled in the distance.

  “I can sense her on the island, yet I cannot reach her,” he admitted, and it was more than a little reassuring to discover that at least the naturi couldn’t break through our protective barriers. “Nightwalkers control that island.”

  “Venice belongs to us,” I said. “It has belonged to us for centuries and it will remain ours. Are you surprised there are places in this world that you cannot go?” I was playing with fire when it came to taunting Rowe, but playing with fire was what I did best.

  “Who do you hold on that island?” he demanded, ignoring my remarks. “She’s a captive.”

  Something in his voice gave me pause. A slight hesitation or a breathless pause that could be easily overlooked. He had intended it to sound like a statement, but it didn’t. Not only was he unsure of who was on the island, but he was also unsure whether she was actually a hostage.