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Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five

CARMINE

Luna and Laro—who’d both essentially died in that chamber—had to practically carry me out of the labyrinth. She tied the knife to her little purse by wrapping the string around the hilt ten times, then slinging it over her shoulder. It hung between her breasts like a weapon of war.

The ring stayed in my pocket. When I got home, I reached in to remove it and immediately felt it trying to slide onto my finger. I dumped it on the bathroom vanity and left it there.

Laro had known we’d head for the labyrinth and was trying to corral the bridge vampires away.

He failed. After we all fell through the grate, they escaped the labyrinth through the entrance Laro had come through.

The vampire customers in the club got control of them after fifteen minutes of absolute massacre.

It’s being reported as a terrorist attack with a bullet that explodes when it hits its target, but there are theories.

They’re all wrong, but I can’t blame them.

No one trusts the mayor, and it’s obvious the police commissioner thinks speaking sternly is the same as speaking the truth.

Ario, Viaro, and Scout went back for Gunnar and brought him to the basement. He’s down there still, in stasis, healing for as long as it takes.

In my long life, with a century of keeping Strega, my house has never been so full.

Serafina cooks and Nunzio wipes the counters.

Giulia reads cards without seeing them. Laro looks at her with the devotion of a man.

His attentiveness is shocking to me. With all the centuries of knowing him as his father, I had no time to grow into his transition to adulthood.

We sleep. We make appointments with Dr. Watanabe.

When Luna and I are awake in bed, I tell her who Manod was.

In fine detail, I tell her what happened under Rome as it was being sacked.

Looking at the ceiling, I describe what my maker did to me and people I didn’t think I cared about until it was too late.

I tell her about Paolina, how I assumed she was dead, but maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t, and I flew away, leaving her broken and in thrall.

Luna put the ring in a drawer. It’s been calling me for days. I feel it. I still hold my right hand in a fist when I sleep. I unclench it when I wake and immediately feel the loss of the ring’s weight.

Am I worthy to wear it? According to the ring’s standards, I am, but after Charles, I no longer trust the judgment of a magic bit of rock.

Should I be worthy according to my standards when I’ve had none for five centuries?

Luna can’t answer that any more than I can, and I am grateful she doesn’t try to.

Will my colony still gravitate toward me? Will they still love me and accept my lead?

Before I compel loyalty, I need to know if I can earn it.

The knife has stayed on the kitchen table, tied with the orange cording of Luna’s tiny purse.

After the meeting with Dr. Watanabe, it remains untouched.

We are all afraid of it.