Page 67

Chapter Sixty

CARMINE

Her blood makes mine keen and forceful.

My chest presses against the stake as if it can push it out. The contamination and pain that I’m used to most days is unacceptable when I am healthy.

“A tin can with three hundred fifty blood-pumping machines.” Ario’s posture fights the design of the chair. His head is thrown over the seat back and his legs jut straight with his heels grinding against the carpet.

“Cargo was the way to go, back in the day.” Viaro’s jumpy, pacing across the room to pick up artifacts and put them down again. “Now they X-ray everything.”

“Fifteen hours.” Ario groans.

I let them complain. They earned it when they ended up on a commercial flight because I hadn’t sent back Ferrante’s plane.

“Enough time to get a nip in, though.”

“Well, yeah.”

They laugh.

“I hope you were careful,” I say.

They overlap reassurances in three languages.

“When are we going down?” Ario asks.

“Friday.”

My phone makes an angry sound on the side table. I’m not sure if it’s broken, and I don’t care. Laro taught me how to use one kind. This one has no buttons and everything is in a different place. It’s all impossible.

“I’m sorry to lose that were-girl,” Viaro says. “She’s fun.”

“Her blood is worthless.” My phone jitters loudly again. I pick it up to throw it.

“Yeah, but you never knew what she was going to do next.”

Before the phone leaves my hand, I see the first part of the message on the screen.

—Does your raven have the stake in it?