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Chapter Sixty-Nine

LUNA

They know I’m coming. Mom emerges from the shelter of the tree with her eyes as wide as jelly jar lids, hands out, telling me to stop.

Just stop. But the man in the pure white raincoat is at the other end of the crosswalk already, waiting for me, and I think, who could this guy be?

Mom knows I can protect myself from anyone who tries anything.

I wouldn’t want to ruin the man’s life, take his mind and knot it like a noose, but what I want notwithstanding, I could.

“Luna Beneforte,” White Coat calls, arms open to show he’s not carrying a weapon or ill-intent. When he smiles, his teeth are not much whiter than his skin. Before Carmine took my blood, he seemed just right being that pale.

“Don’t try to glamour me.” I’m two steps from the sidewalk and the light’s about to change.

“You’re in thrall.” He steps back and indicates space for me to cross. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

I glance at Mom, who’s calmed down by about twenty percent. Taking his invitation, I get on the sidewalk and stand between him and my mother. “What do you want?”

“Don’t you want to know who I am?”

“You’re a vampire. You’re not one of Montefiore colony. And…” I look him over. His hands are clasped innocently in front of him. “And you have a black ring. A signet.”

He smirks and holds out his hand.

He has two rings.

He has made a decision to live outside the boundaries the goddess set for him .

“These old things? Yes. Would you like to see them?” He smiles at me under his moustache. He’s graying but has a youthful face.

“Does one of them have a raven on it?”

“No.” He pulls back his hand. “I do not have the ring of the garbage-eater.”

I am sure this is some kind of vampire insult, and I don’t care enough to get offended on Carmine’s behalf. “Then no. I’m good.”

Mom takes me by the elbow. “Let’s go.”

She pushes me toward the crosswalk, but White Coat gets in front of us.

“My name is Charles Montenegro. Formerly Charles III of the Bourbon line.”

“A Bourbon?”

Carmine hates the Bourbons. I never found out why he holds a grudge against them, but it must have been bad. If I wasn’t concerned before, I am now.

“He wants our blood.” Mom is right behind me, whispering in my ear. “We have to?—”

“You know of the Bourbons?” His eyebrow is raised in pure delight.

Hello, vanity.

“My boyfriend once bet me I couldn’t down a double shot of Wild Turkey without throwing up. He won a blowjob I would have given him anyway.”

His lips twitch. That was not the Bourbon story he was looking for. I have ten more that are true, but I get the feeling we don’t have that kind of time.

The rustle of a plastic bag distracts me. It’s rolling along the sidewalk. Halfway down the block, it curls around the legs of another man in a white coat before floating away.

He’s with Charles. The coat. The matching white face. The way he’s staring.

A quick scan of the street reveals another one. Different coat, same color.

Shit.

They’re everywhere. One under the scaffolding.

Another by the door to the building lobby, holding a cigarette he’s not smoking.

I turn. One behind us. The Montenegros are not suffering from underpopulation the way the Montefiores are.

There’s a white coat on top of the scaffolding, like a sniper without a gun.

I look up at the penthouse. Serafina leans over the railing, waving her arms, warning me of something I can’t hear.

My gaze snaps down to the building with its small, yellow-lit lobby. There’s a dark slit in it, getting bigger and closer, resolving into a human shape.

Alex runs through the lobby. They can’t see the Montenegro in the white trench coat flick his cigarette away and ready himself for an attack, or the one crouching on the scaffolding above.

It happens so fast I can’t do more than hold out my arms as if I can stop Alex from speeding into the glass door and shouldering it open with a smack.

When the vampires attack, I scream… Nooooo…