“Antoni is a half-blood.” I press my lips together at the memory of our last conversation. When I taste blood, I scrape my thumb over the wound, but my digit bleeds just as profusely as the rest of me. “Vance, too.”
“Both wore protective crystals, so their exposure didn’t harm them.” Once Justus has set me on my feet and ensured that my knees aren’t about to give out, he releases me.
“How come the men you picked followed Dante’s orders?”
“The ones I picked were Cato, Lastra, and two others. But the two others weren’t amongst the ones who harassed you, for I’ve already claimed my bargain with them.” When I incline my head and hitch up an eyebrow, he adds, “They must guard Meriam with their life.”
“So the others . . .?”
“Are Dante’s personal guard.”
I try to peer past him, to see if the fire-Faerie I knocked out is still kaput.
Justus looks over his shoulder. “What is it?”
“I think one of Dante’s men didn’t make it back to the stronghold,” I whisper.
“You mean the one you clouted with the candelabrum Pierre of Nebba gifted to my mother?” When he turns back toward me, a small smile hangs from his lips.
Oh, how positively outraged Xema Rossi would be . . . I cannot wait till the story of her prestigious candleholder reaches her tall ears.
“He’s gone.”
I blink away Xema. “Gone where?”
“Gone from this world.”
“How? You didn’t even have a sword.”
“No, but he had one.”
“Why didn’t you take it with you then?”
“Because you were in trouble, and it didn’t fit in my scabbard, and I cannot produce half as much magic with one hand as I can with two.”
My lips begin to wobble because today was a lot. Justus is a lot. I suddenly wish Nonna was here so she could see the man he’s become, but then realize that if she was here, she’d see the woman I’ve become.
She’d see Cato’s dead body.
I shake my head to clear it of the gloom, then turn to go to Lore but stop and hold out my hand. “Mind if I borrow your sword?”
Justus passes it over without hesitation, a testament as to how deeply he trusts me.
I take the bloodied weapon from him, then limp over to Lastra’s corpse, and although the man’s clearly dead-dead, I wedge the sword into his ugly heart for good measure.
The house rattles again, and my mate’s voice explodes between my temples.What’s keeping you, Behach Éan?
The great doors vibrate as though Crow after Crow were launching themselves at the wood.
I just had some unfinished business. It’s finished now.I hand Justus back Lastra’s weapon. “Lore says the house is warded against them.”
“Meriam must’ve wanted to secure the perimeter to give you time—”
“To finish the deed I keep botching?” I supply.
“You will—wewill get him, Fallon. It’s only a matter of time.”
I swallow hard. Although Justus doesn’t highlight my failure, my mind does, replaying reel after reel of moments that would’ve been ideal for neck-severing. “Where’s the sigil?”
