“Good. I hope the killeriswatching,” I hissed, a seething, reckless rage heating my blood. “They need to know we are not afraid. I want our enemies to come for us, Luca, so I can stain the marble red withtheirblood.” I turned back to the fire, blinking back the tears I refused to let fall.
No, I would do Enzo proud.
“I’m staying until the last spark goes out.” I insisted, refusing to acknowledge the concern on my brother’s face.
“Always so damned stubborn,” he sighed, dropping his head, his shoulder bumping mine.
Another breeze swept up from the lagoon, colder this time, tinged with unnatural darkness, and the hair on the back of my neck rose.
Someone was watching us.
Someone uninvited.
Subtly, so none of these nosy bloodsuckers noticed, I swept my eyes over the rocky shore where black water lapped incessantly at the rocks. In the end, I found nothing but the shadowy figments of my imagination staring back at me.
But my instincts were seldom wrong.
As the funeral pyre burned down to glowing embers, the sense we were being watched never died away.
Someone was here.
A stranger trespassing onourisland.
What if it’s the same person who’d killed Enzo?
A burst of cold, black fury darkened the edges of my vision as the crowd filtered past, with whispered condolences and promises of support, shaking our hands and hiding behind their false sympathy and carefully chosen words before they loaded into the boats waiting to carry them back to the golden city.
When only the three of us were left, I sucked in a smoke-filled breath. “Any news?”
“I found no sign of forced entry,” my uncle offered quietly, watching the wind pick up a trace of gray ash and carry it away. “No obvious way in or out of the palazzo; none of the servants admit to seeing a thing. I interviewed them twice.”
I slanted my uncle a sideways look, wondering if all the staff survived their interviews.
Giovanni’s round, doughy face was forgettable, his expression bland. Sandaled feet poked out from the bottom of his dingy brown robe, tied at the waist with a cord of hemp. A disguise that served him well because behind that unassuming façade lurked the most lethal vampire I’d ever known.
To have Giovanni as an enemy… I shivered. No, I’d always been grateful he was family, the mentor I could always trust to have my back.
“The staff are all loyal, down to the last male,” Luca stated, as if fealty was an indisputable truth. “They’ve been with Father for centuries. The threat came from outside our walls.”
Giovanni and I traded a knowing look. “We must consider every angle, Luca,” I explained softly. “You cannot discount a possibility because you believe you already know the answer. Analyze the situation, don’t let preexisting prejudices cloud your judgment.”
“Sage advice from your elder sister.” My uncle sighed as the wind picked up, embers igniting, sparks whirling past, carried out over the dark water like a thousand glowing souls.
“Elder by two whole minutes,” Luca groused.
“I’m not criticizing, Luca,” I rested my fingers on his shoulder. “All I’m saying is don’t jump to conclusions. Uncle Gio and I will find the bastards who did this. Once we do, we will make them bleed.”
Luca made a sound of disagreement, and I wanted to sigh as loudly as Uncle Gio. My brother, the dreamer who believed there was still good in the world, was next in line to take over the DiRavello Family Court, and he was too young.
Too green, too trusting.
Too nice, too kind-hearted.
In short, my brother wastoo everything, except ready for the task that lay before him.
And I could no longer shield him from what was coming.
The wind shifted, the smell of ozone and rain sweeping over us, along with the faint hint of something else. Rotten, almost, or rotting—like a dead fish washed up on shore. Once again, the nape of my neck prickled, and I studied the shoreline, sliding my fingers down my thigh to confirm my knife was still there.
