“I could eat.”
“Good. Let’s grab something from the kitchen real quick.” I led him down the stairs into the kitchen, the domain of Hans, the chef.
Hans’s mustache quivered with delight when he saw us. He loved guests.
“Food!” he cried. “You must eat!”
“Could we do something quick to go, please? Something that won’t put you out.”
“But it never puts me out, ma cherie!” He darted about the kitchen like a ballet dancer, quick and determined. A little brown rat sat on the counter, a platter of cheese in front of him.
“How are you doing, Boris?” I asked.
The rat nodded, looking happy. Bree had rescued him from a crazy healer about a month ago, and now he spent his days either in the kitchen, mooching off of Hans, who was only too happy to oblige, or hanging out with Hedy while she created the spells and potions that we used so often.
Hans piled us high with sandwiches wrapped in paper, then he shoved a six-pack of juice boxes at Lachlan. “You must drink your juice!”
For whatever reason, Hans was utterly obsessed with giving people juice. It was the strangest thing, but he clearly felt strongly about it.
Since my sisters and I hadn’t had anyone caring for us since our mother’s death when we were thirteen, I really didn’t mind. “We’ll drink it. Thank you, Hans.”
He nodded, shooing us out. “Come back soon, though! For a proper meal!”
I smiled as I climbed the stairs. Hans really could cook. It was a little weird that he allowed rodents on the counter, but I figured Boris was pretty clean and he always seemed to stay on that one section. I wasn’t terribly picky, anyway.
We ate our sandwiches as we crossed the entry hall in silence. I polished mine off as we stepped out into the courtyard. The sun was nearing the horizon, sending a beautiful pink glow over the castle grounds and the mountains beyond.
“So, isn’t Pompeii full of tourists?” I asked.
“Part of it is.” Lachlan handed me a juice box. He looked at it curiously, as if he only drank whiskey and black coffee, then shrugged and shoved the straw into the little box. “But there’s another part—the supernatural district. It’s hidden from human eyes, but we’ll find our answers there.”
Excellent. We could usually count on the good stuff being in supernatural districts. “Do you have a transportation charm?”
He dug into his pocket. “Two left.”
I waited as he chucked it at the ground. A cloud of sparkly dust poofed up, and I stepped inside. The ether sucked me in, dragging me across space and spitting me out in Italy. It wasn’t much warmer here, though it was darker and the sun now dipped behind the horizon.
It was quiet, and I spun to take in the fields around me. A tall mountain pierced the sky in the distance, looming and dark. Vesuvius.
I shivered, remembering the images of the bodies encased in ash. Vesuvius was a real jerk of a mountain.
Lachlan appeared next to me.
“Where are we?” I asked. I saw no buildings or cars or people. Just a large ruined archway about fifty yards away. It looked ancient.
“We’re at the far edge of Pompeii, the part that is hidden.”
“Even from supernaturals?”
“Partially. Come on.” He set off across the field, walking toward the arch. “This part of Italy is densely populated. To hide the supernatural district of Pompeii, they put a shield over most of it. But we can enter it through here.” He pointed up to the huge marble arch that marked the entrance to Pompeii.
I stopped with him and looked up. Two figures appeared at the top of the arch, their short skirts fluttering in the wind. Their helmets concealed their features, and the spears at their sides were as tall as they were.
Roman warriors.
Instant dislike streaked through me, strong and fierce. I shuddered.
What the heck was that about?
It was like one of these guys had kicked a puppy or something, but I’d never met them.
“Who goes there?” they demanded.
I wanted to shout that it was none of their damned business, but it was just my weird emotions talking. Why the heck did I feel like this?
“Belatucadros and his woman,” Lachlan shouted back.
I glared up at him. I didn’t like the lie—Belatucadros was the Celtic god of war and Bree’s boyfriend—and I didn’t like being called his woman.
He shot me a look that very clearly said shut up.
I harrumphed. The guards murmured something, then the heavy iron gates creaked opened. Two more figures stood within, both wearing the same armor as the guards on the top of the arch. Their eyes were cold behind their iron masks, and they raked their gazes over me and Lachlan.
His magic flared, strong and fierce. He might not have been able to use it, but apparently he could still show off his signature like a freaking peacock trying to charm a lady.
One of the guards choked a bit and stumbled back. The other stiffened his spine, but even he looked affected.
“It’s him,” the stiff guard said.
“Agreed,” the other said.
They both stepped back, letting us pass. We walked through the gate, and I stared forward, not daring to look at the guards.
The city that we stepped into was straight out of the past. The stone streets gleamed in the light of the rising moon, and the buildings were all ancient. A forum stretched out in front of us, the open space full of grand buildings fronted with columns. There had to be more than a hundred white columns framing the large rectangular space, and on the far end was an imposing building that looked like the rule of law was determined there.
There were some people in the forum, as well as ghosts who glowed with a gray light.
As soon as we were far enough away from the guards, I hissed, “Why?”
“They wouldn’t deny a god entrance.”
“I’m friends with Cade, you know,” I said.
“Is that what he goes by?”
“Yes. Why him?”
“He’s one of the few earth-walking gods. And my magic is strong enough that it can pass for a god’s.” He grinned like a shark. “So I borrowed his name.”
“But what if we cause problems and they track it to him?”
“You think he can’t handle it?”
I thought about Bree’s boyfriend and the sheer amount of badassery that he possessed. “Fine. He can handle it. Still, I don’t like it.”
He grinned. “All right. I’ll try not to do it again.”
“Try?”
He raised a brow. “Try hard?”
“Ugh.”
We’d passed through the open forum and entered a wide street, so I stopped to look around. Buildings lined either side of the street, which was indented into the ground with raised sidewalks on either side. Water trickled sluggishly down the street, which I supposed was the ancient Roman version of city waste water disposal.
The buildings were one and two stories tall, their bottom halves painted red. I squinted at one. Did the paint mark the old part of the wall, while the paler part above it was the modern addition? Maybe so. There weren’t as many windows as in a modern building, but there were inset balconies on many of the second levels.
“Was this place reconstructed?” I asked. “Or did the volcanic eruption not bury it?” The only reason Pompeii was so well preserved was because up to twenty feet of ash and pyroclastic debris had buried it in 79 A.D.
“It was hit by the destruction,” Lachlan said. “But it was reconstructed slowly over time. Some of the people who were killed here stayed on as ghosts. Others went on to their afterlives. And other people moved in.”
We passed a cell phone shop, and I did a double take. “Didn’t expect to see that here.”
“The past and the present collide in this part of Pompeii.” A man on a Segway scooter zipped by, and a uniformed Roman officer chased after him, shouting. “Though they don’t always get along.”
I lowered my voice. “Where will we start our search? This place is huge.”
“Too huge to work blindly. We’ll go to my friend Fabio. He knows the ins and outs of Pompeii.”