“That is the assumption,” the Italian said deferentially.
“What of the other girl?” Arsen asked.
“Giam obtained tapes from the security cameras outside the Caffé Condotti.”
A third monitor on the wall flashed and grainy video appeared, the action frozen in place. A girl of about twenty-two sat at a table beneath a white umbrella. She was dressed in jeans and a light-colored sweater, her long dark hair caught in a clasp at her nape. A man was sitting across from her, leaning forward. A laptop computer was open in front of him.
Lexi stiffened, recognizing the man’s profile. Wallace. Or Kace. Or whatever he was calling himself in Florence. When Christan glanced at her clenched hands, Lexi forced herself to relax, pressing her palms flat against the table.
The video played, without sound, but the conversation could be followed by the body language. Kace was gesturing to the girl before he turned the laptop around so she could see the monitor. She nodded and lifted a cup to her lips as if she could hide behind the rim.
The breeze twisted the edge of the umbrella, causing bright sunlight to splash across her face. When the girl closed her eyes Kace leaned forward and touched her hand. The girl seemed to shudder. When her eyes opened, he was sitting relaxed as if nothing had happened.
“What did he just do?” Lexi asked the quiet room.
“Calmed her,” Christan said. “She’ll trust him now. It’s a talent we have.”
“Bastards.” Lexi used the plural deliberately, said the word so it would carry. When Christan glanced at her, she shrugged, and looked back at the video feed.
There was more interaction until the man checked his watch, picked up the laptop. Then, as if it were an afterthought, he turned back and handed a piece of paper to the girl, which she stuffed into a messenger bag beside the chair. The video cut off, and the screen went blank.
“That was two weeks ago,” Luca said.
“Phillipe says they lost track of her around that time,” Christan agreed.
“Then, yesterday, Giam picked up her vibration. When he arrived, all he was able get was this cell phone footage.”
Another video feed appeared, the movement jerky. The girl was running down a service alley, dodging construction equipment, a wheelbarrow and bags of cement. A man was in pursuit. He paused, glanced back at the camera, then… disappeared.
“What the hell?” Lexi exclaimed.
Dante’s voice carried from Portland at the same time. “Well, crap.”
There was a grim expression in Giam’s eyes. “My apologies,” he said in Italian. He seemed to be speaking to Arsen. “Wish I could give you more.”
Arsen nodded. Lexi turned to Marge. “What the hell did I just watch?”
Marge didn’t answer. Lexi stared at each man sitting at the table, waiting for someone to answer. It was Arsen who explained.
“The Calata uses telekinesis to summon any warrior they want and send them where they want. It hasn’t been used in years. Cell phones are more convenient now.” What he left unsaid was that the action alarmed them, and Luca’s voice broke the tension, redirected the discussion.
“Do we need to discuss the last photo?”
Lexi scanned the file in front of her, finding the information at the bottom. The victim was young, barely seventeen. The death had not been easy and appeared accidental—if falling off a bridge with solid pedestrian railings could be accidental.
“Kace did this, didn’t he?” She was looking at Christan. He nodded, once. “Is it always like this?”
“Yes. This is an immortal war. It’s been going on for centuries.”
Lexi was shaking, but she calmed when Christan’s hand settled against the small of her back. “Do you know how to stop him?”
“Yes.”
The pressure on her back increased. She thought it felt protective. The Italians were talking again, and both Christan and Arsen agreed to come to Florence to help find Katerina Varga—the dark-haired girl drinking coffee in the sun—who might also be Arsen’s mate.
“I have to go,” Lexi said as the conversation slowed down. “I have to go with you to Florence.”
“Why?” It was Arsen who spoke, and Lexi watched as worry darkened his eyes.
“I know Kace,” she said. “I’ve experienced night terrors, know what it’s like to have those memories forced.” Lexi stopped, then looked at Christan and repeated, “I’m going.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It isn’t your decision to make. Kace insinuated his way into my life, into my mind. He lied, planted cameras in my cottage. I won’t let him do that to others.”
“You’re being reckless.” Christan seemed to gather himself for the coming argument. “You don’t appreciate the risks.”
“Don’t I?” Lexi wondered where that surety came from as she studied the expressions on every face, even those on the video feed. She could see the resistance in their eyes and wondered why they even thought they could stop her. “This isn’t your private war.”
“Lexi,” Christan cautioned, but she cut him off, oblivious to the audience surrounding them. Her attention was only on him.
“You don’t control me.”
“This isn’t about control, it’s about you not listening.”
“And if I don’t listen, will you face plant me on the floor again?”
Lexi sensed the shock floating through the video feed and realized she’d never heard anyone argue with Christan in public. Never. They all accepted his decisions. Then she remembered he was an enforcer and they were probably afraid to argue.
Christan watched with a predatory gleam in his eye, and the tiny nerves at the base of her nape were zinging the way they’d zinged when he’d chased her across the training mat. Lexi didn’t wait for Christan to make his move. She turned and left the room.
It took two seconds before he was out of his chair and following her.
Christan blocked the escape at the top of the stairs. Lexi turned, hair flaring out in a curtain of gold filled with winter light. Without hesitating, she disappeared into the smaller office to her left.
He followed her.
“I’m not asking for permission.” She launched into the argument before he was through the door. “This is my decision.”
“Without listening to my advice?” Christan kicked the door closed, hard. He wasn’t trying to be threatening but he wanted her to know he was angry.
Lexi retreated to the far end of the room. She was trembling and Christan’s chest clenched. He was frightening her. But he also knew the argument wasn’t about control. It was about her safety and his inability to protect her.
Lexi didn’t understand the risks in Italy, but Christan hadn’t forgotten about Kace. The Enforcer wasn’t in Portland. He was more likely in Florence, or nearby since Six’s territory was the Eastern Mediterranean. And despite those risks, Phillipe told Christan to take her to Florence. Drink some wine. Use her with Katerina. Christan wouldn’t explain that to Lexi, how Three wanted her enforcer and his girl back together. Couldn’t. And in this mood, Lexi would refuse to listen to why she should stay in Oregon.
“I would ask you not to do this,” he said, trying to control his frustration. From Lexi’s expression, he wasn’t successful.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Why?” Christan’s stance widened and he wanted to cross his arms but thought the move would be too aggressive. It didn’t matter. Her mouth tightened when she saw his posture. After last night, she expected the worse. Christan watched as she hesitated at the edge of a chair, then sat down.
“Because of things you could never understand.”