“When was the last time you talked to Seven?”
“Years ago, but he never communicated much. I deal with one of his assistants in Sydney.”
“Caitryn?”
“Yes.” One looked back at the scattered file, picked up a single sheet. “These warriors are well-known. They’re paid mercenaries of the lowest sort, not loyal to anyone.” One flicked the paper and it flew across the room. “You really should have anticipated that when you created them.”
“I recall the Calata being quite specific as to what they wanted,” Three said, and Christan watched as Phillipe turned his head and offered Three council on how not to inflame the situation. She tried to restrain herself. “Mercenaries would be a problem no matter what—you know most mercenaries are immortals and not warriors.”
“Beside the point,” One countered as she turned away. “Why is anyone using mercenaries to attack these girls?”
“At first, we thought this came from the Calata, trying to break the Agreement. Now we think it might have something to do with Two.”
“If this is about Two, why aren’t they attacking in North Africa?”
“You know her connection to the Etruscans.” And Two’s connection to Four, whose territory had once encompassed Italy. The Calata member had been protecting an Etruscan village when he was killed. The entire human population had been massacred, a horrendous crime, motivating the Calata’s desire for self-defense. Three had been asked to create warriors as a solution. Two had been crucial in providing the magic.
“You recall the stories,” Three continued. Everyone knew of the intrigue that circulated every century or so, that Two shared information, left scrolls behind. Most immortals dismissed the stories as gossip. Perhaps others had not. “The girls reincarnate in the general areas of their past lives. That might be why they’ve targeted girls living in your territory, trying to find those who might have known Two.”
“Then why is someone fixated on your enforcer’s girl? He never worked for Two. There’s a rumor about splitting his attention and that could be dangerous for all of us.”
“You shouldn’t listen to rumor, One.”
The chestnut-haired immortal turned to look at Christan. Her expression was not friendly. “You were in the Void for a long time.”
“A blink of an eye for him,” Phillipe offered from the video feed. One was not placated.
“Are you even capable of protecting your girl?” Leander shifted his position and looked away. One seemed oblivious to her enforcer’s discomfort. “They tell me you’re hiding out at your villa. Do you have adequate security there?”
Christan spoke evenly. “Both Arsen and Ethan have it covered.”
“Do you need Leander?”
“You need him more. This might have ended in the alley. If not, Kace will use the talent on hand if he intends to strike.”
One looked skeptical. “You expect him to do that soon?”
“It’s what I’d do in that position. Delay means the target escapes and you have nothing.”
“Maybe you should consider having nothing.”
“Maybe not.”
“Remember the old days,” Three said abruptly. “We deal with this decisively. Absolute clarity. We wait, you ask Christan to wait, and your territory explodes.”
“He over-reacted last night,” One snapped.
“They were trying to kill him.”
“I have bodies all over the place. He’s violent and he’s always been that way. You can’t bring your attack dog back and not keep him muzzled.” One looked at Christan again. “Every time you’re involved things get bloody.”
“It’s not always my decision.”
“Can you solve anything without creating a mess?”
“I’ll make that my new life goal.”
The Calata member turned away and looked at the monitor. “Maybe you can control him, Three.”
“They’re after his girl. I wouldn’t even try to control him.”
“He destroys things.”
“When necessary.”
“You’ll pay for the damages?”
“Haven’t I always?”
Three bent her head in a signal the conference was over, and the monitor went blank.
CHAPTER 32
Leander gave Christan a personal escort outside, and not just as a courtesy. They stood at the bottom of a long flight of terraced steps, well below the top of the hill where the villa spread out in a sea of pink stone. Gnarled olive trees cast bent shadows in the morning light. Somewhere a dove called for its mate. Christan waited for Leander to speak.
There were only six enforcers, one for each Calata member, and those belonging to Six and Five were brutal with cold black eyes. The responsibilities of the job could do that to a man, drain his mortal half, but Leander remained steady, never crossing the line toward his more inhuman half. Christan wondered what opportunities might have opened, what life might have been like for any of them if they hadn’t been obligated to the blood work. He stood relaxed and waiting while the other enforcer gazed at the landscape. The morning breeze drifted through the garden that bordered the terrace steps. Sunlight played in the trees. Just like any other summer morning other than the threat of war.
“Is your girl with you?” Christan asked to break the silence.
“Yes.”
“She’s well?”
“She believes I’m in security work.”
“You are,” Christan said.
“Human security,” Leander answered dryly.
“You haven’t told her?”
“We’re happy. I saw no reason to worry her with troubles she can do nothing about.”
“Ignorance isn’t always bliss. Women live longer in this century. It’s harder to hide the truth.”
“Because they age and we don’t?”
“Among other things.”
“I’ve heard that Robbie aged his persona to match his mate.”
Christan studied the horizon. “You should talk to him about it.”
After a moment they turned, continued walking down the steps.
“How difficult was it?” Leander asked.
“Explaining things?”
“Yes.”
“Very.”
“Would you do it differently?”
“You mean if she didn’t need to know the truth about what I am?” Christan paused to stare up at the sky. “I would have told her. I tried keeping the secrets in the past lives. Didn’t work out that well. Besides, in this century, they’re all going to know sooner or later. There’s too much we can’t explain away.”
“Then it’s better if you just tell them the truth?”
“For me. Maybe not for you, not yet. Maybe you’re better at the lying than I was.”
Leander stopped, braced his hands on his hips and stared at the distant purple hills. “Shit’s going to hit the fan soon. Won’t be better for any of us.”
“What do you know, Leander?”
The enforcer pulled a folded paper from inside his dark suit jacket and handed it to Christan. He glanced at it, refolded it and handed it back.
“Does One know?”
“Not yet. You probably have twenty-four hours before she does.”
“I’ll try not to waste them.”
“I have a personal stake in this,” Leander said.
“So do I.”
“Do you need help?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Because One was right; Christan could be violent. And it was going to get messy.
The hills around the villa were steeper than they looked from a distance. After two hours of walking Lexi could feel the effort in her legs. Sweat trickled down her spine. Before Christan left that morning, when Arsen first arrived, the warrior had with him all their possessions from the safe flat in Florence. But earlier, when she’d dressed—well, she hadn’t wanted to but Christan told her she couldn’t walk around naked even if he liked her that way—she found her muddy clothes washed and clean and, oh my god, pressed, even her underwear.
That felt more than a little awkward, realizing the unseen Hanna Strome had washed her clothes. Now Lexi was thinking of a cool shower, something light-weight to wear because a sky as clear and blue as the one above her meant it would get hot.