After a long moment, Phillipe said, “You’re looking more relaxed. Being here must suit you.”
“It’s the trees,” Christan said. It was her.
“I know you want time for Lexi to adjust, but this war is heating up.”
“Tell Three to hire more mercenaries.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Christan.”
“Then what does she ask of me?”
“For now, she’s concerned for your wellbeing.”
“Tell her I’m fine.”
“Lexi’s wellbeing, then,” Phillipe said, nodding down at the girl hugging trees. “Three needs her.”
“I need her.”
“The two are not incompatible.”
Laughter carried in the clear air. The snowball fight was escalating. Marge had scored the first hit, and Robbie had come down off his steps and was fully engaged in the counterattack, while the two women retreated. Christan watched, then noticed Arsen sneaking through the trees.
“Cara,” he said, reaching out through the mental communication that still startled her. “On your left, look beside the big tree.”
He watched her freeze in mid-throw. “Are you in my mind again?”
“Yes. Arsen’s going to ambush you if you don’t move to your right and get behind that bush.”
She grew suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“Playing.” It felt odd to say it. Two days ago, she’d told him he’d been deprived of a childhood and he didn’t know how to play. He’d been on his ass at the time because she’d blindsided him with a pillow when he came out of the bathroom, and he’d been annoyed. He was doing his best to figure it out now.
“Isn’t this cheating?” she asked after a moment.
“All’s fair in war.”
She darted to the side, then rose up and nailed Arsen in the chest. Her delighted laugher carried as the warrior gave chase.
“You’re helping her,” Phillipe observed.
“How could you tell?”
“I recognize the tactics.”
“I’m teaching her to use the telepathy.”
“Are you teaching her anything else?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m protecting what’s mine.” Christan’s attention was on the battle in the snow. The advantage had shifted to the two warriors. The girls were dancing between the trees in an effort to regroup. Mother Nature decided to help, or perhaps Christan had given a little nudge; snow cascaded down from a towering pine and halted Arsen in his tracks. The warrior hooted and wiped the wet snow from his face.
Phillipe watched in silence, then said, “She’s at risk, Enforcer. She’ll always be at risk for who she is, what you both are now. She’s going to need to know.”
Christan knew the consequences to Lexi from the blood bond. He would have to tell her what the blood bond really meant, how her life was going to change. But he couldn’t tell her yet. She was still too fragile, and even though she was now immortal, she was as vulnerable as if she were still human. He wouldn’t put her at risk.
He changed the subject to Arsen’s estranged mate. “Have you learned anything about Katerina?”
“Dante says she comes to visit Renata regularly. And Ethan turned up some curious details about the private research grant Katerina received.”
“Did he find out who owns the archive?”
“An immortal by the name of Sandro Corallo. Interesting financial connections. An investment group out of Sydney, several layers deep but there.”
“What does Corallo want with Katerina?”
Phillipe watched as the war of the snowballs continued. “We’re not sure. She’s an Etruscan expert of some reputation, despite her youth. It could be as simple as that. He’s well-known for his interest Etruscan antiquities.”
“Is Three watching?”
“As well as Luca, and Dante is building Katerina’s trust. They’re hoping to pull her in to the fold, but she’s wary.”
“Does Arsen know?”
“Three briefed him earlier and now I’m briefing you.”
“Go on.” Because it wasn’t going to end there.
“Six has been making noises about Zurich.”
Zurich, where Christan held Lexi in his arms as she disappeared and he’d thought the worst. Where he searched the building, finding no trace of any living thing and then used a newly acquired power to destroy three stories of historic stone and glass and plaster. Power was merely energy in another form, and he’d focused on the inner support beams, collapsed the building in upon itself. Destroyed the priceless art on the walls, the polished, so-civilized desk and the pool of blood on a concrete floor. Not just his blood. Hers as well.
Then he’d returned to Florence. She wasn’t there. He’d felt no trace of her at all, and driven nearly mad with fury and grief, he had gone after every remaining mortal and immortal, warrior and mercenary who had attacked the villa. Found them all, except the man inside One’s inner circle. Arsen and Darius stood at his side and together, they’d been death in the night. Invisible, with the lethal intent that was the signature of the Enforcers who kept the peace. Except there was no peace for men like him, only the time between the battles when they sharpened the weapons. One had called him a rabid dog when he was done and he hadn’t argued. He would do it again without thinking twice.
“If Six pushes his complaints,” Phillipe said, “you know One will have no choice. She’ll be forced to call a formal inquiry. That building had some consulate designation, which he’s using to accuse you of an act of war.” Phillipe turned to face the Enforcer at his side. “You’ll be ordered back to Florence by the Calata. Arsen and Darius, too. You won’t be allowed to refuse.”
“I expected it.”
“Three believes any inquiry would be a formality—you were fully justified in what you did.”
“Not according to One.”
“She wields a great deal of power. As do you, and you cannot be seen to flaunt the same laws you are obligated to protect.”
“Not my laws.” Christan was still watching the figures in the snow, although it appeared they had called a truce. “I am not Calata.”
“No, you’re more than Calata now,” Phillipe said. “And if they find out, they will try to destroy you. Just be prepared. Three is curious to see how far Six will go with this challenge.”
“What happened with the villa?” Christan wanted to change the subject again, a growing habit, he realized. In the past he’d not been as reluctant to discuss certain subjects. But he was also curious. He hadn’t been back to the property, and the memories were important.
“It’s in the process of being restored. Three is taking care of the expenses. There will be additional security in place.”
Christan had never seen himself as a land owner, but he knew every hill and dip of the vineyards. Where the soil was rocky enough to produce the best grapes. He knew the olive grove, the place where the road washed out each winter and became a quagmire of mud.
It was the place where he loved and destroyed. Where he grieved. Where he’d stood, watching the last rays of the yellow sun fade into rose before saying the one word that exiled him into the Void. The only place where he’d come close to finding contentment, other than these few moments now, standing in the snow.
Christan hadn’t realized how he missed the peace he’d felt in that first life, felt again when he’d watched a five-year-old wearing daisies in her hair, stomping on her aunt’s delphiniums. If he was saddened now, over the destruction of land he’d never seen himself owning, it was because of her. Because of what she had been to him there, lost there, and tried to find again there, in this lifetime.
Lexi was clomping through the snow; he could see where she’d made a snow angel. The white stuff was stuck in her hair. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Phillipe pulled his scarf tighter around his throat and thrust his hands back into his pockets. “Have you heard the latest rumors coming out of Florence?”
“I haven’t kept up.”