Page 35 of Roguefinder
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “An audience? Like with a king?”
I spread my napkin on my lap. “That’s not too far off. Carlo was Prince of Venosa when he was human.”
Caleb frowned. “I thought he was a composer.”
“He was both. Renaissance nobles were often huge patrons of the arts, but history says he was obsessed with music.” I cut into my chicken. “He doesn’t use his title or human name anymore. Too many people would recognize it, so he calls himself Carlo Tesoro now. But the supernatural community knows exactly who he is.”
“And he’s a big deal,” Caleb said.
I nodded. “Carlo is one of five master vampires in all of Italy. And he’s the only master vampire in Rome. They don’t like to share power.”
Disgust moved through Caleb’s eyes. “Just pets.”
He’d reacted the same way the first time I told him how vampires fed. Most kept stables of human donors who shared blood in exchange for the promise of immortality. But the vampires fed their pets in dribbles, giving them just enough blood to extend their lifespans. Over time, humans grew addicted to their benefactors. If the vampire declined to turn them, they died from the withdrawal.
And vampires were notoriously selective about which humans they turned. The masters chose pets who possessed great beauty, skill, or talent. Those who didn’t make the cut—and few ever did—died in agony.
“They don’t like to share those, either,” I said.
Caleb set down his fork like he’d lost interest in the meal. “So we have to go see this guy tomorrow night.”
“Yes.”
“And we ask him if he’s seen Ulfrik at his vampire opera?”
I sipped my wine. “It’s not a vampire opera. Humans perform and attend without any knowledge of its ownership. We’ll have to be careful how we phrase our questions. Carlo will react poorly if he thinks we’re accusing him of something.”
Caleb frowned. “But he’s got to be involved in this Ulfrik shit, right? You think it’s a coincidence Ulfrik was just hanging out at Carlo’s opera house? That seems pretty suspicious to me.”
“It does,” I conceded, “but it’s also so obvious that I have to question it. Maybe a rival vampire is trying to frame Carlo and make a move on his territory. Maybe the witches are involved. Whatever is animating Ulfrik, it’s magic the Council has never encountered before.”
Worry rose swift and sour. I clamped down hard on the mate bond before it could flow to Caleb.
He studied me across the table. “Carlo agreed to meet. That means he wants to talk.”
“Maybe,” I said, aware that it was becoming my favorite word. But pretty much everything was an unknown. “Carlo knows that killing me would mean war with the Council. He’s unlikely to try it. So we’ll go in tomorrow night with open hands. We’ll ask about Ulfrik without suggesting Carlo had anything to do with his presence. We’ll let him think we’ve come to him for help, not answers.” I gave Caleb a pointed look. “And you’ll most definitely let me do the talking this time.”
He held up both hands. “I’ll be good.”
“I mean it.” Worry reared its head again. “Carlo isn’t like Sterling. He’s not an ally. He’ll have people watching us the moment we step through the door. Possibly before. And he’ll scrutinize every word, every expression, every—”
“Jesse,” Caleb said, his expression steady. “I know.”
I exhaled. “Okay.”
His face didn’t change, but the slightest tension huddled around him. “Okay?”
He’d spent his whole life being bullied and dismissed. Doubted and underestimated. I wouldn’t serve him more of the same, no matter how much my wolf longed to lock him up to keep him safe.
“Okay,” I said.
He let another few seconds pass before he nodded and tucked back into his food. The chicken had cooled to the perfect temperature, and we ate quickly, pausing every now and then to drink wine or smile at each other.
Eventually, Caleb pushed his plate away. “I’m spent.”
“You sure?” I asked. “I think you only ate half the groceries.”
“I left some for a snack.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin before tucking it next to his plate. “And I distinctly remember you promising to make a snack out of my ass.”
