Page 45 of Roguefinder

I had no idea what that meant, but Carlo looked content enough. Slowly, I let myself relax.

“Now,” Jesse said, “I’d like to discuss the purpose of our visit.”

Relaxation flew out Carlo’s non-windows.

Jesse pulled out his phone, swiped a couple times, and placed it on the desk. “Ulfrik Haraldsson is a rogue werewolf. He was recently photographed outside this opera house. He also attended a performance. The problem is, I killed him two months ago.”

Carlo leaned forward, his chair creaking as he studied the screen. After a moment, he sat back. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen this Ulfrik Haraldsson.”

“Are you certain?” Jesse asked. “A rogue werewolf attended a performance in your house. I’m surprised he escaped your notice.”

Francesco’s voice rose out of nowhere, soaring in an aria that penetrated the office door.

Carlo had gone as still as a mannequin. He stayed like that, his doll’s eyes fixed on Jesse. When he spoke at last, his lips were the only part of his body that moved.

“Do you accuse me of lying? Or do you believe me incapable of overseeing my territory?”

Oh, shit.

“Neither,” Jesse said smoothly. He retrieved his phone and leaned to one side so he could slip it into his back pocket. “Although, I believe you would lie if it suited you.”

It took everything I had not to jerk my head toward him. Because what the fuck? Why was Jesse provoking the guy?

Carlo’s lips curved. “Perhaps I would, wolfseeker. But it doesn’t suit me in this instance.” He narrowed his eyes—the most human expression he’d displayed since we entered the office. “Nin and Stefanos aren’t ones to waste resources. If they sent you to Rome looking for this Ulfrik, that means they’ve lost control of the situation.”

Jesse was silent, his face unreadable.

Carlo waved his hand in a languid gesture. “I’m sympathetic to your rogue troubles, van der Meer, but they don’t concern me. Werewolves have never posed a threat to my kind.” He shrugged, but this time the human gesture was awkward and stiff, as if he’d practiced it in front of a mirror so he could mimic it later. “If I see the rogue, I’ll contact you. That’s the best I can do.”

Jesse stood. “We appreciate your help.”

“Figurati.”

The door opened before we’d turned, and Alessia stood in the doorway, her dark eyes emotionless.

“Please follow me,” she said.

We trailed her back through the maze of corridors. Francesco had stopped singing, his rehearsal apparently finished. Or maybe he was fang-deep in a pet somewhere.

Alessia walked us to a different door than the one we’d entered. She opened it without a word, and we stepped into a narrow side street that smelled like mildew and car exhaust. When Jesse and I turned back, she was gone, the door sealed behind her.

Jaw set, Jesse jerked his head toward the street. Night had fully settled over the city, the stars surrendering their battle with Rome’s light pollution. The chill seeped through my clothes and bit at my skin. Above the rooftops, a bank of dark clouds promised more rain. I waited until we’d put some distance between us and the opera house before I spoke.

“What happened to not provoking the master vampire?”

Jesse was the picture of nonchalance. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You pretty much called him a liar.”

“Because he’s lying.”

I slowed. “You’re sure?”

He stopped, his jaw tightening as he looked back at the opera house in the distance. “Yes, and it’s hardly a surprise. He knows everything that happens on his property. The second a werewolf stepped through those doors, Carlo would have gotten word of it.” Jesse turned to me. “But I don’t know if he’s involved.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets as I reviewed everything we knew: the photos, Ulfrik attending an opera performance, the fact that Carlo was a creep. “I mean… He has to be, right?”

Jesse’s mouth was as tight as his jaw. “We can’t assume anything. All we can do is follow the trail in front of us.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Even if the trail is a goddamn circle.”