Page 48 of Roguefinder

I held up the envelope. “Let’s find out what he wants.”

We returned to the kitchen, where I sat at the head of the table. Caleb dropped into his chair and leaned on his elbows as I broke the wax seal and removed a thick card.

Elegant handwriting flowed in precise lines, each loop and flourish a work of art. I read quickly, then met Caleb’s curious stare.

“Carlo has invited us to a private performance. Francesco will sing tomorrow night at nine.”

Caleb frowned. “I thought last night was his final show?”

I placed the invitation on the table and pushed it toward Caleb. “I guess he’s making an exception.”

Caleb angled his head, the curiosity in his eyes deepening. “Is that parchment?”

“I think so.”

He gave me a look. “If the vampires are trying to hide from humans, they’re doing a shitty job.” He picked up the invitation and studied it. “This is exactly what I’d expect a movie vampire to send. Carlo needs a gmail account.”

A laugh caught me off guard. “Maybe the opera house has a suggestion box.”

Caleb grinned. Then he froze, his face going blank. The invitation dropped from his fingertips.

“Caleb?” I demanded, on my feet and around the table in a heartbeat. I grabbed his shoulders as panic wrapped tight fingers around my throat. He was pale under his tan, and sweat dotted his forehead. His eyes darted back and forth as if he couldn’t focus.

“Caleb!” I shouted, shaking him a little. “Talk to me.”

His eyes flickered between their usual shade and the pale, electric color of his wolf. For a terrible second, he didn’t seem to hear me.

Then he blinked. Once. Twice.

“Fine,” he gasped. “I’m fine.”

Some of his color came back. I dragged a chair around and sat facing him, one hand on his shoulder in case he had another spell.

“What happened?” I asked, surprised when my voice emerged steady. “Did you see something?”

He nodded, his gaze going to the invitation in the center of the table. “I saw us. We were side by side in a private box with red and gold curtains around it.” He looked at me. “Someone was singing.”

“Francesco?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead. “I recognized the voice.”

Damn.

Caleb eyed the invitation. “I want to touch it again.”

His color was mostly back to normal, but sweat still darkened the hair at his temples. “No.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“You just went as white as a tablecloth.”

“I’m fine now.” He straightened, shoulders back like he meant to demonstrate how great he felt. Stubbornness glinted in his eyes as he added, “My gift is finally working. Don’t you think we should use it?”

“Not at the cost of you passing out on the kitchen floor.”

“I didn’t pass out.”

“Close enough.” God, what if I hadn’t been with him? He could have cracked his head open. A little voice reminded me that Caleb was a werewolf with supernatural speed and strength.