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“Can we go now?” I ask, keen to be on my way to New Jersey. “I have vamps to kill.”
“One second,” he says, making notes, frowning as he works. “There’s a pattern here.” He carries on tapping away, not looking up from his screen.
We all glare at him, Luca snarling in a way that suggests his very small well of patience is running dry.
“The Milanos cover Europe,” Petro says, nodding as he figures it out. “We’ve got the Romas in South America. Firenze on the East Coast, Venezia on the west. Four Calls, each one to a different Cosca territory.”
“So fucking what?” Luca growls. “What are you trying to suggest—that the Coscas are behind this? Because believe me, we’re not. We wouldn’t … I wouldn’t do anything that puts her in danger.”
His voice is starting to roar by the end, and I lay a calming hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s what he’s saying, Luca.”
“It’s not,” Pietro replies, still obviously uncomfortable with any signs of physical affection between me and Luca. “I think it’s him. Tomasso. I’m guessing this is something to do with Serena.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about the game, not our dead sister. My twin. The one who died in my place. It’s an extra level of cruelty from my grandfather, one that feels like an emotional dagger to the heart every time I hear that name.
“It can’t be coincidental,” he continues. “If it was me, and I wanted to cause maximum trouble, maximum chaos, I’d find a way to target specific zones. Like, I don’t know, maybe set up some kind of super league, an elite game for the top scorers, or a bonus round where you’re given goals. Like a scavenger hunt for vamps or maybe a tournament? It’d be easy to do, really, and it’d be popular. You could just wind them up and let them go. So. Yeah. That’s what I’d do.” He trails off weakly, aware of the fact that he sounds a bit too impressed.
“And is that what you have done, Pietro?” Luca asks him, deadly quiet now. “Is this anything to do with you? We all know that technology is your thing. Are you a double agent? Are you playing us, stronzo?”
My brother meets his eyes, refuses to look away from that intimidating glare. I can feel the power behind Luca’s words, the will he’s imposing on Pietro. He’s charming him to make him tell the truth, and Pietro is letting him. It’s the supernatural equivalent of agreeing to a polygraph.
“No. This has nothing to do with me. I don’t give a shit about you and the Coscas; I’d happily see you all burn in hell. But I’d never be involved in something that hurt humans like this, and I’d never—ever—do anything to hurt my sister. I love her, and I’ll do whatever I can to earn back her trust. I know what I’ve done in the past, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for that.”
I don’t realize how tense I am until Luca narrows his eyes and nods once. Pietro has passed the polygraph. I let out the breath I was holding and smile at him. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to make up for the things he’s done, but knowing that he’s genuinely trying? That’s got to count for something.
“Great,” says Donna, looking thoughtful. “Glad that’s sorted. But I have a question—why? It’s not like the Coscas are going to give a damn if humans get killed. A Cosca Don probably gets as upset about a human dying as he does about a leaf falling from a tree. Present company excepted, it’s not like we’re dealing with nice guys here.”
Luca gives her a slow grin, letting his fangs show. He’s still rolling with power, and the monster he can be is near the surface.
“I’m not such a nice guy, Donatella. You know that.”
“Well, yes, of course I do. I was just being polite because my BFF is sweet on you. You still haven’t answered the question though.”
He gives it a moment of thought. “You’re right. The Dons would not care about the loss of human life. It would be meaningless to them.”
I notice that he says “them,” that he doesn’t include himself. I know he’s changed since he met me, but I also know that he can still be ruthless. That he cares about people because I care. He is not heartless, but he is also very much not human. “So,” I ask, shoving the idea away, “why?”
“Kills like this will attract attention,” he replies. “There’s only so much you can cover up. Animal attacks, gas leaks, whatever the fuck. There are only so many people you can charm. And these days? Ring doorbells, surveillance, dash cams? It’s only a matter of time before absolute proof of the existence of our kind gets out, and that is something the Coscas have done everything in their power to avoid for a very long time. So far, when footage has emerged, we’ve managed to label it as fake news and get away with it. But four concerted attacks at the same time? Maybe not.”
I nod. It makes sense. The Dons might not give two shits about the loss of life, but they do care about anything that threatens them and their world. Exposure could be devastating and at the very least disrupt their business.
“I need to tell them,” Luca says, getting out his phone.
Pietro does a double take. “Tell who what?”
“Tell the other Dons what is happening on their territory right now. It’s the only way to prevent this. There are only so many of us, and sadly as Donatella pointed out, we’d need a time machine to get to them all. But if I speak to the heads of the other families today, they will possibly be able to help. There will at least be a chance.”
“Plus,” Pietro points out, “it’ll make you look like a hero, right?”
Luca glares at him. “I could not give less of a fuck what you think of me, you asshole. Have you got a better plan? Or should we just let all these people die while we bicker among ourselves?”
“No,” I answer firmly. “We will not. Luca, do what you suggested. Pietro can give you the addresses we found. As for the one in New Jersey, we can be there in a half hour if we leave now. We need to get moving. Pietro, get on that app. Find out everything you can about what’s going on. I’m sure some of them are in chat rooms or some such bullshit. Pretend to be one of them, do some digging.”
He pulls a disgusted face, making his feelings about that clear. He will never see vamps as anything other than animals; it’s too deeply ingrained in him.
I raise my eyebrows at Donna. She stands up with a sigh. “Let me grab some clothes,” she says. “And I’ll be ready for a full-on good-time vamp-slaying party. I just hope we’re not too late.”
I pretend to be busy grabbing weapons and shoving them into a backpack, but I’m hiding my face. I don’t want anyone to know how scared I am. Not of the vamps we’ll be facing—I’ll kill them all myself if I have to—but that she might be right. What if we’re too late?
