The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(36)

“Does she know what you did?” Phillipe asked, his silver eyes slanted. Christan knew which “she” Phillipe was talking about.

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“Was it necessary to be that messy?”

“He killed her cat.”

“Next time try to make it less obvious. Humans always have their cell phones out, looking for something to post on social media. It’s better to avoid public places.”

A sip of whiskey, nothing visible in obsidian dark eyes. “As she requests.”

Phillipe looked as if he wished to smile but didn’t. There was something familiar, lethal, in that gesture. “Where did you leave the man’s heart?”

Christan shrugged. Three said it herself. There was a monster in all of them and he wasn’t ashamed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. “It won’t be found.”

They sat in companionable silence, the soft chink of a glass returning to a table, the dull humming white noise of cars in the distance. The man who was not an academic reached down for the attaché case. A moment later he produced a file and pushed it across the table.

Christan flipped open the manila cover and read the top line, printed on plain white paper and positioned above the color photograph of a girl with long dark hair curling around her shoulders. The photo framed a narrow street, and the girl was laughing as she looked over her shoulder.

“She couldn’t drop this off herself and say hello?” Christan asked, referring to Three again, as he read through the one-page document, locked the key details in his mind.

“I think you know why,” the academic answered.

“It would have been a nice gesture.” Christan glanced up as he closed the file. “This is why she recalled me?”

“She recalled you because war is returning, and contrary to your opinion, she prefers peace over chaos. This,” Phillipe indicated the file, “is a recent development.”

“And I should be concerned because?”

“You’re not the total asshole you want people to see,” Phillipe said. “And because this girl is probably one of yours. Three noticed certain energy traces and made connections.”

There was a subtle stiffening in Christan’s posture, a coolness in his voice. “I thought warriors were the only ones who could detect the energy signals.”

“You know Three. She wanted a way to keep track, considering the size of the human population.”

“You’re telling me she created her own version of a human find my phone?” Christan wondered why he’d asked; Three wouldn’t leave such a detail unattended.

“It’s her little secret. None of the others in the Calata know how to do it.” Phillipe settled back in his chair, avoiding the sun, his silver eyes curious. Unlike so many of Three’s assistants through the centuries, Phillipe was not only intelligent but subtle. “You’re sounding quite modern, Christan. Been spending a lot of time surfing the Internet?”

“You don’t like English?” Christan asked in fluent Italian that held the accent of Florence.

“Whatever you prefer.” Phillipe’s response was in Portuguese. Being immortal, Phillipe could speak any language he wanted, and it was another little stand-off between them that was part posturing, part what-the-fuck.

Unsurprised, Christan shrugged, then switched back to English. “I fail to see the fascination with stupid animal videos.” He pushed the file back across the table. “She doesn’t need me for this. Find someone else.”

“She wants you.”

“I’ve spent a long time in the Void.”

“A blink of an eye for you. Besides, you’re her favorite.”

“She must have other babysitters.”

“Not like you.” Phillipe picked up the manila folder and returned it to the attaché case. “I will share a detail not in the file. The number of girls is up to ten now, five attacked within the last week. Others are noticing.”

“Not my problem.”

“Always your problem. Power is power, and the girl in that photograph has disappeared. The last time Three knew her location was two weeks ago. She was in Italy. No trace since then. She has no living family other than a godfather in London, no reason she would leave her two friends on their tour around Europe.”

“Who sourced this information?” Christan asked, and perhaps he was more concerned than he let on.

“The Italian group. They have their own problems, and they don’t have the manpower to launch an extensive search.”

“You still haven’t given a compelling reason.”

“As I mentioned, her energy is faint, but enough for Kace if he gets close. We don’t know who she’s connected to, other than her name. Katerina Varga. Blue eyes. How long ago did Arsen lose his mate?”

“I have no idea since I’ve been on vacation.”

“She died young, I believe, in the last century. You’ve known Arsen for thousands of years. You would recognize his mate as quickly as you would recognize your own. What color are her eyes? What letter does her eternal name begin with?”

Christan didn’t reply. There was no need, as they both knew the answers to those two questions. After a moment, Phillipe removed a second file from the attaché case and slid it across the table.