The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(59)

“How is he?”

“Arsen will be fine,” Christan said. “His concern is keeping her away from Kace.”

“I have a theory that might help.” Lexi was staring through the French doors. Christan found himself interested in the texture of her voice, the wealth of emotions she revealed. “People are habitual in where they go, but earth energy plays a role. I think from her history, any place with a strong Etruscan connection would be very appealing.”

“We’re talking about Florence and most of the surrounding territory north and west to the coast. Even down to Cerveteri and Rome. These are their original lands.”

“There’s a museum—”

“The Museo Archeologico?”

“Yes. I picked up traces of her today, but there were too many tourists. We should look at the shops, the cafes. She would find the energies attractive.”

Christan realized he enjoyed the way she was sharing information, sharing her day. She was holding the wine glass to her lips without drinking. Christan’s gaze drifted, from her bare feet up the line of her jeans to the floaty white blouse that emphasized the way she moved, her tanned arms, the curve of her breast. When she sipped the wine, her blouse lifted, and Christan stared at the bare skin of her waist, remembering how it once fit the curve of his hand.

He forced himself to speak. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “Your ideas are helpful.”

“That’s good then.” She nodded. Blond hair slid around her shoulders. There was an awkward pause while she studied the counter, glanced around the tiny kitchen. Groceries had been delivered earlier; Christan could see two bottles of wine, the paper bag with the name from a tiny grocery store, a plate set out with a large wedge of cheese. Finally, she asked, “Will you tell me about your day?”

Christan braced against the offer. He was not fit company. After the interrogation in the cellar, he had acted on the information. Then there’d been the obligatory visit the sandstone villa, and a confrontation with the Calata member known as One—a woman of vibrant temper and unique sensitivities. The immortal controlled the Mediterranean, except for the coastline to the east where Six’s territory intruded. Five controlled the land to the north. Both were enemies, and as Christan thought about what he’d discovered at the base of a cliff, he knew if it was war those two Calata members wanted, he would deliver it to their doorstep.

“Sometimes it helps to talk,” Lexi said when the silence had thinned out into nothing.

So Christan told her. He wasn’t sure why. He told her of two attacks the night before. Of the farmhouse, and the memories ripped from a screaming man, leading him to three other men and the two girls, only one who was still alive. Christan told her of his meeting to explain his actions. This was One’s territory. Her Enforcer could keep the peace. But the crime had been committed against warriors belonging to Three, and it had been their women who were attacked. Christan was Three’s Enforcer. By tradition, judgement was his responsibility, even if it meant stepping on One’s toes. The immortal was not happy but agreed with his actions. Retribution needed to be both swift and harsh. He didn’t expect Lexi to understand.

“Did you kill them?” she asked.

He didn’t bother to answer.

“Tell me about the girl who survived.”

Christan hadn’t realized he’d mentioned the girl, but apparently, he had, and Lexi had been paying attention. At some point, their wine glasses had been refilled. “The warriors brutalized her.”

“I want to know.”

“They made her stand at the bottom of a rocky cliff when they threw her friend from the top. Told her it was a dream. That if she put her friend back together the girl would be alive. She tried to reattach an arm while they laughed. Then they pushed her hands into what was left of the head until she was screaming.”

Christan expected a shocked exclamation, disgust at the barbaric nature of immortal warriors. Instead Lexi said quietly, “Why would they do such a thing?”

“Shock forces the mind into a safer life. The girl recalled one past life memory while she screamed.”

“How do you know that, Christan? Did you go into her mind? Did you dig at her memories?”

Christan thought about the sobbing girl, sitting in what was left of her friend. He looked in Lexi’s direction, remembered what Arsen told her about the memories he could change, the power he could force into the mind, had forced into her mind. He knew how she viewed it—violations she could not forgive.

“Yes,” Christan said, a man who did not ask for absolution. “I went into her mind. And I dug into her memories.”

“With permission or without?” Steady, specific as Lexi forced him to admit a truth about himself. He could recall no other person—immortal, warrior, or human—ever doing such a thing.

“With.” The girl had begged him to do it, gripped his hand while tears ran down her face. Told him she didn’t care if she lost part of herself, she would rather die than live with the nightmare. He’d been as delicate and gentle as possible.

“It was an act of compassion.” Lexi set down her wine glass, wrapped her arms against her waist and turned halfway from him so he couldn’t see her face. “You gave her relief.”

“Yes.” He thought of her dreams, when Lexi cried on the plane, so deep in the nightmare she hadn’t realized it was his arms that wrapped around and held tight, his shirt that grew wet. “I could do the same for you. Give you some peace.”