CHAPTER 32
Leander gave Christan a personal escort outside, and not just as a courtesy. They stood at the bottom of a long flight of terraced steps, well below the top of the hill where the villa spread out in a sea of pink stone. Gnarled olive trees cast bent shadows in the morning light. Somewhere a dove called for its mate. Christan waited for Leander to speak.
There were only six enforcers, one for each Calata member, and those belonging to Six and Five were brutal with cold black eyes. The responsibilities of the job could do that to a man, drain his mortal half, but Leander remained steady, never crossing the line toward his more inhuman half. Christan wondered what opportunities might have opened, what life might have been like for any of them if they hadn’t been obligated to the blood work. He stood relaxed and waiting while the other enforcer gazed at the landscape. The morning breeze drifted through the garden that bordered the terrace steps. Sunlight played in the trees. Just like any other summer morning other than the threat of war.
“Is your girl with you?” Christan asked to break the silence.
“Yes.”
“She’s well?”
“She believes I’m in security work.”
“You are,” Christan said.
“Human security,” Leander answered dryly.
“You haven’t told her?”
“We’re happy. I saw no reason to worry her with troubles she can do nothing about.”
“Ignorance isn’t always bliss. Women live longer in this century. It’s harder to hide the truth.”
“Because they age and we don’t?”
“Among other things.”
“I’ve heard that Robbie aged his persona to match his mate.”
Christan studied the horizon. “You should talk to him about it.”
After a moment they turned, continued walking down the steps.
“How difficult was it?” Leander asked.
“Explaining things?”
“Yes.”
“Very.”
“Would you do it differently?”
“You mean if she didn’t need to know the truth about what I am?” Christan paused to stare up at the sky. “I would have told her. I tried keeping the secrets in the past lives. Didn’t work out that well. Besides, in this century, they’re all going to know sooner or later. There’s too much we can’t explain away.”
“Then it’s better if you just tell them the truth?”
“For me. Maybe not for you, not yet. Maybe you’re better at the lying than I was.”
Leander stopped, braced his hands on his hips and stared at the distant purple hills. “Shit’s going to hit the fan soon. Won’t be better for any of us.”
“What do you know, Leander?”
The enforcer pulled a folded paper from inside his dark suit jacket and handed it to Christan. He glanced at it, refolded it and handed it back.
“Does One know?”
“Not yet. You probably have twenty-four hours before she does.”
“I’ll try not to waste them.”
“I have a personal stake in this,” Leander said.
“So do I.”
“Do you need help?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Because One was right; Christan could be violent. And it was going to get messy.
The hills around the villa were steeper than they looked from a distance. After two hours of walking Lexi could feel the effort in her legs. Sweat trickled down her spine. Before Christan left that morning, when Arsen first arrived, the warrior had with him all their possessions from the safe flat in Florence. But earlier, when she’d dressed—well, she hadn’t wanted to but Christan told her she couldn’t walk around naked even if he liked her that way—she found her muddy clothes washed and clean and, oh my god, pressed, even her underwear.
That felt more than a little awkward, realizing the unseen Hanna Strome had washed her clothes. Now Lexi was thinking of a cool shower, something light-weight to wear because a sky as clear and blue as the one above her meant it would get hot.
They paused beside the wooden post that marked the end of a row. Arsen squatted down to check the footings, making sure the base was solid. The vine was trained to the upright post and then horizontally along the wire, so gnarled it spoke of ancient times.
“Why do the vines look like this?” Lexi asked, curious.
“They’re old. And we don’t really grow them for the grapes.”
“Is this some kind of obstacle course?”
“Like the long walls of Piraeus,” Arsen said, speaking of the ancient walls that had become a symbol for the defiant Athens, destroyed by the Spartans, then rebuilt by the Persians. “Don’t touch that,” he added when she reached for the closest vine.
“Will it zap me?”
“To the moon, Slick, and I ain’t explaining that to Christan.”
Lexi removed her hand from where it hovered over green and golden leaves. “Did you notice the black car?” she asked as they turned toward the villa.
“The one at the end of the road?”
“Yes,” she said, bending into the climb. “It’s been there the entire time we’ve been checking out this part of Piraeus.”
“Too hot for sightseeing,” Arsen pointed out.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Lexi followed him up the hill. “Oh, look. They’re leaving. Maybe they were just sightseeing.”
“Did they have a camera?”
“Too far to tell.”
“Then I can’t buy the whole sightseeing thing. Gotta have a big camera, Slick. Large enough to see.”
“And that’s why you get to be the warrior, Bucko, while I have to be the human. I don’t think like that.”
“Sucks for you.”
“Don’t tell Christan.”
“What?”
“That we were alone in a vineyard talking about sucking.”
A bark of laughter. “Damn, Slick, but Christan has his hands full with you.”
“Yeah, I know.” She grinned up at him. “You were starting to feel sorry for me.”
“Never that.” His big hand pushed the hair from her face and squeezed her shoulder. “Never that.”