Edge of Night (17 page)

She sighed, looked uncomfortable. “You’re right. I care. Now tell the rest of the story.”

He finished cutting the neglected sausage and then worked on the pineapple. “I wanted to marry her. Francesca. We were in love, lovers, and I thought we’d spend the next five hundred years together.” He tried to smile, but thought it might have resembled a wince. “I went to the local Conclave leaders—which included my father—and asked them for permission to tell her the truth, to marry her. Father had doubts, but I convinced all of them to let me try. I was so
sure.”

Only things hadn’t gone according to plan when he’d actually told her the truth about who he was—
what
he was. “She said I was a demon sent to tempt her, make her a pawn of Satan. Slapped me a couple of times and screamed a few Biblical quotes at me, exhorting me to cast out the devil.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Erin’s hand curled around his elbow, squeezing in sympathy. “Not really the reaction a guy wants to his marriage proposal.”

“No.” He snorted on a laugh. “Looking back, I should have known. Many people in Italy then—Normal and Magickal—were devoutly Catholic. On a level most people can’t imagine today, even those who consider themselves devoutly Catholic. I let my love blind me to how her spiritual beliefs would influence her.”

He felt her gaze searching his face, though he couldn’t guess what she was looking for. “You couldn’t know that she’d be unable to see past her religion.”

He hunched a shoulder. “I…had to tell my father what had happened because my abilities weren’t strong enough yet to mesmerize her and make her forget.”

“He did it for you.” It was a statement, not a question.

“
Intended
to do it for me—he didn’t get the chance. She caught scarlet fever and died.” But not before he went to her again, held her hand while she lay on her deathbed and
begged
her to let him turn her, to take a chance on their love. His stomach churned at the memories, the shame. He’d been such a fool. She’d spurned him as a devil-worshipper, spitting in his face. “It’s rare for anyone except children to get the disease, but…”

It hadn’t mattered that she should have been immune by her age. Death had taken her within a few days.

He set aside the knife and braced his hands on the counter, letting his head bow. “I didn’t go to her funeral. She’d said enough to her family before she passed that it was best for me to keep my distance. The Conclave cleaned up my mess as best they could, but…mesmerizing a lot of people into forgetting what they know gets complicated. Memories are tricky, slippery things.” He cleared his throat. “After that, my father decided it was time for the family to relocate. To avoid questions if the mesmerization failed. We came to America.”

It had been years before he’d gotten involved with another woman again, and it hadn’t been until Tess that he’d dared to date another Normal.
That
had gone so well. He seemed destined to have his heart shredded by human women. So why had he even gone near Erin? It was a question he’d asked himself many times in the last year, and had yet to come up with a reasonable answer. He could only reassure himself that caring wasn’t the same as love, and they were
only
friends with benefits. He had his fair share of Normal friends. ‘Friends’ was a label he was comfortable with. Anything more than that and…no. The prospect was too painful to even contemplate. After Francesca and Tess, he doubted whatever was left of his soul would survive a third run-in with a Normal woman.

He startled when Erin’s soft hand stroked down his back, and when he glanced at her he saw tears making her blue eyes shimmer. “I’m sorry. Having someone you love treat you like that…I’m so sorry. No one deserves that.”

He’d never spoken of this to anyone since then. His family knew, but…they never talked about it either. Not to him anyway. Pulling her into his arms, he offered this Normal woman comfort and allowed himself to be comforted in return. Some inner tension he hadn’t even known was there gave way.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “It was a long time ago.”

“But you’re not totally over it, or the Normal-vampire nastiness with this case wouldn’t have wigged you out so much.” She held him tighter, her palms warm against his back. “Francesca’s reaction to you being a vampire, and Tess’s too, made you feel bad about being who you are. That’s shitty, especially from women you loved. You deserved better.”

He doubted either of those women would agree, considering one still claimed to hate him and the other went to her grave cursing his name. Not exactly a ringing endorsement. He couldn’t even say either of them was wrong. He’d made a lot of mistakes with both of them, and hurt them as much as they’d hurt him. But it felt good to have Erin think better of him. He didn’t deserve it, but he enjoyed it.

Get a grip, Cavalli. Friends only. Don’t go making the same mistake a
third
time.
This was temporary until one or both of them found someone better suited to them. Someday he’d find some nice she-vampire to breed with, and Erin would settle down with someone Normal. Or maybe her family would even set her up with a wolf, to bring her into the pack’s fold.

The very idea left a sour taste in his mouth, so he shoved that line of thinking away.

He cleared his throat. “Since you’re over here, you can help me prep the skewers for the oven, or we’re never eating breakfast.” His voice was rougher than he’d intended, his tone ruder, but she just kissed his shoulder and did as he asked.

Gods, he liked this woman. She was…
nice
. It seemed a banal thing to call someone as decent as her, but there were very few people in his life who were nice. Most of them were fucked up, emotionally scarred or too damn magically ancient to give a shit anymore. Erin was a breath of fresh air. Humans tended to be frenetic, their energy jarring, but she was comfortable in her own skin, and he’d craved her energy from the second he’d met her.

It really was a shame that their circumstances were so in the way of their possibilities.

Chapter Seven

Luca didn’t want to be doing this, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice. Like so much with this case. His uncle’s secretary had called him to let him know the warrant for Robert Hammond remained unsigned. Twenty minutes after he’d hung up, he was in the courthouse. He nodded to the secretary as he walked past her desk to the judge’s chambers.

She grabbed her purse and stood. “I’m taking a break. Let him know for me, would you?”

“Absolutely.” He gave her a smile. “And thank you.”

Lifting an eyebrow, she shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Special Agent Cavalli.”

“Of course not. You said and did nothing except take a coffee break.” The words were wasted, since the woman had already disappeared. She was fast for a Fae. He wondered briefly if she’d used some kind of spell to increase her speed. Casting wasn’t a skill of the vampire race, so he had only a theoretical understanding of what was possible, and that constantly expanded as criminals found new ways to use their magic to break laws.

He sighed. Time to get on with this fiasco.

Not bothering to knock, he opened the door to his uncle’s office. “
Zio
Vito.”

The older vampire glowered, slapping the file he was reading on his desk. Even from this distance, Luca could tell it was the report he’d submitted. Vito growled, “This is a bad idea. It shouldn’t be me issuing this warrant. I’m your uncle. It hardly qualifies me as a neutral and detached party.”

“My father is fucking this man’s mother. I shouldn’t be involved in this case at all.” Luca crossed over to the cabinet where his uncle hid the good stuff and poured a finger of whiskey for both of them. Mellowing his uncle did a world of good when trying to deal with the wily old judge. “But the Conclave throws its weight around and rules get bent.”

“And now you’re throwing your weight around with me.” Vito jutted his jaw, but grudgingly accepted the snifter. His was as large and imposing a man as Luca and Salvatore, with similar features. Salvatore was the older of the two, something he never let Vito forget. Their relationship was as contentious as Luca’s was with his father. Not for the first time, Luca wondered who Salvatore managed to get along with amicably. Besides his mother and, apparently, Elinor “Medusa” Hammond.

“I wouldn’t come to you unless I had to.” Luca toasted his uncle before sprawling in the chair across from him.

“I know that. Damn it.” The judge’s eyebrows lowered. “Tell me you have this guy nailed and it’s not a bunch of circumstantial shit you want me to put my name on.”

“You read the report.” Luca nodded to the file lying open on the desk.

Vito waved that away. “Reports can be manipulated.”

“Not by me,” Luca retorted coolly. “There is more than sufficient probable cause and you know it. If it were anyone else but Hammond, I’d have had my warrant so fast the ink on my original report wouldn’t have had time to dry. We have evidence of systematic abuse of both the child and the wife. We can prove he fed from the child, and tried to turn him after he fell down the stairs.”

“
Pfft
. A good lawyer will wiggle out of that.” Vito steepled his fingers together under his chin, pinning Luca in place with a look. “Can you prove he
killed
the boy?”

“My team’s clairvoyant will testify to the fact that his vision showed Hammond hit his son and sent him down the stairs. Kingston’s word carries weight in the Magickal world. We know Robert killed Dillon. Was it accidental or deliberate? That’s for the DA to argue.”

The judge grunted. “Did you get a confession?”

“From a politician? You must be joking,
Zio
.” Luca chortled, but ruthlessly kept his temper in check. “He admitted to feeding from his wife, and there was no elixir in the house. At all. We have him on child abuse, endangering a minor, assault and battery of a Normal and keeping a sheep. The DA is willing to try for murder one, but—”

“But he’s up for reelection and he’s a werewolf, so of course he’d like to nail a politically prominent vampire.” Vito scowled, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Luca recognized the look as one his father had worn before. The Cavalli family genetics at work.

“Politics have complicated this entire case.” He locked his gaze with his uncle’s. “What this comes down to is a child died. A child who spent his entire life being abused and used for food.” He leaned forward and stabbed his fingertip against the top of the desk. “We can’t pretend that didn’t happen. Maybe it’s not politically smart, but no man should walk away scot-free when he’s violated his blood oaths so heinously. Tell me you really want to condone that, Vito. This is the
fundamental tenet
of vampire culture. Do we want to throw that away over politics?”

Uncle Vito glanced away, grumbling, “You should have stayed a trial lawyer,
mio nipote
.”

Snorting, Luca sat back. He’d made his point and they both knew it, so he didn’t push further. “Maybe when I get too old and tired to chase bad guys around, I’ll go back to it.”

“Fine, I’ll sign the warrant.” Vito jerked the file toward him, flipped to the prepared document, and scrawled his name. Then he jabbed a finger in his nephew’s direction. “But you owe me, and it’s on your head if this goes south for the family.”

“Duly noted.”

“It better be,” Vito growled. “Your father is going to kill me. Even if, by some small miracle, we don’t take a serious hit to our influence in the Conclave.”

Luca thought it would have to be a rather large miracle for that to happen. His family would suffer for this; Medusa would see to that. Guilt twisted through him, a century of family values rearing their ugly heads—he’d been raised a Cavalli, and Cavallis protected their own. By choosing to push forward with arresting Hammond, he was going to hurt his people. There was no way around it. Of course, this was the point where his father would say that if Luca gave up his menial civil servant position and focused on something that really mattered—like vampire politics—he wouldn’t have these kinds of dilemmas.

There was no winning. It seemed to be the story of his life at the moment. He was caught in a limbo with this case, with his relationship with Erin. There was no good side to be on, no matter what he did. Nothing sat quite right on his shoulders. Letting a vampire abuse his own family and kill his child wasn’t an option. Especially when Luca had the ability to bring the boy some justice and peace in the afterlife, while possibly saving Hammond’s wife from the same fate. But when Luca considered how his own family might be hurt by it, how he might shred what they’d worked so hard for, his path seemed murkier.

Some days, he envied the relative simplicity of a Normal’s life.

As if his uncle had read his mind, he said, “This boy was human, so is his mother. That makes it worse for you, doesn’t it? When it comes to Normals, you’re a soft touch. Always have been.”

“True.” There was no reason to deny it. Luca had never shared the vampire disdain for other species—be they Magickal or Normal. Perhaps a leftover trait from first falling in love with a human. It was difficult to be prejudiced against that which you loved.

Vito’s gaze was speculative. “Even now, with that human woman.”

Ah. No doubt his family still thought he was tangled up with Tess. It seemed everyone knew the details of that fateful night, and what came after. “Not a human anymore,
Zio
. She was turned into a wolf.”