Page 116 of Devoted

I stepped over the black stain, shame heating my face. “If there were more,” I said, “they would have come by now. They’re attracted to the scent of their own dead.”

Valeria made a gagging sound, stood up, took three wobbling steps toward the far corner of the room, and threw up into one of her decorative plants.

I hardly blamed her.

I wanted to puke, too.

Gabriel sank into the nearest chair, his face pale, blood tracking down his forearm. “Where did they come from? And if they were inside this whole time, why wait until now to attack? Why not while we were sleeping?”

“All valid questions.” I toed the tarry smear on the rug. Then glanced at Emilia, standing so still, I’d half-forgotten she was there. She was by the fireplace with her hands neatly folded, looking between the reeking black smears… and me.

“Emilia, do you have something to add?”

“You know more about them than I, Truthteller.” Her lips flattened out. “But it’s apparent our time has run out.” She nodded to the papers scattered across the floor, ripped and splattered with blood. “They are hunting you in here, and Giovanni is tightening the noose outside. We have to move.”

“We’re out of time,” I agreed. “If Blackwood can get inside your wards, then we’re no longer safe here. And we’re dead if we are caught outside. We don’t have until morning.” I looked at Gabriel. “We have to go in tonight.”

“We’re not ready,” Gabriel held my gaze for a long moment. Then he exhaled, short and controlled, and nodded once. “But we’ll never be ready, will we?”

“Same plan,” Dante said in a low voice. “Two prongs. Advance team, then a full-force assault, everything we have. Nico on both teams because we need you against those things.”

“I won’t be able to get Blackwood out of the city in time.” Emilia and Severin traded a long look. “But I will do my best to keep him occupied.”

I looked at Emberline, frighteningly pale but looking at me with a determined expression.

“Oh, don’t you even think about it, Nico Draconi. You’re not leaving me behind,” she grit out, holding her arm. “Once I’m patched up and I’ve fed, I’ll be good to go.”

She looked like walking death, but I nodded.

“I wouldn’t dare. You, me, and Dante are on the advance team, along with six of Severin’s best soldiers. We go for the Summoners first, take them out before they even know we’re there. Quiet. Maximum casualties. In and out.”

“The main forces need to be in position by three in the morning.” Gabriel was at the window, looking out at the dark water. “Can you manage that on such short notice? Every soldier we have, flooding the city, concentrating on the Sala del Giuramento and the DiRavello palazzo. Emilia’s priests behind the front line. Severin and I will be in the front.” He paused, leveling Emilia with a knowing stare. “When the sun comes up, I want Giovanni in shackles, and Blackwood… neutralized.”

“Giovanni will have the Ashbound,” Gabriel reminded us, dragging his hand down his face. “One more fucking thing to factor into an already precarious operation.”

“I’ll take care of the Ashbound; Nico takes out the Drax.” Dante’s voice settled into the flat, echoing tone that meant the demon was on board with our plan. “If I burn enough of them, eventually, they’ll be gone, right?”

Emberline made a quiet sound, and I looked at the destruction of the formerly perfect room—the scattered maps and the twin smears of black on an extremely expensive rug, Valeria wiping her mouth, Gabriel cradling his bloodied hand, wrapped in part of his shirt.

“We still have a few hours. You two go see the healers. I’ll make another pass around the villa.” I motioned for the Demente soldiers to follow me, then glanced at the rug. “And someone should probably deal with those before they ruin the wool.”

“Gods,” Valeria said faintly. “That is a three-hundred-year-old Aubusson.”

“Was,” I corrected.

“With luck, you can hand-deliver the bill to Giovanni tomorrow morning. In person.”

43

LUCA DIRAVELLO

Every time I closed my eyes, all I heard was the screaming.

That, and a high, constant chittering, like nails on a chalkboard.

And when that stopped, the voice followed. Unrelenting. Cold. Cruel. So I stayed awake as long as I could, ignoring the unnatural cold crawling up my shoulder, then my neck, from the wound on my right arm that wouldn’t stop itching.

Stayed awake until my body ached from exhaustion, until darkness edged my vision, until I couldn’t keep my eyes open a moment longer.