Page 61 of Unbound

All four Cosca families signed that document, but only one burned down my world. Is there a way the others didn’t know about it? Even if they did, they certainly would not have cared or disapproved. The Bargain might have been brokered at the Firenze court, but it was a neat slicing up of power that benefited all four clans. They would have known, I decide. They would have applauded. Firenze would have basked in their approval.

But do they know who I am? Do they know that I am the child that was stolen that night? Perhaps not. That is the kind of secret that Giulia and Vincenzo would have delighted in keeping to themselves. I was their little toy, not even knowing the truth about myself. I suspect they would not have told a soul, keeping me hidden. Thrilled at my compliance, my lack of memory. Completely making me their own.

And now, tomorrow night, all three Cosca Dons will be here, in my town. On my territory. They think I’m weak, but they are very much mistaken. I am stronger than ever. Stronger than even I knew. I might hate witches, but there is no denying their power. My power. I can feel it thrumming through me now, a vague fizz in my blood, a corner of my mind stretching and waking up after a long slumber. I do not yet really understand what I am, but weak is not it. I was weak that night, when the Firenzes destroyed my world, and I will never be weak again.

Rosa turns my face so I’m looking at her. I can tell from her slight reaction that my eyes are fully silver again, and now I know why. It is the d’Argento magic running through my veins, my legacy, my family’s power. Perhaps it began to manifest when the original blood spell was broken, the first time my eyes changed. Perhaps that’s what those disappearing parts of the spell did; they started preparing me for what I needed to know, who I needed to be.

Rosa smiles, touches my lips with hers. Reassuring me. “What are you thinking?” she asks.

“I’m thinking I have a lot to do. A lot to process. For now, I need to switch off from all of this as much as I can. I need to focus on the urgent matters at hand, and the first thing to deal with is the meeting of the Dons.”

She shudders, bites her lip. She is no innocent, assuming that we will simply all sit down and have a nice chat. Share some gossip, catch up on family history. None of us are made that way. I don’t think any of them are serious about taking over or ending my rule here. They’re not stupid; they know it would be more profitable to work with me, to take from me rather than kill me, but I’d be foolish if I discounted the idea completely. There is always the chance that this meeting could end in conflict. I will aim for peace, as my mother counseled me, because I know that is what is best for Firenze, for this fucked-up family of mine. For those I am responsible for.

We need time to rebuild, to cleanse our society of Vincenzo’s corruption. To plant gardens, sow seeds of all kinds. Make things right again, do our best to erase the stains that his reign left behind. To create a new Firenze, one that includes people like Yvonne, one that doesn’t torture hostages to death. One that has balance, that cares for the weak instead of automatically exploiting them. Which, now I come to think about it, does indeed make me sound like a fucking witch.

I want to keep Rosa safe. I want to keep Freya safe, Moonface safe, everyone who lives at the Firenze court safe. I can’t do that if I’m dead. So, I will aim for peace, because that is what is needed. But part of me? Part of me is very much hoping for war.

“Okay,” she replies softly. “I get it. Well, whatever happens Luca, you know I’m by your side, don’t you?”

“I do, cara mia, I do.”

I take her in my arms and kiss her, but my mind is already elsewhere. It’s already racing ahead. Preparing for war.

Chapter 25

Rosa

Central Park. Two a.m. The moon casts a silver glow over the treetops, the air smelling like non-human soup.

My nostrils twitch, and it makes me think of that old TV show, the one with the witch called Samantha. Then again, pretty much everything seems to remind me of witches these days.

There’s a shift in the breeze, and I catch a whiff of a shifter. Earlier, I scented wolf too. I know Luca has got plenty of both in his contact book, but I also know that they might not be ours. They might have come into town with the other Coscas. Hell, they might just live in the park, because despite being in the center of one of the biggest cities in the world, this is a wild and untamed place.

Even by day, pockets of it are secluded, hidden away, mysterious. At night? At night, it’s a whole different ball game. Tonight, more than any other, the whole park reeks of the supernatural, including some even my heightened sense of smell can’t identify.

Luca persuaded the other Dons to come to New York, but they all drew the line at attending the Firenze court. This was Aidan’s suggestion as an alternative, and truthfully, it wasn’t a bad one. The park belongs to nobody; it is a small world of its own where creatures of every kind lurk, but none dominate. Supernatural Switzerland.

We’re deep inside, away from the tourist trails with the horse-drawn carriages, the zoo, the boating lake. Hidden in a thick wood of oak and maple, the clearing is small, almost a perfect circle. Starlight pierces the leafy canopy, and owls hoot in the dark night air. Assuming they’re actually owls at all. My senses trust nothing tonight.

Even if a civilian did happen to wander by, they would walk straight past. The whole area has been warded, and vamps are on patrol all around the park, ready to charm anybody who comes too close.

We’ve been here for an hour already, and I’m feeling twitchy in all kinds of ways. The air practically sings with magic, with power. With the potential for violence. Four chairs have been set up in the clearing, each occupied by a Cosca Don. Luca for the Firenzes, Luigi for the Romas, Federico for the Milanos, and Alfredo for the Venezias. I’m fascinated by them but also wary. As with Vincenzo, they look like harmless old men. Like they should be growing tomato plants in the yard or taking their grandkids to the ball game and boring them with stories from back in the day. Alfredo, in particular, with his gray mustache and straw hat, looks like he should be selling gelato for a living, not running one of the world’s biggest criminal enterprises.

But just the same as it was with Vincenzo, it would be unwise to underestimate these men. They are ruthless, strong, and between them they represent the most powerful vampire organization that has ever existed.

They are also—I can’t help but notice—all so puffed up on their own importance that they don’t quite grasp the fact that Luca is not going to be pushed around. He’s chillingly calm, unfailingly polite, but to anybody who knows him, it’s obvious that it’s an act. At least I think it is. He’s been in an understandably strange mood since his memories came back. He’s not shutting me out exactly, but there’s a slight edge of distance that wasn’t there before.

I don’t know why, if I’ve done something or if it’s simply his way of coming to terms with everything, but I don’t like it. I know he’s been busy, but he’s also been closed off. Staring into space more. Making lists on his phone. Smiling when he sees me, but there is a hint of detachment. Even thinking it makes me feel like a suspicious, paranoid girlfriend, which is a look I don’t like for myself, but I know I’m not imagining it. As soon as this bullshit is dealt with tonight, I’ll confront him. We’ve gone through too much together to let a lack of communication get in the way.

Aidan is standing behind Luca’s chair, as are the consiglieres of all the families with their respective Dons. I wonder if they have a union or if they meet up to bitch about their bosses. It’s got to be a stressful job. Aidan himself constantly seems wrung out, and he’d insisted on several pre-meetings to discuss the main meeting. Which is way too many meetings for my liking, and definitely for Luca’s.

They’d discussed what Luca was willing to compromise on, what was nonnegotiable, what he thought they might ask for. It was going to be a negotiation, Aidan said, and all negotiations involve give and take. He’d shown Luca maps of territory, ledgers that recorded Firenze business dealings, statements from their investment bank. Yeah. I know. That must be the weirdest Wall Street setup ever.

Luca had listened, nodded where he needed to, agreed with all of Aidan’s suggestions. At least he seemed to on the surface. I’ve got a feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, that this won’t turn out to be quite that simple. He says he wants peace, that he wants a time of renewal, but after everything he’s gone through, will that desire still hold? That night of carnage in Santa Lucia might technically have happened several hundred years ago, but to Luca, it must feel like yesterday. It’s got to be affecting him, but he’s showing no signs of that at all. He won’t talk to me about it, and he is all business right now.

In fact, so far, so boring. I share a glance with Donna, and she puts her hand over her mouth as though she’s stifling a yawn. I couldn’t agree more.

The last hour has been both brain-numbingly dull and fraught with potential danger. I am hypervigilant, looking everywhere, listening to everything, ready to go straight into battle if somebody threatens him.