opinion, one of the crueler Elders. In fact, in the past two hundred years I couldn’t remember him bothering me at all.
“Sì,” he said.
“Lord of Dreams?”
Vasco nodded. “His power has to do with dreams, inspiring them, controlling them.”
I tilted my head. “But that’s impossible. We don’t dream.”
“If Sognare wants you to dream, you will.”
That was interesting. I’d never heard much about Sognare. Actually, come to think of it, I hadn’t heard much about the Elders and their specific powers. I’d seen Sognare several times. And if you ask me, he reminded me an awful lot of the way humans portrayed their fictional wizards. However, that was probably because he was the oldest vampire that I’d ever seen. His gray beard was long enough to sweep the floor.
“That doesn’t sound very physical,” I said.
“Mental.” He shrugged. “Physical. It is both.”
I picked the fox blade up. Call it a hunch, but I had a feeling Cuinn wasn’t going to let me leave him behind.
Vasco eyed the sword. “It is true?”
“This?” I lifted the blade.
“The volpe spirito,” he said.
“Renata told you?”
“Sì,” he said. “She explained some. I have been assured that you have not gone deliriously mad and that your wits are still about you.”
“Well, not yet,” I said.
He offered his hand. “May I carry it? I know they are peculiar about such things, but you cannot walk into this challenge armed, as it is not a challenge of weapons.”
Not visible ones.
I waited for Cuinn to add more, but he didn’t.
Cuinn?
Aye?
Will you let Vasco carry you?
He seemed to consider it.
Then he surprised me by saying, Aye, I suppose.
I handed the sword to Vasco, hilt first.
Vasco took it. I turned toward the door when a heavy thump made me turn on my heel. The fox blade was planted firmly in the floor. I watched as Vasco struggled to retrieve it.
I heard Cuinn give a little snicker of laughter.
“Cuinn,” I said, this time aloud.
Vasco gave me a look and tugged on the sword again, bracing his booted feet several inches apart. The sword wasn’t budging. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to, either, supernatural strength or no. Vasco swore and this time I heard him say, “Volpe!”
All he needs to do is ask nicely.
“Vasco, ask nicely.”
“What?” He looked startled.
“You’re going to give yourself an aneurism; just ask him nicely!”
He blinked. “Why?”
I moved toward him and the sword Vasco and moved out of the way. I pulled the sword out of the stone in one fluid motion. “I’m not handing the sword to you until you ask nicely.”
Vasco blinked again. “Per favore?”
That’ll do.
I handed the sword to him. Vasco removed his own sword from his back sheath and laid it on the bed. He slipped the fox blade into his sheath, checking it with his hands. He seemed satisfied that it fit.
I let the surprise show. “It fits?”
“The sword and sheath were blessed by one of the Stregheria.”
“The what?”
“Stregheria,” Vasco repeated. “An Italian Witch. The sheath will fit any sword.”
“And the sword?” I asked.
“The sword will kill a vampire.”
“That’s a nice thing to be carrying on your back.”
“Right now I am carrying your volpe spirito trapped in steel, and this too is a nice thing to carry on one’s back.”
I didn’t know if he was teasing or not. “You’re saying my sword can bring true death to one of our kind?”
“Sì, or anything that you wish it to kill, for that matter.”
Cuinn, I mentally purred at him.
Aye? he said again, but this time he sounded irritated.
Is this true?
His ears swiveled back as he rested his maw on his forelegs.
It is.
You didn’t think to tell me, why?
’Cause ye’d find out eventually.
I shook my head. “Let’s go.”
Vasco bowed. The pommel of the fox blade was hidden behind the long braided tresses of his hair. I opened the door and stepped out in the hall, too busy giving in to my
“Sì,” he said.
“Lord of Dreams?”
Vasco nodded. “His power has to do with dreams, inspiring them, controlling them.”
I tilted my head. “But that’s impossible. We don’t dream.”
“If Sognare wants you to dream, you will.”
That was interesting. I’d never heard much about Sognare. Actually, come to think of it, I hadn’t heard much about the Elders and their specific powers. I’d seen Sognare several times. And if you ask me, he reminded me an awful lot of the way humans portrayed their fictional wizards. However, that was probably because he was the oldest vampire that I’d ever seen. His gray beard was long enough to sweep the floor.
“That doesn’t sound very physical,” I said.
“Mental.” He shrugged. “Physical. It is both.”
I picked the fox blade up. Call it a hunch, but I had a feeling Cuinn wasn’t going to let me leave him behind.
Vasco eyed the sword. “It is true?”
“This?” I lifted the blade.
“The volpe spirito,” he said.
“Renata told you?”
“Sì,” he said. “She explained some. I have been assured that you have not gone deliriously mad and that your wits are still about you.”
“Well, not yet,” I said.
He offered his hand. “May I carry it? I know they are peculiar about such things, but you cannot walk into this challenge armed, as it is not a challenge of weapons.”
Not visible ones.
I waited for Cuinn to add more, but he didn’t.
Cuinn?
Aye?
Will you let Vasco carry you?
He seemed to consider it.
Then he surprised me by saying, Aye, I suppose.
I handed the sword to Vasco, hilt first.
Vasco took it. I turned toward the door when a heavy thump made me turn on my heel. The fox blade was planted firmly in the floor. I watched as Vasco struggled to retrieve it.
I heard Cuinn give a little snicker of laughter.
“Cuinn,” I said, this time aloud.
Vasco gave me a look and tugged on the sword again, bracing his booted feet several inches apart. The sword wasn’t budging. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to, either, supernatural strength or no. Vasco swore and this time I heard him say, “Volpe!”
All he needs to do is ask nicely.
“Vasco, ask nicely.”
“What?” He looked startled.
“You’re going to give yourself an aneurism; just ask him nicely!”
He blinked. “Why?”
I moved toward him and the sword Vasco and moved out of the way. I pulled the sword out of the stone in one fluid motion. “I’m not handing the sword to you until you ask nicely.”
Vasco blinked again. “Per favore?”
That’ll do.
I handed the sword to him. Vasco removed his own sword from his back sheath and laid it on the bed. He slipped the fox blade into his sheath, checking it with his hands. He seemed satisfied that it fit.
I let the surprise show. “It fits?”
“The sword and sheath were blessed by one of the Stregheria.”
“The what?”
“Stregheria,” Vasco repeated. “An Italian Witch. The sheath will fit any sword.”
“And the sword?” I asked.
“The sword will kill a vampire.”
“That’s a nice thing to be carrying on your back.”
“Right now I am carrying your volpe spirito trapped in steel, and this too is a nice thing to carry on one’s back.”
I didn’t know if he was teasing or not. “You’re saying my sword can bring true death to one of our kind?”
“Sì, or anything that you wish it to kill, for that matter.”
Cuinn, I mentally purred at him.
Aye? he said again, but this time he sounded irritated.
Is this true?
His ears swiveled back as he rested his maw on his forelegs.
It is.
You didn’t think to tell me, why?
’Cause ye’d find out eventually.
I shook my head. “Let’s go.”
Vasco bowed. The pommel of the fox blade was hidden behind the long braided tresses of his hair. I opened the door and stepped out in the hall, too busy giving in to my
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