“Oh no.
Everything
, remember? What’s good for the goose is good for the vampire, and all that shit.”
“He’s an alchemist,” Nicholas said after a hesitation so brief she wouldn’t have noticed had she not been looking for him to dodge the question. “Once, he was a friend.”
She heard the edge in his voice. “Once?”
“Later,” he said. “We need to move.”
“Wait. How long ago did you know him?”
He met her eyes. “I haven’t seen him for more than seven hundred years.”
“Oh.” She took a small step back. She’d lived in this world long enough not to be surprised, but still … “I guess he’s an alchemist who knows his stuff.”
Nicholas turned to Rand. “The hangar number?”
“Fifteen.”
“I’m glad you’re going to Paris,” Lissa said. “I’ve remembered something from there.”
Petra turned toward Lissa, her heart pounding. “Wait. What? You’ve remembered something?” As a succubus, Lissa had lived multiple lives. And although she didn’t remember many of those lives in detail, she’d once told Petra that she did remember something about a monster like Serge. A monster created by touch. A clue, maybe, to Petra’s background. At the time, though, she couldn’t recall any of the details.
“Not much, but, yeah. A glimpse, a name. Rumors that her touch destroyed. And Paris.” She closed her eyes as if trying to draw the memory closer to her, then shook her head, frustrated. “But that’s all.”
“What name?” Petra asked, hoping it was someone new, and not someone in her family tree.
“Vivian Chastain,” Lissa said, and from the far side of the room, Luke swore under his breath.
“Chastain?” Nicholas repeated. “You’re certain?”
Lissa reached out, finding Rand’s hand, as her eyes darted between the two vampires. “As sure as I can be about a hazy memory. Why?”
Luke looked hard at Nicholas, who nodded.
“Dammit,” Petra said. “What’s going on? Who is she?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said. “Not really. But in 1714, I was ordered to kill her. More specifically, I was ordered to use a sniper’s bullet. No contact.” His smile was thin. “Not my usual style.”
Petra’s throat thickened, and she had to try twice to get the words out. “Oh. At least I got a trial. For what it’s worth, anyway.”
“Were you told anything about her?” Lissa asked. “Anything about her background? Her family? Anything that might help Petra?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I was Luke’s second. They told us nothing.”
“A second?” Petra asked. “Is that usual?”
“No,” Luke said.
“Apparently the Alliance was taking no chances.”
The fact that Petra’s heart still beat suddenly seemed like even more of a miracle than it had a few hours ago. She turned to Lissa. “Do you remember anything else?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Petra said, though she wanted to scream with frustration. “We know I’m not the only one. And we know the Alliance has killed to stop the Touch before.” She drew in a breath. “Killed instead of cured. Maybe there isn’t a way.”
“We’ll find one. We’ll go to Ferrante.”
The sharp chirp of a phone startled them all, with the exception of Luke, who pulled out his phone and eagerly opened it, then listened to the caller before ending the call and facing the group. “I can see Sara now,” hesaid, his voice choked with emotion. And before anyone had the chance to say good-bye, he’d transformed into sentient mist and was racing toward the exit.
“We need to go, too,” Nicholas said to Petra. “Your house first, then straightaway to Paris.”
He held out his arms, and she took an automatic step backward.
“Only for a moment,” he said. “Two layers of cloth and it will only be an instant before we’re mist.”
She didn’t argue, realizing as she moved toward him that there was more anticipation than fear associated with the action.
Not good.
She couldn’t
Everything
, remember? What’s good for the goose is good for the vampire, and all that shit.”
“He’s an alchemist,” Nicholas said after a hesitation so brief she wouldn’t have noticed had she not been looking for him to dodge the question. “Once, he was a friend.”
She heard the edge in his voice. “Once?”
“Later,” he said. “We need to move.”
“Wait. How long ago did you know him?”
He met her eyes. “I haven’t seen him for more than seven hundred years.”
“Oh.” She took a small step back. She’d lived in this world long enough not to be surprised, but still … “I guess he’s an alchemist who knows his stuff.”
Nicholas turned to Rand. “The hangar number?”
“Fifteen.”
“I’m glad you’re going to Paris,” Lissa said. “I’ve remembered something from there.”
Petra turned toward Lissa, her heart pounding. “Wait. What? You’ve remembered something?” As a succubus, Lissa had lived multiple lives. And although she didn’t remember many of those lives in detail, she’d once told Petra that she did remember something about a monster like Serge. A monster created by touch. A clue, maybe, to Petra’s background. At the time, though, she couldn’t recall any of the details.
“Not much, but, yeah. A glimpse, a name. Rumors that her touch destroyed. And Paris.” She closed her eyes as if trying to draw the memory closer to her, then shook her head, frustrated. “But that’s all.”
“What name?” Petra asked, hoping it was someone new, and not someone in her family tree.
“Vivian Chastain,” Lissa said, and from the far side of the room, Luke swore under his breath.
“Chastain?” Nicholas repeated. “You’re certain?”
Lissa reached out, finding Rand’s hand, as her eyes darted between the two vampires. “As sure as I can be about a hazy memory. Why?”
Luke looked hard at Nicholas, who nodded.
“Dammit,” Petra said. “What’s going on? Who is she?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said. “Not really. But in 1714, I was ordered to kill her. More specifically, I was ordered to use a sniper’s bullet. No contact.” His smile was thin. “Not my usual style.”
Petra’s throat thickened, and she had to try twice to get the words out. “Oh. At least I got a trial. For what it’s worth, anyway.”
“Were you told anything about her?” Lissa asked. “Anything about her background? Her family? Anything that might help Petra?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I was Luke’s second. They told us nothing.”
“A second?” Petra asked. “Is that usual?”
“No,” Luke said.
“Apparently the Alliance was taking no chances.”
The fact that Petra’s heart still beat suddenly seemed like even more of a miracle than it had a few hours ago. She turned to Lissa. “Do you remember anything else?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Petra said, though she wanted to scream with frustration. “We know I’m not the only one. And we know the Alliance has killed to stop the Touch before.” She drew in a breath. “Killed instead of cured. Maybe there isn’t a way.”
“We’ll find one. We’ll go to Ferrante.”
The sharp chirp of a phone startled them all, with the exception of Luke, who pulled out his phone and eagerly opened it, then listened to the caller before ending the call and facing the group. “I can see Sara now,” hesaid, his voice choked with emotion. And before anyone had the chance to say good-bye, he’d transformed into sentient mist and was racing toward the exit.
“We need to go, too,” Nicholas said to Petra. “Your house first, then straightaway to Paris.”
He held out his arms, and she took an automatic step backward.
“Only for a moment,” he said. “Two layers of cloth and it will only be an instant before we’re mist.”
She didn’t argue, realizing as she moved toward him that there was more anticipation than fear associated with the action.
Not good.
She couldn’t
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