Pax Demonica (6 page)

“Coffee and biscotti,” Mrs. Micari said, returning to the room with a wooden tray laden with a small coffeepot and a large basket of the delicious Italian cookies. She slid the tray onto the table, took a mug from the nearby sideboard, and poured me a cup. I added cream, then used the biscotti to stir my coffee. I took a bite of the coffee-drenched treat, closed my eyes and sighed. St. Peter’s might be just around the corner, but I’d found heaven right there.

I opened my eyes to find Mrs. Micari smiling down at me, and I realized a second too late for good manners that I should have invited her to join me. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t spew her with crumbs and waved at the other chair.

She sat, hands folded in front of her primly on the table.

“Please,” I said. “Share.”

“No, no,” she said. “I do not want coffee. I wish to speak to you.”

“Oh. Sure.” Without thinking, I reached for the travel pouch I still wore around my neck and under my T-shirt. Had we underpaid the deposit? Did I need to find someplace else to store Timmy’s stroller? Had Timmy already broken something? “Um, what’s up?”

She drew in a breath. “Katherine,” Mrs. Micari began, and I stiffened. No one called me Katherine. No one except Father Corletti, the head of
Forza Scura
. “You must be careful,” she continued as the little hairs on the back of my neck tingled a warning. “The city can be dangerous. For tourists. And for—for others as well.”

“Others?” I said. I hesitated, then decided I had to take the plunge. “What kind of others?”

“Your kind.”

“And what kind is that?”

The slightest of smiles tugged at the corner of her mouth, and I felt a cold chill run through me. “The kind that wouldn’t be shocked to learn that the young man at the airport was killed by a stiletto through the eye.”

Chapter 5

I
shoved back my chair.
“Who are you?”

“Ah, my child, the years truly are unkind. Have I changed so much?”

I stared at her, confused. I didn’t know that face. And yet—and yet there was something familiar about her. My chest tightened, but this time not with fear but with the bittersweet tug of memory. “
Signorina Leone?”

Her smile burst wide across her face, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “
Si
. Although it has been
Signora Micari
for many years.”

“But I don’t understand. You run a bed and breakfast? Why didn’t Father Corletti tell me?”

Signorina
Leone had been on the periphery of
Forza
. A maid, really. She’d done our laundry, cleaned our floors, helped make our meals. I’d never known her that well—she’d been quiet and observant but never involved in our teaching or our missions. But she’d always been there, and it was a bit like a miracle that she was here now.

“My husband Leonardo and I open this place after I retire. He has gone to God now, and I continue the work without him. Father Corletti, he is one of my best referrers.”

“Does he—I mean, do you mostly let your rooms to Hunters? Or other people from
Forza?”
I thought about the teenager sharing our floor, not to mention the anonymous guests with rooms below us.

Mrs. Micari laughed. “No, no. Most of my guests find me through the Internet.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Is one reason I am so happy to see you. You are like a gift from the past, no?”

I squeezed back. “I know exactly what you mean.”

I clutched her hand a bit longer than I probably should and was surprised to find that my eyes had filled with tears. I’d barely known this woman, and yet the thought that I was truly back—that I was really here, in Rome, connecting with my past—completely overwhelmed me.

When I finally released her, I found her beaming at me.

“But tell me now of the man that you married,” she said. “I see young Eric’s eyes on the face of your daughter. But your youngest—his father was not raised within
Forza
.”

“No.”

“And yet he knows the truth.”

“Some of it,” I said, realizing only as I spoke that it was true—I still hadn’t told Stuart everything. Oh, he knew the basics. But the battles in my youth? The demons who still held vendettas against me? The violent, fear-based passion of my early years with Eric? Those weren’t stories that Stuart had heard.

“And our dead Mr. Duvall? Your husband knows the truth about that?”

“
I
don’t even know the truth,” I said. “I don’t have any real proof he was a demon. And even if he was, I’m here on vacation. Thomas Duvall may have been on my plane, but that doesn’t mean he’s my problem.” I said it in my firmest voice—the one I use to tell Allie she’s not allowed to wear makeup. But I wasn’t fooling myself. Unfortunately, I don’t think I was fooling Mrs. Micari either.

“No?”

“This is Rome,
Signora
. I’m a stone’s throw from at least a dozen Hunters, trainees and adepts. I came here for a vacation. Not a fight.”
That
much at least was true. I was afraid, however, that a fight had found me.

Mrs. Micari’s mouth twitched. “Katherine, child, it is true that I was little more than a servant when you were young. But that does not mean that I am a fool.”

“I—”

“Tell me honestly—did danger follow you here from San Diablo? Was that boy a demon? More important, was it you who killed him?”

And there it was. Flat out. Specific. A question that I could either answer or not. But I couldn’t avoid it with vague words and ambiguous responses.

Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have even considered hedging. She might not have been a trainer, but she was part of
Forza
, and that meant that I’d trusted her absolutely.

But things had changed.

I couldn’t tell her. Not that Duvall was a demon. Not that I hadn’t killed him. Not even that I had my suspicions about the demon-y status of the airport’s maintenance crew.

Eric said don’t trust anyone. And as much as it sucked, “anyone” included Mrs. Micari.

I smiled at her and managed a casual little shrug, hoping she couldn’t see that it was tainted by guilt and regret. “I really don’t know if he was a demon.” Technically true, but it still felt like a lie. “He was on our plane. He was an attractive young man. And now he’s dead. Beyond that, I don’t know anything. And,” I added, increasing my lie exponentially, “I don’t see how he could have anything at all to do with me.”

“Don’t you?” An odd smile twisted her mouth. “Have your instincts become so dull, or is there perhaps another reason that holds your tongue?” I heard the hurt in her voice, and I almost gave in.
Almost
. But didn’t. Not because I had the strength, but because I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure easing across the foyer and realized I had an excuse.

“Allie!” I called. “Why aren’t you watching your brother?”

She appeared in the doorway immediately, her expression contrite. Too contrite, frankly, and I wondered what she’d overheard. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! He’s sound asleep—I swear—and I really needed to pee.” Her mouth snapped closed even as her eyes widened with mortification. “I mean the bathroom. I needed to use the bathroom and there was someone in the one on our floor and so I came down here to look for another one and then I heard you guys and—” She ended with a deep shoulder shrug. “I shoulda said something, I know. But—well, anyway. I still need a bathroom, so. . . ?” She trailed off, eyes on Mrs. Micari, who pointed helpfully toward the powder room.

Allie started sprinting that direction so quickly that I didn’t doubt the story about needing the bathroom. Too bad. I needed her to be my excuse.

“Hold up there, kid,” I said as I rose and started across the room. “I’m sure the bathroom upstairs is free by now. I’ll go up with you.” I flashed a smile toward Mrs. Micari that I hoped translated as,
kids—whatcha gonna do?
“We need to have a little chat anyway . . . ”

“Oh.” She bounced slightly from one foot to the other. “Um, okay. See you later, Mrs. Micari.”

“
Si
,” responded the woman who was more than just our innkeeper. “Katherine,” she added, the lilt in her voice and slight nod making my name sound like a promise rather than a dismissal.

I followed Allie up and waited on her bed until she returned from the bathroom. “So, on a scale of one to ten,” she began, “how much trouble am I in?”

“For the snooping? Five. I’m cutting you a break since it was an unplanned snoop.” I looked pointedly at her brother, whom I’d found asleep underneath a bedspread in front of the television. “For babysitting duty, I’m going with negative three. What if he’d pulled over furniture instead of just a blanket?”

“I wasn’t planning on being gone that long. Honest. And it’s not like he actually got hurt. I mean look at him,” she added, pointing to the bed where I’d carried him just a few moments before. “Conked out like a little angel.” She smiled wide, revealing two rows of sparkling, newly brushed teeth.

I sighed, relenting. The kid was alive; the lecture could wait.

Allie must have picked up on some subtle shift in the temperature of my mood because she plonked down on the bed next to me. “So, a five? Seriously? ‘Cause I can totally live with a five.”

With effort, I managed not to laugh. “You didn’t set out to snoop, so you get credit for that. But mostly you’re coasting on the fact that I wanted an excuse to avoid Mrs. Micari’s questions.”

“In other words, snoop again and I’m in trouble.”

“I have such a smart daughter.” I pushed myself up. “Nap. Or listen to music,” I added before she could protest that she wasn’t the least bit tired. “We’ll go play tourist as soon as Timmy’s up and Stuart’s ready to go.”

“But Mom—”

“Don’t ‘But Mom’ me.”

“—did you kill it? The Thomas Duvall demon. Was that you?”

“Did you see the security guys walking with the automatic weapons? Do you think I’d be happy in an Italian jail?”

“Well, sure, I get that. But—it’s just—I mean, he
was
a demon, right?”

“I think so,” I admitted, sitting back down again.

“And he’s dead.” She left the sentence hanging, dangling like bait on a hook. I didn’t nibble. After a moment, she let out an exasperated breath. “If you didn’t kill him, then who did? And what was a demon doing on our flight? I mean, that’s weird, right?”

“They have to get around somehow,” I said dryly. In truth, I was proud of her. She was asking all the right questions, and she deserved to know as much as I did—even though I knew exactly squat.

Except I didn’t want to tell her. Not about the altar. Not about the call from her dad. My heart might be bursting with pride from how capable and grown-up my daughter was becoming, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still completely twisted up inside. Grappling with her desire to step into this life. And grappling with my willingness to let her do it. Weren’t parents supposed to protect their kids? The skills she was developing made her stronger, sure, but they also meant that danger would come her way. More, it meant that she’d seek it out.

And, dammit, this wasn’t the place I wanted her doing that. I wanted this trip to be about family—not about the family business.

But that was just me making excuses. There was danger out there whether she sought it out or not. It was there whether she trained or not. For better or for worse, this life was in her blood, and I owed my almost-adult daughter the respect of telling her what I knew. And what I suspected.

She sat stiff and silent beside me on the bed, scowling and undoubtedly certain that I was going to blow her off.

Once again, I stood. “Come on.” I bent down and carefully scooped Timmy into my arms. He stirred but didn’t wake, and I said a silent thank you to the patron saint of overwhelmed mommies.

“Where?” Allie asked. “Are we getting Stuart?” I heard both wariness and defiance in her voice. If I said yes, my daughter was going to put up a fight.

“No,” I said. “We’re leaving Timmy with his dad. Then you and I are going to take a walk. We’ll leave Stuart a note telling him we decided to get a head start on shopping.”

“But we’re really. . .?”

“Shopping may be involved,” I admitted. “Mostly we’re going to talk.” I was even considering heading to
Forza
so that I could run through everything with Father Corletti before bringing Stuart by to take the official tour.

And yes, I felt guilty about that. Probably not as guilty as I should. Lies and secrets were becoming second nature to me. Not a good thing, but there you go.

Allie’s grin lit up her eyes. “I want some shirts and jeans, but mostly I want a jacket. Italy’s all about the leather. Oh, and I told Mindy I’d find a purse for her. Something really exceptional, you know?”

I didn’t bother answering, just moved slowly out the door with my bundle of toddler in my arms and my teenager in my wake. Two minutes ago, she’d been all about the demons and the mysteries. Now it was shopping and fashion and soft leather accessories.

I could only imagine what the next minutes would bring.

Chapter 6