"An emotional yet satisfying end to an electrifying series"
Reviewed by Loa Ledbetter
Posted June 7, 2012
Fantasy Urban
The dark races which encompass vampires, mages, weres, and
the faye, are on the verge of war. Up till now they have
managed to remain off the human radar screen and walk a
thin line of peace between themselves. Now the father of
the vampire race, the biblical Cain, has escaped his
magical prison set by a mage who calls himself Abel.
Sabina and her team must go to Italy and track down this
mysterious mage in hopes he knows a way they can kill Cain
without the serious repercussions that are inflicted on the
killer and those they love. If she fails, they are most
likely dead, but succeeding may kill her as well.
I have spent a lot of time with Sabina Kane, and I am very
sad to see her go with this, Blue-Blooded Vamp, being her
last story. When I first met Sabina, she was an angry blood-
thirsty bitch, to say the least, but she compelled me to
follow her through her adventures. With each book, I could
see her slowly morph into someone different. Not a sudden,
in your face, my character has had this ridiculous
revelation and has done a complete 180, but a subtle
journey with the changes that are gained through the
experiences of Sabina.
As we end the series, the edges have been smoothed, and
experiences have ranged from fist-pumping aggression to
heart-wrenching moments. This final Sabina we end up with
seems more emotionally fragile or perhaps more human, yet
her spirit still shines through as the strong woman we fell
in love with in the first book. Her final trials will test
her to the core as we see what she is willing to give up to
destroy Cain.
Jaye Wells has far surpassed all expectations with the
Sabina Kane series. It is not uncommon for at least one
book in a series to lull or fall away from the beginning
plot, but Jaye has masterfully carried Sabina's story
through all books without dropping a beat and finally
coming to a good solid ending. I look forward to her next
project with enthusiasm.
SUMMARY
Sabina Kane is on the hunt. Her prey: Cain, the father of
the vampire race and the one who murdered her family and
her friends. Unfortunately, Cain is hunting Sabina, too.
The one man who holds the key to defeating Cain is, of
course, Abel. A mage with secrets to spare and, hopefully,
the power to match it. Unfortunately, for Sabina, he's in
Rome and may not want to be found. Sabina sets out for
Italy with her friends, Giguhl and Adam Lazarus, to track
down the only man who can get her the revenge she hungers
for. But will he help her or oppose her? And just who is
Abel, really? Worst of all, when Sabina figures out the
goddess Lilith has a plan for her-she realizes this trip
is
getting deadlier by the minute. As they say: when in Rome-
SURVIVE.
ExcerptThe St. Charles streetcar lumbered its way toward the
Garden District like a mourner in a funeral procession. The
rocking motion should have soothed me, but I was pretty
sure I was beyond ever relaxing again.
Adam sat next me. His warm hand on my leg helped dispel
some of the chill. He wore his trademark brown duster and
heavy boots. The goatee and muscled frame added to his
general air of menace, but the mage's real danger lay in
his ability to wield magical weapons.
In addition to being my partner, he was also my . . .
boyfriend? No, too high school. Lover? Ugh. Consort? Meh.
I guess when it came down to it, he was just my mancy,
plain and simple. And his presence had become as critical
to my equilibrium as gravity or blood. So when he'd
insisted on coming with me to Erron Zorn's house, I hadn't
refused.
However, we'd opted to leave Giguhl behind at Madam
Zenobia's Voodoo Apothecary. Some situations just demanded
a distinct lack of Mischief demon. Besides, staying back
gave my minion a chance to mend fences with his friend
Brooks, a Changeling who had stormed out of New York a few
days earlier after a nasty argument with Giguhl about his
lifestyle choices.
To say I wasn't looking forward to our errand was the
understatement of the millennium. Not only would I have to
recount the shitty news of recent events in New York, but I
also knew the favor I'd come to ask of Erron Zorn might get
a door slammed in my face.
Adam squeezed my thigh, bringing my thoughts back to the
present. "Whatever Erron says, try and keep your cool,
okay?"
I nodded but didn't agree verbally. Even though Adam's
sentiment was reasonable, I'd force Erron to go to Italy
with us at gunpoint if I had to. Our mission was too
critical to put up with squeamishness or attacks of
conscience.
With each block's progress toward Erron's Garden
District mansion, the more the memories of recent days
weighed on my shoulders like a lead yoke. I picked up the
moonstone amulet I wore around my neck. It had been given
to me by my sister, Maisie, and advertised my position as
the High Priestess of the Blood Moon. While the title was
mostly symbolic, the amulet reminded me of better days when
my twin was still alive. When lots of people were still
alive, actually. I squeezed the round stone in my hand and
closed my eyes, drawing on its strength.
The streetcar's wheels hissed against their tracks,
signaling a stop. Frowning, I squinted out the windows,
trying to see how many more until we reached First. But the
trolley hadn't stopped at an intersection. Instead, it had
squealed to a halt in the middle of the grassy median that
held the tracks. I looked around to check if any of the
other passengers had pulled the emergency stop cord.
The birthmark on my left shoulder suddenly itched and
burned, like a warning. That's when I realized all the
other passengers were unnaturally still. Two old ladies
near the front leaned toward each other with their mouths
open. One had a hand raised in midair to make a point, but
it didn't move.
My gaze swiveled toward Adam. His head was bowed like a
man at prayer. His hand was still on my thigh, but he
wasn't moving either.
I shook his shoulder. "Adam?" I whispered.
Nothing.
I waved a hand under his face.
Nothing.
"Shit." I turned and looked at the other
passengers—the middle–aged dude with his
much–younger mistress, the gangly teen with
headphones glued to his ears, even the streetcar
operator—everyone, frozen. A quick glance outside the
windows revealed that every car and body on the street had
gone still as well. It was as if someone had hit a
universal pause button.
So why was I still mobile?
The ominous quiet roared in my ears. My heart beat like
a spastic metronome. I rose slowly, looking for any sign of
life. Panic rose in my throat like a fist.
Whatever was happening was bad. Really, really bad. I
had no idea what was going on, but I knew I needed to get
out of the trolley and into the open. If an attack was
coming—and I was pretty sure one was—I didn't
want to be trapped in the trolley.
But before I could make good on that plan, the doors
opened with an ominous click–clack. A foot clad in a
leather sandal appeared on the bottom step, followed by a
male hand and the edge of a white sleeve. I reached back
for the gun in my waistband. If this bastard thought I was
easy prey, he was about to get a nasty surprise.
A mass of gray hair appeared next, on top of a face
bearing a thick, white beard. With the help of a long
staff, the intruder hefted himself up the rest of the
steps. Finally, he turned toward me and smiled.
I frowned back and raised my gun. "Who the fuck are you?"
The old male sighed and waved a careless hand. My gun
flew from my grasp and skittered down the aisle to land at
his sandaled feet. "Your mundane weapons are useless here,
Mixed–blood." His voice was deep and strong, but also
weary like he had little patience for my resistance. "You
mortal realm beings are so lazy. Not to mention rude."
Instead of answering, I gathered my powers up into my
solar plexus.
"Ah, ah, ah," he said. "You could try it but I'm afraid
you won't like the results." He waved his staff
menacingly. "Besides, is that any way to treat someone
who's helped you?"
I crossed my arms, annoyed. "When have you helped me?"
Instead of answering, his face shifted and swirled until
it morphed into the muzzle of a black dog. Seeing the
familiar canine visage, I relaxed a fraction. "Well, shit,
Asclepius, why didn't you just tell me it was you to begin
with?" I waved a hand in a circle to indicate the frozen
tableau around us. "And why all the drama? You could have
just appeared in my dreams or whatever."
"Where's the fun in that? Besides, it's been too long
since I visited the mortal realm."
"So what do you want?"
"Don't play coy." His friendly expression hardened into
something more menacing. "You know why I'm here."
My stomach sank. "You've come to collect the favor I owe
you."
"Correction: I've come to collect the favors, plural."
He held up two fingers.
Shit, that's right. I'd made two blood sacrifices to the
god of healing in exchange for his help. Once when Rhea and
I performed a dream incubation healing rite on my twin,
Maisie, to help her regain her gift of prophecy, and the
second when I went into the Liminal to save her from Cain.
Or tried to, anyway.
"Is there any way this can wait? I kind of have a lot on
my plate right now."
"No, it cannot wait. Your promise was to do my bidding
at a time of my choosing. There are no rain checks."
"Yeah, but—"
He stabbed the tip of his staff into the floor. "I am
well aware of your . . . issues. You're just going to have
to figure out how to make it work. However, I do think
you'll find my errands dovetail nicely with your own
mission of vengeance."
My eyebrows slammed down. "How do you know about that?"
He shrugged. "Being a god has its privileges." As far as
explanations went, it was actually pretty good. After all,
deities knew all sorts of things. But hearing that my quest
to kill Cain had become supernatural gossip worried me.
"Okay, what are these errands, exactly?"
"Actually it was quite fortuitous that it was you who
owes me. Your former profession makes you the perfect tool
for my needs."
In a former life that felt decades ago instead of mere
months, I had been an assassin for the leaders of the
vampire race. So, it didn't take a genius to guess he
wanted me to kill someone. No sense telling him I was out
of the killing business. Especially since we'd both know it
was a lie. "Who?"
"A vampire, she goes by the name Nyx. No last name."
"Never heard of her."
"I'm not surprised. She was last seen in Italy . . ." He
let the word hang there like a juicy pint of blood on the
end of a stick. I kept my expression impassive, but he saw
right through it. "Which, I understand, is exactly where
you're headed."
"Why do you want her dead?"
Asclepius pursed his lips and shot me an offended
glare. "Normally I would smite you for your impertinence,
but since this is our first deal together, I'll overlook
it." He paused as if collecting his thoughts. "Like you,
Nyx made a blood offering in exchange for my aid. But she
isn't as smart as you because she squelched on her promise."
I had to admire the way he managed to weave a threat
into his explanation. "Why can't you just strike her down
with a bolt of lightning or something?"
He tilted his head and shot me a pitying look. "I am a
god of healing, Sabina. I cannot directly cause harm or
death to anyone."
I supposed that made some sort of sense, but clearly his
moral code didn't prevent him from extorting others to do
his dirty work.
I pursed my lips and thought it over. "What's the second
favor?"
"Nyx's request was for an item of power. A magical vest
that protects the wearer from all weapons— agical and
mundane. After you kill her, I want you to bring it to me."
"Um, not to split hairs or anything, but why would she
want a vest to protect her from harm? As a vampire, she'd
already be immune to most weapons."
"She had her reasons."
"What does she look like?"
"She's a redhead."
I rolled my eyes. "You just described one hundred
percent of the vampire population." Because the race is
descended from Cain, the biblical dude who was marked by
the mortal deity with a shock of red hair, all vampires
were gingers, too. "Are we talking deep auburn or
strawberry blond?"
Asclepius pursed his lips and did a little wishy–
ashy head shake. "In between. More like cherry red."
I nodded. That meant I would be dealing with a youngish
vamp, maybe a century or so old. Good, she would be easier
to kill. "Any other distinguishing characteristics?"
"She's a hottie."
Again, this described most of the race. Because of their
predatory advantages, vampires were usually incredibly
attractive, which lowered the inhibitions of their mortal
prey.
At my dubious look, Asclepius sighed. "I know what
you're thinking, but this vamp is gorgeous. If I didn't
want her dead, I'd try to fuck her myself."
I grimaced and decided to change the subject before I
lost my patience completely. "Can you at least give me more
specifics about where to find her? Italy isn't exactly
small."
His eyes shifted left. "No."
"Why not?"
"You dare question a god?" he thundered.
I raised an eyebrow, sensing he was holding out on me.
He resisted my knowing glare for a few moments before he
relented. "Fine. A cloaking ward was embedded in the chain
mail so that she cannot be found by magical means."
I laughed before I could help myself. "Wait, so you gave
her an item that prevented you from finding her and then
got pissed when she didn't pay up? Way to screw yourself,
dude."
"Enough!" He took a menacing step forward.
I sobered instantly. "I apologize." Time to get the
conversation back to the big picture. "But if the vest
protects her from all weapons, how exactly am I supposed to
kill her?"
The god shrugged. "Not my concern."
I bit my tongue to trap the angry curse that begged to
be spoken. "How much time do I have to find her?" I said
instead.
"Sabina, time is a fluid thing." He raised his hands
dismissively.
I supposed when you're an ancient god, that might be
true, but I lived in the mortal realm, where time was
decidedly inflexible. I didn't want to leave this detail
open to interpretation so he could use it against me later.
"I'm gonna need something more specific."
He sighed. "Fine. I'll check in on you in a few days. By
that time, I expect to hear you've put serious effort
toward the task."
In other words, I couldn't just conveniently forget to
track down this Nyx while I focused on my real
goals. "Understood. I just ask that you don't expect
immediate success. Finding her alone could take several
days."
"I accept these terms." He nodded and thunked his staff
on the floor three times. I got the impression this was
some sort of supernatural handshake. "So it is done. Gods
speed, Sabina Kane."
I expected the god to vanish in an intimidating display
of fireworks; instead he simply opened the doors and exited
like any mundane passenger. Only after he reached the
sidewalk did he wave his staff and disappear. The instant
he did, the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of movement,
color, and sound. The trolley jerked into motion with a
screech. The sudden movement knocked Adam forward off the
bench, where he landed at my feet. He looked up at me with
a sober expression.
"What the hell just happened?"
I sighed and held out a hand to help him up. "I'll tell
you in a sec. I need to get something first."
While the mancy dusted himself off, I wound my way
through the disoriented passengers to retrieve my gun from
the floor. The old biddies nearby gasped when they saw the
weapon. Luckily, the trolley was already slowing again as
it approached the stop at First. I tucked the gun into my
waistband and pushed Adam toward the door.
"Red?" he said, shooting me a tense glance over his
shoulder.
I leaned in so no one else could hear. "Asclepius just
threw a colossal wrench in our plans."
The doors finally opened. Adam hopped into the street,
turned to help me down, and without missing a beat
said, "Of course he did."
***
We headed up First into the heart of the Garden
District. Rain dropped like tears from the drooping boughs
of the stately oaks. Golden lights winked at us from a few
windows set high in the mansion walls, but the late hour
meant we had the night mostly to ourselves.
As we walked, I filled the mancy in on the god's
request. When I finished, he was surprisingly calm. "We'll
be in Italy anyway, so I don't see that it will distract
too much from our original mission," he said in a
reasonable tone. "Besides, assuming we even find this Nyx,
it wouldn't hurt to have a healing god on our side when
shit goes down with Cain."
"You're probably right, but it's a complication we don't
need."
Adam put his arm around my shoulder and leaned into
me. "Oh, what's one more?" His tone was dry, teasing. I
shot him a glare. "Listen, he said he just expects you to
make an effort, right?"
I nodded.
"So we make a couple of inquiries when we get to Rome.
As long as you show a good– aith effort, he can't be
pissed."
Erron's home was on the corner of Prytania and First.
We'd visited the house a couple of times during our last
trip to New Orleans, and it hadn't changed much. Same Greek
Revival architecture. Same stately columns and deep porch.
Same wrought–iron fence standing guard at the
sidewalk.
I paused at the gate, my sweaty palm slicking against
the cold metal. My promise to find this Nyx chick would be
worth nothing if I couldn't convince Erron to help us in
Rome. If he refused, we'd have no hope of tracking down the
mysterious mage who went by the name "Abel" and knew more
about Cain than any living being on the planet.
"Here we go," I said. "Remind me again not to use force."
Adam smiled. "You'll do fine. Erron's a reasonable guy."
I shot Adam an ironic look. Reasonablewasn't the first
word that came to mind when I thought of Erron Zorn. The
first time we'd met the lead singer of Necrospank 5000, he
was hosting a midget orgy in his living room. "Reasonable,"
I said. "Sure."
Adam nudged me. "Just get it over with. Like pulling off
a bandage."
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the gate. It creaked
in protest, as if warning me to turn back. If I'd had the
choice, I'd have done just that. But I didn't have that
luxury.
The minute Cain killed my sister, he'd cemented both our
fates. I just hoped that this time, fate would be in my
corner. But if it wasn't, I prayed that I at least would be
able to kill the bastard before I joined my sister in
Irkalla.
As we got closer to the house, the muted strains of
piano music reached my ears. At first I couldn't place the
melody. Not until I climbed the front steps and stood
directly outside the front door.
Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" curled under the
threshold and grabbed me by the throat. As beautiful as the
song was, each mournful note felt like a punch in the gut.
I glanced at Adam, whose face was cast in the porch's
shadows.
"Well," he said, "at least his taste in music has
improved."
I tried to smile, but my mouth tightened into a grimace
instead. "I was hoping to find him in a good mood, but now
I'm not so sure."
The last time I'd spoken to Erron, he'd been lecturing
me about optimism. Telling me that Cain was a nonissue and
I could relax my guard. As far as famous parting words
went, those ranked right up there with "Hey, y'all, watch
this."
I paused, wondering if I should wait. Go sit on his
front steps until the song was over, or better yet come
back the next night. But part of me knew I was looking for
an excuse to escape the music. The melodic reminder of the
things I wanted to forget.
Adam nudged me with his elbow. "Clock's ticking, Red."
My hand pounded on the door before I was aware of
instructing it to do so. In the house, a discordant note
signaled the end of the song. I stood waiting, my heart
thudding in my chest. Would he answer? Or was he praying
the intruder at his door would just go away?
I pounded again, calling out, "Erron! It's Sabina and
Adam."
The door flew open. No one stood on the other side,
which meant Erron had used magic to open it. Figuring this
was as close to a "come in" as we'd get, I stepped into the
foyer. The entire house was dark, but I could feel the
beating of another heart somewhere inside. Erron's heart.
The slow, methodical beat should have reassured me, but I
was too on edge to relax.
"Erron?" I whispered. The dark made calling out seem
sacrilegious.
"Here." The voice had come from the living area, where I
remembered seeing a piano on my last visit. The darkness
wasn't a challenge for my vampiric sight, but something
about the whole scene had my instincts on red alert.
I exchanged a wary look with Adam and withdrew the gun
from my waistband. My palms were clammy and my pulse
thumped in my ears. Taking careful steps, I proceeded to
the archway between us and the living room. I plastered my
back to the wall, and Adam took a similar posture across
the way. We went still, waiting, listening.
Nothing.
"Are you alone?" I finally said in a low tone.
A light flared to life in the other room. A cynical
laugh reached me. "Always."
I frowned and chanced a peek around the corner. Sure
enough, Erron slumped on the bench in front of his
Steinway. His back was to us, but the bend of his shoulders
and the half–empty bottle of amber liquor told me he
wasn't in trouble or afraid. Erron Zorn, famous musician
and Recreant mage, was dead drunk.
We entered the room slowly, scanning the periphery for
signs of another occupant, just in case. But sure enough,
Erron was alone. I relaxed my shoulders and lowered the
gun. I didn't holster it, though, didn't trust the silence
or the mood enough to relax completely.
Adam cleared his throat. "Didn't anyone ever tell you
it's not healthy to drink alone?"
As an Adherent mage, Adam had always been a little tense
around Erron. The rocker's refusal to follow the Hekate
Council's laws made him a bit of a loose cannon in Adam's
eyes. Still, the two men also had a sort of fragile mutual
respect thing going—the type that naturally builds
when you've fought side by side.
Erron turned slowly on the bench to look at us. The last
time I'd seen him, he'd been sweaty and exhausted after a
show at the Jupiter Ballroom in Manhattan. But that didn't
compare to the haggard specter sitting in front of me.
His black hair was longer than when I'd last seen him,
and the way it drooped limply around his face indicated he
had shunned his normal regimen of styling products. Dark
circles shadowed the skin under his gray eyes. Instead of
the Johnny Cash wardrobe he usually favored, he wore a
ratty T–shirt advertising a tour he'd done in Asia
five years earlier and a pair of frayed jeans.
"Where's Ziggy?" I asked, referring to the mage's best
friend and drummer.
Erron shrugged and played three discordant notes on the
keyboard. "He quit the band. He and my stylist ran off to a
private beach in the Caribbean."
I frowned at him. "Wait, Ziggy ran off with Goldie?"
Goldie Schwartz, in addition to being Erron's stylist, was
also a sassy midget with a predilection for kinky sex.
His nod was morose. "I guess they fell in love on tour.
Zig said they're talking about a Vegas wedding."
"But why did he quit the band?" Adam asked.
"He said I'd lost my edge." Erron laughed
bitterly. "That having mortals in the band was ruining our
original vision. I told him things were safer with the
mortals, but he wouldn't listen."
Adam and I exchanged a look. Years earlier, Cain had
decided to try and recruit Erron into his secret cabal of
dark races troublemakers. When the Recreant refused, Cain
had punished him by hurting his mage bandmates.
While it was tempting to talk to Erron about his drama,
we had more pressing matters to discuss. Ones that tied in
with his reasons for insisting on a mostly human band now.
He lifted the liquor bottle and toasted us. "Anyway, I'm
not drinking alone anymore, thanks to you two." He frowned
like his brain was having trouble processing
information. "Wait. Why are you here? I thought you were
still in New York."
I went still. "Zen didn't call you?"
"No, why?" Erron looked me in the eye, his expression
suddenly much more sober. "What happened?"
I motioned him to pass me the bottle. He handed it over
with great reluctance, like I was stealing his security
blanket. I took a long pull and savored the fire spreading
down my throat and into my stomach. Adam shot me a look,
but I ignored it. "You know the murders we discussed when
you were in New York?" I didn't wait for him to answer. I
needed to get this out as quickly as possible. "After you
left, there were two more: Tanith and Orpheus were poisoned
at the peace treaty signing. One second they were toasting
to peace and the next"—I snapped—"toast."
"Particularly in Tanith's case," Adam added, referring
to the way the vampire had exploded all over the unsigned
treaty.
Erron grabbed the bottle back and took a bracing
swig. "Who killed them?"
I hesitated. Putting the truth into words was harder
than I expected. Luckily, Adam came to my rescue.
"Maisie."
Erron dropped the bottle like it burned him. Glass
shattered and alcohol pooled on the wooden floor. "What?"
"Turns out when your friend Abel imprisoned Cain
physically, it didn't occur to him that the bastard would
be able to wreak havoc through his subconscious," Adam
continued. "He was controlling Maisie through the Liminal."
Erron scrubbed his hand over his face like he was having
trouble following. "What's the Liminal?"
This was my area of expertise and was far less painful
to explain. "It's the plane between our existence and
Irkalla. It's also where our subconscious goes when we
sleep. By the time we figured out Cain was manipulating
Maisie through her dreams, it was too late. His hold on her
was too strong. He made her perform the ritual to free
him." I swallowed the guilt lodged in my throat. "Then
he . . . killed her."
Erron blanched. "Maisie's dead?"
I nodded because I couldn't speak. Adam's hand came up
to rest on my back. Part of me wanted to resist the comfort
because I worried it might make the dam burst open. But the
other part of me was thankful I hadn't come alone to talk
to the Recreant. Hell, I was relieved Adam was around,
period—after all, Maisie had tried to kill him, too.
Erron ran a hand through his hair and went to retrieve
more liquor. As he uncapped the bottle, his hand shook. "So
Cain's free and you came here hoping I'd help you find him?"
"Yes," Adam said. "We figure Abel is the best place to
start. And since you're the only one we know who's actually
talked to the guy . . ." Adam trailed off with a shrug.
"If Cain's free from Abel's spell, it'll be a miracle if
he's still alive."
I raised my chin with a bravado I barely felt. "Just so
happens we're in the market for one of those right now." I
refused to believe Abel was dead. It simply was not an
option.
"That's good because you're going to need seven kinds of
miracles to defeat Cain and survive. He can't be killed,
remember?"
After he had marked Cain with red hair for the sin of
killing his brother—the original Abel—the
mortal god, Elohim, declared that anyone who killed Cain
would reap the punishment sevenfold. Therefore, killing
Cain was a death sentence for you and all your loved ones.
When Adam and I didn't respond, Erron started pacing and
continued. "I know you're hurting right now. And I know you
think revenge is the only thing that will stop the pain.
But as your friend, I'm asking you not to pursue this."
I jerked as if he'd struck me. "How can you say that?
You know I can't just walk away."
"Sabina"—he jabbed a finger toward me—"if
you go to Italy, you will lose and Cain will win. Period."
He crossed his arms. "You want my advice? Run and keep
running until you find a remote cave far from civilization.
Take the Adherent and your demon with you, too, because
he'll go after them next. It's the only way you'll all
survive."
"I'd rather die than run."
"Brave words are easy when you're safe. Have you
considered that Cain's luring you into a trap?"
"I know he is. Just before he killed Maisie, he told me
he wants me to use my Chthonic magic to help him access
Irkalla. I think he's planning on kidnapping Lilith."
In addition to being the man who invented murder, Cain
was also the psycho ex–boyfriend of the Great Mother.
They'd created the vampire race together before Lilith
kicked him to the curb to marry to the demon Asmodeus and
become Queen of Irkalla. Cain was convinced he and Lilith
belonged together, and most of his plots revolved around
getting her back. But according to the prophecies of the
Praescarium Lilitu, if any of the dark races gained power
over the other races, Lilith would return to the mortal
realm and kill us all. Every werewolf, faery, vampire, and
mage would die. Cain's obsession would have been sad and
desperate if succeeding didn't mean the destruction of all
the dark races.
"Can you do that?" Erron asked. "Access Irkalla?"
I shrugged. "Rhea seems to think it's possible." Rhea
was Adam's aunt and the interim leader of the mage race.
She'd also been my magical mentor.
"And you're still planning on going after him? That's
just what he wants!"
"Which is why we need to find Abel," Adam pointed
out. "You said yourself he knows Cain better than anyone.
He figured out how to trap the bastard once. Maybe he can
help us find a new way to stop Cain before he destroys us
all."
"What if Abel is dead? What then?"
I shrugged. "Then I'll try something else. But I'm going
to Italy with or without your help. I just thought
you . . ." I trailed off, letting the words float there
like chum in water.
As expected, Erron attacked the bait like a hungry
shark. "You just thought I'd what?"
"I just thought you of all beings would want to help
stop Cain once and for all. This is your chance to make him
pay for what he did to Ziggy and your old band."
Ziggy had been deafened after a vicious attack by Cain
several years earlier. But the drummer had gotten off easy.
He'd lost only his hearing; the rest of Erron's bandmates
lost their lives.
Air escaped the Recreant's lungs in a rush. "You're
playing dirty."
"I don't have the luxury of playing this clean, Erron.
Now, are you going to help us find Abel or are you going to
bury your face in a bottle of whisky until it's time to
kiss your ass good–bye?"
Erron took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for the
inevitable. "All right. I'll help you find Abel. That's all
I'm willing to promise right now."
I nodded. "Fair enough."
He stood slowly, like an old man instead of a powerful
magical being. "You want to head out tonight, I assume?"
"I have some business to take care of first. We'll leave
tomorrow. What's the time difference between New Orleans
and Italy?"
He pursed his lips. "Seven hours?"
Adam nodded. "We'll want to get there as close to dusk
as possible so we can hit the ground running. Meet us at
Zen's by ten and we'll head out."
Erron looked me in the eye. "Are you ready for this?" By
that, he didn't mean the interspatial travel to Rome. He
meant facing the tough choices I'd need to make to kill an
unkillable foe. He meant, was I ready to sell my soul to
get revenge?
My jaw clenched. "No, but I'm doing it anyway."
That seemed to satisfy him. He raised the new
bottle. "To justice, then."
I grabbed the liquor and took a long, searing swallow.
As heat spread down to my stomach, fortifying my resolve, I
toasted him. "No, Erron, to revenge."
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