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hesitate.
Alex looked up at me with sad eyes. She knew that if she stood between me and the naturi, I wouldn t hesitate to kill her. Once
she answered to the call of the naturi, she would be under their complete control.
Just promise to make it quick, she said, a halfhearted smile lifting one corner of her mouth. I don t want to think about being
under the control of those bastards.
I understand, I whispered, and pressed a kiss to her temple. When it s over, come to Savannah and we ll go hunting.
Pausing beside the table, I looked down at Nicolai, still lounging in his chair, his glass of wine in his hand. We would meet again.
Jabari might order the lycanthrope to kill me before I left Venice, and Nicolai would do it. Not because he bore any hatred for me
and my kind, but because Jabari was holding something over him.
It s been a pleasure, I said with a little smirk. Nicolai smiled in return and raised his glass to me. We both knew that we would
meet again. It was a shame that it would be on opposite ends of the battlefield.
Good luck, Mira, Alex whispered, grabbing my cool hand in both of her warm hands and squeezing it tightly.
I chuckled as I walked away, my hand slowly slipping from her grasp. I don t need luck, I called, turning and walking backward
so I could look at her as I departed. I m the Fire Starter.
I just wished I had a plan.
TEN
D anaus and I wandered down the dark streets in silence, slowly heading back to the speedboat. The sound of water lapping at
the stone sides of the canal followed us throughout the winding city. The night was still in its infancy and I wasn t particularly eager
to go back to the hotel suite where Sadira and Tristan were most likely cuddled. I paused on the sidewalk next to our boat and
stared across the canal at the lights of the Doge s Palace and Piazza San Marco. The air was cluttered with the various thoughts
and emotions of the people out enjoying the warm summer night.
When was the last time you were in Venice? I asked, looking over my shoulder at Danaus. He was also watching the lights
reflect off the undulating waves.
I ve never been to Venice, he said. It was on the tip of my tongue to demand how that was even possible. He was Italian, or at
least Roman, and more than a thousand years old. How could he have not visited the canals? But I knew I wasn t going to get an
answer. He was still stingy about personal information regardless of the fact that he had popped into my thoughts on more than
one occasion.
Come on, I said, jumping onto the boat we had borrowed from Roberto. I want to show you something. With a somewhat
skeptical look, he climbed onto the boat and sat down while I started the engine. I rushed back out into the Lagoon, away from
the bright lights and crowded canals. We cruised away from the tourist hot spots and the quaint neighborhoods, as I took him
across the Lagoon and between the islands of Burano and Murano to the tiny island of Torcello.
I slowed the boat as I carefully maneuvered us past the swamps that surrounded the island. Navigating the laguna morta would
have been treacherous at best during the middle of the day, let alone during the black of night when the moon had waned to a
slender sliver in the sky. But I knew these waters and marshes. Torcello was my hidden sanctuary within the dark heart of the
nightwalker world.
We glided down the main canal and pulled up near one of the few bridges that spanned the waterway. Danaus rose and tied the
boat to an empty pole while I killed the engine. The only sound disrupting the silence was the break of the waves brushing against
the side of the boat as we settled at the landing. In all of Venice, the island of San Michele would have been the only place more
peaceful, but despite some of the popular myths about vampires, I didn t get any particular kicks wandering around a crumbling,
mold-infested graveyard at night. The living were generally more interesting than the dead.
Where are we? he asked as we left the boat and wandered down the disintegrating fondamenta along the canal, toward the only
cluster of buildings rising up in the darkness.
The birthplace of Venice, I said. My voice hovered at a whisper, as if anything loud would break the spell. Lights began to
appear as we reached the edge of the campo that was now more dirt and gravel than the original stonework. Grass crowded
close to the road and weeds pushed their way between the cracks in the remaining paving. The main square was overgrown, with
only a few bits of broken column and statues left to adorn the area like tombstone markers for the city that once was.
The island is nearly deserted, but they say that this is where the Venetians first settled in either the fourth or fifth century, I said,
running my hand over one of the stone columns. All its original marks were worn away, leaving what appeared to be a pale white,
bonelike pillar rising up without the rest of the skeleton. I ve always liked it here. I love the island s sense of history and its
peace.
It s nice, he whispered. Danaus wandered over and stood before an odd chunk of white stone that resembled a chair. The
locals referred to it as the throne of Attila the Hun, but no one actually believed he had ever sat on that hunk of rock. A light
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