“Do not say another word until we’re back at Il Bastone, and for God’s sake don’t apologize to anyone until we’re out of here.”
Zelinski was striding toward them, the Emperor close behind. The ritual had ended and
they looked furious, though also a bit like Klan members who’d gone for a stroll and forgotten their hoods. “What the hell were you doing?” said Amelia. “You almost ruined
the ritual with your shouting. What happened here?”
Darlington whirled on them, blocking their view of the smudged marks and
summoning every bit of his grandfather’s authority. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Zelinski stopped short; his sleeves—now clean and white again—flapped gently as he
dropped his arms. “What?”
“Have you performed this ritual before?”
“You know we have!” snapped Amelia.
“Exactly in this way?”
“Of course not! The ritual always changes a bit depending on the need. Every story is
different.”
Darlington knew he was on shaky ground but better to go on the offense than to make Lethe look like a bunch of amateurs. “Well, I don’t know what Zeb has in mind for his new novel, but he almost unleashed a whole host of phantoms on your delegation.”
Zelinski’s eyes widened. “There were Grays here?”
“An army of them.”
“But she was screaming—”
“You put my Dante and me at risk,” said Darlington. “I’m going to have to report this
to Dean Sandow. Aurelian shouldn’t be tampering with forces—”
“No, no, please,” Zelinski said, putting his palms up as if to tamp down a fire. “Please.
This is our first ritual as a delegation. Things were bound to get a little tricky. We’re campaigning to get our rooms in SSS back.”
“She could have been hurt,” said Darlington, bristling with blue-blood indignation.
“Killed.”
“This is a donation year, isn’t it?” said Amelia. “We … we can make sure it’s a generous one.”
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
“No! Not at all! A negotiation, an understanding.”
“Get out of my sight. You’re just lucky no lasting damage was done to the collection.”
“Thanks,” Alex whispered as the Emperor and Zelinski hurried away.
Darlington cast her one angry glance and bent to begin the work of clearing the circle.
“I did that for Lethe, not you.”
They cleaned up the leavings of the markings, made sure the Aurelians had left no traces and that Zeb’s arms were bandaged and his vitals were stable. He still had ink stains
on his lips and all over his teeth and gums. It trickled from his ears and the inner corners
of his eyes. He looked monstrous but he was grinning, gibbering to himself, already scribbling away in a notebook. He would continue that way until the story was out of him.
Darlington and Alex walked back to Il Bastone in strained silence. The night felt colder, not only because of the hour, but because of the lasting effects of Hiram’s elixir.
Usually he felt a sense of sadness when its magic was gone, but tonight he was perfectly
happy for the Veil to fall back into place.
What had happened during the rite? How could Alex have been so incautious? She’d
broken the most basic rules he’d set for her. The circle was inviolable. Guard the marks.
Had he been too easygoing about the whole thing? Tried too hard to put her at ease?
When they entered Il Bastone, the entry lights flickered, as if the house could sense their mood. Dawes was exactly where they’d left her in front of the fireplace. She glanced
up and seemed to shrink more deeply into her sweatshirt, before returning to her array of
index cards, happy to turn her back on human conflict.
Darlington drew off his coat and hung it by the door, then headed down the hall to the kitchen, not waiting to see if Alex would follow. He turned on the burner to heat Dawes’s
soup and took the sandwich platter from the refrigerator, setting it down with a loud clatter. A bottle of Syrah had been decanted and he poured himself a glass, then sat and watched Alex, who had slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, her dark eyes trained on