The second man, Iñigo, still held my hair, so I was unable to move away as Victor placed his rough fingertips on my face. Thumb below my left eye, two fingers on my eyebrow, and then he slowly spread them apart, widening my eye. His other hand held the weapon against the soft underside of my chin. I did not know what they intended to do—blind me, stab me, shoot me, or pummel me with a hammer, but they were poised and tense and ready. And I was still recovering from the body blow. I was in deep shit and I could feel sweat greasing my own face.

Victor leaned even closer, and now I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek and my eye.

“No,” he said slowly, dragging the word out in apparent surprise. “No, he is not wearing contacts.”

“Oh, you’re a blind fool, Victor,” snarled the woman. “Let me do it—”

“Hush!” Victor growled and the woman faltered.

Iñigo kicked me in the hip. “Cut an eye out and take a closer look. He’s one of them.”

“Hush!” ordered Victor. He repeated the eye-widening procedure with my right eye, frowning as he did so. “See? He is not a knight.”

Ah, I thought, and I realized what he was looking for. My guardian angel sniper called the killer at the hotel a knight, and that goon with the fangs had worn weird contact lenses. As soon as I thought that I realized that it was wrong. The knight would have been wearing the horror-show contact lenses over his real eyes. Victor and the others were checking my eyes to see if my normal eyes were color contacts over …

My mind stalled at that.

Over what? Did they think that the knights really had blazing red eyes with slitted pupils? Or … was that really true of the knights?

If so …

I will rip your throat out and drink your life.

Holy shit. What the hell was I into here?

Church had warned me that I got off lucky when I fought the knight.

“Please,” I said, my voice strained because they had my head pulled back so far, “I’m not who you think I am.”

Victor’s frown turned into an ugly scowl. “Oh yes? And what do we think you are?”

“I have no idea … but whatever it is, you’re wrong. Why don’t we talk about this?”

“Victor, don’t listen to him,” warned Nadja. “He will try to control your mind.”

I expected Victor to rebuke her for the silliness of that comment, but instead I saw doubt and fear insinuate their way onto his features. He pulled his hand back and forked the sign of the evil eye at me and fired off a fragment of prayer, “O Lord, protect with Your right hand those who trust in Your name. Deliver them from the evil one, and grant them everlasting joy.”