Elizaveta was remaining in Europe, a guest of Bonarata’s, for a full month. He was paying her to remove his addiction to werewolf blood and to do all the things that Mary had once done for his seethe. He was going to try to hire her away from us, Adam said, but he hadn’t sounded worried. She would come home—a lot wealthier than when she’d left.

Marsilia had pursed her lips when Adam had told us what Elizaveta intended.

“It won’t work in the long run,” she said. “Addicts have to want to be clean. As long as Jacob thinks that it gives him more power, he won’t quit.”

When she spoke of Bonarata, she didn’t do it the way she used to. There had been so much energy wound up in her voice, but now that spring had worn down. He was someone she had once known well, but now was an acquaintance.

Bonarata was staying at Kocourek’s seethe, helping him rebuild. I didn’t think too hard about what that meant. Kocourek had pulled me aside and asked me not to tell anyone about how Mary had managed to create vampires so much faster.

“With her and the other vampires dead,” Kocourek said, “no one knows what she managed except for you, me, and my people. It is better that way, no?”

“Agreed,” I assured him. But part of me couldn’t help but think of that saying about how two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

Adam and I spent two days playing tourists. We explored the castle complex, which included a cathedral and a church nearly as old as I think Bran is, and walked through the streets of Old Town. Adam bought me an amber necklace and matching earrings. I found an antique crystal goblet with the figure of a wolf on it.

—

ADAM AND I WERE CUDDLED UP WATCHING A MOVIE in one of the meeting rooms in the jet when Bran came in bearing a bowl of ice with three soda cans buried deep. He closed the door behind him, set the bowl on the floor, and watched the movie with us for about ten minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Matt Smith?” I said. “Really? You are not the Doctor, Bran. At your age, it is important to keep a lookout for excessive hubris.”

“Thank you,” he said. He took a drink of his soda. “Your mother put you in my arms when you were less than three months old. I knew that I had no room in my life for such a fragile thing. I gave you to the best man for the job.”

“Bryan was amazing,” I told him, wondering what his point was.

Bran nodded. “Leah would have killed you if I had kept you.”

“She almost killed me anyway,” I said dryly. Bran’s wife and I had a hate-hate relationship that worked quite well for both of us.

“And yet,” Bran said softly, “you were mine from the day I first held you. No matter how hard I fought it. It isn’t safe to be in my family, Mercy. And you were this fragile creature who put herself in the path of destruction on a daily basis.”