“You have the ability,” I conceded, a smile lurking on my lips. “But you couldn’t have killed me tonight. You don’t have a good enough reason, and you need a reason to kill.” It was a guess, but I doubted that I was far from the mark.

Nicolai snorted and opened his mouth to argue, but I held up my hand and continued before he could speak. “Don’t go back to the hall until after daybreak. I didn’t leave its occupants in a good mood.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he said with a half smile.

With a nod, I turned on the engine and pulled away from the stone dock, eager to get Tristan back to the relative safety of our suite. By the time we reentered the Lagoon, the worst of his wounds had healed and he was beginning to relax.

My muscles were battered and the wind was chilling the blood that covered my body. We crossed those dark waters in silence, lost in our own thoughts. Even now I could still hear Sadira’s screams, feel Gwen’s warm heart squishing between my fingers. The soft touch of each soul as it left the bodies of the nightwalkers I had killed this evening pranced through my mind, and I smiled. I felt more alive with every existence I’d extinguished, and I loved it.

Maybe I’d been wrong about what I told Danaus. Maybe I was evil. I could argue that I had killed those nightwalkers of the Coven court to stop them from hurting another vampire. I could argue that I’d done it to protect Tristan. But that would have been a lie. I did it to prove my own power and exert my control over them. I killed them simply because I could.

The night closed in around me, warm and wet like a lover’s lips on the hollow of my throat. But I wanted to shove the feeling away. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to hear another heartbeat or feel heat radiating from another human body. I didn’t want to look up and meet Tristan’s haunted gaze, asking questions I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I was alone. Gabriel, my guardian angel, was hundreds of miles away, and Danaus remained safely ensconced in a church—protected from me and my kind. Tristan had been left curled up on the bed. After a quick shower to remove the fresh coating of blood, I slipped down to the landing.

As I flew across the Lagoon, a roar rose up from the engine of the tiny speedboat and I could feel it rumbling through my bones. Waves slapped against the sides of the boat and the wind pulled at my hair, tangling it. The darkness crowded close as I headed away from the lights and sputtering heart of Venice.

I needed to be away from the pulse of humanity so I could think. Yet, something in me was afraid to plumb the dark depths of my feelings too deeply. I didn’t regret the destruction I had brought at the hall. I didn’t regret the lives that I took or the joy I felt in doing so. And it wasn’t the act that was gnawing away at me—it was my complete lack of remorse. I don’t know whether it was some wrinkled remnant of my humanity or if I truly believed it, but something was screaming inside of me that I should be horrified by the bloodbath I had created. But I wasn’t.

Beyond the screaming, another, more insidious voice mocked me. Nearly two centuries ago Valerio had warned me there was no escaping what we were—heartless, cruel, and violent. I had left Europe professing that I could be different, I could avoid what he believed was fated. Less than twenty-four hours back in Venice and I was covered in the blood of my compatriots, basking in their terror, and laughing like a madwoman struck by the moon.

As I neared the dark island, I cut the engine and let the small boat glide into the dock. I had gone to the one island where I knew I would be completely alone. No human lived here, and no vampire would dare find rest here due to the constant traffic of people during the daylight hours. I had come to San Michele—the cemetery island.

The entire island was ringed with an enormous redbrick wall, and a pair of graceful white stairs and gates led into the sanctuary. The shadows were deeper on the island, thrown down by the countless cypress trees that reached up past the walls. Most of the island was thickly lined with graves, marked with headstones of varying size and decoration, from the traditional white cross to the more elaborate family crypts. The lanes were laid out in a neat grid, but due to the need for space, they were narrow, forcing visitors to walk single file in most places.

With my head down, I wove my way to the east. It had been a while since I last visited, but I remembered a small section that was left as a park. The scent of jasmine and roses drifted to my nose. The air, thick and humid, left me feeling I was pushing through wet cotton. As I turned the last corner, I allowed myself to release a soft sigh as my gaze fell on a small patch of earth that had yet to be turned into a resting place for the dead. The park had shrunk in size, but it was enough for me to sit in silence, surrounded by cypress and what appeared to be a pair of hybrid poplar trees.

Yet, something was wrong. I felt as if I wasn’t alone, though I knew I was. No human lived here and nightwalkers had no reason to visit this place. Despite my logic, I still scanned the entire island with my powers, but I sensed no one. Shoving my fingers through my hair, I shook my head and forced myself to walk into the clearing. I was frazzled from the long night and the seemingly endless battles with the naturi.

I sat on the ground and threaded my fingers through the cool grass, wishing the silence of the island would seep into my soul and wipe away the pain caused by Calla’s sweet memory. Behind the great stone walls, I could no longer hear the waves of the Lagoon and the clang of the buoy bells were faint. There was just me and the wind and the dead.

“I have grown very weary of you, little princess,” someone above me announced.

Rolling over to balance on my hands and toes, I looked up into the poplar tree that had been at my back. But I didn’t need to see him. Frustrated tears welled up in my eyes at the sound of Rowe’s taunting voice. I was too tired both in body and spirit to fight the naturi now.

“Leave here,” I snarled, the muscles in my calves starting to tremble from the awkward position I remained in. “I didn’t come here looking for you.”

He snorted and stood easily on the branch he had been sitting on. His large black wings brushed and scraped against leaves and branches as he resettled them. “You leave. I was here first.”

Was it that simple? I wasn’t surprised to find him in Venice after seeing the female naturi in the Great Hall. Hell, I was sure there were several other naturi wandering around the city or even swimming in the Lagoon. But he didn’t honestly seem to be there for me, since his best weapon was the element of surprise.

Letting my knees fall so I was kneeling in the grass, I quickly glanced over my shoulder in the direction Rowe was facing. By my best guess, he was looking out toward San Clemente and the Great Hall.

I had to get off the island and find some way to alert Jabari or Macaire. Stopping the naturi meant stopping Rowe, but I couldn’t accomplish that alone. I had no idea what the wind clan was capable of, but I was willing to bet there was more to it than just a nice pair of wings. Unfortunately, I had succeeded in pissing off everyone in the Coven, as well as angering and/or scaring the shit out of all the flunkies. I couldn’t reach Jabari, Elizabeth would rather see me dead at the hands of Rowe after what I did to Gwen, and Macaire…well, the only way I could reach Macaire was through the flunkies, and that wasn’t going to happen. My only potential contact inside the Great Hall was Sadira. I could have screamed. No matter what I did, I kept wading deeper and deeper into the mire until there was simply no escape.