Page 11 of Death Deals

“Andre’s right,” I said. The sound of my own voice seemed loud to my ears against the building tension of the room. Every eye found me again, including Andre’s, which was paired with a scowl.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I’d promised to stay quiet, but he could forgive me later. He’d want to know this.

I read over the pieces again to make sure I’d read it right the first time. I had, and what I’d found was even more shocking.

“It doesn’t say anything about hatred,” I began, looking between the two men. “It’s… a love letter.”

“She can read it?” Hector gasped, moving closer.

Andre’s eyebrow lifted, interested and a bit amused. “I suppose she can.”

He moved aside to allow me closer to the table. The room grew deathly silent as I leaned over and examined the letter again.

Since a good portion of the context was missing in the final piece, I could only get the gist of what the writer was trying to say but that gist was enough to know it was a woman writing to a man. Missing him.

“So?” Hector urged. “What does it say?”

A quick glance at Andre and I began, “It says, ‘Our beloved boy is ours again. The fever is gone, though he is still cold and sickly in appearance. The sickness must still be leaving, but my hopes are high…’” I paused since the next few parts were missing. Hector’s impatient grunt had me starting again. “‘…prayers have been answered. Come home to us, my beloved, so our family may be whole again.’ It’s signed Lilith but the man she speaks to isn’t named.”

“What does it mean? What’s the importance of it?” Hector asked, his tone even more impatient as before.

“A child who was believed to be dead but rose again? Sounds like vampirism to me,” I said.

All the vampires in the room exchanged knowing looks.

“Could it be?” Cassandra’s question was directed toward Andre.

Andre cut her a glare, and she pressed her lips together just as fast.

“What?” I asked. It didn’t seem like much of anything to me. “What is it?”

Hector collapsed into his chair, pushing a hand through his dark hair. “The very first of us,” he gasped, exasperated.

Wait. This guy thought this old-ass letter was some kind of recording of the first vampire ever? This child?

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. What he was saying sounded absurd—even to me, and I’d seen some crazy shit.

Hector’s hardened gaze flashed. “How dare she mock our creator,” he spat. “Remove her from this place.”

The DeMonte vamps stood, but Andre held out a hand to stop them.

“She stays,” he said sharply. “But in a sense, she is right. We are jumping to assumptions based on a hope that this is what we’ve been looking for all these years.”

Hector’s words were rushed in his excitement. “Why else would each of us have a piece of the letter unless after the fires—”

“Like I said—” Andre’s voice boomed suddenly, “assumptions based on hope. It isn’t enough to convince the Omaris of anything.”

“We have a name now and a general time and location, based on the paper’s chemical makeup. That’s more than we had before.”

“Give this information to your king,” Andre instructed. “See if your historians can get anything more from what we know now, but still, I don’t think it’ll do much. Not until we get the missing piece.”

Hector’s narrowed eyes showed he didn’t care for Andre giving him commands, but seeing no other option, he nodded toward his cousins. The youngest grabbed his cellphone out of his suit pocket and dialed. He whispered quickly into the speaker in Spanish before hitting the end button and putting it away.

Hector nodded. “It’s done,” he said.

“And any information you acquire?” Andre pressed.

“We will share, of course.” Hector glanced at his men again, not looking pleased.

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