I’d forgotten, Angelo and Cormac hadn’t met before. Cormac smirked at the reminder of our shared history.
“Cormac isn’t really a bounty hunter anymore,” I said.
“And I’m sure that makes everything all right.” Angelo continued eyeing Cormac suspiciously.
“Angelo, shut up. This is important. Antony, Master of Barcelona, is gone,” I said.
The man actually paled. Whatever blood he’d imbibed recently washed straight out of his face. “Then it’s started. Dux Bellorum has begun his war.”
“I don’t think so. Antony went after him first,” I said, and repeated the story.
“So it’s not a total disaster,” he said. “Dux Bellorum isn’t coming after us next, is he?”
“Not until he gets this thing he’s looking for,” Ben muttered.
“And what have we got?” he huffed. “The four of us sitting around a table in a bar, looking morose?”
“We have the coins,” Cormac said. He let that hang during a long, dramatic pause. I was about to jump over the table and hang off his jacket collar until he explained, but I didn’t have to go that far. “As I was about to say, I think they’re dog tags, sort of. We knew that—that they’re identifiers Roman uses to tag his allies. But we have to consider—if what the demon said was true, and Roman isn’t really the guy in charge, then he’s a recruiter. He’s tagging his followers so the real guy in charge knows who they are.”
Roman was Dux Bellorum, the leader of war, the general. We’d come to believe there was a Caesar out there. The king. Roman might have been controlling the Long Game—but someone else was controlling Roman.
“Could we … Then maybe we could use them to follow the thread back? To find the guy in charge?”
He gave a shrug. “I don’t know yet.”
We all sighed, even Angelo, who technically didn’t need to breathe. We were still stuck at the same wall we’d been stuck at. Roman was on the move and we couldn’t do anything about it.
“At least the bastard isn’t here,” Angelo said finally. As if saying the man’s name would summon him. “He isn’t, is he? Coming here.”
I didn’t know. That was the problem. Roman, aka Dux Bellorum, aka Gaius Albinus, was a two-thousand-year-old vampire with aspirations of world domination. That might have been an exaggeration, but not much of one. He was the central figure in what vampires called the Long Game: rivals collecting allies and power in attempt to be the Master of them all. In a sentence, the one who dies with the most toys wins. Trouble was, vampires were undead …
The anxiety Angelo had been masking with his suave indifference broke through in the tightening of his jaw, the stiffening of his spine. “What about any more sign of vampire-killing demons arriving in Denver? Any of those, by chance?”
“We put up those protection spells. It should at least warn us if the demon comes back,” Cormac said. He and Amelia had cast the spells—and suggested that they weren’t entirely sure the spells would work. The demon we’d battled last year knew we were looking for her now. Next time—if there was a next time—her approach would be different.
“So what do we do now?” I asked, sounding plaintive.
“We do what Alette says,” Ben answered. “We hold tight. Nothing much we can do but keep on until we get more information. I’ll go to Wyoming, you’ll write your book and do your show—”
“You can’t possibly go to Wyoming, not after all this.”
He pursed his lips, gave me a look. “Until we know for sure that the world is ending, I’m going to work. You should, too. You can’t sit around stewing all day, every day. At least, you shouldn’t.” He furrowed his brow, probably realizing that yes, I was totally capable of stewing all day, every day, if I let myself.
But it seemed weird to just keep on the same after what had happened.
“Right, that’s the plan. We go on with our lives. Such as they are.” Angelo leaned forward. “If you see anything, hear of anything, you will let me know?”
“You ask that every time you see me. Yes. I told you about all this, didn’t I?” I hoped my thin smile was comforting. Angelo seemed unconvinced.
“Well, then. Until next time, Regina Luporum.”
“I wish people would stop calling me that,” I muttered. The title didn’t actually mean anything. I’d earned it for having a big mouth, not for having any real power. Mostly, people teased me with it. The more I complained, the more they teased. I should know better.
“If the European vampires are calling you Regina Luporum, who am I to argue?”
“They’re just teasing.” Sure enough, Cormac had his lips pressed tight together to keep from smiling, but his eyes shone with amusement.
“Whatever you say. Until next time, then. May our immediate futures be woefully quiet and uneventful.” He gave a little bow as he stood, sweeping his arm in a parody of courtliness, and walked away.