Fallon had fought three Froekn champions for the right to marry his wife, Samantha. He had to prove himself to the Pack before he would be accepted by it. Fallon had lost, but just barely, and I suspected that he'd done it on purpose. So did Trevor. My wolf smiled back at the lion in acknowledgment of his challenge and of the weight it carried.
Boys. They only got worse with age, and animal instinct didn't help either.
“Kirill?” I asked my husband if he were joining us with one word; usually, that was all it took.
“I'll stay vith Lesya,” Kirill said. “Let me know vhen zere is enemy to slay.”
Kirill wasn't like the other Intare; he wasn't really staying home because he didn't want to investigate. He was staying so he could be with Lesya. We tried not to leave her with Samantha too often, even though Sam was happy to watch Lesya; especially now that she was old enough to be a companion to Sam and Fallon's daughter, Zariel. Lesya had just made a year in June, but she had advanced a little more rapidly than a human child; thanks to her werelion genes and all the magic she'd gotten from her mommy. Lesya was talking and walking now, and she had become best friends with Zariel. Still, we didn't want to take advantage of Zariel's mother.
“Okay, thank you.” I kissed my lion husband goodbye. “And good luck to you and your team,” I said before I kissed my angel husband goodbye.
“What about me?” Luke asked.
“You need to be home with Mom,” Azrael said. “And the Demons.”
Satan went grim and nodded; we all knew that things could escalate quickly when magic was involved. Luke needed to be with his demons in case of another attack.
“I wish you the luck of me, everyone,” Luke said with all seriousness. “Please let me know as soon as you find something.”
“We will, Dad,” Azrael promised and then hugged his father.
Chapter Four
“Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs!” I murmured in an exclamatory tone. “Alan possessed someone in there?”
I've always had a fondness for creative curses but ever since I became a mother, I've added several new ones to my repertoire, and I've insisted that my husbands do so as well. Recently, we'd been going through a fairy tale kick.
“Well, if you had to possess someone, wouldn't you rather it be someone wealthy?” Pan asked. “The demons get to choose, don't they?”
“As long as it's someone who falls under the Trinity-Religions umbrella,” I said.
The Trinity-Religions were Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. I consider Catholicism to be a branch of Christianity; or the other way around, depending on how you look at it. Anyway, those three religions all believe in Satan, God, Angels, and Demons—which made them fair game for demonic possession.
“Catholicism is big here,” Torrent said. “It's not surprising that Alan found a good host.”
“A good host?” I asked as we trudged up the long, dirt drive. “There's a crest on that arch. Your average person doesn't adorn their home with crests; not even if they're rich.”
I couldn't point at the crest because we were invisible, but it was obvious which arch I was referring to. The main portico had a grand, central arch with a crest set at its apex. Behind the portico—in case you don't know, portico is just a fancy word for a covered porch, but this mansion didn't have anything so mundane as a front porch—there was an arched door that looked as if it had been built to withstand Roman gladiators. Horus and Morpheus—who were posing as Italian detectives—had already crossed the herringbone brick portico and were knocking on that impressive door. The rest of us were going to search the house as Horus and Morph questioned the residents, and then we'd regroup back at Eztli's villa to share our findings. We had to trace to Eztli's villa first since none of us had ever been to this particular Italian palace before.
“That's the Machiavelli family crest,” Torrent said; obviously gathering the information from the Internet.
Torrent had been created from God and Internet magic; making him the only god who could access and control the human-made realm of the Internet. He was also the only god who could unmake magic. Torrent could see spells—including wards—like they were computer code, and he was the best code-breaker around.
“Machiavelli?” I asked. “As in the guy who wrote The Prince?”
“One and the same,” Torr said. “It appears that this was one of his homes.”
“Peter Pan!” I swore in the same tone I used to say Jesus Christ in. “At least Alan went out in style.”
“No kidding,” Hekate muttered. “There's a helipad over there.”
We reached the top of the hill that Machiavelli Mansion stood on just as Horus and Morpheus were granted entrance. Why send the two of them? Because Horus had the perfect personality to be a snooty police detective, and he knew Italian, while Morpheus—who was also fluent in Italian—was a smooth talker. I had faith in the pair of them to get the truth out of Felisa Bianchi and her family. But while they were busy distracting the humans, the rest of us would infiltrate the villa and conduct our own investigation.
Before I could go inside, I had to appreciate the view. The mansion was two stories high and looked as if it had been the subject of numerous Italian Renaissance paintings. Its facade was painted a rusty orange that went well with the backdrop of olive groves and grape vines, and was complemented by those thick, bushy trees that Italians liked to trim into columnar shapes. Evidently, the house didn't have enough columns on its own.
“We're going to have to split up,” Blue said. “This place is too large
