“I can help you. I’ve got this, Rachel.” Roman waved at us. “Follow me.”
We followed him up a tall gray and brown staircase. “Do you come here often?” I asked.
He rolled his dark eyes. “I live in this bloody place. Dad’s making me track down some obscure legend. The Witch Oracle foresaw some things a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been digging in ever since.”
“Could you just tell him no?” Ascanio asked from behind.
Roman glanced at him and heaved a dramatic sigh. “My father is the Black Volhv. My mother is one of the Witch Oracles. In my place, you have to ask yourself, is saying no worth the problems, the nagging, the accusations of not being a good son, the lectures from both of my parents, and the story of how my mother was in labor for forty hours, which I can recite from memory. It’s easier to just do what they want. Besides, if the prophecy is the sign of something dreadful happening, we might as well be prepared.”
“What sort of prophecy was it?” Ascanio asked.
“That’s classified.” Roman winked at him. “I could tell you, of course. But then I would have to kill you and chain your soul, so you would be my shadow servant for all eternity. Come on, it’s right this way.”
Roman turned left, between the bookcases, going deeper into the library’s second floor.
Ascanio’s eyes widened. He turned to me. “Can he do that?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea. Why don’t you try bugging him, so we’ll find out?”
“No thanks.”
Roman led us through the narrow tunnel between bookshelves all the way to the back of the library, where five terminals glowed weakly. He pulled a card out of his pocket and swiped it through the card reader of the two closest terminals. The Library of Alexandria logo—a book encased in flame—came on the screens.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you. Much obliged.” It was really nice of him.
“Say, can I ask you a question? In private?”
“Sure.” I pointed at the left terminal. “Ascanio, search for our boy. Remember, anything that has to do with his art collection.”
We walked along the wall outside of Ascanio’s hearing distance, which took us almost all the way to the end of the section.
Roman’s dark eyes turned serious. “You have ties with the Pack, yes?”
“Some.”
He frowned, looming next to me, all tall and dark. “Did you hear anything…alarming? Anything about them taking over the city, for example?”
“No. It wouldn’t happen anyway. Curran is a separatist,” I told him. “He believes in maintaining a distance between the shapeshifters and everyone else. The Pack worships his footsteps. They wouldn’t do anything without his say-so. Even if they did, how would they hold the place? Everyone else would unite and crush them and that’s leaving aside any action the government would take.”
Roman stroked his chin. “True, true…”
“Why do you ask?”
“The prophecy. Some prophecies are distinct. This one wasn’t. The witches saw a shadow falling on the city and then there was howling. Deafening, scary howling. They aren’t sure if it’s a dog or a wolf or something else. Also they saw a spiral of clay.”
“So what does it mean?”
Roman shook his head. “No way to tell. It must’ve felt terrifying, because my mother was rattled after it.”
I had met Evdokia. Anything that managed to rattle her had to be treated as a serious threat.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” Roman asked. “I’d love your perspective on things.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Flirting or not flirting?
Roman leaned one arm against the bookcase. “Who, me? I don’t date. I only steal virgins to sacrifice.”
Flirting. Shamelessly flirting. “Hmm, then I’m not of any interest to you. I’m not a virgin.”
He grinned. “This would be a professional meeting.”
“Aha.”
“Kompletely profeshonal,” Roman said, turning the Russian accent back on.
He was charming and funny and a bit scary, which was always a draw in my book. But every nerve in me still hurt. If there was one thing I’d learned, it was that jumping from one relationship into another was a bad idea.
Still…my life didn’t have to be tied with Raphael’s. The world wasn’t limited to one bouda jerk. Here was a guy, a funny, handsome guy, who probably thought I was hot. It could be someone like him. It could be no one, for that matter. I could be perfectly fine by myself.
“I’m investigating four shapeshifter murders,” I told him. “Have you heard anything?”
“No. But I can ask.”
“Well, see, I’m no good to you, because I’m not a virgin and you are no good to me because you know nothing about the murders. Maybe some other time?”
He reached out to me. One second his hand was empty and the next a small black card with a white phone number appeared as if by magic. “Take a card?” he asked, winking. “Come on, take one.”
“Will it sprout fangs when the magic hits?”
“You won’t find out unless you take it. Or are you chicken?”
I swiped the card. “Just a warning, if it turns into something nasty, I’ll shoot it.”
Roman laughed quietly.
“You want one of mine?”
“Five-five-five, twenty-one thirteen.”
The number to the office. He must’ve gotten it from Kate.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” I said.
Roman glanced up and said in a conspiratorial voice. “If I disappear in a dramatic pillar of black smoke, do you think the sprinklers will go off?”
I leaned over to him and kept my voice low. “Probably. But I’m willing to close my eyes for a second and pretend you did anyway.”
I closed my eyes for a long moment and when I opened them, he was gone.
When I returned to the terminal, Ascanio handed me a notepad with notes. “I found some articles. Also the volhv likes you,” he said, his gaze fixed on the screen.
“Yes, he does.” I scanned his notes. He’d made a list of the art auctions Jamar had visited.
“Does this mean you’re done with Raphael?”
I gave him my sniper stare. “If you ever want to set foot out of the office again, you will stop taking an interest in my love life. It doesn’t concern you.”