could a person who had been continually betrayed through the centuries trust anyone? Let alone a woman he’d just met?
Rose didn’t think the punishment fit the crime, but then again, this world had different rules from the human one. Conflicted, she looked away. “What happened next?”
“While I was chasing signs that pointed to Niamh Farren being in Budapest, Alice’s vampire enlisted twenty lone vampires, killed my guards, my housekeeper, and my steward. They then used an industrial-sized steel laser to cut through the doors of my vault. Along with An Breitheamh, he stole valuable artifacts I’d collected over the years.”
She thought of all the people who had died during that attack and didn’t feel so much sympathy for Alice. “I’m sorry, Fionn.”
His expression remained annoyingly blank. “Bran hacked the vamp’s phone. Deleted Alice’s original texts and searched his entire system to delete any information on my home. As soon as he and his vampires left my home, they had no idea where they’d gotten all the artifacts. That didn’t stop me. I delivered retribution for the people they’d murdered, people I’d sworn to protect and failed to do so. I killed every bloodsucker that entered my home, and I’d do it again.”
Fionn tensed, as if he’d said more than he’d meant to. Cursing under his breath, he looked away, seemed to gather himself, and turned back to Rose with a calmer expression.
“The vamp had sold most of the items by the time I tracked him down, including An Breitheamh. Bran has found pieces here and there that I’ve stolen back. An Breitheamh seemed lost to me until I received word of it being in Barcelona.
“Then Bran found out about the auction. It’s being held by Oliver Schneider, a German businessman who also happens to be a powerful warlock. Schneider must know of An Breitheamh’s historical importance and that some ‘fanatics’ believe enough in its power to pay a lot of money for it. Three times as much as he paid for it.
“But Schneider also knows it was stolen from me. The man he believes it was stolen from was the man Alice believed me to be—Edward Kent, an English warlock. Schneider may not know my real name, but he knows I’m a man.
“You, Rose, are not a man. So, you need to break into that vault.”
Steal an ancient iron dagger from a highly secured vault in a five-star hotel in Barcelona? An ancient dagger that was the key to opening Faerie if plunged into her heart?
God, she missed bartending.
Heaving a sigh, Rose leaned across the table. “Explain that whole ‘man’ thing to me. Tell me what I need to do.”
Fionn’s room is neat as a pin, Rose thought as they strolled into it after breakfast. She’d left her bed unmade, her dirty clothes sprawled over a chair, and the bathroom was a mess of toiletries.
Fionn’s didn’t even look like it had been touched, let alone slept it.
Must be the soldier in him, she mused, glancing around as she followed him to the desk in the corner.
“What are we doing?”
“Bran hacked into the hotel’s system. He sent over schematics of the hotel and vault.” Fionn laid his iPad on the desk, the screen showing a partial of what looked like plans. Then, Rose watched in awe as he drew his hand over the iPad and across the desk. As his hand glided, it appeared as if the iPad was a printer, miraculously churning out paper with the schematics on them.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Rose couldn’t help but smile.
Fionn glanced up in time to catch it. He frowned. “What is it?”
She shrugged, still grinning. “Dude, that is very cool. Don’t you think that’s cool?”
He blinked as if shocked. “Did you just ‘dude’ me?”
“Did you just make an iPad print out schematics of a vault with a wave of your hand?”
Fionn rolled his eyes and turned to the drawings. “Focus, please.”
It occurred to her, for not the first time, that Fionn didn’t seem to appreciate his talents. Now, she wasn’t stupid. She realized as a human he’d hated the fae and being turned into one was probably a fate worse than death. However, he had not chosen to stick iron in his own heart and end his fae existence. He was still here. Which meant Mr. Mór had turned his bad fate into a purpose. If he could do that, couldn’t he eventually grow to love being his own version of fae? Rose bumped his shoulder with hers. “You need to