She frowned. "Prophecy?"
"As written by Rosamunde Gardella. The mystic. "
Macey was bewildered, but she nodded. "Yes. But how do you. . . "
"She wrote a verse I found most interesting. 'From the deepest bowels of madnessq gangsterlyl f and grief shall the dauntless one root, who shall go forth to lay bare from the earth this condemned evil. The dauntless one shall make the half of the whole, and the whole shall be formidable as the ocean and unyielding as the mountain. ' You, doll, are the dauntless one. And I," said Capone as he began to unbutton his shirt, "am the other half of the whole. "
Macey stared in astonishment as the gangster pulled the white cotton apart, revealing his bare belly. It was surprisingly muscular and tighter than she'd expected, but that wasn't what caused her to snatch in her breath.
For, in the midst of the thatch of thick, dark hair was a tiny silver cross, pierced through the skin of his navel.
Macey couldn't speak for several long moments. Then finally, she had to say it aloud. "You're a Venator. "
"Alphonsus Gardella Capone. Don't tell me my name isn't listed in the family Bible. " His smile was half sneer, half bravado.
Just then, Macey noticed the bright sun filtering through the curtains on the French doors. It was brighter than before; its reach broader. "Sebastian!"
Capone moved faster than she'd expected, catching her by the arm and spinning her up against the entrance in one smooth flow. The doors crashed and rattled with the force, and the wind was knocked from her lungs. "Do you accept my proposal?"
She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. Thought not only of Sebastian, but of Grady. And Dottie. And anyone else she'd touched. Dammit. . . Flora too.
"Yes," she hissed in agreement.
Capone released her. She flung open the doors and was halfway across the brilliant sunlit roof by the time she realized Sebastian was gone. The ropes lay in empty crumples amid the remnants of the chair she'd flung at her captor.
The space was silent and still. No copper rings. No ash filtering through the air. She released a long, slow breath.
Macey turned to see her new employer-no, partner-standing in the doorway.
Al Capone had won this battle. They would work together to stop the undead, and God help her, she'd do her best to protect the man as well.
But she was going to make damned certain he didn't win the war.
EPILOGUE
~ A Damned Lonely Life ~
Macey was still wearing her tattered dress and the coat she'd taken from Alvisi's hideaway.
Weighted with grief and despair, she walked and walked and walked. More passersby, more children, more families, more friends and colleagues and lovers.
These were the people she had sworn to protect.
These were the people of whom she must think. . . not herself. Not her losses. Not her fears and loneliness.
And that was when she understood what her father had done. Why he'd sent her away. To protect himself as much as to protect her.
Her eyes burned suddenly and she blinked rapidly. If only he were still here. . . still here, for her to talk to.
Oh, God, she needed someone.
She stopped and looked up. The red and white Tribune sign rose above her, and she blocked the sid couldn't make herself move. How had she ended up here? In all of Chicago, after all the blocks. . . why here?
"Macey. "
She spun, startled. "Grady. " And why now?
He took her by the arm before she could turn away. Or maybe she purposely didn't move fast enough. The coat shifted and he saw the front of her-a dress that had once been light blue was now stained mahogany. But she hardly felt the pain anymore.