"Which level of the Novem Conformavi?" he asked as he remembered several of the classes she'd led when he'd been a student. Her gaze met his, and she arched her eyebrow.

"The fourth Tabulati," she said.

"Temperance and awareness," he murmured as they started walking toward the hallway that connected all the rooms facing the inner courtyard.

"Why don't you stop by? I don't think any of my students are ready for the rank of Tribune, but you might find a Patrician worthy of the line of succession." Cornelia came to a halt, forcing him to do the same. She cocked her head to one side as she studied him. "That is, unless you already have someone in mind."

"I've not thought about it."

"It might be a good idea for you to start, because I think you're going to need to make a decision sometime in the very near future."

Dante didn't answer her for a minute. Cornelia was right. Marcus was clearly thinking about retirement, which meant Dante, as the future reigning Sicari Lord, needed to select two fighters to succeed him. Absconditus law clearly stated that if the reigning Sicari Lord chose to abdicate the position, a Tribune and a Patrician had to be selected before the leadership reins were passed.

The royal houses of Europe had always referred to their leadership succession as an heir and a spare. The role of Tribune and Patrician served a similar purpose within the Absconditus, but the guild's leadership wasn't rooted in blood or name. The selection was based on the strength of the guild member's telepathic and telekinetic abilities as well as temperament.

The ideal candidates were Absconditus warriors whose abilities and personalities were as close a match to the same qualities Maximus, the first Sicari Lord, had possessed. Generally, the Tribune chosen was a warrior who'd passed the sixth Tabulati. In Dante's case, there had been no other guild members with powers as strong as his, which is why he'd become Tribune at so young an age.

"I never did understand why Marcus didn't choose you to be Tribune, or at the very least, Patrician," he said.

"Because when it comes to making decisions, I'm a better follower than a leader. I see only black and white. You see all the shades in between."

"That doesn't make me a leader."

"But it does. If I were a true leader, I wouldn't have simply accepted Beatrice's fate. As the Sicari Lord, I would never have tried to find a way to rescue her," she whispered. Her gaze shifted away from his to stare at the window that stood between them and the night. "I would have complacently accepted the inevitable. You were the one who saw possibilities where I believed they didn't exist. And that's what a leader does. They forge trails where others see only the wilderness."

Almost as if she regretted letting him see her vulnerability, Cornelia jerked her head toward him and forced a smile to her lips.

"You'll make a wonderful Sicari Lord, and I shall be as proud to serve under your leadership as I have been to serve under Marcus's," she said in a quiet voice. "Now, if I don't get some sleep, I'm going to have trouble controlling my class in the morning."

"Let me guess. Giuseppe and Santino?"

"Yes," his Praefect said with a sigh. "Those two would die for each other, but Santino knows precisely which one of Giuseppe's buttons to push."

"They'll eventually settle down. Remember Tony and Alfredo? They used to fight like mad dogs when I was growing up."

"I'd forgotten about their sibling rivalry," Cornelia said with a nod. "Let's hope that happens with Giuseppe and Santino, because both of them are demonstrating remarkable abilities. Not as powerful as you at that age, but close. In fact, either one of them would be an excellent choice for Patrician."

Without giving him a chance to reply, she walked out of the room, leaving Dante to ponder her last statement. He'd put off even contemplating the selection of a Tribune or a Patrician. A part of him had been hoping Marcus wasn't really ready to retire. But deep inside, he'd known his time to take on the role of Sicari Lord would come a lot sooner than he was prepared for.

Maybe he should stop by Cornelia's classroom before his workout tomorrow morning. He'd need to make a decision quickly if Marcus were to suddenly announce his retirement. Slowly, he followed in his Praefect's footsteps down the long, continuous hallway that wrapped its way around the inner courtyard of the house. The thought of selecting a Tribune and a Patrician as his heirs to the Sicari Lord title was a sobering one.

Both Marcus and Placido would offer counsel, but the ultimate decision was his. Whomever he chose would lead the Absconditus after he retired or in the event of his death. He sucked in a deep breath and quickly released it. This was something he'd trained for since he'd turned fifteen. It wasn't unexpected, and yet for the first time he was beginning to understand how completely alone he was.

Chapter 6.

"WHAT do you mean he's dead?" Nicostratus snarled. Dead. One of his most lucrative financial resources had been disposed of as neatly as a deck of cards.

"Angotti's body was found early this morning, along with his bodyguards and two men assigned by Dominus Russo to monitor Angotti's activities." Prior Draco Verdi's voice was quiet, almost detached, as he made his report. "The man's mistress described a sole female as the assassin. The executioner was trained in Sicari techniques."

"You've identified this Sicari bitch?" he asked harshly as he absorbed the knowledge that his adopted son had placed Angotti under surveillance before his death at the hands of Marcus Vorenus. Had Gabriel been plotting against him? What did it matter, the boy was dead and any plot was dead with him. Still, the thought only added to his anger.

"Her name is Cleopatra Vorenus."

The Prior's statement shot a blast of fury through Nicostratus, and he expressed it with the back of his hand against Verdi's cheek. The loud crack of the blow echoed sharply in the Patriarch's library despite its high ceiling and massive size. For a split second, he acknowledged the fact that the Prior barely flinched under the vicious slap, even though Nicostratus's ring had sliced into the man's cheek.

"Do you mean to tell me that fucking whore is still in my city?" He spoke quietly as he sent the Prior a cold look.

"We didn't know until this morning that she hadn't left with the Prima Consul. We still wouldn't have known if Angotti's mistress hadn't identified her," the Prior replied.

"I want her found and executed."

Nicostratus glanced down at his ring and saw blood on the Chi-Rho symbol carved into the gold crest. With a grunt of disgust, he quickly circled his desk and retrieved a tissue with which to rub the ring clean.

Rome was his. Even though the Absconditus had a strong presence here, Marcus Vorenus knew the Praetorians outnumbered them at least five to one, and possibly by more. But Vorenus had crossed the line when he'd led that motley group of Sicari into the Pantheon and taken the one thing Nicostratus wanted more than anything else. The Tyet of Isis.

It was a sign that God was making him pay a penance for past sins. What those sins were, he didn't know. Everything he'd done throughout his life was for the good of the Collegium and the Church. Then there was Gabriel's death. A small part of him would miss the boy. The poor Sicari bastardo had always been so eager to please him.

That kind of devotion was hard to come by and required a great deal of energy to cultivate. He pressed his palms against the dark mahogany wood of his desk and leaned forward to pin Prior Verdi under his gaze. Nicostratus didn't like the man's composed expression. It said he wasn't intimidated being in the Patriarch's presence.

Any other warrior for the Collegium would be showing fear now in the face of the Patriarch's anger. And yet, a small part of him couldn't help but admire the Prior for it. Surely underneath that calm, relaxed appearance, the man was feeling some trepidation. Even Gabriel, who could have easily killed Nicostratus, had been afraid of the Patriarch.

"What else is there?" he asked, his tone advising the man to take care.

"Our informant with the local police allowed us to question Angotti's mistress. She saw the whole thing happen from her bedroom window. The mistress said Vorenus took out all four men in a matter of minutes."

"Surely she had a partner," Nicostratus said with disgust at the thought of a single woman killing five men. He slowly sank down into the chair behind his desk.

"No, sir, she was alone."

"Then perhaps you're mistaken. My sources tell me the Sicari are under strict orders to always travel in pairs while in Rome," he snapped. "Not even Marcus Vorenus's daughter would be so stupid as to defy the Order's edict and venture out into the city on her own."

"It doesn't make sense to me either, Excellency. But it was Cleopatra Vorenus. One of my men pulled up pictures of possible Sicari assassins on his phone, and Angotti's mistress picked Vorenus out of the lot."

Faced with such irrefutable truth, his anger grew in strength. First Marcus Vorenus had stolen the Tyet of Isis from him, and now the bastardo had left his daughter here to assassinate Angotti. The crime lord had been an invaluable commodity to him. Angotti's reputation for ferreting out information had made him exceptionally good at keeping Nicostratus up-to-date with Sicari movements.

The fat Italian's informative reports had also circumvented several threats that would have exposed the Praetorian presence within the Church-something that hadn't happened in almost two thousand years of the Church's history. On top of all that, Angotti had offered Nicostratus multiple opportunities to expand and hide his personal finances as well as those of the Collegium's.

Nicostratus steepled his fingers and rested them against his mouth as he contemplated what Angotti's death would mean for him and the Collegium. Since the time of Octavian, the first Monsignor, during the reign of Constantine I, the Collegium had operated secretly inside the Church. Financial resources had never been a problem until recently. Thirty years ago, he could have easily shifted funds from one account to the other without detection.

These days it was becoming more and more difficult to siphon off monies from the Church's coffers to fund the Praetorian cause. The technology that made it easier for him to invest monies he'd acquired for the Collegium and his personal use was a double-edged sword. Lately the internal audits from the Church's accounting office were becoming more frequent and even more annoying.

It was almost as if someone were trying to expose the Collegium's presence in the Church. He tightened his jaw at the thought. What if Gabriel had been trying to do that? No. Gabriel might have been difficult at times, but the boy had been fanatically loyal to the Collegium. He would never have done anything to harm his family. His reason for living. Nicostratus's gaze focused on Prior Verdi again.

"What else does Angotti's woman know?"

"About the assassination or Angotti's connection to the Collegium . . . or you, Excellency?"

Verdi's unflappable manner registered with the Patriarch again, and he narrowed his eyes at the Prior. Intelligent and shrewd. The man had figured out that Angotti was of immense importance not only to the Collegium, but to Nicostratus as well. For the first time since the man had told him about Angotti's death, the Patriarch's anger abated somewhat, and he allowed his mouth to curl slightly in approval.

"You're quite astute, Prior." He arched his eyebrows at the man. "Exactly how did you know Angotti was important to me?"

"The man had your contact information in his BlackBerry."

"Easily explained by his connection to the Collegium." Nicostratus shrugged. He wondered if the Prior played chess. No, the man was clearly a poker player, because he was bluffing.

"Yes, Excellency, but Angotti also had your birthday, the name of your favorite wine label, a notation of your tastes in music and art, plus a recent note to inform you of two transactions to a Swiss bank account. Information that indicates a close connection as opposed to a superficial one."

"Who else saw the information?" he asked as he held his body rigid to keep from leaping out of his chair.

"Only me." Verdi reached into his pants pocket, withdrew a small phone, and handed it to Nicostratus. "One of my men is a computer expert. He was able to hack the lockout code on the phone without much trouble. He gave it to me as soon as it was unlocked."

Nicostratus accepted the phone and stared at it for a moment before he laid it on the desk in front of him. He refused to let the Prior see how disturbed he was by Angotti's carelessness. His jaw hard with tension, he studied Verdi carefully. The man intrigued him. There were few Praetorians in the Collegium who were so skilled at hiding their thoughts.

"Obviously this wasn't a simple murder. What does Angotti's mistress think happened? Did she say anything that might put the Collegium in jeopardy?"

"The woman believes her lover was murdered in some bizarre cult ritual. She gave no indication that she has any knowledge about the Collegium or anything else about our brotherhood."

"I see. But you're not sure that she knows nothing." He watched the Prior hesitate before he shook his head.

"She admitted to knowing Angotti was involved in illegal activities but said that he told her nothing about his business." Verdi shrugged. "There are no guarantees, but my gut says she knows nothing."

"Since your gut says she's not a threat, what do you suggest we do about her?" He studied the man closely as he waited for a response. Nicostratus narrowed his eyes as he saw a brief flicker of hesitation break through the man's stoic expression. "Come now, Prior. What do you think we should do with the woman?"

"She needs to disappear. Quietly," Verdi replied.

Although the man's tone was matter-of-fact, Nicostratus thought he heard regret in the Prior's voice. The Patriarch eyed him closely, but Verdi's expression revealed nothing but indifference as to the woman's fate. Nicostratus's gaze took note of the fresh cut on Verdi's face. There weren't many Praetorians in the Collegium who didn't act like whimpering cowards in front of him when he lost his temper.

This man was clearly different. Nicostratus leaned back in his chair, folded one arm across his chest to support his elbow while he stroked his chin with his fingers, and studied the Prior intently. With Gabriel dead, he needed someone to act on his behalf in routine administrative matters. The fact that Verdi was coldly calculating was evident in his swift decision about Angotti's mistress. He liked that about the man.

"You seem quite sure of your decision, Prior Verdi."

"One can never be too careful in shielding the Collegium from our enemy, Excellency." He spoke like the most stalwart of Praetorians.

"True," Nicostratus said with a nod of sage agreement. "But in this case, I think we can err on the side of generosity and allow the woman to live. There's another female who shall not be so lucky."

"As you wish, Excellency." The man's gaze flickered with puzzlement, and Nicostratus smiled at him. Yes, the man was the perfect choice to replace Gabriel.

"Despite my initial reaction to your news about Angotti, you've impressed me, Prior."

"You honor me, Excellency," Verdi said with a slight bow.

"I think your talents might be wasted in your role as Prior. What would you think about working here in the main office of the brotherhood?"

"Here, Excellency?" There was a hint of surprise in the man's voice, revealing a crack in his stoic composure.

"Yes," Nicostratus said with a smile. "With Dominus Russo dead, I require someone to take his place to help me manage the daily administrative needs of the Collegium. The Monsignor can't be bothered with such trivialities. As the Patriarch, that's my role, and I'd like your help." Nicostratus laughed at the stunned expression on Verdi's face. For the first time since the man had entered the library, the Prior had actually displayed an emotion.

"I don't know what to say, Excellency." The man seemed completely taken aback, which pleased Nicostratus immensely.

"A simple yes will do." He gestured toward one of the chairs that faced his desk. "Sit down."

Verdi hesitated for several seconds before he seated himself in the chair. What Nicostratus had just offered was a high honor-something that many Praetorians would give their right hand for-and yet this man seemed almost reluctant about taking the position.

"Is there something wrong, Prior?" His question made the man shake his head as he met Nicostratus's gaze.

"No, Excellency. I'm simply surprised . . . and humbled by your offer."

"Honesty. I like that." The Patriarch nodded his approval. "May I call you Draco?"

"Certainly, Excellency."

"Tell me, Draco, are you aware of what happened several days ago at the Pantheon?"

"Yes, Excellency. The Sicari stole the Tyet of Isis and killed His Grace."

"Precisely, and now you bring me the unfortunate news that Angotti, a trusted business associate of the Collegium's, has been murdered by the daughter of our greatest enemy, Marcus Vorenus."

Just the sound of his arch nemesis's name made the Patriarch's body knot up with a tension born of fury. Marcus Vorenus had been a thorn in his side for years, and now his sworn enemy had left his daughter behind while the Sicari Lord had followed his Prima Consul bitch back to Chicago like the dog he was. The sudden image of Cleopatra Vorenus charging at him in the Pantheon flashed through his head.

It had been easy to thwart her attack, but what hadn't been so easy was dealing with how he'd hurt his son. The moment his sword had pierced Lysander's body, he'd actually experienced a painful remorse. Lysander could have been what Gabriel had never been. A true son. He didn't like admitting it, but he was grateful the boy was still alive.

Nicostratus focused on Draco Verdi again. The man's face was an emotionless mask. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. The fact that it was difficult to figure out what the man was thinking was annoying. He immediately stretched out his thoughts to probe his newly promoted assistant's mind. He met strong resistance, as Draco sent him a cold look.

"If you wish to know something, Excellency, you have but to ask." There was the faintest hint of defiant censure in the man's voice, and Nicostratus noted it with a grudging respect.

Not only did Draco Verdi have the ability to protect his thoughts, but he had the courage to defy the Patriarch of the Collegium. Nicostratus found himself liking the man even more. And for him, that said a great deal, because there were very few people he liked or even respected.

"Agreed." Nicostratus nodded. "Now then, tell me how much you know about the Tyet of Isis, Draco."

"Not much, other than that the artifact has the potential to make the Sicari and Praetorians stronger."

"Precisely, so the balance of power rests with whoever holds the secret of the artifact."

As he considered the statement, Nicostratus grimaced. Up until a few days ago, he'd been certain the balance between the Praetorians and Sicari would soon fall to the Collegium. All of that had changed when the Sicari swine had taken the Tyet of Isis right out from under him in the Pantheon.

Making matters worse was the fact that he'd had assurances from his mole deep within the Order that the Tyet of Isis was to have been his the moment it was found. His spy would pay the price for that broken promise. All this time it had been on Church property. The irony of the artifact's hiding place wasn't lost on him. He met Verdi's unreadable gaze.

"You don't seem the least bit curious as to what the artifact's secret is, Draco."

"I would imagine the box contains a recipe or a map."

The man's response made Nicostratus go rigid. Was Verdi guessing, or did he know more than he should? Only the Monsignor and the Patriarch knew the contents of the Tyet of Isis. Since the first Monsignor, the Collegium's leaders had been told the artifact carried a map that would strengthen the Praetorian brotherhood.