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with quick jerks of the laces.
    “I’m really going to try and get a job with him.” His eyes were sincere, but she still wasn’t fully present. Too detached to really react so she had a bit of trouble even processing what he’d said. Everything she did for the moment was just a show, like a sunset reflected on water – pretty, but intangible, with not a hint of what was really happening beneath the surface.
    “I’m glad.” Her voice stayed sweet, exactly how Sebastien liked her to sound. Maybe if he went with her he’d protect her if it was a bad master. That would be nice. Sitting up she slid her jewel blue shirt back on and wished he’d thought to bring her a change of clothes too, but she wouldn’t ask for it. Asking for anything so frivolous would be stupid – she didn’t want to pay the price for them. She could wear the same clothes.
    He pointed at the iPod on the table. “I hope it’s charged, I didn’t grab the cable.” Of course he didn’t. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning to say goodbye. For now anyway.” Clutching his jacket he moved slowly out of the cell and locked the door, his eyes meeting hers through the bars.
    “Thank you, Sebastien.” She smiled as he paused, shaking his head before he turned away. His feet thumped up the stairs at a steady rhythm, leaving her in the quiet of the room.
    As she stared at the black iPod reality snapped back hard and fast, the fog of her mind reconnecting with her body like a car crash.
    She almost didn’t make it into the tiny room in the corner to throw up.
    Gianni had sold her. There would be a new master soon.
    Her empty stomach tried to retch again. And again. And again.
    Someone new. New rules. New rules she would probably break before she even knew them.
    When she was finally done the mirror above the sink showed how messy her hair was and she made it as neat as possible before rinsing her mouth, wiping off her thighs, and returning to the bed. She threw the dust covered comforter onto the floor, lay on the sheet, plugged the white headphones into her ears, and flipped it to shuffle.
    Classical, then rap, then electronica, then rock. Round and round. She floated away on the music and reminded herself that it didn’t matter, she didn’t care. The same mantra that had helped her through two thousand years alone.
    It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.
    I don’t care.
    I’m fine.

Chapter Three
    Milan, Italy
    Stepping out of the Milan Linate Airport, Alaric kept his sunglasses and a knit cap on as he scanned the lanes designated for car service and found what he had requested waiting for him. A nero black on black Maserati GranTurismo, all shiny and new. With his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder he walked over and couldn’t help but smile when the young salesman stumbled through the details on the ride after he’d given him his false ID. Alaric already knew it all, knew what he – well, his client – had paid for, but he let the guy do his job.
    “Thanks.” Alaric smiled and gave the guy a fifty euro note, which the guy stuttered over his thanks for. As he was sliding into the driver’s seat he took the key and signed his alias’ signature on the dotted line, and then Alaric realized the kid was probably his age. Twenty-two or twenty-three. And they were in totally different places in life. One delivering the car, and the other driving it.
    The kid was probably happier though.
    Shutting the door he turned the engine over and it roared like a big cat. At least that could bring an authentic smile to his face. People standing on the sidewalk lifted their heads and watched as he pulled away, the smooth acceleration humming through the body of the car as he merged into the traffic.
    If someone had asked him ten years ago where he’d be, he would have said he’d still be in London, still in East Sussex, working some crap job just like his worthless father. He definitely wouldn’t have guessed he’d be wearing clothes worth more