Of course he knew. Viggo was now the oldest vampire, but he hadn’t always been the oldest vampire. I didn’t doubt that he had something to do with this first vampire’s death. He was such a conniving monster. I shuddered, imagining him storming through the side door at that moment. If I never saw him again, I’d be happy. Mortimer . . . I didn’t fear him as much, not since he’d dropped his mask for that millisecond in the atrium that day. I knew without a doubt that he’d still kill me to get to the pendant, but I also knew he wouldn’t take sadistic pleasure in it. That brought me some small level of comfort. “So do you think they’d actually trust another one?”
He shrugged, sighing loudly. “Who knows? I should suspect not, given the last ‘arrangement’ Viggo made, but who can say, with that psychopath? When he’s desperate, he gets reckless.” Bitterness tinged his voice.
I thought a moment. “So if he did find a witch to help him and Sofie doesn’t send you messages, then no one finds me and everything’s fine, right?”
Leo’s laughter rang hollow. “Yes. For us, everything’s peachy.”
I frowned. I didn’t understand this old man’s sense of humor sometimes.
Leo sighed. “There are a few other issues that could be . . . distracting her.”
My stomach did another sickly dive to my feet. “Other issues besides witches?”
Leo nodded. “Remember that day in Central Park? When you were attacked?”
“Yeah, I seem to recall something.” I glanced sideways at the dogs as another memory flashed in my mind—this one of the mutt Badger’s decapitated head. I shuddered.
“Those men with Ursula . . . they weren’t just hired thugs,” Leo explained. “They were hired ‘People’s Sentinel’ thugs.”
I felt my forehead crease as I wracked my memory for something to link to the name. No bells. “Have you mentioned them before?”
Leo groaned heavily. “Why must I be the one to explain everything? The People’s Sentinel is a long-standing secret society of humans fighting for humankind against vampires. Against anything nonhuman, actually. Even against witches. They’ve existed for thousands of years now. You heard of women burned for being witches?” Julian and I nodded in unison. “The handiwork of the Sentinel. In the past, their society numbered in the thousands. Then they fell into the background like a sleeper cell, where they’ve remained for several hundred years. Only now they’ve resurfaced and they’re stronger than ever. We’re not sure how many are involved. Mortimer and Viggo had been lying low for years while this mess with Veronique was getting settled—hence the Foreros’ involvement. However, we’ve started seeing them around again.”
“Well, if they hate the witches so much, why would they have been working with Ursula? Are you sure it was them? Maybe you’re mistaken.”
Leo leaned over and gestured to the meaty part of his hand. “Because they brand themselves with tattoos on their hand. The markings look like deformed crosses.”
Leo’s words jarred forth a memory. A deceptively nice old gentleman’s hand. And on it, a curved cross tattoo. “I saw it!” I confirmed.
“They all have them. Stupid, really. It marks them immediately for what they are. Vampires can spot them a mile away.”
“What happened to these people who attacked you in Central Park?” Julian asked.
“Oh, Max and the others got hold of them.” My eyes closed and I shuddered, trying to shake that gruesome bloodbath from my memory. “But these Sentinel people would have killed me otherwise.”
“Oh . . . ” Julian murmured. He looked at Max. “Good.”
Maybe he isn’t a complete nitwit after all, Max grumbled, earning an eye roll from me.
Leo continued. “The only reason Viggo and Mortimer have restrained themselves from hunting down the Sentinel up until now is because of Veronique. The moment she is out and transformed, they will go on a mission to rid the world of every last one. I guarantee you that.”
And I’ll be there with fangs on! Max chirped eagerly in my head. Not one of them will survive.
“Easy, Max. That won’t be for a while.”
“What’d he say?” Julian asked, his brown eyes shifting between me and Max.
“Oh,” I reached over to scratch behind Max’s ear, “anyone with a Sentinel tattoo pretty much has a death warrant with Max, here.”
Julian hesitated, watching the dog. “I don’t blame him.” He looked back to Leo. “So . . . do you think they can win? This Sentinel group?”