The Vampire's Protector. Michele Hauf

you did not play the violin.”

      “I did not play the violin.”

      “I’m sensing there’s a but?”

      She sighed heavily, and with a glance to the violin case, nodded. “But I did drop the bow, and it slid across the strings. It wasn’t as if it was purposefully played. It made more of a noise than anything.”

      “Fuck.”

      She had never in her service to Acquisitions heard Ethan Pierce swear. And now Summer noticed her hands shook. What the heck? She hadn’t done anything cataclysmically wrong. She was still alive. A vile nest of demons had not been released from the depths of the storage room where she’d found the violin. The sky was still blue. The earth still circled the sun. The birds were chirping. The...well, really. Everything was cool.

      “Summer, Paganini had specifically stated that violin be destroyed. He did so because before his death the devil Himself made him an offer.”

      “I know the history.”

      “Yes, the history you can read in books and on the internet. But the real history—the one Archives records in the Book of All Spells—details that if Paganini had played one song on the instrument he would have been granted all the power the devil possessed.”

      “Yes, but, Director Pierce, Paganini is dead. And like I said, it was just a note or two. Some noise. I did not play the violin. I’m pretty sure the uh...” No one spoke the devil’s name too much. Say it three times? You’ve invited him for lunch. “...the Big Guy hasn’t risen either. Everything is cool.”

      “Is it?”

      “You know I’m an ace at the smooth, clean mission. Why are you so worried?”

      “It may be a precautionary worry. And I certainly hope it is. But what if playing a note or two disturbed the dead Nicolo Paganini? It’s a probability I have to consider due to the nature of the strange magics with which we often encounter.”

      Summer let out a burst of laughter. And then she silenced. Director Pierce had not offered equal levity with return laughter. “Really? No. That’s— Why the musician? It was just a note or two.”

      “Where was the violinist buried?” She heard clicking on his end, indicating he must be doing a search on the computer. “Parma. Not far from Cella Monte.”

      “Yes, I’m just outside Parma now. I pulled over to...” She wouldn’t admit she’d been considering a nap.

      “Then you can ensure your little mishap didn’t stir up trouble. You must go to the grave site to check that the musician’s grave is undisturbed.”

      “Seriously?”

      “Santiago, it is essential. You have either dallied very closely with a wicked bargain, or have, in fact, released a malicious force into the world.”

      He had a way of making it sound so devastating that Summer shrank even deeper into the car seat. But then she sat up straight and hit the steering wheel with a fist. “I have done no such thing. Have you ever known me to mess up a mission, Director Pierce?”

      “No, and I don’t want to jump to conclusions with this one. But that violin has been forged by Himself. I will hazard no foul-ups regarding any such object. The important thing right now is that you must go to the cemetery. Yes?”

      She nodded. “What about the violin?”

      “Keep it safe. And unplayed.”

      “I can do that.”

      “I know you can, Santiago. You have served Acquisitions well over the years. I’m sure this little mishap was nothing more than that. An accident.”

      “It was. I swear to it. You know I would never lie.”

      “I do know that about you. Call me as soon as you’ve confirmed the Paganini grave at the Parma cemetery remains intact.”

      “I’m off to do a little grave digging.” Yikes. “Sorry, Director Pierce.”

      “Every Retriever faces a life-altering challenge at one point or another in their career. This may be yours.”

      Life altering? He was really laying it on thick. “I’m always up for a challenge. Goodbye.”

      She slunk back into the seat and closed her eyes. “Good one, Santiago. You may have just unleashed untold evil into the world.”

      It always sounded more ominous in the movies. Of course, the movies had a soundtrack that made everything ominous.

      “Good thing there’s no soundtrack today,” she muttered.

      Had an accidental slip of the bow across the strings disturbed the famed violin maestro in his grave?

      Only one way to find out.

      “Guess there’s no rest for this wicked violin thief.” She swallowed, wishing she’d found a donor to slake her thirst earlier. “This is going to be a long day.”

       Chapter 3

      The Villetta cemetery in Parma sat close to the edge of town, nestled near residential areas. On one side of the cemetery stretched gorgeous vast green fields and trees. Summer drove along the road edging a field, feeling as though it were a little oasis within the bustle of the busy world.

      It was nearing noon, a lazy time of day that found most inside eating or relaxing before a meal. She wore her sunglasses, and she tinted all the windows in her cars for protection. A vampire could certainly venture out in the daytime, even in the sunlight. But they did burn much easier and faster than most, and direct sunlight could leave nasty sores and burns. So she never went anywhere in the summertime without a sweatshirt jacket and sunglasses. Sunscreen helped a bit, as well.

      Though homeschooled by her parents, she’d been allowed to study those subjects that had most appealed to her and had basically designed her own education. Music and mechanics had topped her study list. So what she knew about Nicolo Paganini was that he had been buried in the cemetery only after much struggle to actually allow his body a proper burial. History books told that he’d refused the last rites on his deathbed, so the priest had denied him burial in consecrated ground. His son, Achille, had fought and struggled for years and had finally, after decades and agreeing to donate the remaining bulk of his father’s estate to the Catholic Church, won his father a resting place in Parma.

      One could read the details of that weird burial struggle and assume Paganini had refused the last rites because he had been dabbling in the occult and perhaps had even made a deal with the devil, but it was also known that, at the time of refusal, he hadn’t thought he was going to die.

      But it didn’t make sense to Summer. If he’d refused to play the violin then he couldn’t have been the devil’s associate, as so many had accused him.

      Then again, what did she know? The musician had a sordid and interesting history. Accused of deviltry merely because he had been a prodigy on the violin? Stupid. But not for the time period, she supposed. And if he really had made a deal with the devil that would easily explain his phenomenal talent.

      Summer knew people made deals with Himself every single day. And they were real and signed in blood and paid with breath and bone. She’d had a run-in with Himself once. She tried very hard not to ever let that happen again. And she had a built-in warning system thanks to her allergy to demons.

      Checking the GPS map on her phone, which she’d attached to a plastic holder on the dashboard, she verified the cemetery wasn’t far off. She’d not once been in Italy before today, but appreciated the quiet afternoon drive. With luck, the cemetery would be as peaceful. And if she had to actually do some grave digging she would be granted privacy.

      If she arrived at the graveyard to find that indeed the grave had been disturbed and the body was gone, she’d...

      Summer blew