Cassiel looked around. “Preferably somewhere dry with food. I’m famished.”
I looked up and down the Street of the Dead. “Looks like there’s a restaurant on the next block. How does Italian food sound?”
“Right now? Almost as good as manna. Lead the way,” she said.
Osteria da Emiliano was slow (it was too late for lunch and way too early for dinner in Venice), so we were able to secure a private table in the back. The waiter brought us water, and Cassiel ordered a carafe of the house red wine. He lingered for our food order.
The entire menu was in Italian. “Cassiel, will you order for me?” I pointed at her. “And not fruits and vegetables. I’ve never been to Italy before, and dammit, I want pasta or pizza or something delicious.”
Still smiling, she looked down at the menu. “It appears pizza is their specialty here.”
“I mean it, Cassiel. Don’t screw this up.”
She laughed softly, then spoke to the waiter in Italian. She thanked him and handed over her menu. “I ordered the house-specialty pizza for all of us to share.”
“Gracias,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s grazie, Warren.”
“Same thing.”
When the waiter left, Samael leaned his elbows on the table. “What’s your news?”
Cassiel took a deep breath. “We believe the Nulterra Gate may have been opened.”
Samael sat up straight. “Really?”
“There was an incident in Malab,” she said.
“I heard the prime minister was killed.”
I held up a hand. “Guilty. But he wasn’t their prime minister.”
“He identified himself to me as Haile Menelek,” she said.
“Was it the truth?”
She nodded. “We saw him.”
“His soul bore my mark,” I said, tracing the symbol with my finger on my own chest.
Samael rubbed his hand down his face. “And if this is Saez, that means two souls sentenced to Nulterra have come back to Earth. Does the Father know?”
I shook my head. “We haven’t had the chance to tell him because we’ve been jumping crisis to crisis since we left Africa. Besides, he’s very busy teaching the people of Malab how to fish.”
Samael’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “He’s what?”
“Not important. Bottom line is, he’s busy and he’s not coming,” Cassiel said.
Samael sighed. “So now we hunt a serial killer.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, if it is this Saez guy, he’ll be easy to spot if he walks around in public.”
“Why?” Samael asked.
“The guy from Malab had the same swirling purple magic as the girls, only much brighter. I could see it as plain as I could see his suit.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Azrael asked Fury about it, and she said it’s what Nulterra looks like. She can see it on demons who have recently come from there,” I said.
Cassiel turned toward me. “So what do you want to do? Wander around Venice for however long it takes to be in the same place as the killer?”
I thought about Iliana’s first birthday. “I don’t have that kind of time. Too bad Sloan doesn’t still have her powers. She could summon Vito Saez to us.”
Cassiel straightened. “Sloan might not be able to do that, but another Angel of Life can.”
“Right! Metatron can, and I need to find him anyway.” I started to get up, but she grabbed my arm to hold me still.
“I swear if you drag me out of another restaurant before I get some food, I’ll use your powers against you.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You can’t do that,” I said, though honestly, I wasn’t so sure she couldn’t.
Samael slid the file folder over to me. “We might have some luck on the ground ourselves. The new victims are very similar to Saez’s old victims, and if he continues to follow the same pattern, we might find him.”
With a heavy sigh, I opened the file. Inside were homicide reports with photos of victims stapled to them. My stomach knotted. “I’d really hoped to never see one of these again.”
“You know you’re the Angel of Death, right?” Cassiel asked.
“Yes, but this”—I tapped my finger on the first photo—“isn’t my job. I haven’t seen reports like these since I was hunting down missing people with Nathan.”
I looked closely at the first photo. The girl’s eyes were mismatched.
An image flashed through my mind of the young woman Azrael had met near the market. The woman whose eyeball he’d held.
“Do all these victims have the ability to see us?” I asked.
“No. Two of them simply had an ocular defect or injury,” Samael said.
“Tell me about what happened two hundred years ago.” I pulled the blood stone out from under my shirt again. “I know some of the story, but I just got this thing back and everything’s hazy. Fill me in on the important stuff.”
“Azrael came to Venice to investigate the deaths of three girls.” Samael held up three fingers. “Benedetta Giuliani, Maria Testa, and Rosannah Guerra. All of them had the ability to see angels. It was curious they’d be murdered so close together. It seemed as though someone was targeting humans with the sight.”
“But how? Venice is small. Were there a lot of them here?”
“Venice wasn’t so small before the fall of the Republic in the late eighteenth century,” Samael said. “
Cassiel nodded. “And before Napoleon came, Venice was a thriving home for orphans who were cared for by the church and trained in art and music. Children from all over were brought here, some even by their parents hoping for a better life for them.”
“To this day, there’s a plaque outside the church threatening parents with curses for trying to pass off their legitimate children as orphans,” Samael said with a smile.
“During that time, a small group of nuns discovered Benedetta Giuliani had a divine connection with the supernatural. She had the ability to see angels. Then Maria Testa presented the same talents, and the church made the connection with the mismatched eyes. They brought children with the gift from all over Europe,” Cassiel said.
Samael crossed his arms. “Thanks to genetics and the gift being hereditary, there’s still a very high population of those with the gift here compared to other places in the world. Unfortunately, that has made them a target for demons.”
“Azrael believed the demon Uko was trying to rid the city of those with the sight,” Cassiel said.
“Uko?” My head snapped back. “We saw him last night outside Iliana’s home.”
Samael sighed. “I wish I could say that surprised me.”
“He’s carrying a sword these days,” I told him.
He smiled. “Very medieval.”
“Right? I need a sword,” I said.
Samael chuckled.
Cassiel wasn’t amused. “In 1795 or 1796, we believe Uko began influencing Vito Saez to kill those with the gift one by one.”
“Was he possessed?” I asked.
“No. Only impressionable,” Cassiel said.
Samael tapped his fingertips together. “Vito had killed before the serial murders began. And he continued long after Azrael banished Uko from Venice.”
“Where’d he finally catch him?” I asked.
Cassiel tapped her index finger on the table. “Right here. Many of the murders happened on the Calle dei Morti at the end, so that narrows our search area a bit.”
I looked carefully at the pages spread in front of me. “Heterochromia. That’s the medical diagnosis for different-colored eyes?”
“Correct,” Cassiel said.
“And then and now, all the victims were beheaded with the eyes removed and forced into the throat, right?”
Samael nodded sadly. “All their heads were mounted near the bodies as they are this time.” He turned his head. “The mark is new though.”
“He’s letting us know he’s back,” Cassiel said.
The waiter returned with our pizza, announcing something I didn’t understand in Italian.
Cassiel forced a smile as he put it down. “Grazie.”
When he was gone, we all just stared at it.
“I’m not so hungry anymore,” she said with slumped shoulders.
I pushed the pie toward her. “Come on. Have a slice. Carbs and cheese are the human cure for almost all emotional turmoil.”
She picked up a slice and took a deep breath. “Here goes.”
I smiled, waiting for her reaction.
She bit off the tip of the pizza, and a long string of mozzarella pulled away with the slice. With an embarrassed grin, she broke the cheese string with her finger and lowered it to her mouth.
“Well?” I asked, leaning on to the table.
Her eyes closed as she slowly chewed. Then she swallowed. “You’re right.”
I cupped my hand around my ear. “I’m what?”
“You’re right. I do feel better. This is the way food on Earth is supposed to taste.” She sucked the crumbs off her fingertips, and I had to tear my eyes away.
Needing a distraction even more than food, I picked up a slice for myself.
The pizza was pretty damn good. Easily, the best I’d ever had. Cassiel had ordered something with spinach, fresh tomatoes, and gobs of white cheese that tasted like it had been made in Eden.
“So we’ll stay for a couple of days, and if we can’t find him, we’ll get help from Metatron. Is that our plan?” I asked.
Cassiel’s mouth was full.
“Do you even know where Metatron is?” Samael asked as we ate.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I’ve heard he’s in Lunaris. Can you confirm?”
“I know he spends a lot of time there.”
“Why do you want to ask Metatron? Any Angel of Life can help us,” Cassiel said.
“Because Metatron can identify the Morning Star, and if I find him, maybe you’ll leave Iliana alone.”
She laughed. “Have you met Metatron?”
“Not yet.”
Even Samael was grinning.
“We’ll be lucky to get him to help us resolve the situation here. For that, he doesn’t have to leave home.” She picked up her slice of pizza again. “Getting him to traipse around the planet with you looking for the Morning Star won’t happen. You should prepare yourself for that now.”
“You’ve met Sandalphon, yes?” Samael asked.
“Once. He came to Earth to help Sloan.”
“That was a long time ago in Eden years,” Samael said.
I shrugged. “He’s a bit of a recluse.”
Cassiel grinned over her wineglass. “Metatron makes Sandalphon look like the life of the party.”
My shoulders slumped. It had taken me months in Eden to find Sandalphon when we needed him the last time. While that didn’t equal as much time on Earth, it was still more than I wanted to spend looking for Metatron.
I set my jaw. I was not about to get discouraged. “I’ll find him. Even if I have to get the Archangel of Ministry to call him.”
Cassiel refilled her wine. “But if he’s reluctant—”
“He won’t be,” I said.
She took a slow drink of wine. “I must say, I admire your resolve.” She looked at Samael. “Do we have accommodations nearby?”
He reached into his man purse, then slid a key card across the table. “The villa is at our disposal.”
Cassiel smiled and tucked the key into her pocket. She must have known where it was. “Lovely. If I have to be stuck on Earth, at least it’s at the Casa Cafiero.”
Chapter Sixteen
They say Venice is one of the most romantic cities in the world. And from my small taste of the city between the restaurant and the Casa Cafiero, I wholeheartedly agreed.
Streets dotted with painters and musicians. Restaurants with candlelit tables under the open sky. Arched bridges crowning the canals where gondoliers offered romantic sunset rides…
Too bad I was visiting with Cassiel.
And too bad we were hunting a monster.
The rain had cleared by the time we finished eating, and the tourists had reemerged onto the streets. Hopefully, it would be easier to spot our killer if the potential victims were out in the open.
We took our time on the Calle dei Morti, following the stone-paved street through buildings and open plazas. We dipped in and out of shops, picking up fresh clothes and toiletries. We scanned the patrons of the bars and taverns, and scoped out restaurants I planned to return to.
After the first hour of wandering without spotting anything more sinister than two drunk men yelling in a bar, Cassiel seemed to settle into her role of blending in as a tourist. She took her time at the shop windows. She stopped and tipped all the street performers, and she checked out every single magnet on every single street-vendor cart for the last three blocks of our walk.
She also hummed a lot without realizing it. Mostly eighties rock ballads, which I found hilarious.
“This is it,” Cassiel said before we passed over yet another bridge.
Casa Cafiero was a two-story stucco villa that overlooked a canal. The sand-colored structure had dark chocolate shutters and a double front door made of wrought iron and frosted glass. Fresh red flowers lined the second-floor balcony that faced the street.
Cassiel pulled out the keycard Samael had given her. I watched her curiously as I held our shopping bags.
She noticed me staring as she put the key in the card reader. “Our powers don’t work on the locks.”
“Really?”
She opened the door. “Not the outdoor ones anyway.”
“Who owns this place?” I asked as I followed her inside.
“Theta, the Archangel of Prophecy, but a lot of us have a key to it. She’s not here often, and it’s for all of us to use. She confiscated it from Uko when the demons were sent out of Venice.”
“Demons have good taste. This place is beautiful.”
She closed the door behind me. “Yes.”
A marble-floored living room, kitchen, and dining room were downstairs. It had expensive furnishings and central air conditioning, a rarity in Venice, I’d learned.
“The bedrooms are upstairs,” she said, crossing the living room to a staircase near the back.
A second living area was at the top of the stairs. There were two comfy-looking beige couches, a leather recliner, and a big-screen TV. When was the last time I watched television?
She entered a door to our left. “There are two bedrooms. We can share this one. It doesn’t look like Samael has made claims to it.”
I nodded and followed her inside. A large king bed was centered on the wall. Beyond it were two large glass doors that faced the building on the other side of the canal. I walked over to them and found they led out to the balcony we’d seen from the street.
Then I sat down on the fluffy white comforter and bounced on the mattress. “This bed feels amazing.” I flopped back onto the pillows.
“No sleeping on the floor this time?”
“I might make you sleep on the floor.”
“Ha, ha.” She walked to the bathroom and washed her hands. “I doubt any of us will be here much.”
I draped my arm across my forehead and stared at the ceiling. It was covered with decorative aluminum tiles. “I’d hoped we would have seen him on our walk here, and the job would be done.”
“So we could get back to Asheville?”
“So we could stop and eat again.”
She laughed as she dried her hands. When she was finished, she spread all our purchases on the end of the bed and carried our toothbrushes and toothpaste back to the bathroom.
“When do you think Saez will strike again?” I asked.
“It seems he’s picked up his old habits right where he left them all those centuries ago. So I assume it won’t be long. New bodies turned up almost every day the last time.”
“How many?”
“Thirteen,
I think.”
My eyes widened. “As disturbing as it is, it’s an impressive kill record at such a quick pace. I can’t believe he didn’t get caught sooner, especially with the bodies being dumped in such a tight location. If we saw all of it today, the Calle dei Morti isn’t that long.”
“He operated mostly at night, and back then, there wasn’t electricity.”
I swung my leg back and forth off the side of the bed. “Which means he probably sleeps during the day.”
“Probably.”
“Maybe we’ll have more luck tonight.”
She tossed the map she’d made me buy onto my chest. “Circle the places where the girls disappeared, and we’ll check them out first.”
“I still can’t believe you bought a map. We need to get you a smartphone.”
“No thanks. That would be my own personal form of Nulterra.”
I smiled and opened the map over my head.
She started folding her clothes. “What will you do when we find him?”
“I’m going to kill him.” I wanted to add a “duh” at the end, but I thought better of it.
“You’ll take him back to Reclusion and kill him?”
“Why bother?” My eyes strained looking for the first location on the map—an apartment near the corner of the Calle dei Morti and the Calle Regina.
“Because it’s forbidden to—”
I looked up at her and smiled. “Not forbidden for me. I have free will, remember?”
Her eyes widened. “There’s a reason it was forbidden. It’s dangerous.”
“It worked though, didn’t it?”
“Just because something’s possible, doesn’t mean you should do it.”
“My only interest here is to finish this job so I can find Metatron. Going to Reclusion is much like this map.” I crumpled it. “It’s a waste of time. Do you know how much work I have waiting for me? I’ll never get out of there.” I pulled out my phone and opened Google Maps. I put the first address into it.
She stared at me so long I wondered if she was debating on a rant about my work ethic. She didn’t. “What makes you believe Metatron might be able to identify the Morning Star?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t know that he can’t either. It’s worth a try.”
“It isn’t possible, Warren.”
The Soul Destroyer: The Soul Summoner Series Book 7 Page 19