Romani Armada (Beloved Bloody Time)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  The station in Rome had been jammed with people, for it was one of the primary junctions in Europe, just as Istanbul was the gateway to Asia and always had been. But local traffic used personal ground cars rather than public transport and Justin had the novel experience of hiring a taxi to take him across the inner city to the new agency location.

  The taxi driver had marked him as a newcomer to the city. As they travelled along Lungotevere Tor di Nona, the driver pointed out famous landmarks in decent Common; Vatican City, the beautiful and ancient Pont Sant’Angelo – the bridge that had existed since the time of the Roman Republic, and the Statue of Saint Michael, just across the Tiber River.

  Just past the bridge, the driver punched new directions into the car, then pointed out the right-hand window. “Villa Fontani,” he said.

  Justin obediently looked out the window as the car turned in through the arching gates of the villa and slowed down to a near walking pace as it travelled the long, curving drive up to the villa itself.

  The driver gave a potted history lesson on the villa as the car rolled past formal gardens filled with flowers and statuary, manicured lawns, and vignettes of fountains and bubbling streams and yet more waterfalls and marble fountains. Gazebos made of Roman columns and stonework were just visible in the far distance, through trees and shrubs and meandering paths, beckoning the explorer with time on his hands.

  The villa had been built in the time of Caligula, in the first century A.D., by a wealthy senator. At the time, the villa had been on the outskirts of the city and served the senator as a retreat from the stresses of the city, the Senate and politics, which had been hazardous to most officials in that era.

  When the senator had lost his life over a cup of wine that had been accidentally spilled onto the Emperor’s arm, the villa and its estate had passed into the hands of a Roman general, who travelled abroad extending the Empire’s holdings more than he stayed in Rome. The general, Lucias Livianus, employed an overseer for his villa, demanding that he develop the estate to be a fit and worthy place to return to from dry, dusty travels abroad.

  The overseer had taken the General’s word literally and the work he did over the next fifteen years focused upon water: streams, waterfalls, ponds, lakes, pools…and fountains. Fontani meant fountains and was the reason for the villa’s name.

  The building itself grew over the intervening centuries, as various owners renovated, repaired and extended, until it reached palatial grandeur. The gardens and grounds were considered a city treasure, even though the villa was one of the last remaining estates in the city to be privately owned. Many of the original Roman villas and their estates had been acquired by the city and turned into public parks and gardens, and their buildings used for public functions and offices.

  Justin listened to the history lesson as he watched the gardens roll by and in contradiction to the disciplined beauty and serenity, his tension grew and coiled in anticipation of the confrontation ahead.

  He tipped the driver heavily and received the driver’s “molte grazie” in return. As the taxi purred down the exit driveway, he turned to look at the majestic buildings.

  If the agency intended to make a statement, it had succeeded. The villa and the grounds, even the city itself, spoke of timeless elegance, history and endurance. As a symbol for the agency, it was near perfect.

  Justin suspected Christian and Cáel Stelios and perhaps Deonne, too, had sweated over the decision for the new location, but their decision had been divinely guided.

  The villa had begun life as a working farm villa. The gates and walls had long ago been torn down to open up the internal quadrangle. Now, the colonnaded original building wrapped around three sides of the square – the plaza, Justin guessed, which featured the biggest and grandest fountain on the estate. It rivalled the Trevi Fountain in size and creativity, for depictions of Lucias Livianus’ military victories were replicated in marble, channeling the water from the central spring at the top of the statuary, down between figures and scenarios, to trickle musically into the giant stone basin that circled it.

  The theme of victory was not lost on Justin, either. He grinned. Nayara must have laughed herself into adrenal overload at the near perfect symbolism the villa portrayed.

  There were more and larger buildings that were tied into the central villa, running off to the left and right and behind to form extended wings. The buildings overall covered nearly a hectare.

  The Agency must have dug deep into its pockets to acquire this place, but even Justin had a hard time disagreeing with the value.

  There were people, vampire and human, traversing the central square. Justin screwed his eyes up against the dazzling hot mid-summer sun to see if any of them were people he knew.

  There was a woman he recognized walking toward him and she looked like she was in a hurry. Justin reached for her name. Mary Anne. Mariana. The human who had written Nayara’s and Ryan’s joint biography.

  Mariana was breathing hard when she reached Justin and she smiled warmly, pushing her nondescript brown hair from her forehead with the back of one hand. She wore what looked like the same enveloping and unflattering dress he had seen her wear on the station.

  “Hello, Justin. Nayara asked me to show you inside. It is a bit of a maze until you learn your way around.”

  “She was expecting me?”

  Mariana turned around and looked over her shoulder in a clear “coming?” gesture. Justin stepped alongside her and they steered toward the right hand side of the fountain, where she had come from.

  “Nayara didn’t know you were coming, of course,” Mariana told him breathlessly. “Everyone was under the impression you were remaining in Sydney for the foreseeable future.”

  Justin grimaced. “Then how did she know I was here? Oh…the gates, right?”

  Mariana smiled. “They do a full bio scan on anyone who enters. If you’re someone who shouldn’t be here, there are…well, precautions.”

  “Traps and barriers and semi-lethal weapons,” Justin interpreted. “I’m glad to see this place has some security at least.”

  “More than some,” Mariana said shortly. “But we know you, so you wouldn’t have noticed anything but the fountains on the way to the house.”

  They were passing the fountain as she spoke and Justin could feel the moisture the fountain injected into the nearby air touch his face and hands and his flesh seemed to relax and sigh. Rome in summer wasn’t a comfortable place to be even for vampires. The dry air and heat and strong sunlight tended to irritate a vampire’s skin and eyes. It was perhaps the one disadvantage the villa presented.

  Mariana stepped onto the colonnaded verandah, heading for a set of open double doors. Justin stepped up, looking around. Now he was on verandah, the true proportions of the villa became apparent. The columns holding up the verandah roof were thick and tall. The sets of double doors punctuating the villa on all three sides were proportionate and Justin estimated the transom was three meters from the floor.

  The verandah was covered in ochre colored, rough surfaced tiles and all the way around the verandah, sitting between pairs of doors, were enormous terracotta urns and pots, some of them waist-high. They held plants and even small, manicured bushes, spilling cooling touches of greenery onto the tiles and up against the walls.

  Mariana glanced at him. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “This way,” she said, indicating the closest set of doors. Both doors were pushed open.

  They walked through the doorway and cool, dim light bathed them. Justin’s eyes adjusted and he looked around. “It’s cooler in here than I thought it would be.”

  “The layout of the villa creates breezeways and the stone walls keep their chill until the late afternoon. The villa is naturally cool. And dark,” Mariana added with a grin. “It helps with the heat, but the villa simply doesn’t have a lot of windows, especially this main building, which was the original farm house. Windows were a security risk, ba
ck then.”

  “I bet,” Justin returned.

  The room was larger than he expected it to be. There were more terracotta tiles on the floor, but these were polished smooth and sealed. They gleamed with care. There was little furniture in this room, except for more urns with trailing plants and a pair of chairs pushed up against opposite walls, their old style rolled arms and arched legs making them look as old as the villa.

  There was another set of big double doors along the wall common to the room next door, connecting the two. The doors were pushed open and lay almost flat against the walls.

  Justin could see more rooms through a replica pair of doors on the other side of the next room. “Is every room connected?” he asked.

  “Almost,” Mariana told him, heading toward the doorway to the next room.

  They moved into the next room, which was just as sparsely furnished as the last. “This is a gallery?” Justin asked.

  “A what?” Mariana replied, walking directly for the next door.

  “A pathway. A route. All these rooms are being used like a passage.”

  “Yes, I suppose they are,” Mariana said slowly. She was clearly recalling common traffic patterns. “Not many of the rooms in this main house section have permanent functions. I’ve never seen them closed off.”

  “How long have you been here?” Justin asked.

  “Three days,” she replied.

  He debated the wisdom of asking the question that pushed at his lips. It would making a declaration he was still getting used to delivering.

  “Deonne was well when I left,” Mariana added, sparing him the question and at the same time startling him. “She misses you.”

  Justin cast about for something to say in response, feeling winded, happy and mildly uncomfortable all at once. He was again spared, for they walked into yet another room, where a man and woman stood talking quietly. There was an archway through the wall to the right, which clearly led into other wings of the house and Justin could see another room through the opening, this one much bigger and even taller. Many people were moving about the furniture and fixtures in the room, most of which were a very modern office reception area type, which didn’t seem to clash with its surroundings at all.

  “Nayara has stepped up her game,” Justin observed, a sense of awe starting to niggle him.

  Mariana moved toward the couple. “Agata. Biagio. E ‘bello vederti. Are you well?”

  Justin’s instincts kicked into gear as he drew closer to the pair. They were both vampires. Both very new vampires. Despite being middle-aged in appearance, they had a glow of youth and vitality. Agata, the woman, looked supremely happy and content, wearing a small smile in greeting.

  “Very well, I thank you,” Biagio replied. His accent was thick Italian. That would soon wear away, Justin knew. Changing countries every few decades, time hopping and the ceaseless globetrotting that was the lot of an Agency member tended to strip away accents and even a sense of national identity. Justin had stopped thinking of himself as Australian before his first century. His identity as a vampire and all the myriad problems and challenges that came with it, had ruthlessly stripped away old associations and familial ties.

  Mariana half-turned so that she could introduce them. “Biagio, Agata…I would like you to meet Justin Kelly, one of our associates. He works out of the Sydney office, generally.”

  The pair nodded at him graciously.

  “Justin, this is Agata and Biagio Juliani. They are the former owners of Villa Fontani.”

  Justin put together the pairs’ new status as vampires and the Agency’s acquisition of the villa and stopped himself from laughing out loud. His admiration for Nayara’s expert strategizing was pushed even higher. What a perfect coup!

  “I am pleased to be here,” Justin told them formally, in Italian. “Your home is very beautiful. I would not want to leave it, either.”

  Biagio’s eyes twinkled. “We could not bear the thought. Now, we do not have to.”

  “I would very much like you to show me your home, when the time suits you,” Justin said. “Once I have finished my business here.”

  Biagio gave a regal nod. “It would be my great pleasure to do so.”

  “Until later,” Justin assured him and glanced at Mariana. Her Italian was clearly not strong enough to follow their conversation, but his glance let her know it was finished. She waved toward the archway. “Nayara will be wondering where you are by now. Shall we?”

  Justin nodded back at the Julianis and followed her into the reception area. The area was large and airy, with high ceilings and many narrow windows that spilled natural light into the room.

  Mariana led him through the room, which was made comfortable with what looked like antique Turkish rugs and sofas made to resemble the ancient Roman divan, low slung, well-padded chairs and table tops pulled up next to all of them. There wasn’t a single articulated or automatic chair in the room yet despite the lack of technology, the room breathed relaxation and contemplation.

  The atmosphere was greatly enhanced by a long row of bookcases along the wall opposite the windows, holding actual books. Given the age of the villa, it was possible they were genuine paper books, too.

  Justin’s soul sighed. The room was a throwback in time and it nudged old memories.

  Mariana hurried him through the room toward the big archway at the other end. “I’m sorry, we can’t stop,” she said. “Nayara will be waiting.”

  Justin braced himself.

  On the other side of the archway was another gallery. Mariana turned left and strode along the tiles. This one was open on the right, skirting a cavedium – a square that was open to the sky, but enclosed on all sides by the rest of the building. There were trees growing in the middle, all of them bearing globes of succulent fruit. Justin spotted oranges, pears and apples before they moved into another room at the other end of this side of the gallery.

  There was very little ancient or serene about this room. It was a high-tech nirvana. Big screens were mounted all around the walls, high above everyone’s heads. These would be for mass communication and monitoring. At the moment, they were flashing ID photos and names, pausing on each for five seconds.

  Persons of interest to the agency, Justin assumed. They would be psi or allies of the psi, and would be displayed on the screens so that everyone working in the large room would be constantly reminded of names and features.

  Underneath, pushed up against the walls, were many automated desks with their individual screens. They looked very new and were probably the most advanced in desk automation, too. There were only four of them in use right now.

  In the middle of the room was a wide and long table, at waist height, which was comfortable for standing over. The surface was translucent and back-lit.

  Nayara was leaning over the table, sweeping her fingertips across the surface.

  As Justin got closer, he saw the table was a souped-up replica of the fret board the Agency once had mounted on the wall in the main administrative room on the station, which showed where every traveler was in history.

  Nayara straightened up when she saw Justin and came toward him, smiling. “Welcome to the agency’s new home,” she said, then surprised him by hugging him. Justin hugged back, wondering what was up. He had known Nayara for a long while, but she had never been openly affectionate with him and she had grown distant and almost chilly while he and Ryan had been together.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it back in time,” Mariana told Nayara.

  “A plus side to jumping is you can choose when to return,” Nayara told her.

  “You’ve been in the past?” Justin asked curiously. “I didn’t think we were doing tours yet.”

  Nayara waved to the table. “Demyan came through with the images of the old story board. We replicated it on this new board and every traveler I can spare has been jumping back and retrieving the travelers still back in time.”

  “The board looks clean,” Justin observed.r />
  “Because we’ve retrieved all our travelers now,” Nayara said complacently. “We will be open for business again in a few days. You might want to keep that in mind if you have any keen customers lined up.”

  “Always,” Justin said automatically and truthfully. He was looking at the table, which had changed views and was now streaming newsnet items across its top. The stream was replicated on the other side of the table, where Mariana stood, so anyone on that side could read the headlines, too.

  Experimentally, Justin touched one of the items streaming past, and a portion of the table under his hand opened up into a window and the news item played live.

  “Tap again to turn it off,” Nayara told him.

  “I remember tables like this from…hell…the early twenty-first century. They were basically one large computer monitor. But that was before the Internet went neural. Once you needed a brain pattern to plug into the web, they became obsolete.”

  “Everything old is new again,” Nayara assured him. “They found a way to mimic a human brain, so standalone terminals like this can receive net feeds.” She looked around. “Corriere della Sera, the Common language newspaper, just finished an interview with me here in this room. It’ll run at the same time we launch the book.”

  “In three days’ time,” Mariana added and picked up a reading board sitting on the corner of the table. “I don’t want to nag, Nayara, but if we’re to hit all the deadlines….”

  Nayara grinned. “She nags so nicely, too. Come with me, Justin. Mariana, I’ll be back in a few minutes and we can pick up where we left off.”

  Nayara walked over to one of the half dozen doors and openings leading off from the room. It really was a nexus.

  “Where is Brendan’s security to go?” Justin asked as she opened the door and stepped aside, letting him enter first.

  “On the other side of the cavedium.”