“You must have been in the middle of a nightmare,” Arielle stated flatly.
Her intense blue gaze swept over his disheveled state, assessing in a single glance. What a sight he must look, sweat dried on him, unwashed and unshaved. Her dainty nose twitched slightly; her mouth pressed into a thin little line.
Yet, she knelt so very close. And lingered over him a little too long.
When she straightened to stand, the sunlight behind her seemed to dim, and the intensity of her presence faded as she backed away. Dressed in one of her usual perfectly tailored suits, Arielle looked completely out of place in this dusty Venetian ruin.
Luciana is…not your run-of-the-mill nightmare, he thought, blinking hard. He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the last remnants of the dream from his mind’s eye. But that’s nothing you need to know, Arielle. His former supervisor and ex-lover had never been privy to his dreams; they were not something he wanted to share with her.
Not in the past. And especially not now.
Heat flushed into his face. And he was a man who never blushed. But he felt like he was back in his bedroom in Detroit as a teenager, busted by his mother for “reading” a nudie magazine. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Arielle had noticed his erection. Luckily, in her presence, it shrank at an amazing speed.
“I came to help,” she said. “You look like you could use some assistance.”
“I’ve been in Venice for two and a half days,” he said, irritated as he sat up. His body ached from lying on the hard concrete. He twisted, trying to stretch; he saw her eyes flicker over his bare torso. He chose to ignore that. “I’m not a rookie. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder.”
“I came for your own good,” she said.
For your own good.
According to Arielle, everything she did was for someone else’s good.
He had gotten his first taste of that ten years ago, when he had joined her unit in L.A. Arielle had taught him a lot. That was undeniable. Had let him follow her everywhere, had answered every question he ever had about being a Guardian. What’s more, when he had been sunk in grief over leaving his human existence and his wife, Arielle had been there to comfort him.
But things had changed. At first, it was nothing he could put his finger on. Just a low-lying feeling in his gut that something wasn’t quite right with Arielle. And then the real controlling behavior had begun. Checking up on his every move, constantly nitpicking over the tiniest details. And she never broke from that constant neutral tone of hers. Just outlined her criticisms with unwavering composure.
No matter what he said, she always insisted the criticism was for your own good.
After three years of it, he’d had enough and applied for a transfer.
Now, as she said it, those lips of hers pressed into an even flatter line.
“Things have gotten out of control,” she said. “What are you doing, Brandon?”
“My job,” he growled. “If you recall, the Company agreed that I would handle this assignment on my own.”
“I know you’ve made significant contact with the demoness, and I know you allowed her to escape. Some members of the Venetian unit told me,” she said.
Briefly, he recalled an image of the gray-haired, dignified concierge at the pensione. So he’d been ratted out. But, why?
“Venice is a small town,” she said. “Word travels fast here.”
She began to talk, and his head began to ache. She paced around the room, outlining a long list of reasons she had felt compelled to come here. Instead of listening, he watched her face as she rambled. Watched her eyes flicker over his body as he pulled on a shirt. There was something hungry in her gaze, and it irked him. More concerning, when she talked about Luciana there was a little spark in her eye that—if Brandon didn’t know better—he would have pegged as hate.
But he did know better.
Arielle is an angel, he told himself, and angels don’t hate.
“We need to pin this demoness down,” Arielle continued. “To do that, we need to enlist the help of the local unit. I’ve contacted Israel Infusino, the Venetian supervisor. He and some of his team members will be arriving shortly. We’re primarily here to—”
“Keep tabs on me,” Brandon said.
She shook her head. “I only came because this assignment is so important to the Company. There’s too much at stake here. We need to accomplish what’s in everyone’s best interests.”
My ass, he thought. What’s your agenda?
“What was that?” Arielle said, turning her head sharply toward a noise from one of the other rooms.
“I collected two of her Gatekeepers. I’ve interrogated them, but haven’t gotten anything useful out of them yet.”
“Collected?” said Arielle, her eyes going wide. “You’re keeping Gatekeepers under arrest, without following Company protocol?” She shook her head. “This is completely unacceptable. We definitely need to call in backup.”
“Fine,” was all he said. “You’re probably right about that.”
She stood, looking around them in disbelief, as though she were trying to figure it all out.
“What happened between you and I?” she said softly. “It could be good between us again, Brandon.”
Good? Again? It had never been good. What he wanted to say was, Lady, you’re on crack.
He bit his tongue.
Out loud what he said was, “We’re just different people, Arielle.”
“You’re a complex man, Brandon, with complex desires.”
“Let it lie,” he said gruffly. “And by all means, call in the local unit. You and I will tear each other apart if we’re stuck working alone together.”
A few hours later, Arielle returned with the Venetian unit, who moved in with their equipment.
“This is Infusino, supervisor of the local unit,” Arielle said, gesturing toward the smiling gray-haired man whom Brandon recognized instantly. He was the concierge from the pensione. “He and his team will be helping us from now on.”
“You didn’t mention you were a supervisor,” Brandon commented.
“You didn’t ask,” Infusino said.
The Venetian unit certainly did things differently.
They spread picnic cloths on the bare floor. Unpacked food and wine. They lit candles around the room, dispelling the foreboding atmosphere of the abandoned building. They chatted to each other in quick quips of Italian, laughing freely.
Luciana was the stuff of legends.
By the glow of candlelight, the Venetians spoke of her in whispers. The stories they told of her were like ghost stories about a mythical woman who did not exist. Rather than a flesh-and-blood incarnation of a woman who was across the canal at this moment, plotting the downfall of the Company and everyone it stood to protect.
“…she bathes in the blood of young girls....”
“…she eats human flesh for breakfast....”
“…she has seduced half the men in Venice....”
There was so much whispered gossip about Luciana Rossetti that Brandon had no idea what was true.
“One thing we know for certain is that for the past two and a half centuries, Luciana has managed to elude capture by our unit,” said Infusino. “The secrecy around her palazzo has been unbreakable. Until you came along, Brandon.”
The angels around him raised their glasses to him, various shades of eyes shining in the candlelight.
Might as well invite the whole neighborhood over for an open house, Brandon thought. And who cares if the folks across the way happen to be our sworn enemies?
Brandon was grateful for the creature comforts they had brought. He was appreciative of the companionship. But he still had a job to do. He finished his glass of wine and went to sit apart from the group, taking his customary place by the front window.
He shifted uncomfortably, watching.
Waiting.
“Why don’t you sleep, Brandon,” Infusino said, coming over to place a hand o
n Brandon’s shoulder.
Brandon shook his head. “If I sleep, then the whole damn assignment goes to hell.”
* * *
Time is running out. Luciana could feel it slipping through her fingers. Before sunrise, Luciana rose and went to her worktable, took stock of what she had left. Not enough. Not strong enough. Not quick enough. Not deadly enough. Just…not enough.
She bent her head to the table, touched her forehead to the old wood. Closed her eyes for a moment. And the regrets began to flow, pouring out like a torrent that threatened to wash her away. If only I had more time…if only Corbin hadn’t taken that damned vial of poison…if only I had never run into Brandon in the Redentore Church…if only Julian Ascher hadn’t walked into my life at that moment over two centuries ago, near the Rialto Bridge…if only…
The noise behind her made her start.
“Apologies, baronessa,” Massimo said, bowing slightly.
She frowned. She was going insane; it felt like she had spent years in this workroom, trying to create a poison that would kill an angel as powerful as the one she could practically feel breathing from only a few hundred yards away.
“Wait, Massimo, I need your assistance.”
“Yes, baronessa. It would be my pleasure.”
“Go catch one of the goblins. I need to test this formula.”
He was back shortly. She administered the shot. The goblin lay down, frothing at its ugly little mouth. But in the next instant, the creature popped back up again, choking a bit. A white froth smudged the edges of its mouth, but it was still breathing. It stood up, cackling to itself before it hopped off the table and scurried under a workbench.
The poison had failed to kill it.
Luciana put her head down on the worktable, closing her eyes for a moment. If only…
“What has gone wrong with it, baronessa?” Massimo said, stopping her thoughts. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.”
Opening her eyes, she sighed. “Most likely, the blood from Violetta’s death wasn’t strong enough. She died very quietly, which isn’t the usual way I collect blood. It’s possible that goblin might die within the next few days. But if it does, it will probably have a very gentle passing. However, that’s only a guess. What’s gone wrong with the poison is not entirely clear.”
What had gone wrong with herself was infinitely more troubling.
She knew exactly what was wrong with her.
It was tall, dark and American.
Luciana could feel him. Closer and stronger than she had ever felt him before.
Where are you? she wondered.
“In any case, Massimo, we must work to find a solution. Either we must find another victim, or bolster the formula with another ingredient. Either way, we must work quickly. There is no time to squander.”
Massimo went to peer through a crack in the shutters. When he turned back to her, his face was ashen.
“What is it?” she demanded, and went to look for herself.
Across the water, the abandoned palazzo was no longer abandoned.
Luciana saw the light coming from within, noted the figures moving in the darkness.
Massimo said, “He is no longer alone.”
* * *
Don’t fall asleep, Brandon told himself repeatedly. Sitting in his observation point at the window, staring at the closed palace across the canal, Ca’ Rossetti seemed like a mausoleum. Do not sleep. Not now.
Not simply because of the dreams themselves.
But because now, an entire unit of angels was here to witness them. Including Arielle.
“You must sleep,” Infusino coaxed, shaking his head as he watched Brandon fight to stay awake. “Your physical body is completely exhausted.”
Brandon closed his eyes and leaned his head against the windowsill. Just for an instant.
“Don’t let me do anything, go anywhere…” he muttered, feeling Infusino’s shoulder supporting him, guiding him to a cot the Venetian unit had set up in one corner of the big, dusty room. “If I start talking in my sleep, wake me up.”
He lay down on the cot, his gaze focused on the ceiling high above, on the peeling remnants of painted angels who seemed to laugh down at him.
Around him, a haze began to gather as he drifted…
Not into the usual scene of his recurring nightmare. Only a blackness, shrouded in fog.
He dug in his pocket, touched his watch.
I’m dreaming.
Out of the mist, she came sliding into concrete form, faster than she ever had before. Like a bolt of lightning streaking down from the sky, she landed on solid ground, striking the earth ten feet away from him. Striding toward him with a storm flying around her, she was all long legs, flying hair and snapping green eyes.
“You. Where the hell are my Gatekeepers? I want them back,” she demanded, marching forward to grab him by the front of his shirt. She held it in her fist, staring up at him, fury swirling in those green eyes.
“Forget it,” he said coolly, staring down at her.
“You don’t think I can make it happen?” she said, lifting her chin a notch. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, angel. I’ll make you come like you never have before, not even in your wildest dreams.”
He pried his shirt out of her fist, shook his head and pushed her away. “That’s a kind offer, but I think I’ll have to refuse.”
She ran her hand down his body, fingers skimming lightly down to the waistband of his jeans.
“You don’t even know what you want,” she said. Her voice was a smooth purr that washed over him. “A man like you has probably never had the opportunity to explore his own desires. There are things I can offer you. You could have anything you want. You could live in a mansion much larger than my palace if you wanted. Drive a fleet of exotic cars. Own a yacht. Have women dangling off you at all moments. Women like me.”
At the last word, he flinched, although only very slightly. And then he froze, kicking himself for reacting, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course, she had.
“What’s wrong, big boy? Got a monster under the bed? I’ll chase it away,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat and said, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You’d rather stand around and wait for your recurring nightmare, then? Do as you wish.” She flicked her hand at him, dismissive. “If I were you, I’d rather take my chances with the unknown than stand around waiting to get shot.”
“Who told you about that?” he demanded.
“Just a good guess. But vediamo…‘let’s see.’ I already guessed during the fireworks that you were a gunshot victim. And the way you cower and hesitate ever so slightly when you enter certain alleyways…well.”
“And the dream?”
She lowered her lashes, masking her eyes for a moment. “That part was a complete shot in the dark, so to speak.”
“You’re the only one who has ever figured it out,” he said, not quite knowing why he was telling her. “Other than Michael, you’re the only one who knows.”
“Perhaps I’m the only one who cares,” she purred. “Come, let me take that pain away,” she said, drawing away, sliding her fingertips down his arm. “Come with me.”
“I’ll keep my pain, thank you very much,” he said, wanting to reach out and grab her.
“If you won’t cooperate, that’s fine. I don’t need your permission. Where did we leave off the last time we were together?” she said, moving up against him. “As I recall, we were standing in a doorway near San Marco’s when your boss interrupted us.”
Around them, the dark mist began to solidify, the scene around them crystallizing into the place where they had stood last night. She pressed herself against him, backing him into the door this time.
“This is how it was, no?” she purred, smoothing her palm down the length of his torso.
“Knock it off,” he growled, grasping her wrist and attempting to hold her at arm’s length. Trying to remind himself of Mich
ael’s warning. “Not like this.”
She paused, relenting a little. “What do you want, then? You angels are so bland. Your deepest, darkest sexual fantasy is probably a threesome in a haystack with couple of cowgirls. Let me show you the possibilities of what you can experience.”
Around them, the environment dissolved, the colors of Venice blending into a whirl.
When the scene began to solidify, they were on a stretch of beach that curved into a long, deserted crescent, rimmed by palm trees. Two girls, a blonde and a redhead, frolicked topless in the ocean, beckoning to him from the waves. When he made no move to join them, they came out of the water, giggling as they walked toward him, their breasts sparkling with seawater.
“This is not my fantasy,” he ground out.
Luciana tilted her head to one side, her eyes poring over him. “Really? What do you want? More girls?”
Out of nowhere, a few more women appeared in the surf.
Brandon crossed his arms, making no effort to move toward them.
The scene shifted around them again. This time, Luciana had taken him to a sumptuous bedroom, with a woman and two men on a bed. The men were fit and well muscled, and they smiled invitingly as they saw Brandon.
“Why not come join us?” said the man.
“Or I could leave you boys alone, if you prefer,” said the woman.
Luciana lingered in the background, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
“Sorry, wrong again,” Brandon said.
“What do you want, then?” Luciana said, frustrated. “Tell me.”
All I want is you, he thought.
The words, not spoken aloud, hung in the air between them, as visible as if they had been written in black and white. Shouted as loudly as if they had been screamed through a megaphone. Those words terrified her, he knew. Which was why she had tried to put so many people, so many creatures of pleasure between them tonight.
“Are you afraid of what will happen if we’re alone together, just the two of us? Like it was last time?”
When you pulled away?
“Of…of course not,” she said. But she was trembling, almost imperceptibly.
“I’ve had enough,” he told her. “Take me back to Venice.”
The Demoness of Waking Dreams (Company of Angels) Page 15