“Once he took me back to England, I saw another side of Harcourt that was far from genteel. A cruel, perverse side that was drunken and harsh, that thought nothing wrong with beating me until I bled. But in those times, if a man had wanted to beat his wife, there was nothing she or anybody else could do about it.
“And it was all for nothing.
“As soon as I left Venice, Carlotta was married to the decrepit old pedophile in my place. Il vecchio pedofilio had gotten his beautiful bride in the end, after all. One that was even younger than he had hoped for. My sister was only twelve years old.
“I had thought I would have time to figure out a way to help her. But I was wrong.
“In Venice in those days, marriage was often delayed into the twenties, not like it had been in earlier centuries. My sister’s wedding was not illegal. But to me, my parents had committed an act of monstrosity. In hindsight, it was an act of desperation.
“The old pedophile was every bit as bad as I had feared. As the years ticked by, Carlotta’s innocence ripened into maturity. She was no longer the child bride the old pervert had paid for. He took to frequenting whores, the younger the better. He contracted a bad case of syphilis and passed it on to Carlotta. She suffered a string of miscarriages due to the illness. She wrote me letter after letter detailing her misery, but there was nothing I could do. I was helpless, trapped beneath Harcourt’s petty despotism.
“Ten years after I had come to England, I ran into Julian Ascher in a ballroom in London. I hated him, but I hated Harcourt more. I threw myself on Julian’s mercy. Begged him to kill Harcourt in a duel. I had thought it would be a sure thing. My drunkard husband was normally incapable of walking a straight line, much less shooting straight. But the duel didn’t go as planned, and both men were killed.
“I buried Harcourt and bowed my head at his funeral, as a good widow should. But I did not truly mourn him. Nor did I feel badly for Julian. I didn’t regret the way that he died, nor the fact that his death solved my greatest problem.
“I rushed home to Venice, hoping to finally help Carlotta. She was heavily pregnant again with a child she thought would survive. But I was too late.
“She died in childbirth, and the baby died shortly after taking its first breath.
“I survived for a year after that, a free woman at last.... Until Harcourt clawed his way out of hell and strangled me.”
The sun began to creep over the horizon, spilling light into the room and washing over his face. She saw the tiredness in his eyes; she was tired, too. Too tired to recount anything more. There was too much, too many years…
“What happened then?” he pressed. “How did you get out of hell? How did Carlotta end up at the brothel?”
“That’s a story for another day, caro. You asked why I hate Julian Ascher so much, and there is your answer. Tonight, we have already run out of time. The rest will have to wait for the future.”
The future. What a ridiculous notion, she chided herself. The idea of a time between them that would be peaceful enough for the telling of stories…that was more nonsensical than a fairy tale. She reminded herself, Demons don’t live for the future. Not a real future. We might be greedy for something we want. But mostly, we are trapped in the past. Or we live for the moment. But if we are swayed by considerations of the future, those considerations have only to do with revenge.
“Come with me. You know you can. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I can’t just waltz out of Venice with you,” she laughed softly, laying her cheek on his broad chest, tracing her fingers over the images of ink drawn over his body. “The demon hierarchy will be out for my head. It is impossible. Corbin would retaliate. He would take revenge. There is Ca’ Rossetti to consider. I have worked for centuries to preserve it. It has been the seat of my family for over a thousand years. And there are other things…” she said vaguely.
“What? What is there that ties you to this city?”
Her eyes wide, she didn’t answer.
“You know it’s possible,” he said. “If Julian Ascher can change his ways, you can, too.”
At the mention of his name, she flinched. “Don’t talk about him.”
They sat for a long while, staring out to sea together.
“If it happened, I would have to make preparations. At home,” she said, very tentatively. “I cannot make any promises. There are others at stake, still. Other considerations, other people. My Gatekeepers…” she said, looking out to sea, wondering where Massimo had gone, whether he had enough sense to make it home without her.
“That you consider the possibilities is all I ask,” Brandon said.
She thought of Violetta, and the sad singing that rang through the halls of Ca’ Rossetti. Wondered if Violetta would ever find a way to let go of this world, and if Massimo had spent the night listening to that melancholic singing.
“Meet me at the opera,” she said, flinging the suggestion out, reminded by that thought. “Tomorrow night. I will consider it....”
* * *
Back at Ca’ Rossetti, Massimo and Violetta sat on the rooftop. He watched her wistful, young face as she watched the sun rise over the rooftops, unfurling the city into daylight.
“I wonder when she’s coming back,” he said.
“I don’t really care,” said Violetta. “I’m glad we have a little time to ourselves. A stolen moment, without her. Where did she go?”
“With her lover,” he admitted.
“The angel?” Violetta asked. “But she always says that demons are incapable of love.”
“Her whole way of thinking is unraveling,” he told her. “Everything she has worked so hard to accomplish is falling apart.”
“That is the nature of time, my love. The old falls apart. So the new can grow.” Violetta moved her hand to his cheek, mimicking the gesture of touch although the connection was impossible.
“How did you get so wise in such a short time on earth? And so brave? I’ve never seen anyone stand up to the baronessa like you, even when your life was at stake.”
She shook her head. “I’m not wise and I’m not brave, Massimo. I don’t even know if I can bring myself to do what is necessary....”
“What do you mean?” he said. “Have you figured out what you need to do to let go?”
She did not say anything, but bit her lip and let her long, brown hair hang forward; a sheer curtain covering her sheer face.
“If you know what to do, then do it. You must. That, or remain a ghost forever. Is that what you want? It’s not what I want for you,” said Massimo.
“Of course that’s not what I want,” she whispered. “I want to touch your face. I want to hold your hand and feel your breath when you whisper in my ear. I want to be. I want to stay in this world with you, forever.”
“We will see each other again, Violetta,” he murmured, closing his eyes and wishing he could hold her. “I know we will. After you leave this place. We will find a way.”
But he knew no such thing.
He only knew that he wanted what was best for her, and that it did not involve him.
* * *
Very late at night, when Luciana stole back into Ca’ Rossetti, she heard the singing. So poignant and sad that she almost wanted to weep at the sound of it, right then and there.
Escaping with Brandon is impossible, she realized.
Dragging herself up the staircase of her beloved home, she had made up her mind.
To flee. Alone.
Because it was the only way she could think of to lessen the risk to those she loved.
Chapter Fourteen
In her bedchamber, Luciana pulled a box out from her dressing table. Hands shaking, by the dim light of her lamp she sorted through her best jewelry. She put aside only the best of the old family pieces that she had painstakingly recovered after her mother had sold them to various pawnbrokers around the city.
She would not let these treasures go again. Not even at the risk of getting caught
. Especially not after what had happened with Carlotta’s earrings last night.
“Going somewhere?” a familiar voice said behind her.
She jumped, the jewels spilling from her hands.
She pivoted to see Corbin, leaning against the wall, watching her.
“I knew it,” she said flatly. “I knew you would come. I knew you would find some way to intervene and spoil everything.”
“But what are you talking about, Luciana? Are you planning a vacation, my dear? Perhaps you feel like you need some time away after you deliver the angel. Tonight’s the last night, you know. I would have expected you would have finished the job by now.”
“I was simply looking through some of my things. Don’t worry, Corbin. You’ll get what’s coming to you,” she said.
“Are you having second thoughts? From my point of view, I can’t see that you’ve made any progress toward your goal. The Guardian is still out there. I have reason to believe you’ve been meeting with him in secret.”
“There’s no secret to the fact that I’ve been meeting with him,” Luciana scoffed, mustering as much bravado as she could, although she was shaking inside. “How else do you expect me to seduce him?”
“Are you falling in love with him?”
“Of course not. Not after I’ve had you,” she simpered.
“I’m not fooled by you, Luciana. I know you used me to get to Julian. You’re a liar and a whore. However, the fact that you’ve fallen in love with a sworn enemy is unexpectedly pathetic, even for you.”
She raised her chin and stared back at him. And dared to say, “What would it matter to you if I was falling in love with him?”
That was a mistake.
Corbin grabbed the jewelry she had dropped onto the bed, hurling it on the floor. Some of the more delicate pieces smashed apart, pieces of gold and precious gems rolling across the hardwood. A lump rose in her throat.
Do not cry, she told herself. He will destroy you if you cry.
“You’ve got a job to do. I told you to kill that angel. Tonight, the clock runs out,” he said, his voice terrifyingly normal.
“Brandon…he’s not nearly ready,” she protested weakly.
“You’ve gotten into his dreams, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but… I’m not even close. He’s strong. Too strong.”
Corbin slammed his fist into the wall beside her ear. She froze.
“There are rules in the interactions between angels and demons,” she said, closing her eyes, swallowing down her fear. “Rules that cannot be broken.”
“Rules can be bent,” he said, moving to loom over her. “You’ve said so yourself. Don’t forget what you are. What you’ve always been. A demoness and a whore.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “I know what I am. The task you set me hasn’t been easy, but I agreed to it, didn’t I? I will deliver the angel by the end of tonight. I hit some unexpected roadblocks, as I’m sure you know. There have been some deaths amongst the demon community here in Venice.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he said, straightening. Completely toneless, he continued, “But let me just say that those who deserved it got their end. Don’t fret about Carlotta. She spent a long time on this earth. Longer than most ever dream of. It was time for her to go.”
“So you did kill them,” she accused.
He came up, grabbed her by the throat. “Why would I ever need to admit to such a thing?”
The sensation of choking was unbearable.
Like death all over again. His eyes, as cold and as unfeeling as a serpent’s, bore into her.
No, she thought. A snake would have more feeling.
She felt herself fading, her vision filling with stars, a billion dots of light.
“I remember what it’s like to die,” she choked out, her voice barely rasping past her lips. “Just do it.” She let her eyes close, willing him to finish it. “Kill me.”
“Kill you, my dear?” he snarled. “I would never dream of making it so easy. No, darling. I’m taking you on a tour of your own private version of hell. Just to remind you exactly what’s at stake. Open your eyes.”
My own private version of hell. I can’t go back there. I won’t. She willed herself, Don’t…don’t…don’t open your eyes.
He shook her just once, but so hard she thought her eyes might snap right out of her head.
Very quietly he said, “Open your eyes, or I will open them for you. I will rip your eyelids off, and it will be unutterably painful.”
She had no doubt he would do it.
When she looked around, she and Corbin were no longer in her palazzo. They stood on the steps of the Redentore Church. Not the real Redentore Church. One that existed in the deepest reaches of her wildest fears. One whose pristine marble facade had been desecrated, the saints and angels beheaded and smeared with a black, oozing substance that seemed to slither toward her.
“Welcome back to the underworld,” Corbin said smoothly. “We’ve missed you down here.”
The sky was a mottled red, with dark scarlet clouds streaming overhead in clots, like a sped-up film shot through a bloodied lens. Thunder rumbled from above, and the ground beneath her feet trembled as though it would split open. But she knew there was no farther down she could go.
“Release me,” she demanded. “You have no power over me.”
“On the contrary, my dear. I have all the power in the world over you, until you manage to fulfill your end of the bargain. And until then, it’s in my hands to motivate you. Besides, didn’t you just invite me to kill you?”
He dragged her into the church. It was empty and decrepit, the long nave strewn with rotting leaves and broken plaster. The great crucifix loomed over the altar, the figure of Christ missing and a giant crack splitting the wood in the middle.
“On your knees,” he thundered.
“Not for you,” she ground out. “Not this time.”
He slapped her then. The sting of it reverberated in the space of the church and knocked her to the floor. She looked up toward the rounded space of the dome overhead. And closed her eyes, silently begging. Just one word: please.
“Do you think it’ll do you any good to start praying at this point, my dear?” he laughed. “Haven’t you learned anything after all this time? Do you think your saint is going to come save you now? That big, tattooed freak of yours isn’t coming to redeem you. I’ve told you so many times. It’s the other way around. Your job is to bring him down here.”
He grabbed her by the hair, hauling her to her feet.
“Your little tour doesn’t stop here. Let’s jog your memory some more. This is the little hotel where Julian had his rooms. Where you gave up your virginity to him. And there’s…”
She knew what was coming next.
The thing she always tried to forget.
The thing she hadn’t found the courage to tell Brandon.
“…the place where you tried to hang yourself after he abandoned you. But you didn’t succeed, did you? When you realized there was nothing you could do to save your family after all. When you realized you had failed. Admirable that you tried again, even after that disaster. Look, here’s the sucker you got to try to help you out of that. Harcourt. My, he hasn’t aged well, has he?”
She had not seen Harcourt in over two hundred years, since she had clawed her way out of this hell. His skin looked withered, shriveled, older than anything she had ever seen before. His head creaked as he turned to look at her.
“Ah, my dear,” he said, reaching toward her. “Luciana, my lethal little bride. I have been dreaming of what I would do if I ever saw you again.”
His ancient, clawed hand reached for her, grasping her around the arm. She almost screamed, but she knew such a sound could trigger a frenzy in Harcourt from which she would not escape. Forcing herself to swallow the scream, she shuddered, feeling the bony claw scrape its way across her chest to close over her breast.
“So fresh…” Ha
rcourt groaned.
“Perhaps we can arrange a reunion between you two later,” Corbin chuckled, jerking her away. “But right now, we must move on,” said Corbin. “There’s one more thing I’d like to show you.”
Pulling her by the hair, he dragged her into another room, this one a distorted version of Carlotta’s brothel. There, in the middle of the blood-spattered room was a pile of dismembered corpses. Among them, Luciana spotted the battered, bloodied faces of some of the girls she’d worked with years ago; others she hadn’t known personally but still recognized, girls she’d seen around Venice. They were mostly girls she’d seen at Carlotta’s only a few days ago, girls who had been laughing and cavorting, and breathing.
And among them was her sister’s face, her green eyes staring straight ahead.
“Even in hell, Carlotta is dead,” he said. “Nothing you ever do can get her out of here.”
Luciana looked at the pile of bodies, death piled upon death, stacked up.
She saw herself for what she was: a bringer of death.
One who brought nothing but suffering. She may not have killed these women herself, but she had killed plenty of women and men in the past.
And now, sent by the devil himself to perform the most sacrilegious and heinous act.
To kill an angel.
Not simply an angel, but a man who had grown to trust her.
A man who had grown to love her.
“What’s the difference between this version of hell and the one on earth?” she asked Corbin, genuinely puzzled.
He slapped her. Full across the face, so hard that she felt the inside of her mouth split open and the coppery tang of blood flow down her chin. His neutral expression didn’t even shift as he said, “Watch your mouth.”
She glared up at him. “Seriously. I don’t know. Whether being a slave in this hell or a slave on earth…both of them involve just as much suffering. What have those girls done to deserve this treatment? Nothing. Some of them weren’t bad people. Some weren’t even demons. They were human. Who gave you the right to take their lives?”
The Demoness of Waking Dreams (Company of Angels) Page 20