Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy
Page 150
He had time and time enough to make his plans and so he stood, enjoying his success, as a warm, persistent rain began to fall. The ants below scattered, scurrying for shelter. Soon the streets were empty of human beings.
He clutched the case more closely under his arm, realizing that his illustrations were in need of a dry space. In the blink of an eye, he traveled down the side of the dome to a lower half dome, before running across the square and clambering up the side of an adjacent building. Soon he was on the roof of the Arciconfraternita della Misericordia.
There was a time when he would have served the Arciconfraternita, joining in their mission of mercy, rather than running over it without a thought. But he hadn’t exercised the gift of mercy since 1274. In his new form, the concept of mercy never entered his consciousness.
He flew through the rain at great speed, heading toward the Ponte Vecchio, when the smell of blood filled his nostrils. There was more than one source, (or vintage as he called it), but the scent that attracted his attention was young and unaccountably sweet. It resurrected in him memories long forgotten. Instantly, he changed direction and increased his speed, moving toward the Ponte Santa Trinita. His black form was a blur against the night sky as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop.
Other monsters moved in the darkness, from all parts of the city, racing toward the place where her innocent blood cried out from the ground.
As he ran, the question uppermost in his mind was: Who would reach her first?
About the Author
Sylvain Reynard is a Canadian writer with an interest in Renaissance art and culture and an inordinate attachment to the city of Florence. (Parenthetically, it should be noted that the snarky narrator of Gabriel’s Redemption was contracted to write this biographical description, and he can attest that SR is, in fact, real, and has an enviable collection of argyle socks).