Raphael (The Immortal Youth Book 1)

by Monica La Porta

  Monica La Porta

  Raphael

  Book One of The Immortal Youth

  Copyrights and More Information

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Monica La Porta

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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  Dedication

  To Roberto.

  Prologue

  Rome, 2011

  Raphael zigzagged in and out of the back alley, trying to lose the enforcer. The sucker had been on Raphael’s tail for a while, and so far, he had managed to escape the long hand of the law. Running at full speed, he glanced right and left, looking for a secluded spot he could hide and take a breather. A soft glow illuminated the ancient cobblestones paving the street, and dew covered the ground, which made his frantic jog a loud affair, where stealth was required. His trainer soles squeaked and squealed every time he changed direction.

  The annoying noise reminded him of that one time he played basketball with some mortal kids. Lanky, as only tall genes and neglect can assure, Raphael proved to be a natural. At the recent memory, a smile tugged at his lips. Booted steps echoed from the right, and he dove left under a marble arch.

  As an architecture enthusiast, he liked the Ghetto neighborhood, but it wasn’t built for midnight cops and robbers games. Too many dead ends, like the brick wall covered in ivy he found himself facing after his last turn. His wolf growled with displeasure.

  “I don’t like it either.” He steadied himself against what remained of a Roman column turned pedestal. The fat, black and white cat resting on top of the ruin raised a paw and licked it, as if taunting Raphael’s wolf, who growled louder. “Would you behave?” For once, he wished it was a full moon, so he could turn and run away using his wolf’s speed.

  The enforcer’s steps sounded closer. Raphael straightened himself and considered his options. With a loud yawn, the cat stretched, jumped down from the column, then with a second jump reached for the wall of the Renaissance building to Raphael’s right. Apparently without effort, the chubby creature hopped from brick to brick, until he cleared one of the balconies on the second story.

  “Stop where you are.” The bulky immortal, with the worst case of unibrow Raphael had ever seen, pointed a tranquilizer gun at him.

  This wasn’t the first time he had found himself in this particular position, and thus Raphael knew the gun wasn’t loaded with bullets, silver or metal, although at first glance it looked like a regular and very lethal Beretta. He was a thief, and a good one at that. Unfortunately, earlier that day, he had stolen the wrong item from the wrong vampire, and now he was in possession of vampire blood.

  He had never dealt in V, but wouldn’t waste time trying to explain his work ethic to the enforcer, once the man got ahold of him and discovered the vial he was carrying.

  “Raphael Letta, you are under arrest for stealing an engagement ring,” the enforcer proclaimed.

  “That’s what the bloodsucker said?” What a load of bull. Engagement ring my butt. A shiny diamond he could have sold for a month worth of food. But no. Inside the pouch Raphael had removed from the vampire’s breast pocket there was no ring, but V. Probably his. The perv.

  The magnitude of horse manure Raphael had dug himself in was Controller worthy.

  As in, the Controller would be called soon after the enforcer caught him. Raphael knew the procedure. The demon had been tracking him since the night he found him squatting in the barge under Milvio Bridge. Three years ago, but as clear as yesterday in Raphael’s memories.

  “You’ll be happy at the Renegade Youth Shelter,” the demon had said.

  Liar. Raphael still bore the sign of the lashes from Mr. B’s belt.

  Now, he was against a wall, with an enforcer trying to put him to sleep, so that the Controller could take him back to be abused by Mr. B, or whoever they had put in the bastard’s stead. No, thank you very much.

  Raphael turned, extended his arms over his head, hooked his fingers over a protruding tuff block and hoisted himself up, anchoring the point of his boots on a recess between the line of bricks and the ornamental cornice. Before the enforcer could grab him by his ankles, he jumped sideways to the adjacent wall. Then he pushed himself one story up, over the low wall of a balcony, and rolled onto the tiled floor. The French doors to his right looked easy to break open. Sure, it would add to his list of crimes, but hey, not like he was swimming in choices at the moment.

  The enforcer would be on him in a heartbeat.

  Raphael sighed. Breaking and entering. He was still a minor.

  “Come down. Don’t me make climb up there.” The enforcer sounded pissed.

  B & E it was. Raphael didn’t have to sweat to open the French doors, he lowered the handle—he had learned the hard way to always try the obvious first—and like magik, it opened. “Thank you,” he directed his prayer to the Great Wolf above. Easy didn’t come his way often. Usually, his was a hard life with a side of bad news.

  “Don’t you dare!” The enforcer’s barked command reached Raphael when he was already halfway through a hallway filled with paintings.

  A low noise coming from the end of the hallway startled him. He blinked and strained his senses to locate the source of the sound. His nose twitched when he caught a whiff of something sweet and very enticing. His heart beat faster and his wolf paced back and forth in his head. Without thinking, he followed his nose and found himself at the end of the hallway. Before him, a minute girl—a werewolf like him—with vivid green eyes stared up at him with great curiosity.

  Raphael’s wolf stopped pacing and he froze as well.

  “Who are you?” she asked in a melodic whisper.

  Raphael couldn’t answer. He was transfixed by this vision with the soft voice. From her scent, he knew—without knowing how—that she was special to him and to his wolf.

  “What are you doing here?” She tilted her head and a cascade of long, dark tresses embraced her shoulder. “Are you here to steal?”

  Raphael shook his head, as his wolf whined for him to nuzzle her throat.

  “Then what are you doing here?” She didn’t sound frightened.

  Fighting to keep his wolf at bay, Raphael found his voice at last. “I’m running from an enforcer.”

  “Why?” Her eyes widened, mesmerizing him.

  “Why aren’t you scared of me?” He stepped closer until they were almost touching, forcing her to raise her chin higher to look up at him, but even then, she didn’t flinch.

  She shrugged, a hint of amusement passing through her face. “Should I be?”

  She mocked him, but he felt he had to answer with the truth. “No, of course not. I’d never hurt a girl.” His wolf growled. “I’d never hurt you.”

  A knock on the outside door interrupted their conversation.

  “Police. Open the door.”

  Raphael was tired and didn’t want to put the girl in danger. She smelled like wolf, but nothing else in that house did. In fact, the two adults soundly sleeping in the bedroom two doors to the left were very much mortal.

  Perhaps, she was there to steal and he had ruined her plans. Great job, Raphael. He resigned himself to a long night at the enforcer station, followed by a private ride with the Controller. How lucky was he? Great Wolf, he hated his life so, so much. He stepped
to the side with the intention of opening the door to the officer. “Stay in the shadow.” At least he could play hero for one night.

  The girl smiled at him and brought a finger to her lips. “Follow me.” Then she extended her hand toward him.

  As the enforcer knocked louder, Raphael took her dainty hand in his and was surprised by the jolt of pure, undiluted happiness he felt at the contact. She was soft and warm against his callouses, and his wolf howled when she squeezed his hand. The words “home” and “haven” popped into his mind, followed by the image of a chocolate she-wolf running free in a meadow.

  “Come on.” The girl pulled him toward a room to the right.

  The small bedroom was lit by a nightlight. In passing, Raphael saw an empty bed, then noticed the pillow in the corner amid a pile of children’s books. The girl’s scent was strong in the room, and saw the pillow had an indentation. She had likely been sitting on it when he had interrupted her reading time.

  While his nose told him she didn’t belong there, his eyes told him she wasn’t there to steal either as he had thought at first.

  “This way.” She applied pressure through her hold to steer him to the left where a big, arched window opened into the night. “You’re okay with heights, right?” With another smile, she freed his hand from hers and opened the panes. “See you around.” Then she climbed over the windowsill and was out of the room, leaving him behind.

  He was sure he looked like an idiot standing before the open window, but when she released his hand, he and his wolf had felt lost. Sadness overtook him, but hurried steps coming from the other bedroom roused Raphael from his grieving stupor.

  “What is it?” a woman asked.

  “Open the door, ma’am. You’ve got an intruder—”

  Raphael didn’t linger to hear the rest of the conversation, jumping over the windowsill he landed on the cornice and looked around. The girl was gone and so was her beautiful scent. His wolf cried in despair long after.

  Chapter One

  Rome, 2013

  Raphael balanced his boots on the edge of the marble fountain as he walked over the smooth slab. Taking pride in not slipping over the water stains, he marched progressively faster but soon grew tired of the game. Facing the statue sprouting water from an amphora, he back flipped, made a figure as if he were riding a skateboard—he was holding his messenger bag thus—and landed on his feet. Scattered applauses followed his act, and he bowed. “Afternoon, good denizens of Rome.”

  The word of the day meant citizens.

  Every morning, he sat at the neighborhood cybercafé and read his email. Not having lots of friends, almost the entire bulk of his daily mail amounted to spam he deleted right away. The only exception was the online dictionary newsletter he religiously followed, and for which he had a folder named Personal Growth. Street-schooled, his daily goal was to use the new word in a sentence before he went to sleep.

  “Aced it.” He fist-pumped, and smiled at a girl he caught looking at him. “Mea domina.” My lady. Everything sounded better in Latin. Another interest of his. Living among Roman ruins had prompted him to study the language, if nothing else to know what the ancient inscriptions said. Tutoring himself was sometimes a challenge when there wasn’t a supervising adult checking on him. Although, the memory of his father’s judgmental words, “You’ll never amount to anything,” was usually a good motivator.

  Early in the afternoon, the bright sun of January illuminating the Eternal City in fresh colors, Raphael had decided to go for a stroll in one of the poshest neighborhoods in Rome, Quartiere Coppedè. Penniless on his birthday, looking at the buildings designed by architect Coppedè would be his treat. Tickets for Botero, the newest exhibit at the National Gallery art museum, were too expensive, but he hoped to scrape up enough money to buy one soon.

  The Roman Forum and the Coliseum were a few bus stops away, but he had visited them countless times and was in the mood for something slightly less archeological in nature. Sleeping in the catacombs had ruined the novelty of ancient for him. At the moment, Raphael couldn’t even stand the sight of a Roman column.

  To break the routine, sometimes he slept at the Den of Rejects, a clandestine community made mostly of underage renegades. He had discovered them while scouting around the spot he claimed as his own in the catacombs. The Rejects immediately welcomed him, but he hadn’t made up his mind yet if he wanted to be part of a community. Even though he liked the idea of making friends with some of them, especially with Angel, a were-panther who was particularly kind to him, Raphael still was weary. After having been subjected to rules and regulations under his father’s dictatorship for twelve years, he had come to value his freedom more than anything else.

  Sitting on the edge of the fountain, he looked at the building he had christened the Fairy House, because of its turrets, pinnacles, and gingerbread trims. A famous immortal owned that house and it was rumored he had all type of parties. Raphael wondered if he could sneak in just once. The wealth the villa exuded didn’t impress him. He wanted the peace and quiet he could afford if he had enough in life not to be constantly on the run or having to worry for his next meal.

  His nose twitched at the sweet scent of freesias coming off from one of the villa’s open windows. Crisscrossing his legs, he took out the sketchbook and the pencils from his messenger bag. To buy the art supplies, he had slaved for two weeks under Lazlo Torni, one sleazy werewolf who owned Faster Than Bite, a delivery service.

  The afternoon light cut the Fairy House in shades of whites and yellows, accentuating the golden accents on the frescoes covering the façade. After tracing the building outline on the paper, Raphael filled the frame with minuscule details. The sun was setting behind the house, when he raised his hand and looked at the finished drawing. Pleased by his work, he put away the sketchbook inside the messenger bag and uncrossed his sleepy legs. His back and his butt hurt, but he felt happy.

  Slowly getting up, he stretched his arms and looked around, only to spot the colossal frame of the Controller. “Great Wolf—”

  The demon had his back to him, talking on a cell phone. Of all the places the man could be stalking in Rome, he had to be walking around Quartiere Coppedè.

  “Happy sweet sixteen to me.” Raphael was sure there was a cosmic joke somewhere to be found, but was too hard-pressed to appreciate the humor in his current predicament.

  Forcing himself to slow his pace, he stepped away from the fountain and reached the side of the Fairy House, now in the shadow. His heart throbbed in his throat as he cleared the corner and kept walking toward the bridged archway delimiting the neighborhood. A red bus slowed down and stopped at the curb on Tagliamento Street. At a leisurely jog, he passed the arch and reached the bus stop, then hopped on the running board as soon as the bus exit doors opened.

  Passengers stepping out complained, but Raphael pushed through the crowd until he was safely ensconced in the middle of the cabin, sandwiched between the afternoon commuters. He dared one peep out of the large window and saw the Controller staring at him. The man shook his head with a pronounced grimace on his face. As the bus lurched forward, Raphael waved at the demon. “See ya.”

  Then a sweet scent he had never forgotten hit his nostrils and he turned, his heart beating as fast as his wolf’s as he faced a familiar pair of green eyes. A feeling of belonging descended upon him like a warm blanket.

  “Hi,” the girl of his dreams said.

  Two years had passed since the night of the botched robbery, but he thought of her every day. “You’re my mate and I’m in love with you,” he hurried to say, in case she would disappear again. It had been love at first scent for him, and he had known he would never love anyone else in his life. His wolf pranced around to be acknowledged.

  Her eyebrows shot up and her lips curved in an amused smile revealing dimples on her cheeks. “It’s nice to see you.”

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His wolf demanded that he nuzzled her throat, and Raphael’s breat
h hitched at the image.

  At the same time, the girl’s eyes lit and widened, casting a spell on Raphael who couldn’t see anything else but her.

  “Tickets, please.” Walking among the crowd, the bus controller advanced toward them, and Raphael swore under his breath.

  When he realized he had done so before the girl, he almost swore again. Polite company wasn’t something he was used to. The catacombs inhabitants had never complained about his colorful outbursts. “I didn’t mean to curse—”

  She laughed then. “It’s okay.”

  Shifting his weight from leg to leg, he glanced at the bus controller, then back at the girl and sighed. “I don’t have a ticket.”

  “Me neither.” The girl’s smile deepened as she offered her hand to him. “Come with me.”

  A sense of déjà vu possessed him as he took her hand. All his senses went in overdrive, while his wolf roared to be let out.

  “Hurry—” She pulled him toward the back of the bus. The bus controller was almost on them when they reached the next stop. The girl jumped down as soon as the doors opened and he followed her to the sidewalk.

  “We made it—”Raphael’s joy didn’t last long.

  On the other side of the street, the demon was waiting for him. The Controller must have run the three blocks at full speed and looked pissed.

  “You never quit, do you, demon?” Holding the girl’s hand tighter, Raphael sprang into action.

  The girl tugged at him. “Friend of yours?”

  Without relenting, he said, “We’ve been playing cat and mouse for a while.”

  “That must be quite annoying, you being a wolf and all that.” Her small laugh reached him.

  A smile escaped his lips. “You have no idea.”

  Ahead loomed the majestic building of Coin, the four-story department store Raphael never entered because of its extra-large security guards. The merchandise offered was too elegant for him in any case. His style ran more toward the homeless-seven-day-a-week kind of look, and less toward golf club-on-a-Sunday-morning. But, hey, it was never too late for a change of heart.