by J. D. Brown
“The modern kind,” I snorted. That’s when I realized I hadn’t touched my bag since I’d packed. Jesu had been carrying it around the entire time, from the castle to the car, to the airplane, to the water taxi. Boy was I a schmuck.
“Consider me old-fashioned.”
“Duly noted.” I led him next door, into the bedroom nook, where two queen-sized beds stood against the wall.
“Oh, Jesu, darling,” Maria said, while transferring a few items into a dresser drawer. “Do be a dear and call our client to let him know we’ve arrived.”
Client was what we were calling the vampyre sire of the alchemist, Hesiodos. Jesu had let Maria give me the four-one-one during the flight to Italy under the assumption that Valafar wouldn’t follow us into the king’s jet undetected. The sire was a man named Lycaon, an ex-king of the Greek Vrykolakan clan. Overthrown and excommunicated by his own people, Lycaon now resided here in Venice.
“I will.” Jesu set my suitcase next to the bed opposite Maria. He opened the zipper and began to remove my belongings.
“Whoa, hey! I can unpack my own things, thank you very much.”
Jesu frowned at his hands and dropped my toiletries. “Just be ready to go in an hour.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure thing.”
To Maria, Jesu added, “Make sure she eats something.”
Maria grinned and went to the phone on the nightstand. She picked up the receiver, dialed the lobby, and said something in Italian. Jesu nodded and then left the suite. I sat on the edge of the bed and pouted.
Maria placed the phone in its cradle. “Try to enjoy the attention, darling. The Korento royal family hasn’t had a baby in over two millennia.”
“It’s not the attention that’s bothering me.” At that, I stood and went to the bathroom. Despite Jesu’s advice to be ready in an hour, I took a long thirty-minute shower, using more of the hotel’s complementary shampoo than needed because I liked the smell. It was some kind of lemon and plum fusion that beat the hell out of smelling like rancid bile. After, I asked Maria what the proper attire would be for meeting an anathematized king and his protégé. She suggested something business-casual and lent me a black lace skirt that brushed my ankles when I walked. I paired it with a white tank top and ballet flats.
Room service delivered the meal Maria ordered. She tipped the bellhop and then sent him on his way. I lifted the lid from the serving tray. My brow arched at the two slices of bread, mustard, cheese, and salami. “We go to Italy and you order me the most American thing on the menu; a sandwich? Really?”
She snorted. “You can’t taste it anyway, dear.”
“It’s the principle.” I opened the sandwich and peeled off the meat slices, setting them on the side of the dish.
“You need the protein.”
“I’ll try it later, when I’m not at risk of vomiting in front of the client.” I bit into bread and cheese, but tasted ashes. I gagged, chewed, gagged again, and then managed to swallow. “Please tell me this gets easier.”
Maria covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Welcome to motherhood.”
I sucked in a deep breath, pinched my nose shut, and then took another small bite, but the old hold-your-nose trick didn’t help. I set the sandwich down, giving up for now. “So what’s our client like?”
Maria tilted her head in thought. “Old. Disagreeable. Greedy. I imagine he still holds a grudge.”
“I recognize his name. From history class, that is. Zeus turned him into a wolf for killing his sons. Some werewolf enthusiast would credit him with Lycanthropy.”
Maria chortled. “Werewolves are just silly human nonsense.”
I gave her a sidelong glance. “But the Vyrkolakans are wolf shifters. So there is some truth to the myth.”
“Well, I’m afraid any resemblance to the legend ends there. Vyrkolakans are vampyres, not humans who turn into dogs under the full moon.”
“So, he didn’t kill his sons?”
Maria shook her head. “His offspring are alive and well.”
“What about the vampire? What’s he like?”
“To be honest, I’ve never met Hesiodos. Vampires are kept out of the light, in every sense of the word, especially those still under the command of their sire. We don’t need to worry about him, though. He’ll do whatever his sire tells him to do.”
That made me wonder. I’d like to talk to Hesiodos about his relationship with Lycaon to see if I could glean some insight to the inner workings of Jesu’s mind. So far, everyone made it seem like Jesu was completely helpless, but their opinions could be biased. Bridget would say anything to break us up, and Maria and Jalmari were vampyres. They couldn’t really understand the effects of the curse from Jesu’s perspective. If the sire compulsion had a loophole, I wanted to know about it.
Chapter 16
I finished the last bit of the cheese sandwich when a soft knock sounded at the door. Maria answered it. Jesu stepped across the threshold. His gaze traced the length of the black lace skirt wrapping my legs, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Um…ready to go?”
I rubbed my hands together to brush off any lingering crumbs. “All set.”
“Remember your sunglasses.”
I grabbed the shades and put them on top of my head like a hairband. Maria grabbed the satchel containing Leena’s spell book and placed the strap over her shoulder. The three of us entered the hall and went to the elevator before I realized a member of our group was missing. “Wait a second, where’s Brinnon?”
“He decided to stay in.” Jesu nodded over his shoulder in the general direction of their room. “He thinks he draws too much attention and will slow us down.”
I frowned. “That’s a shame. He was so jazzed about coming with us.”
“Don’t feel too bad, darling,” said Maria. “This isn’t his first time in Venice.”
“Should one of us stay with him?” I asked as the elevator bell dinged and the doors parted. “I feel like we should have brought Tancred or one of the soldiers with us.”
We entered the crane and Jesu pressed the button for the lobby. “Brinnon is a thousand years old; he can take care of himself. Besides, nothing will happen to him here.”
I didn’t want to push the subject, so I kept my mouth shut, but I still didn’t feel right leaving Brinnon behind. I had enemies. Dangerous enemies that could shift into giant venomous snakes. Anyone in my company could be caught in the crossfire. I felt responsible for the prince. True, he signed a contract swearing to help me, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to be at risk.
The elevator released us into the lobby where we continued outside onto the lush floral dock. I lowered my sunglasses, placing them firmly over my eyes. The hour was well past midnight, but the city was still wide awake. Lights strung from the rooftops and inside shop windows gave a false sense of day. I breathed through my teeth and ignored the tourists. Jesu waved down a water taxi and handed the human driver a slip of paper with an address written on it.
“Ah,” said the man in a flamboyant Italian manner. “Donna waste your money on this show! It is a, how you say, a rip off? So many other magnifico things to see in Venezia. I show you, yes?”
Maria smiled and then said something to the man in his native language.
The boater looked at the three of us and shrugged his shoulders. “Benvenuto a bordo, signora!” He offered a hand to Maria and helped her cross onto the small boat.
Jesu stepped across and then held out a hand to help me. I took full advantage of the situation and lifted my arms to his shoulders, knowing that my top would ride up. Sure enough, Jesu caught my bare midriff as I made the tiny leap into his arms. He held me against his chest while I slid down the length of his torso, until the toes of my shoes touched the bow of the boat. His hold lingered and my skin burned where our bodies touched. I glanced up, only to fall into his deep emerald eyes. Jesu wet his lips and bowed his head, until our breaths mingled. He stopped there, waiting for permission. My lips twitched in anticipati
on.
Unfortunately, now was not the time, nor the place, to divulge in such cravings—and I didn’t know if it would ever be the right time again. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away. Jesu tore his hands from my sides and sat next to Maria, keeping his gaze on the water. I took the seat on Maria’s other side and tugged the hem of my tank top well below my hips. What was I thinking, pulling that stunt? I couldn’t give Jesu mixed signals. It wasn’t fair to him. I had to be stronger.
The driver revved the engine and we sped along the Grand Canal. After a few blocks, we turned onto a narrow channel. The brown brick and cement buildings lining either side were so close that at one point I could have reached across the water and knocked on a window. Romantic stone bridges passed overhead, connecting one floating neighborhood to the other. The dreamy sensation of being transported to another world came over me as we floated under the dark shadows of the bridges. It was mystifying, magical, and a little thrilling. I adored the canal network and wished I could travel like this all the time. I couldn’t imagine living here and ever being in a bad mood because of the commute to work.
We rounded two more channels and then the scenery changed. The waterway widened just enough for our taxi to amble slowly through the center lane while row after row of small motorboats sat along either side, sashaying with the tide. Small, single-level homes with shabby ceramic shingled roofs and box-like windows were set back from the water, allowing for a much wider walking space along the docking area. Bright colors painted each house; one green, one orange, one blue, one brown, one yellow, and so on in no apparent order. Those that had doors sported a plain slab of wood, but most weren’t so lucky and made use of curtain sheets strung across the entrance. Laundry hung out to dry flapped in the breeze of our wake as we passed them. The magnificent buildings along the Grand Canal harbored a long-setting rot, but they wore their decay with pride and elegance, as a show for the tourists. This area, however, just looked rotted and forlorn. The air smelled of sardines, and the houses were dark, not a single soul in sight.
“Where are we?” I said to no one in particular.
“In a fishing district,” Maria answered.
We neared the end of the block, and the colorful houses gave way to a large red and white striped tent. A tattered life-sized plastic wolf model dressed in a clown hat and collar held a sign in its jaws that read CIRCO DI LUPI. Our driver stalled the engine and parked the taxi in front of the plastic wolf. I blinked in confusion, and then glanced at Maria and Jesu.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Maria flashed a knowing smile and then hoisted herself onto the dock. She turned and offered her hand.
“Tell me he lives in the building behind the tent,” I said while taking her hand and stepping off the boat.
Jesu paid the driver and then offered him a few extra bills. “Wait here. We won’t be long.”
The man looked uncertain, but he took the money and nodded while killing the ignition. Jesu climbed onto the dock and the three of us stood side by side, taking in the yellow patches of grass and discarded littler that the tent sat on. There didn’t appear to be a door, just another sign with dates and times on it. Of course, there weren’t any showings at two o’clock in the morning, and the lot looked vacant.
I leaned toward Maria and whispered in a tone too soft for human ears. “This is what a fallen king does? Join a circus?”
She shook her head. “Not join. Created. It’s a family business.”
I lifted one brow. “Charming.”
Jesu started walking. He marched around to the side of the tent and then disappeared behind it. Maria and I followed. At the back of the lot stood a rectangular cement house with cracked corners and pale yellow shutters that hung askew by their last remaining hinge. Vintage circus posters, flyers, and torn ticket stubs covered the windowpanes like cheap wallpaper. Scruffy clown dolls in broken flowerpots sat on either side of the door. A dusty demon mask hung over the spot where one would ordinarily expect the peephole. Above the mask hung a sign that read MUSEO DEL CIRCO.
Jesu banged on the door. For a long moment, nothing happened.
“He is expecting us,” I murmured. “Right?”
Maria wet her lips, as though to speak, but then movement sounded on the other side of the door. The knob turned and the door cracked open. A sliver of moonlight filtered into the dark house and cast a silver radiance upon a pale feminine face with sultry black eyes. She said nothing. She simply stood behind the door with all of three inches opened to us, staring.
Jesu cleared his throat. “Ciao. We have an appointment with your…” he looked the woman up and down, as though trying to gauge her relationship with the client. He gave up. “…with Mister Lycaon deí Lupi.”
The woman narrowed her gaze and scanned the three of us. “Who are you?” Greek accented her English instead of Italian.
Maria pushed past Jesu. “I am Maria ta Korento, the Neo-Draugrian Hand. This is Prince Jesu, and our dear friend, Ema. Jesu spoke to your alpha an hour ago. He is expecting us.”
“Wait here.” The door abruptly shut. I listened as some commotion, the shuffling of feet, and a lot of yelling took place. Then the door creaked open. The black-eyed woman lifted her nose and sniffed. “Come inside.”
She backed away, disappearing into the dimness. The three of us entered. To call the house dark said something for a vampyre, but the room really was almost pitch black. I removed my sunglasses to find the space faintly lit by a plastic clown-shaped nightlight. Deep purple, royal blue, and gold scarves hung over a three-piece furniture set, with the chaises and coffee table pushed within an inch of each other, a lot like what one might expect to see in a stereotypical gypsy caravan. Circus figurines, helium balloons, and old toys cluttered every nook and cranny. A vintage popcorn stand stood in one corner. A ticket booth with a cardboard cutout of a cartoon ringleader stood on the opposite side. Picture frames held faded prints of wolves dressed in frilly collars and silly pointed hats. I wondered where they kept the poor animals, since I hadn’t noticed any cages outside. Then I mentally scolded myself.
Remember whose company you’re in.
Maria had said it was a family business, after all.
“This way.” The female vampyre gestured with a slight tilt of her head. She was dressed in full costume, wearing a nude-colored leotard with clear sequins that shimmered as her hips sashayed across the crowded room. White tail feathers fanned gracefully from her behind. Her hair had been pulled into a tight coil at the top of her head, showing off a long slender neck. She turned that neck to glance over her shoulder at Jesu. She didn’t bother to hide the mirth in her upturned lips when Jesu met her gaze and blushed.
My fists clenched. Oh no you don’t, sister. I just got rid of the last one.
She led us to a set of stairs at the back of the house. We ascended the first few steps when an idea took root. I grabbed Jesu’s hand and feigned a sudden weakness in my knees. I wobbled and let myself fall against his chest. Jesu didn’t miss a beat. His gaze immediately lit with concern, and he braced himself. His hands automatically went around my waist, catching and holding me against him. It was as though we’d choreographed it. I bit back a laugh, trying to look innocent, but Jesu’s sideways smile stretched wide, the dimple in his left check deeper than I’d seen it in days, and we both burst out laughing.
“Having some trouble?” Jesu whispered while running his palms along my back.
“Not anymore,” I grinned.
The woman humphed and then stomped up the remainder of the steps, feathers riffling. Maria rolled her eyes and bounded after the woman. Jesu swept one arm in a wide arch, as if to say ‘after you’. Smiling, I righted myself and then ascended the stairs.
Old posters lined the stairwell with images of an elaborately dressed magician surrounded by menacing wolves. The magician looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I had seen him before, and the posters were so worn that a lot of the detail had faded. At the bottom of
each poster was the moniker Hesiodos il Magnifico. The protégé was Lycaon’s main attraction. No wonder he refused to part with the vampire.
We reached the top and rounded the corner into a hallway. The leotard clad woman approached a door at the end of the hall and tapped her knuckles against the wood. She leaned in close and murmured something before gripping the knob and opening it. We followed her inside.
The room was large with cream and gold striped wallpaper, but it was also painfully cluttered. Laundry racks jam-packed with frilly costumes were parked all across the floor, making a sort of colorful satin and tulle maze. We ambled around the racks, careful not to step on several discarded shoes. A Hollywood dressing room styled vanity stood against the widest wall. The light bulbs were missing from the sockets, since its current occupant could see better in the dark. Makeup and hair products covered the tabletop, but the large man seated there did not touch them. His back faced us, showing off a velvet forest-green tailcoat. Exactly the sort of thing you’d expect to see on a circus ringleader. I really hoped Lycaon’s career didn’t spill over into his personality. If he spoke in riddles and punch lines, this would be a long night.
The vampyre turned to greet us, a devilish grin revealing all his razor sharp teeth. His eyes were the darkest shade of black, with no way to discern where the pupils ended and the irises began. He rose to his full height. The ceiling cast a shadow over the top half of his face, making his onyx gaze appear darker still. His voice slithered from his tongue, sounding more like a snake than a wolf.
“Prince Jesu, darling Maria, it is an honor to finally meet you both.” Lycaon shook their hands and then glanced at me, a close-lipped smile lighting his features. He inhaled, and his nostrils flared as though smelling something delicious. “You must be Ema.”
He reached for my hand, but Maria stepped forward and intercepted. “The pleasure is mutual, Lycaon. This is quite an establishment you have here.”
“Pah! It’s a dump, you can say it.” Lycaon turned to the woman who had ushered us inside. “Shea, bring our guests something to drink.”