‘Admiring my collection?’ asked Romulus.
‘You’ve got a rather grisly taste in ornaments, I’ll say that for you,’ replied Quaint.
‘Ornaments?’ enquired Romulus. ‘They are nothing of the sort! They are souvenirs of the past; heirlooms and keepsakes. Each one holds the memory of a kill. I never wipe the blood from them. Each life they have taken becomes a part of them, strengthening them.’ Romulus growled under his breath and it was clear that he was not willing to banter politely for ever, and so Quaint immediately readjusted his mood.
‘You’re obviously not a big fan of the Hades Consortium and I happen to have experience in that department myself.,’ he began, tempering his words with care. ‘I’ve crossed paths with them several times in my life, only recently I’ve learned that things have got a bit too close to home.
I’ve discovered that one of their number was responsible for murdering my parents when I was just a boy. A man by the name of Adolfo Remus.’ The conjuror paused, seeing Romulus’s nostrils flare. ‘I see you’ve heard of him. Now, I don’t have a clue what Remus’s motivations were, and that’s something that I can’t seem to put out of my head. I can’t fathom my father’s relationship to the Consortium, or what he could have done to invoke its wrath. Now… considering your position in this city, I’m willing to bet that you’ve got connections all over the place… and my instincts tell me that considering your name, you might have a link with Remus. So… what do you think?’
‘What do I think?’ snarled Romulus. ‘Now that is a very good question. I think that you must be either extremely reckless or extremely desperate to come to someone like me for assistance.’
‘Probably a bit of both,’ admitted Quaint. ‘So… am I right? Your name isn’t just a coincidence?’
‘Whilst few people know my true name,’ said Romulus, ‘there are even fewer that know of my connection to Adolfo Remus… which puts you in a precarious position considering that I would like things to stay that way.’
‘I won’t tell another soul,’ said Quaint. ‘I give you my word.’
‘I may need more assurances than that.’ Romulus stood up from his seat and strolled around his quarters to stand at Quaint’s back. The conjuror’s heart quickened as he felt the Italian’s breath on the back of his neck. ‘You say that Remus killed your family when you were a child? So why have you not sought your revenge sooner?’
‘I only discoverd Remus’s name recently,’ said Quaint. ‘I learned that he was here in Rome, so I came here immediately to seek him out. But I admit that beyond that I’m a little out of my depth.’
‘You do not know how right you are,’ laughed Romulus. ‘But even if I knew where Remus was, what makes you think that I would tell you?’
‘Justice? Retribution? Take your pick,’ said Quaint.
‘I do not believe in justice!’ snapped Romulus. ‘Although retribution is a doctrine that I hold in very high regard. You came to my abode after dark and unarmed, which means that you have courage. You survived my Specialist’s techniques, which means that you have a strong will. And despite escaping with your life intact, you sought to risk it yet again by coming here this morning… which tells me that you are serious about this endeavour.’
‘Deadly so,’ said Quaint. ‘Pun intended, by the way.’
‘And if I do tell you where the Hades Consortium’s lair is, what makes you think that you will be able to get close to Remus? Many men have tried and failed. Many dead men, that is. What makes you think that you will fare any differently?’
‘Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve,’ smiled Quaint.
‘And what if you uncover some truths along the way that weaken your resolve?’
‘The only truth I need to know is that Remus is dead!’ snapped Quaint.
‘I was not referring solely to Remus,’ said Romulus. ‘With the Hades Consortium, everything is a calculated action. It does not murder anyone unless it has something to gain from it, and never without good cause. You may have to accept the possibility that your father was not as innocent as you may believe.’
‘Preposterous! My father was a good man!’
‘Yet you were a child when he was killed. How can you be so sure?’
‘I can’t. Not really,’ said Quaint. ‘But all I want is to know why he was killed. That’s all. An answer to a question that has plagued me all my life.’
‘I see… and so this is what I am prepared to offer,’ said Romulus, calming his rage only slightly. ‘I shall tell you everything that I know about Remus… and then you will understand.’
‘Understand what?’ asked Quaint.
Romulus bared his teeth. ‘That killing him is not in your power.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve killed men before.’
‘Remus is far more than just a man, and it will take someone just as monstrous as he to destroy him. When the moon rises, when it is at its fullest, he becomes a beast in body as well as soul. The full moon ignites the fury within him… but what makes him so dangerous is that he enjoys the transformation. It gives him an excuse to taste blood on his lips.’
‘Transformation/’ asked Quaint. He was listening to the Italian’s words, and he heard each one quite clearly, but they seemed to jumble themselves up into gobbledegook before his brain could make any sense of them. ‘It sounds as if you’re suggesting that Remus is some sort of… I can hardly say the bloody word!’
‘Legends and folklore have given the condition many names, Signor Quaint,’ said Romulus. ‘Lycanthrope, lupo mannaro, daemonium lupum and, more popularly, werewolf. In the old tales, werewolves were men made beasts by the light of the full moon, unable to control their urges to kill.’
Quaint laughed. ‘I’m familiar with the fairy stories, thanks. All that howling at the moon mumbo-jumbo! But everyone knows that werewolves are a bloody myth!’
‘All myths are based upon a fragment of truth, Signor Quaint… especially in Rome,’ said Romulus. ‘In the days before a full moon, the sufferer’s mind is at its most unstable. He can feel the change coming. He knows that he will soon lose all control. It claws at his resolve like an addiction. Either he can try to tame the beast gnawing at his insides… or he can give in to it willingly. Remus is glad of his affliction. He embraces it. All this is fact and you must accept it if you are to confront him!’
‘Poppycock!’ roared Quaint.
‘Is it?’ asked Romulus. ‘The moon has a power over many aspects of our world, Signor Quaint. The light of the day, the stars in the sky, the tides of the sea… why not over a man’s mind?’
Quaint shook his head, unwilling to accept such foolish talk any longer. ‘Surely you don’t seriously expect me to believe a word of this, do you?’
Romulus swiped the back of his hand across the conjuror’s cheek and Quaint crashed to the floor. The Italian crime-lord towered over him, his hands curled into balled fists. ‘Fool! Have you heard nothing that I have said? You do not understand what you are dealing with!’
‘No, I understand it perfectly… I just don’t believe it,’ said Quaint, rising to his feet. He wiped blood from his lips with the back of his hand, not even giving it a glance. ‘I accept that the moon can have an effect on the mind; after all, the term “lunatic” is derived from… from—’ The conjuror went suddenly quiet and his face displayed a hint of pain. Rummaging around inside his clothes, he pulled out his dented fob watch. Depressing a button atop the timepiece, it opened up like a locket and he read the engraved inscription within. ‘Cho-zen Li was telling the truth! The message was a warning! But hang on a tick… that would mean that Remus really is a… a…’
‘Signor Quaint, when you have quite finished rambling,’ said Romulus.
‘This watch!’ exclaimed Quaint. ‘It’s an old navigational tool used by mariners to predict the phases of the moon, and my father gave it to me just before his death. I’d had it for years, never really paying it much mind, until it was lost to me. Some time ago in Egypt it came into
my possession once again, and I found myself intrigued… as if I was looking at it again with new eyes. My father told me that the inscription inside read “Fortune and Family”, but I’ve since found out that he was wrong. Either that or he was lying, one or the other, or maybe both… but now… after what you’ve just told me, I’m beginning to think that it holds an even greater significance.’
Romulus’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why? What does this inscription say?’
‘“Beware the fifth phase of the moon,”’ said Quaint. ‘And this was supposedly a warning to my father that his life was in danger. Once I’d found out what it really said, I consulted my memory of astronomy from my youth, and remembered that the fifth phase of the moon—’
‘Is a full moon,’ said Romulus. ‘Then that surely proves—’
‘It proves nothing!’ snapped the conjuror. ‘But according to this device, there’s a full moon tomorrow night… which means that I’ve still got enough time. If Remus draws breath then he can be destroyed. But what the hell is it going to take to kill him?’
‘As I said… only someone just as monstrous as Remus can destroy him,’ replied Romulus, sinking limply into his chair. ‘Someone like his brother, Belisarius.’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere!’ cheered Quaint. ‘And where can I find this Belisarius chap?’
‘You are looking at him,’ said Romulus.
Chapter XVI
The Wolves of Rome
‘You?’ asked Cornelius Quaint, struggling to believe what he had just heard fall from Romulus’s lips. ‘You’re Belisarius? But you said that Remus is a… a…’
‘Lycanthrope?’ said Romulus.
‘Yes… one of them.’ Quaint could not help but pause, hoping that common sense would announce itself soon. ‘But if you’re his brother, that means you’re also a… a…’
‘Lycanthrope?’ said Romulus.
‘Yes… one of them.’ The conjuror scraped a chair across the floor and flopped into it, just inches away from Romulus, peering at his face curiously. ‘Is it really true? Not all that werewolf guff, I mean… the bit about you being Remus’s brother?’
‘All of it is true… even all the werewolf guff, as you put it’ said Romulus. ‘My brother and I are alike in some respects, yet thankfully not in all. I also share his affliction, but the difference between us is that when I feel the full moon calling me, I fight my urges. I shut myself away within my room and order my men to chain my doors. I am imprisoned in here until my inner beast can be conquered.’
‘What happens? I mean, when you… change,’ asked Quaint. ‘Forgive my curiosity, but it’s not every day you meet a… a…’
‘Lycanthrope?’ said Romulus.
‘Yes,’ confirmed Quaint. ‘One of them.’
‘The transformation is not exactly how it is depicted in the stories that you might be familiar with,’ explained Romulus, though clearly not enjoying it. ‘It goes deeper than the physical. I can feel my humanity being stripped away from me layer by layer, my instincts become more primal, my thoughts more bestial. Some of my men once witnessed my transformation, and from what I understand, it was a rather… unpleasant experience for them.’
‘And you’ve been like this all your life?’ asked Quaint.
‘Since I was twelve years old,’ replied Romulus. ‘In males lycanthropy tends to emerge during puberty, and when I was younger I assumed the feelings within me were just another aspect of growing up. But then things went wrong. I was fourteen years old when I began courting, and as my thoughts were overcome by passion, I felt something welling up inside of me. Something that I could not control. My emotions were distorted and soon passion turned to murder. She was my first love… and my first kill. But I did not stop there. Every full moon it was the same. My father had hidden his own affliction from us so neither Adolfo nor I knew his secret… until we both witnessed his change for ourselves, and it was only then that we learned the truth of our heritage.’
‘And what did Adolfo think about all this?’
‘He was several years my senior, and he enjoyed the power that our ‘gift’ endowed him with,’ said Romulus. ‘But he and I were always at odds. I knew that I was a danger to anyone around me, so I ran as far away as I could. Many years later, I found my way to Rome and stumbled across this cathedral. I set up home here in the hope that the Lord’s light might rid me of my curse. I have not fully transformed now for almost twelve years.’
‘I’m tempted to give you a round of applause,’ said Quaint. ‘So what’s all this Remus business then? Why are you at odds with your brother?’
‘When I learned that Remus was a member of the Hades Consortium, I wanted to send him a clear message that I was always going to be his enemy,’ explained Romulus. ‘But he is well protected in his lair, and, unfortunately, reality cannot be relied upon to mirror mythology and there is no guarantee that I will be victorious against him. That is why I have been biding my time… amassing what fortune I can, training a loyal army of men to equip myself for the fight that I knew would come.’ Romulus pulled his grey hair free from its ponytail and ran his hands through it, instantly relaxing himself – and seeming to shrink by a good six inches in the process. ‘Now that you have arrived, a man sharing my hatred of Adolfo, now is the time that I have been dreading for so long.’
‘Dreading?’ asked Quaint. ‘You mean, because you’ll have to face your brother?’
‘Because I will have to face myself,’ replied Romulus. ‘To kill Remus I must become everything that I have fought to contain for so long.’
‘You’ll have to become just like him,’ said Quaint. ‘Embrace the monster.’
Romulus lowered his head. ‘If that is to be my fate. Whilst I have kept myself locked away down here, my brother has been causing untold damage… your tale is proof of this. I can hide no longer. If the world is to be rid of him, then it falls upon me.’
‘Us,’ corrected Quaint. ‘It falls upon us, remember? As an old bamboo seller in China once told me: “It is far better to strike the serpent’s head with your opponent’s hand rather than your own.” In other words, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. If you can help me get to Remus, then you just became the best friend I’ve ever had.’
‘Then it is agreed. We shall pool our resources and deal with Remus together.’ Romulus offered Quaint his hand. ‘Tell me, Cornelius, when you are not hunting werewolves, what is your occupation?’
‘I’m a conjuror by trade and the proprietor of a circus by chance,’ said Quaint.
‘Are you any good?’
‘At which? Conjuring or running a circus?’
‘Both.’
‘I happen to be exceptionally and inspirationally fantastic.’
‘At which? Conjuring or running a circus?’
‘Both.’
Romulus smiled. ‘And speaking of friends, yours might be worried what has become of you. We have been talking for some time.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Viktor,’ replied Quaint. ‘He’s got the patience of a saint, that one.’
‘Verdammt! Cornelius, how much longer are you going to keep me stuck out here with these numbskulls?’ roared Viktor Dzierzanowski as he paced around the confined tunnel, glaring at the guards that watched his every move.
The doors to Romulus’s room were snatched open, and out strolled Cornelius Quaint, a wide grin from ear to ear. He looked at Viktor’s puffed cheeks, the ruby blossom to his face and the perspiration on the German’s brow.
‘You’re sweating like a hog, Viktor. What on earth have you been doing?’
‘What do you think I have been doing? Waiting for you!’ Viktor barked, taking a swift step back as the broad form of Romulus joined Quaint’s side. ‘He did not tear you limb from limb, I see. A pity! Well? I presume that you explained everything and now we have a plan?’
‘Plan?’ Quaint clamped a firm hand on Romulus’s shoulder. ‘Actually, Romulus was just about to explain, and considering some of the sticky-fingered expl
oits that you got up to in your youth, Viktor, I think you’d better join us!’
Chapter XVII
The Sticky-Fingered Exploit
Soon, Romulus and a small group of his men led Quaint and Viktor to the cathedral’s chapter house, an octagonal room with marble seats set against each of the walls. Rectangular windows on every wall allowed streams of mid-morning sunlight to illuminate the room and a smaller octagonal marble plinth set in the exact centre. As Romulus entered the room, he placed a long roll of parchment upon the plinth and unfolded it. Enthralled by developments in his favour, Quaint took a closer look. The parchment featured a roughly sketched ink-drawn map of some kind. Quaint waited patiently for an explanation, and soon Romulus accommodated.
‘In AD 410, when Rome fell at the hands of the Visigoths, the Eternal City was destroyed,’ Romulus began, his audience captivated as his voice reverberated around the octagonal walls. ‘All that had been before was demolished, and work ensued to make way for the rebirth of Neo Roma, building directly on top of the old city’s ruins. Parts of it are still there, deep underground, and many new roads and homes were built right on top of them. Consequently, the old roads now form a network of subterranean passages that criss-cross the entire city.’ He prodded his finger onto the parchment upon the plinth. ‘With the map’s aid, we can get directly inside the Hades Consortium’s base of operations. But there is a snag.’
‘Surprise, surprise,’ grunted Viktor.
The Romulus Equation Page 9