“We have no time to waste.”
“Let’s hurry back to Rome.”
Alexander’s and Marcus’s voices reached him over the din of people yelling, cell phones ringing, and his own pounding blood.
He turned and left the infirmary, his mind a black pool of terrifying thoughts.
****
Pain exploded in Martina’s shoulder as the hand that had grabbed her shoved her to the side wall and kept her pinned to it at an unnatural angle.
“Let’s see your face, shall we?” A cold voice accompanied another squeeze of Martina’s shoulder, then the hold relaxed and she fell to the floor. “Turn.”
She turned, not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t have a choice. Her body moved without her consent.
“You are pleasant to the eye. I’ll give you that.” A man wearing a black opera coat with a silk white scarf looked at her. His facial traits matched his attire, elegant and intimidating. He brought a finger under her chin and moved her face to better study her. “You’ll be missed, I’m sure.”
She opened her mouth to scream for help, but he placed his hand over her lips, pressed down, and laughed a quiet laugh, as if amused. “You won’t speak above a whisper.” The quality of his voice had that calmness that betrays detachment from reality.
He removed his hand from over her mouth and she tried again to scream. This time, she felt a weight pressing down on her chest and gasped for air.
Still keeping her face in place with one hand, the man caressed her cheek with the other. “I’ve been told it feels like drowning.”
Martina gagged and black dots exploded before her eyes. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the episode ended, and she found herself staring at the man’s eyes.
“I give you permission to speak.”
Panting, she remained silent, too scared to formulate coherent thoughts.
“Ask your questions, human.” He pushed her chin up with a sharp nail.
She found herself talking. “Who are you?” Martina wanted to escape his touch, but she couldn’t move.
“Name’s Claudius.” His upper lip curved up, revealing long incisors. “Not that you need to know that. But I’m feeling generous tonight.” He canted his head, the half-smile still there, his handsome features distorted by the coldness he emanated.
Martina was frightened. The man was evil. She could feel his cruelty in the way his eyes pinned her down with an icy stare as effectively as his hand had done. “What do you want from me?”
The finger under her chin dug deeper into her skin. “You? Why would you think I could want anything from you?” He raised his eyebrow with an air of haughtiness. “You are nothing to me but a means to an end.” With a slow and graceful movement, he rose and stepped away. “When I’m done with you, your lover and his friends will suffer. And that is what I want.”
A wind gust entered from the broken window, and Martina scooted on the floor, Samuel’s shirt floating around her, letting cold air bathe her drenched skin. She shivered. An image popped uninvited in her mind. A black cat playing with a small, white mouse. The cat’s paws downed on the mouse, throwing the writhing body in every direction, only to stop and start the game every few throws.
“It’s fun, isn’t it? After all, I am entitled to a bit of sport. Don’t you think?” The man, Claudius, leaned and reached out his hand to her, his face void of any emotion, which scared Martina more.
Her eyes flickered to the door. The instinct to scream was still there, but her throat closed again, and for a moment, she felt like choking. The feeling was gone a moment later, yet the pain remained.
He grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her up. “The cub in the kitchen won’t be of any help.”
The finality of the moment hit Martina. With nothing else to hope for, she wished Ophelia wouldn’t decide to check on her. “Please, don’t hurt her.”
Claudius kept her at arms’ length. “You do realize you are in no condition to ask anything of me.” The man’s voice had reached a new level of coldness and his words hurt like a physical blow. “But, don’t worry. I won’t touch the werewolf. She’ll have to live a long life with your death on her conscience. That will break her more than any torture I could inflict on her exquisite body. Your lover will hate her for not having saved you, and that, too, I find to my taste.” He applied pressure on her wrist and broke it.
Eyes wide, she couldn’t let her tears out. Her open mouth remained silent. Agony possessed Martina as her tormenter methodically and swiftly mangled her. A few minutes later, he let her down to the marble tiles, where she lay still and positioned like a misshapen puppet.
He looked down at her, satisfaction showing on his face. “One last question.”
“Why?” She wasn’t sure the word had left her mouth, but Claudius’s eyes lit.
He crouched before her, the hem of his coat absorbing blood. Maybe it was her blood. He stared long and hard at her before answering. “Because I have several scores to settle with your lover and his friends. The fallen angel has interfered one time too many in my business, slowing down my army by sticking his nose in places he shouldn’t have. But mostly, he and the Greek helped my enemy escape. I can’t exact my revenge on them because they are protected by paranormal laws. But I can kill you, a mortal, and leave the scene without a trace. Nobody will know I was here. Sure, a vampire will be suspected of the crime, and I will provide one.” He paused long enough to take a look at his watch. “The centurions and the angel will know it was me, but the Immortal Council’s bureaucracy and the Peace Pact Alliance won’t allow them to persecute me for your death. For anything else, yes, but not for your untimely and horrific demise. The angel will never forgive his werewolf friend, and with time he will also blame Marcus for what happened to you tonight. The centurion will know Samuel is right. The Greek will be devastated by his friends’ hate for each other. They are all too good and so predictable. Your death will be the catalyst for so much pain and sorrow, the pleasure of it will last me a while.” He sliced Martina’s wrist with one of his manicured nails, then straightened his legs and rose. “You will not pass out from shock. They’ll find you broken, staring at them in death, your mouth open in a scream nobody heard.”
Martina felt her vital essence escaping through what was left of her blood trickling down from the cut on her wrist. Blissfully, numbness came to dull the pain.
Claudius looked at his watch one more time. “Your fifteen minutes with me are up. It was a pleasure.” He smiled, gave her a mock bow, then stepped out of sight.
Martina heard a whooshing sound, then silence, and she knew she was alone. She refused to let the monster win and die the way he had planned for her. After having experienced Samuel’s love, she wouldn’t die terrified and bitter. She filled her mind with memories of her angel and her heart soared above her misery.
Noises from outside the bathroom interrupted her loop of thoughts. Martina felt the vibrations on the floor.
One timid knock. “Martina?” Ophelia’s voice came muffled from Samuel’s bedroom.
More knocks. “Martina? Are you done?”
The tick, tick of Ophelia’s heels accompanied her questions as if she were pacing outside. “Is everything okay?” Then silence for a few counts. “What’s that smell?” The gentle knocks became loud pounding. “Martina! Open up!” The door rattled on its hinges.
Martina heard the door forced open and saw the werewolf enter her line of sight.
Ophelia screamed, then was at Martina’s side. “What happened? Answer me, please.” She touched Martina, pressed one finger on her throat, cried, and blathered in several languages. “Martina, please don’t die. Please, oh gods, don’t let her die. Oh gods—” Abruptly, she stood and disappeared.
Martina was alone for a few seconds before she heard Ophelia hurrying back to her side, talking to someone.
“Diana, answer me.” Ophelia’s voice was frantic. She touched Martina once again, then left her hand on Martina’s arm. “
Diana, please answer me.” She sobbed and caressed Martina’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t die. Oh, gods, no—”
Warm tears bathed Martina’s arm. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything. Take care of my angel for me…
She saw Ophelia’s hand held her cell phone higher, and the woman’s face lit in hope.
“Diana? Thank the gods you answered. Hurry to Samuel’s apartment. Martina was attacked—” Ophelia paused a moment, listening to her interlocutor, then repeated the whole sentence a second time, and lowering her voice she added, “She doesn’t have much left.” She brought her free hand to her mouth, repressed a sob, breathed in and out, then made other phone calls, but only one person answered.
“Barnes, track down Samuel. I can’t find him and he needs to come back home.” Ophelia briefly explained what had happened to Martina. Then she sat down.
Thank you for not leaving me. Martina would have squeezed Ophelia’s hand holding hers to comfort the werewolf. Instead, she was forced to listen to her anguished confession.
“I wish I could change you. But I can’t. You’re too wounded and you’ve lost too much blood, and you’d die before the next full moon if I tried to transform you into a wolf. And I can’t let you die. He loves you and I can’t let you die. Please, forgive me, but I can’t let you die.”
Martina heard her repeating the same sentences over and over again like a lullaby as Ophelia caressed her arms.
All of a sudden, the werewolf stood. “She’s here. Hang in there. Diana’s here to help.”
Martina heard Ophelia running out. A moment later, voices exploded all around her. One was familiar.
“What happened?” Ravenna asked as she passed over Martina.
“I don’t know, but there’s no time left.” Ophelia sounded hysterical.
Martina thought she heard a kid cry.
“Ravenna, take Daniel with you, please.” A third woman came into sight. “Martina, can you hear me?”
A smaller and colder hand touched Martina’s forearm.
Ophelia crowded the space once again. “There’s no time to ask for permission.”
The woman faced Ophelia. “We can’t decide for her.”
“You would’ve decided for Marcus.”
“It’s not the same—”
“It is to me. She’s the love of his life…” Ophelia’s voice broke at the end. “Had she had a chance to survive my change, I would’ve already bitten her.”
“Oh, Ophelia—”
Martina heard pity in the woman’s voice.
“Turn her,” Ophelia whispered. “Please, Diana.”
Ophelia’s face disappeared and was replaced by the stranger’s, who looked at Martina with gentle eyes. “Martina, I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
Martina felt something sharp puncturing her wrist and her life sapped away into a peaceful darkness.
Chapter Eleven
As Marcus drove them back to Rome, Samuel listened to all the messages that had been left on his cell as he was led astray by Claudius. He should have known better than leaving Martina to chase Carta.
As if reading his thoughts, Marcus gently patted his shoulder and said, “I would’ve gone after anyone who threatened Diana’s life.”
Alexander assented from the back seat.
Samuel didn’t respond. He hadn’t said a word since they had to drag him away from the infirmary. Without thinking of the repercussions, he had thrown himself against Carta. Only the two centurions’ strength combined had saved the vampire’s life, and Samuel’s freedom as well. Had he succeeded in killing Carta—a defenseless man attacked apparently with no cause—no paranormal lawyer would have saved him from eternal exile from Earth. That might have been part of Claudius’s plan. And he might have not cared after all.
“Samuel, where are you? Hurry back home.” Ophelia had left three or four messages, all in the same vein. Then Barnes had called several times, but only left a message that said, “You should go back to Rome. Ophelia is looking for you.”
Ravenna had called Alexander, and Diana had called Marcus, and they had explained to him how Martina had been attacked and that Diana was attempting to save her. He listened to them, but didn’t react to their words of encouragement. Pain lacerated him from the inside, tearing apart his heart.
He entered his place without any knowledge of having left Marcus’s car and ran all the way up. Alexander and Marcus at his heels, Samuel tore through the living room as Ravenna stood from the couch. She held in her arms Marcus’s baby, and whispered something to Marcus as he took his child from her.
Alexander who had stopped by Ravenna called, “Samuel, wait—”
Samuel didn’t slow his pace.
Ophelia came hurrying toward him. “Samuel—” She was crying.
“Where is she?” He looked over her shoulders at the hallway leading to his bedroom. When she didn’t move aside to let him pass, he took her by her shoulders and forced her out of the way.
“Samuel, I didn’t know what else to do—” Ophelia took her face between her hands as her body was shaken by loud sobs. “Diana was my only hope to save Martina. Please, forgive me. I didn’t know what else to do. Martina was too hurt and needed blood, and only a vampire could’ve acted fast enough to keep her alive during the change. Samuel, please—”
Samuel heard her, but kept walking. There would be time for explanations later. If he still wanted to hear any. Hurried steps resonated behind him.
Alexander’s hand shot to Samuel’s elbow as he progressed toward his bedroom. “You should wait here.”
Samuel jerked his friend’s hand away without pausing. He had to see Martina.
Alexander said something. A second set of steps echoed in the hallway. Marcus too reached for him.
Samuel wouldn’t listen anymore. A step more and he was inside his bedroom, then he was at the master bathroom’s entrance, staring down at the floor, where Diana was leaning over Martina’s broken body. Diana was caressing Martina’s face with one hand, coaxing her lips open as she fed her blood from her open wrist.
“You must let Diana finish what she started.” Marcus came to his side and gently steered him away. “Come with me.” Samuel stayed Marcus’s hand with his, then collapsed to the floor. He couldn’t look away. Marcus lowered himself down and stood by him as they silently waited for Diana to transfer part of her vital essence into Martina. The process lasted several minutes during which Martina never gave any sign of life. Her unblinking eyes didn’t have any light left in them, and her hair was matted with drying blood.
Diana finally raised her head and looked at Samuel. “I drained her and replenished her. We must wait now.” Her eyes went to her husband next, and, one hand on the wall behind her, she slowly started to help herself up, but Marcus was immediately at her side. Even held up by her husband, Diana swayed. “I only need a moment,” she whispered to him.
Marcus took her in his arms, then turned to Samuel. “I’ll take her to the guestroom.”
Samuel crawled on hands and knees until he reached Martina. The shirt he had given her wasn’t white anymore, but stained in splotches of red in several shades, from vivid cherry to maroon. He scooted on the floor and carefully placed her head on his lap, then leaned to brush her cold forehead with small kisses.
“I love you.” He let himself cry as he rocked her body.
Some time later, Marcus came back. “You can move her to a bed now.”
Samuel cradled Martina against his chest and gasped when he felt the extent of the damage done to her body. He hadn’t had the courage to check, but now he felt all her broken bones and could only imagine the state of her internal organs.
“She’s knitting herself together,” Marcus said. “It isn’t pretty to watch, but she’ll be fine.”
Samuel acknowledged his friend’s words with a nod and brought Martina to his bed, laying her on the mattress with great care.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in
the living room with Alexander and Ravenna.” Marcus lowered his hand on the handle to close the bedroom’s door behind.
“Wait—” Samuel’s voice was hoarse.
“Yes?”
“How’s Diana?”
“She’s fine. She’s never created a vampling before and the procedure was taxing to her. But she’s sleeping the day off now and I took the baby to her.”
Samuel’s eyes went to the window, realizing only then that the whole night had flown by and the sun was already out. “I owe her, and you, everything.”
“You owe us nothing. If it weren’t for you helping us first, we wouldn’t be here.”
Samuel slouched on the edge of the bed, his energies depleted. “So, what now? In theory I know everything there is to know about vamplings. They made me study every species before I could take the liaison job. In practice, I know nothing.”
Marcus leaned against the doorjamb. “Prepare yourself for quite the adventure.”
Samuel shook his head. “I’ve had enough adventure in my life already. I only want to retire to Umbria and cuddle with her in front of a fireplace.”
“And you’ll have that, but first, you’ll have to give her time to go through the change, and that can be tricky if you aren’t prepared.” Marcus seemed to hesitate a moment before he continued. “The short of it is that Martina must feed regularly and abundantly. And you must decide if you are okay with her feeding from others.”
Marcus’s words elicited in Samuel’s mind the image of Martina embraced in someone else’s arms, suckling from their throat, and he shuddered, pain gripping his midsection, followed by a sudden bout of nausea. “It seems too intimate—”
Marcus nodded. “It is very intimate. I would’ve rather died than let Diana feed from anyone else.”
“I’m worried I’ll screw this up like everything else so far.” Samuel’s wings moved by their own accord behind him, trailing on the bed and brushing Martina’s arm. “This is all my fault.”
The Broken Angel Page 19