by Diane Nelson
Stefano stood at a non-descript door that, under other circumstances, would likely have passed for an entrance to a simple artisan's shop. No light escaped the door's bottom. Shutters stood diligent guard over the windows, yet a faint sound of music could be heard from within. Stefano knocked on the rough door in an arrhythmic cadence. In mere moments a similar knock came from the far side. Stefano answered the call, and the door creaked open. The guardsmen formed a veritable tunnel as Stefano beckoned Veluria and his brother to the doorway.
"We don't have time for this," Antonio growled but his younger brother had already whisked the woman into a room crowded with masked, bejeweled figures swirling in a riot of color and movement.
Stefano grinned and waved at the throng of party-goers, just a young man intent on an evening's entertainment. He beckoned Tonio and Veluria toward a far wall so they could speak in private.
"The Papàl Guards are positioned about the palazzo. Obviously one of our dear uncle's lackeys decided to exercise some initiative after losing the scent earlier." He spun Veluria in a circle, her gown flaring and shimmering in the candle light. She afforded him the briefest nod of understanding.
Tonio scowled and cursed, "Damn them, the interfering fools."
Stefano laughed out loud as Veluria squealed, but his eyes were cold and sharp as he said through clenched teeth, "My thoughts exactly. Fortunately Father has business dealings with the Cigogna family so I was able to invite myself to these festivities." He slapped the taller man's forearm and said, "Problem solved, dear Brother."
Antonio muttered, "Fuck this…" but Stefano had gripped Veluria's arm, pulling her into the joyous throng.
"Una maschera mia signora. Here. You'll need this." Stefano produced a feathery, red and black mask. With coquettish charm she brushed stiff stays and soft flesh across his arm as she spun to allow him to place the confection over her head.
Momentarily forgetting their precarious position, Stefano flushed with pleasure and anticipation. Antonio's scowl should have been a warning signal that he trod on shaky ground, despite his quick thinking.
Antonio leaned close and whispered in Stefano's ear, "Keep your focus. We, you, can't afford to have you thinking with your cock and losing control with this piece of..."
Stefano frowned at the implied criticism, stung by his older brother's lack of faith. "I am in control, Tonio. Give me some credit. Your eyes see what they wish to see."
"Or maybe my eyes see what really is, eh? In any case, do not lose her in here, or you will answer to Father on your own!"
While the guards stood silent sentinel in the alleyway, the host for the evening gala, the eldest son of Signor Cigogna, led the trio through two archways into an intimate space reserved for special guests. A chamber orchestra competed with a din of chatter that enveloped them as they entered a long, narrow room filled with garish masked figures, awash in feathers and sequins, giddy with wine and the promise of debauchery.
Veluria bobbed and ducked past a small group engaged in a card game, incongruous amidst the sea of noise and movement. She waved to a stout woman across the dance floor, tittered coyly then blended smoothly into a swirl of dancers. With her petite size she vanished, leaving Stefano to swivel in dismay as he realized she'd slipped away.
"Veluria? Wh—?" Stefano choked on rising bile as he desperately searched the jammed room.
Tonio grabbed his brother's arm with a death grip. "I told you, imbecile!" His eyes flashed with naked fury. "Go find her. I'll alert my men in case she tries to escape."
Stefano silently cursed himself for his mishandling of their simple mission. He plowed into the middle of the swirling sea of partiers.
"Red and black mask," he muttered," I'm looking for a red and black mask." A server pressed a wine goblet into his hand as he carved a torturous path through the crush of bodies. He downed that goblet, then another, while scanning the room through the smoky haze. The heat and wine—combined with the prospect of facing his brother with yet another of his failures—gave him a splitting headache. Feeling woozy, he backed against a wall and clenched his fists in despair, swaying unsteadily.
The orchestra paused to polite applause as a petite frame brushed against his hip. Her silvery-white mask glimmered in the pale light, the upper edges adorned with extravagant ostrich plumes. It hid her entire face with sculpted alabaster cheeks and full ruby lips, the eye slits revealing nothing. She moved temptingly close to him, slowly backing him up to a wall until she had him pinned, pressing hard against his groin. He moaned with anticipation but hesitated. The mask was different though this vixen was the same height, the gown similar … but not. He tried to focus on a familiar floral fragrance from the vixen's hair.
Bemused, curious, Stefano pulled the woman closer until he could fondle the edge of the mask. The woman dodged away with a giggle. She sauntered to an alcove, dimly lit, and paused as if waiting for something … or someone. He followed close behind, still unsure. There were highborn families amongst the throng and he dare not make an error that would compound the mess he'd already made of the evening. With a flourish the woman released the mask's binding, then turned and grinned devilishly, her sea-green eyes crinkled in mirth.
Stefano sputtered, "But you aren't…"
He found it difficult to focus on the woman's features, so similar to Veluria's that if he tilted his head just so he could convince himself it was her.
She giggled and pulled him toward the rear of the building. Placing a finger to his lips, she teased in a breathy voice, "I found a place where we can be alone."
That did not seem like a good idea. But on the other hand, it wasn't a bad idea either. He swayed, bracing his hands on the flirt's waist to keep from falling over.
Confused, he croaked, "But what about…?" What about what? some inner voice whispered. Since he had no answer to that question, he allowed her next words to over-ride his better judgment.
"Never mind all that. You and I have better things to do with our evening." The woman giggled and climbed the stairs without a backward glance.
Stefano staggered after the woman.
****
Veluria paused at the rear entrance to the baccaro. The courtesan had done her part well. The Sisterhood had traced her movements with their usual precision and had anticipated such an opportunity once the parameters became apparent. Still, she stood in awe at the speed with which they had placed her doppelganger, the whore a most satisfying short term solution. The probabilities calculated to a very favorable eight-five percent success rate.
Moving swiftly past the cluttered tables in the servant's quarters, she took care to leave no trace of her passage. The solid oak door stood slightly ajar. She could hear the faint sloshing from the canal, mere meters distant and reeking of decay, and worse.
Silently she gathered the remains of her gown, now devoid of several layers, as the courtesan had cleverly removed sufficient material to refashion a dress remarkably similar to the original. The only drawback was the bodice—and the woman's ampler gifts—though Veluria doubted Stefano would take note when the object of his desire presented him with such largesse, especially in his drugged state.
Veluria had urged the woman to keep her own mask, given that it encompassed her face completely, unlike hers which covered the eyes only. Under the influence of the aphrodisiac, Stefano would easily be led astray, his mind focused on the coming pleasures to the exclusion of all else. And once in the heat of passion she was certain he would acquit himself with his usual fervor. Veluria was almost jealous of the woman's opportunity to enjoy the young one's special talents, especially with the 'enhancements' flooding his system.
She eased onto a narrow ledge that skirted the brackish canal. Glancing left, then right, she determined that her most likely location was on the Canale Della Giudecca. To the left she could follow it eventually to the Lido, to the right the Piazzali Roma. Somewhere along this route there would be a gondola to take her out of range of the Dark One, the Demon de' Medic
i who, even now, was scanning the narrow streets waiting for her to bolt to freedom. Before she'd encountered this man, such awareness and near constant surveillance would have been unthinkable.
She sighed, vexed at the unrelenting barrage on her senses. There had to be a way to neutralize his abilities, or at least redirect them away from her before he forced her off task. Too much was at stake in her world to risk this kind of interference.
She murmured, sotto voce, "Help me Reverend Mother, your daughter accedes to your everlasting goodness, lead me to the light, bestow upon me the gifts of my womanhood that we may serve thee through time and space for all eternity."
Despite the lingering heat, and damp, cloying air, Veluria shivered. She rubbed her bare shoulders and arms vigorously, hoping to speed the blood flow and dispel the residual essence of Antonio. Where he had touched her, brief though it had been, she still tingled with energies familiar and disturbing, though not all of it his. On this matter she remained confused and not a little concerned.
Her senses bled softly into the stygian darkness. To the left, she pulsed energy, testing and evaluating. That way led back toward St. Mark's Square and potential complications with the Papàl Guard—and who knew what all pursued her this foul night. Her better chance lay away from the crowds and away from the faint source of energy that could only come from the Council operative.
She'd wanted to ask the whore if she had any information from the Sisterhood but the woman had been tasked with one job only—and that did not include a dossier on the man who so baldly breached her defenses. She spun right and tiptoed gingerly along the rough stone walkway, ghosting silently toward her destination.
****
Tonio leaned against the bacarro's front entrance door, concerned that his instincts, for once, might have led him astray. He was unused to indecision, to not knowing. He'd not been surprised that his idiot younger brother, a witless, charming ass, would be the one to lose their quarry. That it was he who had laid the scenario for that eventuality would mean hell to pay when he reported to Papà. The old man was not so infirm that he couldn't do damage should he choose to punish his oldest son and most trusted advisor.
Kicking the door in irritation he bellowed, "Fuck this! Eduardo, find my ass of a brother. Now."
Eduardo, the nearest guardsman, drew his short sword and pushed the heavy door open. He turned to Tonio with a questioning look. "My Lord, what if he's with…?"
Antonio glared at his man. "I don't care how many he's fucking. Bring him to me. Naked if need be."
"Sì, mio Signore. Immediatamente."
Tonio rubbed his temples, the old pain resurfacing as it always did when he probed for too long. He'd been at it for hours, nibbling at her edges, only to be rebuffed, shut out when penetration seemed assured. He remembered the taste of her lips, soft and quivering with anticipation, prepared to yield, albeit reluctantly. He'd taken great delight in drawing her in, seizing control, then withdrawing. Such simple satisfaction, to have her press upward, ever so slightly—curious and oh so willing.
If he were honest with himself, it had taken every ounce of his considerable will-power to not ravish her on the spot. Her scent, so delicately kissed with lavender and a fragrance he didn't recognize, had intoxicated him. As had the taste of her lips and the warmth of her tongue briefly tangling with his own.
He'd gotten her off-balance, tweaked her interest.
Dammit, I can't afford to let her get under my skin. She's nothing but trouble.
Tonio wished with all his heart his beloved, dim-witted brother had not taken her fancy. The man-boy was ill-equipped for the machinations of the court ladies, let alone one such as this. That his House, his family, the very structure of his culture was in desperate disarray because of these evil influences pulling strings gnawed at his gut. Something, someone, was forcing them all to dance like marionettes. He had enemies all around, but the one he feared most passed beyond the realm of words, a realm to which he was convinced she held the key.
"My Lord." Eduardo pushed through the door with Stefano and another in tow. "I found him with this … woman. He claims she is the one you seek."
Tonio waved Eduardo aside and stared at his hapless brother with distaste. The young man was virtually naked, and clearly still in a state of arousal, a fact the thin bit of cloth draped about his waist and nether regions failed to hide. The woman in question bore a faint resemblance to Veluria—height, facial features, hair color—but she was far too voluptuous, reeking of whore instead of the refined sensuality of the alleged Frenchwoman.
Stefano giggled and wrapped his arm about the woman. "See, Brother, I did not lose her after all." He parted her pale rose-coloured silk robe, stroking the gentle rise of her belly and nuzzling a plump breast.
Tonio balled his fists, fighting for control, strung tight. He felt the air about him disappear, sucking his lungs dry, until a red haze coated his eyes and his anger and fear erupted in a startling display of sheer power. With breathtaking speed he drew his stiletto and flicked it through the thin cloth protecting his brother's manhood. With a roar he slammed the smaller man against the stone wall, pressing his left hand against Stefano's throat, his right holding the stiletto perilously close to the young man's cock.
"Why you?" he hissed. "Why is this…" he pricked soft flesh "… so much more valuable than mine or Nicolo's?"
Stefano gurgled in blind panic, writhing in pain as sensitive tissue responded to the rapid knicks and pricks. Tonio emphasized each word in blood, taking no small amount of joy from his brother's acute pain and paralyzing fear.
"I should cut it off and save us all from the misery of watching you fuck everything up."
"Tonio. Please." Stefano gurgled, his face contorted in agony. "I'm going to be sick…"
Antonio released his brother in disgust. He motioned to Eduardo to bring the woman over. After a cursory examination he determined she had nothing to offer him, though his men could certainly use some entertainment for the night's aborted mission.
"See that she fulfills her obligation to my dearest brother."
Wild-eyed, Stefano choked out, "But I can't, not like this. Tonio, please."
Tonio barked to his man, "She is yours after."
"Gracie, M'Lord." Eduardo thrust the woman onto the cobbled stone, her silence strange and foreboding. He was sure that nothing good would come from this but his fear of the Demon de' Medici overrode any other concerns.
Antonio turned to go. A black mist coagulated about his soul, driving him into despair and self-loathing. He needed to find her, though not for reasons he understood. As the pain ramped to excruciating hammer blows to his temples, he prepared his senses to once again seek the thing that eluded him so cleverly.
"M'Lord? Where are you going? Don't you wish protection? The night grows long and there is an ill feel in the breeze."
"Caccia, il mio vecchio amico. I go hunting.
Chapter Six
Veluria stole quietly through the night, ever aware of competing energies demanding their due. She had avoided a potential derailment of her plans, such as they were. Meeting the pater familias of the Medici clan had an appeal, to be sure, but she preferred it be in a more public, less adversarial venue where she could make use of any competing loyalties, jealousies and ill-will garnered through Cosimo's sometimes heavy-handed plotting.
And she would like to understand his oldest son's capabilities before tackling the old man. Rumor had it that he was an order of magnitude more powerful than his offspring—something to mull over and give one pause. Going one-on-one with Antonio had been stressful enough. With two of them probing her at the same time? She was not a fan of suicide missions.
Leaving the party, escaping to regroup and reassess her options, had seemed prudent, especially when the Sisterhood had so conveniently provided the means. She had taken that as a sign. Now she worried that she had perhaps miscalculated and jumped at the chance for an easy out. Had her judgment been that clouded by the psychi
c assaults coming from two fronts?
Stealing through the night, sans her benefactor and raison d'etre for gathering information, put her in an untenable position. Though she had curried favor amongst the lower elite and was not without other options, those pathways would be less effective, and infinitely slower to utilize. Almost like starting over.
And what were the odds that Stefano, or his damnable brother, would simply let her vanish into the background? How had she suddenly become a 'person of interest'? She wasn't the key—her term for the elusive clue that would allow their scientists to understand and rectify the threat to her own civilization.
This all felt like one monumental mistake. Mother Superior chose her because she wasn't prone to errors.
Why can't I see clearly?
Why did she see only him, the Demon de' Medici, so aptly named for he compelled her undivided attention with devilish ease? Intermixed with dominance and control, she perceived a strange passion driving him. Lust she was used to, it was after all her preferred method of control, one of her very special gifts, that translating of want to need.
That one kiss, barely a touch, had somehow developed an import, a significance blown so out of all proportion that she had panicked, rushed into making hasty decisions. His reaction had been as perplexing: withdrawal, confusion, even anger but whether at himself, her or his brother was difficult to say.
What she did know was that they were inextricably linked at some level that went beyond even her understanding of the complex interplay of energies.
That she was vulnerable around the elder brother was undisputed. She would need to take care for she risked more than the mission, more than the fates of their worlds. She had a soul and forces only dimly perceived seemed intent on robbing her of her very essence. She was tethered by competing enmities, both laying claim to her emotions, both ready and willing to inflict pain to bring her to heel.