by Diane Nelson
Not unaware of the danger she faced, in hindsight she should have taken note of his emphasis on 'private', but by that time it was already too late. She had the man's undivided attention and the promise of sport. The best she could hope for was to glean sufficient information so that either Nico or Andreas could finally put an end to the threat.
Her job was to provide the Duke with sufficient entertainment without having him resort to more extreme activities. She'd failed with Stefano. She did not intend to fail with Friedrich.
A landing opened to a short hallway that ended at a sturdy door reinforced with wrought iron. The Duke strode into the room, bidding her to wait a moment while he lit the candles. Nervously she wondered how Nico would ever find her in the bowels of the castle. She'd been relying on his knowing, sensing, her whereabouts but realized too late her foolishness. Hadn't he said last night that he'd looked all over for her and couldn't find her? Yes, he'd been drunk, and she'd assumed that had prevented him from using his faculties.
What if he could not sense her?
It doesn't matter. I can't go on with this pain. I have to put an end to this. My world, my time, my Sisterhood are counting on me.
I have suffered enough.
I have nothing more to lose. I will end this … now.
"Come in, my dear." The Duke took her hand and led her into the long narrow room. She heard the door whoosh shut and the bolt snick into place.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he propelled her further into the space. Smiling with anticipation he placed his lips close to her ear and husked, "Do you see anything you like?"
She'd thought she'd had nothing more to lose.
She'd been wrong, dead wrong.
Chapter Thirty-One
Time stilled. The satisfaction he'd felt drifted away, remembered pleasures distilling to unease, then outright fear. It was a pressure, delicious at first, an indulgence he craved until recognition flooded his senses and he understood he no longer controlled their destiny.
Madness—and the sharp tang of terror—pierced his senses. It was the sound of death meted out with an agonizing promise.
Andreas withdrew the stiletto and slashed the palm of his left hand with a vicious short stroke, his fist clenching reflexively against the sharp pain. Watching the blood drip onto the cold stone, he willed an end to his desperate yearnings but knew it was not to be.
She would ever be his heart's desire, forever just out of reach, not of his time—denied to him in this one. Was it better to let her pass into history, to be absorbed quietly into the bowels of legend, than to exist forever as his personal Holy Grail, unattainable, forever a judgment and test of his worth?
What was his future worth without her?
Nothing.
Without her there was no future. For any of them.
Racing down the narrow corridor he called out for Nico, praying the warrior was close enough to hear.
****
Nico sensed his men fanning out in a wedge, mere steps behind him. Contrary to his orders, Paulo had gathered his most trusted swordsmen and pursued him into the dark reaches of the fearsome structure. Of them all his captain was more aware of their peril and the stakes on which they gambled his family's future.
He'd searched frantically for some sign of his brother, or even the Duke, but failed as the corridors snaked in a dizzying array about the keep. What started as a vague disquiet blossomed into an anxiety so profound he feared his lungs would collapse under the intense pressure. Trapped in a purgatory of phantom pain and desperate pleas, he could little discern from which direction danger lurked.
He motioned Paulo forward but before he could issue an order his captain hissed, "Commander, there is evil here. Shall I dispense Arturo to secure your lady from your rooms?" He flexed his wrist, the movement causing a flash of light as flames reflected off the metal shaft of his long sword.
Nico growled, "It is already too late. He will not find her there."
"Sire?"
"I can't expla—"
Paulo gripped his arm and pulled him toward the wall, moving forward to block the slight figure advancing at a run from the direction of the banquet hall and Friedrich's private quarters.
Nico pushed Paulo aside, cautioning him to stay his hand. The slap of bare feet on stone and the heavy breathing of a man laboring under a thin veil of panic resounded through the corridor.
He stepped into the path of the small cleric, his eyes noting the disheveled robe, streaked with blood, and the wild-eyed glare reflecting a terror he felt in his bones.
The man called Andreas skidded to a halt and collapsed against the wall, his breath ragged as he sucked in great gulps of air. Gasping, "He has her!" he gripped Nico's arm to steady himself.
Paulo demanded, "Who—" but Nico interrupted and barked, "Tell me where. Now."
Andreas huffed, "In the old dungeons in the keep."
"Do you know the way?"
"No."
"Then can we follow her … essence?" Paulo looked at him curiously, unsure what they were talking about. Nico ignored him and glared at the cleric. "You can sense her. Better than I, is that not true?"
Andreas nodded but choked out, "It will take too long."
"Then tell me a better way, fool, or I will gut you here and to hell with your mission and your world."
Nico gripped the cleric's throat and squeezed until the man's eyes bulged. The satisfaction of crushing the man's throat paled against the sense of otherness he detected, an awareness of a kindred spirit, of one who shared the curse that had plagued him, and Tonio, all their lives. It gave him pause but he had little choice than to go with his instincts. He needed the man and his ungodly abilities … for now.
Cursing, he released Andreas to drop to the floor. The man looked up at him with hooded eyes, a mixture of fear, respect and uncertainty flashing across his narrow face. Staggering to his feet he rasped, "Your brother knows the way."
Nico turned to Paulo and said, "Go to his quarters and…" but stopped when Andreas interrupted, "No! He is not there."
The air turned sullen with a chill that cut to the bone. Nico looked at Andreas, the man's face mirroring his own agony.
Andreas stumbled back the way he had come. Nico hesitated an instant then followed, his men taking up position behind him. In his head he heard echoes of despair, but whether it came from the man in front of him, or from the distant reaches of the castle he could not be sure. He no longer had a clear sense of himself, tangled as he was with realities that defied everything he knew and believed.
When he drew even with Andreas, he asked, "Where is Stefano?"
"I saw him in the banquet hall. He was to join Friedrich later." Andreas glanced over his shoulder, then back at Nico. "There's a complication."
Nico ignored the man and strode ahead, all rational thought driven away by the clamoring in his skull. The clatter of well-armed men, their booted feet lock-stepping on the hard floor, should have raised a warning but he barreled forward, heedless of all but the driving need to find his brother and his woman.
"Nico! Wait! Friedrich's guards are in the banquet hall…" Andreas' words vanished in a din of metal and muttered curses as the men behind him shoved forward, swords drawn in readiness, leaving the small man to cower in the corridor.
****
Nico wasn't sure what to expect when he finally met his younger brother. He and Stefano had been close, yet nowhere near as bonded as he'd been with Tonio. Both older brothers had tormented and teased the boy mercilessly, yet protected him with a fierceness borne out of love and the respect due one of the blood.
Though it had been months since he'd last talked with the young man, that conversation still rang loud and clear in his head. He'd been pitiless in his apparent disregard for the boy's wishes, reminding him of family duty above all things. That he hadn't believed a word of it meant nothing now. What he'd done was in the interest of saving him from Antonio's wrath and from his father's stern retribution. At the time
how could he have known he was driving the final nail into a coffin of Stefano's own design?
Praying he could change the sneer of hostility into one of relief, he approached the table and slid onto the bench, only vaguely aware of his men taking defensive positions about the small hall.
Without preamble he spoke in a low voice, pitched so that only Stefano could hear, "Sit quietly and don't speak." Stefano gave him a blank stare as if he did not recognize him. "I am here to take you home." He noted his brother's hand twitching toward the short sword on his hip, but reached across the table and pinned it to the rough wood. "Listen to me, carefully. This is a mistake. You do not belong here."
Stefano glanced at the ballet of men circling for position, the tension ratcheting all about them, yet over the two men glaring at each other, a pall of silence hung heavy with accusation and unspoken threat.
His younger brother's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You have no idea where I belong."
"It's not here. Whatever he's done to you, I will make it right. You have my word."
Stefano leaned across the table and hissed, "You're too late, Brother. I finally know who and what I am. Taking me home will change nothing." He locked eyes with Nico and said, "You wanted me to have purpose? You and Tonio. Well, I'm pleased to inform you that you have finally succeeded."
He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, his face no longer a reflection of youthful naiveté and charm. Instead, his eyes bore testament to depths of depravity and savagery Nico could barely imagine, yet knew he must confront.
Time pressed uncertainly, his awareness that he needed his brother's co-operation but was unlikely to secure it without lengthy debate, if at all, warred with his roiling gut and the sensation that all this talking was for naught with Veluria in the hands of a madman.
He was out of time and out of patience. Pushing away from the table, he advanced on Stefano and gripped his arm, yanking him unceremoniously from the bench. Hissing, "Come with me. I have need of your services."
Stefano jerked away and shouted, "I'm not going home with you!"
"I don't recall giving you a choice, boy." The deadly silence of a room full of heavily armed men waiting for a signal settled like a pall.
"You and father … and Tonio … you can all go to hell."
Nico set his lips in a grim line and spat, "Tonio's dead."
Stefano collapsed on the bench, his face a twisted mask of pain and disbelief. As Nico counted off the precious seconds, hoping that would shock his brother into changing his mind, he finally became aware of movement behind him. The chink of swords and shuffling feet alerted him to the danger his rash action had put them all in. He needed to get his brother out of the hall and away from the guards.
If he thought Stefano would see the light he was sorely mistaken. The young man said, "That changes nothing. Leave, Nicolo. There is nothing for you here."
"Wrong answer, little brother. You are coming with me."
Once more he grabbed Stefano's arm and pulled him up. With a nod at Paulo, he hauled the struggling boy toward the door, taking care to keep his brother's hand away from the sword sheathed at his waist. His men formed a wall about them, creating a narrow passage of bodies through which he dragged his squirming, cursing brother.
Paulo shouted, "We'll hold them, sire," and turned into the fray.
Andreas met them at the door, his brow creased with concern. "It took you long enough. We must hurry."
Stefano continued to hurl invective on his brother, landing blow after blow until Nico was forced to pause to catch his breath.
"Listen, you goddam fool. Friedrich has Veluria!"
"Wha—? Veluria? Here?" He stared at Nico, then Andreas, who nodded assent.
The cleric moaned and braced his hand against the wall. "He's hurting her…"
Stefano stuttered, "Why does he…? Where?"
"You would know that better than us. We need to find him and get Veluria before he hurts her," he choked out the word, "…more."
"I-I … uh, I know where he is."
"Take us." Nico pleaded, "You cared for her once. Please, Stefano, don't let him do this to her." Holding his breath he waited a heartbeat for his brother to decide his loyalties. He would do whatever was necessary to force the boy to comply. He and his conscience would wrestle with those consequences later, if he lived long enough.
Stefano weighed his options and said, "Follow me."
"Will there be guards?" Nico had to shout the words, the din from the hall echoing through the corridor.
Stefano laughed without mirth and pointed to the battle in the banquet hall, "There will be."
****
Andreas held up a hand and listened intently. Faint shouts came from behind a doorway to their left. In front of them a corridor led to the newer section of the castle.
Stefano muttered, "Those are the Duke's private rooms. There's a passage from there that leads to the interrogation chamber." He shrugged. "There will be an army headed to protect Friedrich now."
With all the duke's guards milling about, none of them could see any clear way to access the chamber without fighting their way to it.
Nico murmured, "I'm not leaving her," and moved into the hallway. Andreas gripped his arm and pulled him back as Stefano muttered, "Wait." Irritated he waved his sword toward the tall man, unable to bear the intense pain crushing his chest any longer. Nico nodded his understanding, his expression indicating he was not immune to the suffering either.
Crouching low, Stefano moved quickly toward a plain wood door hidden in an alcove in the opposite direction of the milling guards. Depressing the latch, he eased it open and motioned them to follow. Barely shoulder-width the corridor ran the length of the Duke's chambers, the few narrow slits admitting weak light to filter through, leaving streaks of pale color on the dank grey stone floor.
Nervously, Andreas wondered if anyone had found the Duke's daughter. He'd left her body in a similar access tunnel. From the hubbub both in and out of the duke's chamber, he suspected his dirty little secret was a secret no more.
He hoped to hell the Stefano brat knew where he was going. Veluria's essence faded in and out the longer they trolled the godforsaken halls of the castle. Whether or not they'd be in time to avert permanent damage was problematic. That she would still be alive was not the issue. The pervert would extend his pleasure as long as possible, days if necessary.
Everything rested on Nicolo de' Medici neutralizing the Duke. The young brother was an annoying complication and one he would have preferred not to deal with. All he could hope for was to salvage as much of the timeline as possible. Without the Duke, he could not predict what young Stefano would do. Assuming they all lived, would he return with Nico to Florence, or would he exercise his rights as bereaved consort and take the remaining daughter as his bride? He wouldn't put it past the pup to jump on such an opportunity. He was, after all, a Medici.
They exited from the confined passage onto a landing that led down a steep flight, disappearing into the gloom. Echoes of movement, an occasional shout, indicated they would not be alone once they reached the infamous chamber. Friedrich's guards would ensure their master was undisturbed while he indulged his passions.
Once they reached the lowest level, Nico took point and moved soundlessly toward an open area from which the murmuring of voices could be heard. Peering around the corner he held up four fingers, his body tensed, ready to spring. Stefano drew him back and hissed, "Nico, wait…"
The tall man paused while Stefano asked him, "Can you fight, Father?" That caught Nico's attention.
Andreas' answered, "Well enough," but looked with regret at his tattered robes and bare feet and knew in his heart he would not acquit himself well on a field of battle. That was not his training or inclination. Nico looked like he agreed.
He whispered to Stefano, "Is the Duke's so-called prowess with a sword accurate?"
Nico's brother only nodded, leaving Andreas' stomach to flutter with anxiety. Ther
e was no way he could handle the Duke, even motivated as he was to save the Sisterhood's damn operative. He did none of them any service by getting himself killed, least of all Matteo who he feared would act rashly should he so carelessly lose his life. That was not something his conscience, such as it was, was comfortable carrying into the next life.
Stefano said, "Go, Nico. I can handle him…" he flicked his head in the direction of the locked door. "He'll let me in. I am, after all, expected."
Nico looked like he wasn't sure he could trust his brother—and God knew he certainly wasn't convinced the boy had changed his allegiance so suddenly. The tall man asked the question Andreas was about to voice, "That locks from the inside. If something happens to you…?"
Stefano said, "There's another entrance," he waved off to the left toward a dark alcove at the far end of the hallway. "Inside you will find an opening covered with a tapestry. It's a tight fit." He looked at Andreas with a measured stare. "You will fit. I am not sure about my brother."
Nico risked a look at Andreas and shrugged. It had been quiet for too long now, the absence of Veluria's pain almost worse than the unrelenting agony they'd been suffering for what seemed like hours. They had few choices remaining. Nico said, simply, "Go," and moved aside to allow Stefano to move into the corridor.
Nico whispered, "Go to the passage and see if what my brother says is true."
Andreas breathed a yes while they listened to Stefano announce his presence to the guards. For long, agonizing moments they waited while Stefano directed two of the armed men to check out the stairwell and keep watch for any of the Medici entourage. That left two behind. Nico and Andreas exchanged a glance.
The duke greeted the young man with pleasure, his words cut off when the door shut with a resounding thud. Even from their remote location they could hear the interior bolts being thrown.