“Not together. She was on the couch you rejected,” Marco replied. “I don’t sleep with people I work with. We were both in need of a drink last night after getting yelled at by our superiors.”
“This is rage,” Alexis said, breaking up their conversation. He was holding one of the photographs, his eyes filled with frustration. “Do we know who the other victims are?”
“Three random revelers pulled off the street,” Marco replied. “They were the first murders not connected to MOSE. You said rage, but someone would have to be very quick and thorough to kill and display them in such an obvious place and not get caught.”
Penelope took the photo and forced herself to look. Three bodies hung from the bridge of the Ponte de L’Arsenal o del Paradiso, their stomachs slashed and intestines displayed.
“Alexis is right. This’s a tantrum. There’s no careful sacrifice or ritual prayers. This is quick and messy and meant for us, not Poseidon,” Penelope said. “It’s because I cut him.” Alexis found her hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“She’s probably right,” Gisela said as she sat back down. “He saw you as an easy target and didn’t plan on you having the dagger.”
“None of us did,” Marco added. “Although if you didn’t, then we wouldn’t have had the blood.”
“We found more DNA on the ropes that he hung those people with. We have evidence to match him to the attack and these deaths.”
“How long before it is finished getting analyzed?” Alexis said.
“They promised me by lunchtime,” Gisela replied looking at her watch. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to having a conversation with this killer,” Alexis said.
Gisela glared. “This is a police investigation, not some vendetta because he touched your girlfriend.”
“I’m merely interested in how he came to know so much of the forgotten language,” Alexis said, his face guileless. “You think I have it in me to be violent?”
“Of course not,” Gisela apologized quickly. “I’m sorry. Even I want to beat this bastard up, but we need to keep cool heads if we are going to catch him.”
Alexis lied smoothly, but Penelope could see Marco wasn’t buying his innocent act. Marco had seen Alexis’s face the night Penelope was tortured, and he still suspected Alexis was involved somehow in the murders of the Sangue di Serpente. If the Acolyte had magic, if Thevetat was once again recruiting and providing his followers with power, nothing would stop Alexis and the other magicians from taking him.
“Oh, God,” Gisela muttered as she checked her phone. Marco’s rang at the same time.
“What is it?” Penelope asked.
“The blood. It belongs to Tony Duilio and not one of his protestors,” said Gisela. “Marco, call Adalfieri. I need to organize a warrant.”
“Tony Duilio. So he was in front of us all along.” Alexis looked calm, but his blue eyes were filled with fire.
“He’s so well-connected, Gisela’s going to have a hell of a time getting permission to arrest him.” Marco shook his head, his frustration palpable. “You two should go home. We can take it from here. I’m not putting you in front of the firing line again.”
Penelope gave him a brief hug as she was leaving. “Please be careful, Marco. Duilio isn’t what he seems. You don’t know what he is capable of when cornered.” He’s possessed by a demon god that will show no mercy.
“Don’t worry, Dottore. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to arrest a killer. Besides, Gisela will protect me.” His grin was wide, but his eyes betrayed his anger.
“We need to get back to the palazzo,” Alexis said to Penelope as they hurried away. “The wire construct, I know there is something there I’m not seeing. Duilio may be brilliant, a follower of Thevetat, but he isn’t capable of orchestrating all of this. Someone’s pulling his strings, and I intend to find out who it is before the polizia interfere.”
TONY DUILIO IS the killer.
Penelope had a hard time aligning the brilliant but strange man she had met with the sheer violence of the murders. To be able to hide that part of himself from a world who admired him…Penelope couldn’t imagine the effort that must have taken. Alexis was right. Something didn’t seem to fit. Duilio was an instrument. The conductor was another matter entirely.
Penelope curled up in a chair in the Archives with her notebook and began writing about Duilio, speculating about how someone who had such public social and business reputations could’ve been exposed to Thevetat’s influence. If Alexis was right and someone was controlling him, how many new priests and followers were out there? Penelope remembered the long corridor of sacrifices in Thevetat’s temple and brought her knees up to her chest. How many more people had been sacrificed and gone undiscovered?
When Marco had Duilio in custody, Alexis would find a way to talk to him and, with any luck, find the others he was working with.
“I thought I might find you down here,” Alexis said, more than an hour later. “I’ve hit a wall and wanted to see if you could see something I can’t.” He held out a battered leather notebook to her, a sketch of Duilio’s hotels drawn in black ink. The script on the page shifted and rewrote themselves in English for her. Am I ever going to get used to that?
“Engineering-wise, it’s structurally sound. The way the cables and pylons move is quite brilliant, but there’s something about it, like an itch in my brain whenever I look at them,” explained Alexis.
Penelope took the notebook from him and studied the curving black lines of the cables. She turned the book from one side to the other with a frown. “You think there is something magical happening?”
“Depends on how long Duilio has been groomed by Thevetat. But yes, it wouldn’t bother me so much if it was just a normal structure.”
Penelope picked up her pen and notebook. “Maybe you are looking at it the wrong way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been looking at it from the side when you should’ve been looking at it from above,” Penelope said as she sketched. “How many of these cable-cluster structures are there per hotel?”
“Hundreds.”
Penelope held the drawing up of an interlocking circular loop. “Birds-eye view of one.”
Alexis studied it for a moment before tracing it with his finger. It glowed a light blue, and he lifted it into the air. He flipped through his notebook and found the specifications of the floating resort. The glowing circle multiplied in a great connecting pattern.
“Holy shit,” Penelope said as she stared at it. “It looks like a giant web.”
“Exactly like a web. Why would a follower of Thevetat build a city with a web under the water? What would they be trying to catch?”
Penelope looked at the drawing, and she remembered the way the magicians had built the first pyramids after the fall of Atlantis to help balance magic, the way the magicians had laid out the pyramids in such a way…
“Magic.” Penelope touched the shimmering lines. “They’re using the webs to somehow catch magic.”
Alexis smiled broadly as he reached down to kiss her. “Brilliant girl! They are going to try and harness the power of the magical high tide. Come, we need to show Nereus. There are two of these resorts already under construction, and we need to ensure they don’t get finished.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” Penelope said as she followed Alexis through the stacks. “Tony Duilio, who I’m assuming has a different name, has a huge reputation and empire, as well as the brilliance to make these magical webs. You said yourself that he’s probably got a mentor, someone guiding him, teaching him magic. He sacrificed those people, made a real show of it, stirred up the protestors.”
Alexis halted. “And?”
“He did all of this. Created all of this fear and chaos. He couldn’t have been so clever and still believe he wouldn’t eventually get caught. He must have known it was only a matter of time.” Penelope froze and then patted
herself down frantically. “Phone! I need a phone!” Alexis took his mobile from his pocket and passed it to her.
“What is it?”
Penelope searched through the numbers. “Marco! They are going to arrest Duilio. He won’t be there. They are walking into a trap.”
“Pronto,” Marco answered. “What is it now, Donato?”
“Marco! Thank God! Where are you?”
“Duilio’s palazzo in San Marco. The team has just gone upstairs to arrest him.”
“Get them out of there, Marco! Call them back, don’t let them—” Penelope didn’t finish as an explosion burst over the line before the call went dead.
THE BOMB SCENE in San Marco was bedlam. Logistically difficult at the best of times, the canals were now crammed with police, Carabinieri, and fire and ambulance crafts as they struggled to keep the public and the reporters away while assisting the injured. The bomb hadn’t been big enough to take down the entire building, but it had been enough to make it structurally unsound, the threat of it falling into the Grand Canal making rescue efforts difficult.
Alexis, Penelope, and Phaidros pushed through the dust-covered crowd of polizia who were helping the wounded to ambulance boats. Panic was riding Penelope as she searched for any signs of Gisela or Marco.
“That Duilio is a right bastard,” Phaidros muttered as another officer was carried by on a stretcher. “Why would he do something like this? How could anyone do this to Venice? Even Napoleon, the pompous little ape, could not hurt her in such a manner.”
“He wants the shock to distract people,” Alexis replied. “Hurting La Serenissima, disturbing her serenity in such a violent manner, will send a shock wave that extends to the all who love her. To make war on Venice is to make war on the psyche of the world. It’s the exact kind of chaos Thevetat’s followers thrive on.”
“We need to check what’s remaining inside the apartment,” Phaidros insisted, “before the polizia or anyone else can get in there. If another bomb or magical trap has been laid, maybe we can find it before the humans do.”
“I’ll find Marco,” Penelope suggested, squeezing Alexis’s hand.
He kissed her gently. “Be careful, cara. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
“Don’t get blown up,” she added hurriedly. Alexis’s smile was beautiful, even in the sooty chaos around them, and then he was gone.
Penelope heard Marco before she saw him. He was giving instructions to men moving rubble, each sentence punctuated by violent cursing.
“Marco!” Penelope waved at him from behind the police tape. Holding a bloody cloth to his head, he waved her in. Abandoning any formalities, Penelope hugged his dusty body.
“Thank God you’re okay,” she said, looking him over. “I heard the explosion from Dorsoduro.”
“My phone broke, so I couldn’t call you back. Are you here alone?” Marco looked over her shoulder.
“Alexis and Phaidros went the other way looking for you,” she lied. “I was so worried about you. Did everyone get out?”
“No, the blast was rigged to the inner doors so four men died and at least ten others were injured,” he said, voice low.
“Gisela, is she—?”
“She wasn’t in the building. Her boat got hit by some debris, but she’s okay. She is around, giving orders to other DIGOS agents, no doubt. That bastard Duilio.”
Penelope squeezed his arm. “You’ll get him, Marco, I know it. Do you think he’s placed any more bombs?”
“I pray that he’ll be satisfied, but I doubt it. Gisela’s on it. Major tourist areas are already being swept by agents, and they are talking about shutting down the city.”
“What a nightmare,” Penelope said. “He knows what he’s doing, and that’s what makes it more frightening. He’s going to whip everyone into a terrified frenzy.”
“Inspector Dandolo? We’ve almost made it through,” an officer interrupted.
“I’m coming,” Marco said and rested a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Go down to the water and wait with Gisela. I’ll join you when I can.”
“Be careful,” Penelope replied. As she watched him hurry into the building, she hoped that Phaidros and Alexis had found what they needed.
Penelope headed along the side of the building to where the jetties jutted into the Grand Canal. Gisela appeared in black SWAT gear, saw that it was Penelope and hurried to hug her. Penelope stilled in surprise. Gisela wasn’t a warm person, and she certainly wasn’t a hugger.
“Penelope, I’ve been looking for you,” she said with a friendly smile.
“Marco sent me to find you. They are about to get through the wall into the apartment.”
“Come with me, this way,” she insisted. “It’s not safe here.”
“Grazie. I feel like I’m in everyone’s way.”
“That’s because you are.” Gisela’s voice changed slightly. “I mean that in a nice way. We need to keep these paths clear.”
Something snapped like static under Penelope’s skin as she followed Gisela through the press of officers. She pulled back at her sleeve to see the glowing lines of the Living Language rising to the surface of her skin, the Greek word κίνδυνος shone before rearranging itself to kindunos, and then finally to danger.
Penelope pulled her sleeve down quickly and checked behind her. It hadn’t warned her when she was attacked at Carnevale, so why now? Her hand went to the small oyster knife in her coat pocket. She had never taken it out, and it reassured her as she continued to look around.
“Are you coming?” Gisela called ahead of her. Something moved across her face—annoyance mixed with want. Penelope’s hand tightened on the knife.
“I’m waiting on Alexis and Marco. They said they’d meet us here.” Penelope offered the excuse casually.
“They could be hours yet. At least come down to my boat where you can sit down.” Gisela pointed to a sleek, black vessel at a small, wooden dock.
“Marco said you were on the boat when the bomb went off.”
“That’s right, it was terrifying,” she said.
Penelope looked over the boat’s pristine paint job. “He also said that it had been hit with rock and dust. Doesn’t look like it to me.”
Gisela’s perfect face slipped, her eyes changing from brown to black. Mirroring magic.
Penelope didn’t hesitate. She turned and ran back the way she had come, but something heavy slammed into her, tackling her to the cobblestones.
“Clever little wench, aren’t you?” a man said as he hauled her to her feet and spun her around. It wasn’t Duilio. He was taller and broader, and his deep bronze skin shone under a mane of long, black hair.
“Let me go! Who are you?” Penelope demanded. The stranger’s smile was cold and vicious. Penelope stilled. She had seen that smile before as the earth shook, and rock rained down inside a stifling hot cavern.
“Kreios,” she whispered.
He chuckled, his voice full and rich. “He must love you if he’s told you about me.”
“Who?”
“The Defender, who else?” Kreios replied. His grip loosened ever so slightly on her wrists as he laughed, and Penelope twisted her right hand free, trying to pull herself away as she fumbled for her knife.
“No, you don’t.” Kreios pulled her back to him, and Penelope drove the small knife into his shoulder. He only laughed harder as the bloody blade pushed itself free and fell to the ground. “We’ll have plenty of time for knife games later, Penelope Bryne.”
He made a complicated gesture with his free hand, and she slumped into his arms, paralyzed. Eyes wide, Penelope could do nothing as Kreios swung her over his shoulder, unable to cry out or even touch the knot that bound her to Alexis.
“HAVE YOU given any thought to what’s going to happen when we catch Duilio?” Phaidros asked as they climbed over a broken marble pillar. “The polizia aren’t exactly going to hand him over.”
“We need to find him first, then the polizia can have him,” Alexis replie
d as he crouched down to study a burn pattern on the floor. “He isn’t an amateur bomb maker. He knew exactly how much power to put in it.”
“If he’s the Acolyte, then he has plenty of underworld connections. We already know the Sangue di Serpente were being used by him, so maybe he’s Sicilian,” Phaidros said, returning from what remained of a bathroom. “I’m not picking up anything magical, Alexis.”
“Me neither. I don’t think this is where Duilio performed any of his worship. If he’s like any of the other priests, he’ll have a place underground. This is his persona, not who he is.”
“There’ll be no sign of his master either. You’re thinking it, Alexis, so we might as well talk about it while Aelia can’t hear us.” Phaidros folded his arms. “You think some of the priests survived? You know that isn’t possible, right?”
“Isn’t it? We survived.”
“And we searched the world for others. How many magic-users and wise men have you chased after over the years trying to find ancestors or students of ones who could’ve survived?”
“I know, Phaidros, but it was mirroring magic. You know who used to use that as a weapon,” Alexis said. “I don’t want to believe Abaddon could’ve survived any more than you do, but everything was chaos. He could have had another escape tunnel we didn’t know about.”
Phaidros ran his hands through his golden curls. “Say you’re right and he’s been training people ever since. Hiding them. We need to be sure, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that it’s him before we mention it to the others. Aelia…”
“I promise not to say anything, but if I find proof, you need to be prepared for that. She will need you, Phaidros.”
“She doesn’t need or want me, Alexis. All I do is aggravate her.”
“Well you are aggravating, but you are also wrong. One day you’ll get your head out of the past to see that for yourself. We are going to all need to stay together if Thevetat’s power is growing again.”
“What are you going to do about Penelope?” Phaidros sat down on a block of concrete. Alexis stood up from where he was inspecting a wall. “She doesn’t have the proper magical training to defend herself, Alexis. You can’t protect her every second of the day while you race about the world hunting priests.”
The Immortal City Page 25