by S J Williams
He nodded and patted her shoulder, making her jerk forwards a bit. Roberto was freakishly strong.
“Excellent. I’ll get on with that later tonight. How about we go out first, though, and celebrate with a few drinks?”
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t like to, as a rule, but I don’t like to pass by such an occasion without properly marking it.”
“Okay.” That was a surprise. A nice one, but Roberto wasn’t exactly a party animal. Despite his promise to show her around Florence, this was the first time he’d actually offered since she’d run away from those two men the day before. She hadn’t wanted to remind him, what with his tendency to growl every time she mentioned what happened yesterday. Life had been prickly for the past twenty-four hours.
Quickly closing down her laptop, she stood up and grabbed her bag before Roberto could change his mind. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Excellent. Let me just grab my phone. I put it down somewhere…”
“It’s here.” She said, spotting it and swiping it up.
Roberto chuckled at her eagerness. “I must have been neglecting you.”
She blushed and reined in her enthusiasm. True, she was just as much a recluse as he was, but she wanted to see Florence. As she’d be spending all her time in the gallery once it opened, her days for sight-seeing were numbered.
“Is there anywhere you had in mind to go?” She asked, keeping her tone light and casual. Try not to look so desperate, girl.
“I thought we could just wander and see what caught our eye.” He said genially, slipping his phone into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. “My knowledge of the city is, I have to admit, a little rusty.”
“I thought you said you went to university here?” She might be wrong. It was only mentioned in passing.
“I did indeed but, ah, you know how it is. I was not much of a social creature while studying.”
Effie nodded. That was understandable. At least, it tallied with what she knew about him.
“I’m open to just wandering. In fact, we don’t have to stop at all if you don’t want to.” Anything to see more of the city.
“Has Florence cast her spell on you?” Oddly, Roberto didn’t seem very happy about that.
“Maybe.” It definitely felt like something magical was going on. Some vague feeling she had come home. Mad, really. She’d never left England before, let alone lived in Florence.
The rush of day-tripping tourists had died down and the city was enjoying a lull before the night time revellers ventured out. Roberto had courteously offered her his arm but she had shied away, not being comfortable with him on that level. His cheerful mood had soured since. Now he walked alongside her, his hands thrust into his pockets and answering her questions with brief, sometimes monosyllabic answers.
Effie didn’t care. She felt the city come alive in her mind. It was odd. She would just have to see an arch or a passage way and her imagination would fire up, playing scene after scene like some flashback sequence in a film.
Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising. She had been obsessed with the Italian Renaissance since the day she’d learnt what it was and had watched every film and documentary she could get her hands on. Maybe that was why these streets were familiar to her. She had no doubt seen at least some of them before. But the scenes playing through her head were new. She couldn’t remember them from anything that she’d watched or read. And so vivid. Stronger than memory, stronger than fantasy. It was like she was living in two different realities, the one in front of her and the one behind her eyes.
She paused in front of a building, a huge, imposing fortress, that she recognised from … somewhere. Roberto went on a little before noticing she was no longer with him and looked back.
“What is it?”
Effie couldn’t answer. She felt like she had stood here before. Impossible. And yet… The cobbles beneath her feet, the ancient stones rising up before her.
“This building…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What do you know about it?”
Roberto squinted at her then retraced his steps back through the gate to look up at it.
“Not much.” He said uncomfortably. “It’s just one of the old palaces of justice. Why?”
“I feel like it’s important somehow.” She murmured, walking forwards to run her fingertips over the stones. There was something about them, something she could almost taste, it was so strong…
“Effie?” Roberto’s voice sounded like it was from a great distance. “Effie? Is everything all right?”
Effie gave herself a little shake and dragged herself back into the present.
“Sorry. Yes. Everything’s fine. I must have spent too much time with my head in the Fra Amedeo collection.”
“Right.” Roberto said, searching her face with a faintly suspicious look before going on down the street that ran alongside the palace. Effie hurried to catch up with him.
“Roberto?” She asked, a little breathless. Roberto was striding ahead impatiently and she was struggling to match his pace.
“Hmm?” He answered, not looking at her.
“I was wondering, what are you going to do with the portraits, once the exhibition is over?”
Roberto did look at her now, another searching glance.
“Why do you ask?”
“It just occurred to me, talking to those two men yesterday, that not many people know about the portraits and—”
“That will change soon.”
“Yes.” Effie said. “But are you going to sell them or donate them somewhere?”
“They were looking to buy were they?” He asked, quirking one eyebrow at her.
“They didn’t ask about that to my face, but they were very interested in it and they did say they were art collectors.”
Roberto gave a hollow laugh.
“Come on now, Effie. You’re not going to be taken in by that old trick, are you?”
Effie frowned at him in irritation. “Clearly not, since I saw through it, but—”
“But nothing. I’ve already agreed with Durham that the portraits will go to the university.”
Wow. Effie thought. No wonder the university was so pleased to help pay for this exhibition. It would end up being great publicity for them.
“Just one more question. Where did you find the portraits?” She was amazed she’d never asked the question before.
Roberto shot her a sardonic look. “Why? Are you accusing me of stealing them?”
Effie stopped in her tracks. “What? No!” She made herself sound appalled even if, deep inside, she might have considered the possibility. Roberto really had come out of nowhere with the collection.
Roberto stopped too and turned to scowl at her. Oh dear, she thought. This definitely wasn’t turning out to be the celebratory stroll he’d hoped for.
“It’s a private collection that has been handed down to me. It is mine by inheritance.”
“Right. Good.” She said, wishing she’d never asked.
“Satisfied?” He asked shortly, turned on his heel and striding off again. “Aren’t you coming? I thought you wanted to see the city tonight?”
And I’ve gone and hurt his feelings. She sighed heavily and resigned herself to scurrying after him again. If she didn’t respect Roberto for his genius mind… But perhaps mood swings came part and parcel with being a genius. Hell, with being Italian.
“In for a penny, in for a pound.” She muttered under her breath.
3
Sebastian watched Effie hurry after the man she thought was her friend then turned and punched the wall beside him. Stone crumbled as dust flew everywhere.
“Careful, or you’ll get arrested for vandalism.” Henry said dryly beside him, brushing stone debris from his sleeve.
“We need to get her away from him.” Sebastian said, his throat so tense he could barely get the words out. To see her walking along with him, chatting and carefree. It made him want to
howl in despair. No, it made him want to grab the vampire and tear him limb from limb. The bastard wouldn’t die. He could kill him again and again and again as many times as it took to exhaust his rage.
“Do you think you could shield?” Henry complained, wincing under the deluge of Sebastian’s vicious thoughts. “We can’t rush into this. He’s one step away from using her as a hostage as it is.”
“What is he playing at, stringing her along like this?” Sebastian growled. “The Barty I knew was never one for playing long games. He was always too keen for the kill.”
“Perhaps our old friend has learned to temper his appetites.” Henry suggested grimly.
“I hope not.” Sebastian didn’t want Bartholomew to have changed. He wanted the vampire to be nice and predictable. Easy to trick. Easy to kill.
Not that Bartholomew had ever been an easy target. He’d learned that to his cost five hundred years ago.
“There’s another reason why we can’t rush into this. She’s not ready for you yet.”
Sebastian glared at Henry from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”
“Whoa.” Henry said, holding his palms up. “Rein it in, would you?”
Sebastian stepped back and let out a long, slow breath, fighting with his simmering temper. He welcomed the wave of calm Henry sent over their bond. His friend was right: he couldn’t be this hot-headed. He needed to think and plan. Fantasies of vengeance could wait for when he had Bartholomew at his mercy. He needed to get Effie back first.
“You do realise you can’t pick up your relationship where you left off?” Henry asked quietly.
Sebastian glared balefully at his friend.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve changed, Sebastian.” Henry said, sending him an apologetic look. “It’s been five hundred years since she last knew you. She might have struggled to recognise you even if she hadn’t been… away for all that time.”
“If I’ve changed, I’ve had good reason.” Gone was the laughing, reckless man he’d once been. In his place was a sterner, painfully wiser machine with one purpose: find Bartholomew and kill him.
“I know. I’m not saying you’re to blame.” Henry quickly reassured him. “But you can’t deny it might be hard for her to accept. Face it, Sebastian, you’re no longer the man she fell in love with.”
Sebastian stared at him, struggling to come to terms with the truth he knew he was hearing. Would Effie want him now, want this grim, bitter man he knew he’d become?
“Hey.” Henry protested when Sebastian began to sink into his black thoughts. “Don’t go there. She will have changed too. She won’t just bounce right back into the woman she was. We don’t know where she’s been all this time or if she’ll have memories of other lives apart from the one she shared with you but, at the very least, she’s been dead for five hundred years. She has to have changed.”
“What’s your point?” If Henry thought this was supposed to reassure him…
“I’m saying…” Henry’s struggle to find the right words was a static buzzing across their bond. “I’m not saying the two of you are going to have to start from scratch. It may be you’ll pick up again quickly and recover what you had but it’ll take time to win her over again. You’ll need to prepare yourself for the chance that whatever relationship you have this time round will be very different from the one you had before.”
Sebastian shoved Henry’s crushing words away. He couldn’t think about this now.
“We still have to get her away from him. We can worry about relationships later.”
“You’re right. The last thing we want is for Bartholomew to turn her into a vampire.”
Wordlessly, Sebastian grabbed Henry in a headlock, holding his mouth closed.
“Enough. I can’t take much more of your hard truths.”
Henry wheezed out a chuckle. “I’m done.”
Sebastian let him go and made to take off after Effie and Bartholomew. This time, it was Henry who tackled him, hauling him back.
“Hang on, hang on. You can’t just go charging after them.”
“Why not?” It took a lot of effort, but Sebastian held in his snarl.
“Because now is our opportunity to have a snoop around the good professor’s office. We need to find out what he’s up to.”
“We know what he’s up to.”
“Do we?”
“Yes. He’s—”
Sebastian paused. He was about to say “He’s using Effie to get back at me.” But was that all? Henry was right. They needed to use this chance to find out what else Bartholomew was up to or risk missing his true intentions.
“He’s not just going to leave his secrets in an envelope on his desk labelled ‘dastardly plans’.” Sebastian grumbled as he reluctantly tore his eyes from Effie’s departing figure to follow Henry back the way they’d come, in the direction of the university.
“That’s why we won’t be looking for an envelope labelled ‘dastardly plans’.” Henry answered with a slow, clear voice normally reserved for teaching children the alphabet. “What we want is to find these portraits Bartholomew has dug up. He must want to do something with them if he has gone to all the trouble of assuming a persona.”
“You don’t think he used the professor act to lure in Effie?” Sebastian asked sceptically.
“Why specifically a professor? Why use the paintings at all? There are lots of ways to seduce a woman.”
“Are there lots of ways to seduce a woman like Effie, though?” If Effie was at all like her past self, she would be far more attracted by books and curios than flowers and chocolates. A sudden memory of Effie, sitting in a garden, surrounded by her many human cousins, completely oblivious to their arguments about the precise application of cosmetics, brought an unbidden smile to his face. She’d had her nose in a book. Ancient Greek tragedies. Coaxing her attention away from her plays had been a challenge, but it was the best half hour he’d ever spent.
“That’s true.” Henry conceded. “But becoming a public figure in the world of art history requires fooling more than just one young woman. You have to work your way into the business, establish a reputation as a researcher, demonstrate a history of publishing articles. This is a long game. We have no idea how long Roberto Albini has existed.”
“Then we will find out.” Sebastian said, simply.
He increased his pace until he’d be a blur to the eyes of mortals. If this task needed to be completed before he could go back to watching Effie, then so be it. He’d complete it as fast as possible.
Their search for Bartholomew had led them to an exhibition space he’d hired under the name “Albini”, a collection of rooms attached to the university of Florence, that came with an elegant apartment above them. They opted to search the vampire’s living space first. Bartholomew had clearly made an effort to disguise himself as a human, keeping any evidence of his true nature carefully out of sight. It didn’t matter to them. He couldn’t hid his scent. Metallic. Old blood.
Following the grisly trail the vampire had unconsciously left, Henry heaved a dirty landscape in a ridiculously over-elaborate frame to one side to reveal a safe. He ran his fingers over the seam, reporting as he did so.
“Number code. Not electronic. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to crack.” He stepped aside to let Sebastian at the door.
Sebastian pressed his hand on the lock, pushing his energy forward to taste the spacial links. He found the combination and allowed himself a grim smile. 1497. Was old Barty feeling nostalgic?
A pulse of energy and the lock clicked. The door popped open. Sebastian’s smile deteriorated into a grimace as he swung the door wide. The smell of old blood assaulted his nostrils. His lip curled. Here was the true Bartholomew.
The safe was large and mostly filled with a portable fridge containing bags of preserved blood and… bags of weeds?
Sebastian pulled out one of the bags of cut flowers. He showed it to Henry who frowned at it.
�
�What on earth is Barty up to now?” Henry took the bag from Sebastian and closed his eyes for a moment, focused. He shook his head,
“It’s too old. There are no psychic traces left.”
Sebastian nodded. It would have been too much to hope for. As useful as Henry’s ability was for tracking the traces of intention left behind by immortals and, to a certain extent, humans, the traces had to be fresh.
Henry counted the bags of blood in the fridge.
“There’s enough for a week’s supply here. Do you reckon that’s as long as Bartholomew expected to be here or does he have a source to procure more?”
Sebastian scowled. “He’s staying in a university. He doesn’t need to go far if he wants blood. It beats me why he’s keeping preserved blood at all.”
“Perhaps hunting is tricky if he’s trying to hide what he is from Effie?” Henry guessed, inspecting the bag of flowers more closely. Sebastian grunted in agreement. Hiding something that big from someone as inquisitive as Effie was no easy task.
“Hey.” Henry said slowly. “There’s something weird about these flowers. Look at the leaves.”
Henry tore open the bag and pulled out one of the flowers. A sprig from a wild rose. Sebastian took it from him and held it up to the light.
At first he wasn’t sure what it was that he was seeing that disturbed him, then it clicked. The veins in the leaves were dark. Too dark. He dug his thumbnail into one leaf and scored across the vein. Dark red sap seeped out. He sniffed the bruised leaf. It smelled tinny. Uneasy, he stared back into the safe at the bags of blood. Just what was Barty up to? He pulled one out for a closer look.
“There’s something wrong with this.” He said, holding to up to Henry. Henry pulled a face at it.
“That looks like it’s gone off. Maybe he is hunting after all and this is just an emergency supply. Anyway, we need to keep moving. We don’t have much time.”
Seeing Henry’s point, Sebastian closed the safe door, taking the bag of roses they’d opened with him. After a pause, he opened it again and took out one of the bags of blood. It might be that it was just rancid, but he wanted to be sure. That was when he saw a large slab pushed to the very back of the safe. Dragging it towards him, he saw that it was an old book. A very old book. He grabbed that too. It might prove to be nothing, but he wasn’t going to take that risk.
