by S J Williams
Sebastian’s mouth twisted. “I believe his lack of gluttony was one of his more celebrated virtues.”
Catarina let out a hollow bark of laughter. “Oh, I bet he loved that. How long did it take him to come after you?”
“He knew about us from about 1492 that I know. We’d been working our way through his nest, closing in on him when he disappeared. He didn’t reappear until 1495 and, by then, he was so ensconced in Savonarola’s government, getting at him was next to impossible. After that, it was a race to who would take the other out first.” A race they had lost.
“So, do you know where his hiding places might have been?”
“The convent of San Marco was my first guess but getting in at the time was impossible. They’d seen me hang, after all. I couldn’t exactly waltz in and ask for Bartholomew.”
“Well, you could. That might have put the fear of God into their hearts.” She smirked.
“Or witches. Or demons. Or anything else they could throw at me. That would have stuck a lot better.”
“So, if you think he might have been hiding in the convent, why are we here? The old palace is a Medici stronghold. I’m pretty sure Bartholomew wouldn’t have been welcome here.”
“Which is precisely why I am here.” Sebastian swung his leg over the back of the bike and stowed the helmets in his panniers. “It would be too easy to look through San Marco for Bartholomew. He’d expect us to do that. It would make a lot more sense for him to be hiding somewhere we wouldn’t think to look.”
“In a twisted logic sort of way.” Catarina screwed up her nose. “It doesn’t make our search any easier. In fact, it makes it a lot harder.”
Sebastian finished locking up his bike and started walking towards the palace. “That is, I believe, what I told you just a minute ago.”
She scowled at him but he held off her comeback.
“Come on. The sooner we start, the sooner you will realise that this is futile and we can catch up with the others at the university.”
A couple of hours later, and they still had nothing to show for their search. Catarina’s mood had soured a long time ago and Sebastian was chafing at being away from Effie for so long.
“This is useless.” Catarina said for the fifth time. Sebastian resisted the urge to remind her of what he’d said at the beginning of the day. Or just throttle her.
“Isn’t there anywhere you can think of that he might have used as a hiding place?”
“Not from his time here in the fifteenth century, no.” Sebastian said, keeping his voice low and even. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted the mortals to overhear.
“What do you mean, from the fifteenth century specifically?” She asked, a slightly petulant tone in her voice.
“Well, he’s supposedly been here since as Roberto Albini, but I don’t know anything about him now except that…”
Sebastian froze. Alarm bells were blaring in his head.
“Except what?” Catarina prodded him, picking up on his urgency. “Hello? Except what?”
“Except that he studied at the university here.” Sebastian said, his mind whirling. The university. Where Effie was right now.
Turning on his heel, he sprinted back to his bike, shoving tourists out of his way, barely noticing that his speed had gone well beyond what any mortal was capable of. Catarina followed in his wake, for once not complaining.
A single thought ran through his brain on a loop.
He was going to be too late.
“Well. That was disappointing.”
Effie smiled wryly at Henry’s comment. Any hopes they could discredit Bartholomew by pointing out the holes in his Roberto Albini story were now dashed. By all accounts, Roberto Albini had steadily worked his way from undergraduate to postdoctorate at the university of Florence. He’d been a credit to the institution and was now going on to greater things. Of course, they were delighted to meet his colleague. Always a pleasure.
All very nice and airtight as far as cover stories went. If a life lived exactly as Bartholomew had said he’d done counted as a cover story. Really, Bartholomew had just lived under an alias for the past decade and a half.
Effie hadn’t mentioned the Fra Amedeo collection. She still needed time to study the diary they’d uncovered from Bartholomew’s possessions and she was afraid that announcing the existence of the portraits would accelerate Bartholomew’s plot to expose the existence of immortals. Not until they’d worked out why he was so eager to do that could they start making any major moves.
Going to the History faculty had taught her one thing, however. Nobody here knew about the portraits. From the discussions about what Roberto had been interested in as a student, there was no mention of Fra Amedeo or any portraits he might have inherited. Not the answer she would have expected if any of these academics had caught wind of a collection of newly discovered artworks by one of the city's celebrated renaissance artists.
“This feels like we’re playing a game with Bartholomew and he’s got all the cards.” Effie said with a frown as they strolled slowly back to the bike. Lucien had said he would meet them there after he’d met up with his old colleague.
“You would have thought that they’d be interested in the gallery you were going to open, but they hadn’t heard of it.” Henry mused.
Effie shrugged.
“I left the advertising and publicity to Roberto. I don’t know what his strategy was.”
Henry grunted. “Forget about a game of cards. This is starting to feel like a ticking time bomb. It’s a pity you went into so much detail researching the lives of the portraits’ subjects. It means that if ever the collection does go public, there’ll be all these flashing arrows pointing towards immortals.”
Effie put her hand over her mouth.
“Hey. Don’t get upset about it. I’m not blaming you.” Henry tried to put his arm around her shoulders but she shrugged him off.
“It’s not that. I’ve just realised. Roberto, or Bartholomew, pushed me to do that research. He said all sorts of things about it being important to give the public as much historical context as possible. At least, that’s what he said. But there were some names and places which I was going to research, only he told me not to bother, that it was more important to meet the deadline for opening the gallery. At the time, I thought it was odd. Now, I think I know. He didn’t think those details would be any use to his grand reveal.”
Henry nodded, eyebrows lowered in a frown. “You could be right there. Not all of the immortals in the portraits are still alive. There wouldn’t be much point in drawing attention to them if there is no one alive today to expose.”
Effie snorted. “I might be right but it’s not going to help us. You guys have already pointed it out. I’m connected to this gallery. As far as anyone is concerned, the discovery, and the intent behind it, is mine.”
Henry tried putting his arm around her again. When she didn’t shrug him off this time, he hugged her. “Roberto’s name will be there as well. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to either discredit him or prove that you had no idea about what was going on."
She gave Henry a grateful smile, but her stomach still churned unpleasantly. More and more, it was looking like Bartholomew had deliberately set her up to be his scapegoat. And they still didn’t know what his end goal was.
Another thought struck her. “Do you think I shouldn’t become an immortal? I mean, would you guys be more lenient towards me if I looked like some clueless mortal who had no stake in your world?”
Henry frowned down at his shoes, then gave her shoulders another little squeeze before letting go. “It probably wouldn’t make much difference, one way or the other. If you’re a clueless mortal, you’re still a threat because, naturally, you’re going to want people to know about your work and your research comes too close to our secrets for comfort. Immortals are not going to want you blundering around, uncovering who knows what and making a lot of noise about it. You’re as bad as pesky archaeologists in that
respect.” He shot her a quick grin but she couldn’t find it in herself to smile back.
“If you’re an immortal, or going to be an immortal, you clearly have a stake in keeping our secrets so other immortals will only really get annoyed if you fail from this point onwards to stop the portraits from going public. From that perspective, I’d say you’d be better off as an immortal. That way, you at least have some chance of coming out of this with the rest of the immortals on your side.”
Effie gave him a sidelong look. It wasn’t the most optimistic of outlooks.
“If you’d asked me last week what I would be doing right now, deliberately sabotaging my work would not have been on the list,” she grumbled.
Henry laughed and patted her shoulder. “You’ll get over it. After all, you’ll have centuries ahead of you to open a gallery or three. Hey, you could do a dozen PhDs on it. Just ask Lucien. The guy never stops going to university, as far as I’m aware.”
Suddenly he froze, hand still on her shoulder. His eyes flashed brilliant gold.
Effie stiffened, sensing something was wrong.
“Come on.” He hissed, grabbing her upper arm and whisking her away down the corridor. Effie’s feet might have touched the ground a couple of times but she felt like she was flying, being towed by a man who was no longer moving at human speeds.
That didn’t stop her from being out of breath by the time Henry came to an abrupt halt deep in the biology department. He grabbed the handle of a laboratory door and rattled it.
“Bugger.” He swore viciously. “Where’s Sebastian when you need him?”
He gave the door a hard shove with his shoulder. Something snapped and, on the other side, there was a clatter of metal landing on the floor. He threw himself inside.
Effie followed him into a hydroponics lab. Rows of futuristic machines lined the walls with plants suspended, their roots submerged in a strange reddish solution. It felt like the set of some science fiction film, complete with eerie red and blue light glowing behind the plants.
Henry had gone back to standing stock still, quivering like a dog on a scent. Then he growled.
“It’s too faint.” He muttered, more to himself than to her.
“What’s too faint?” She asked anyway.
“Bartholomew’s intentions. He’s been here recently, but not recently enough.” Henry growled.
“Bartholomew’s been here?” She looked around, seeing the lab in a new light. Those plants, she realised now, had the same strangely red veined leaves. “You think he’s been growing these?” She asked, incredulous. When had Bartholomew had time to do all this?
Henry shook his head, then paused and shrugged. “He’s definitely been here but I don’t think he’s been here often enough to have grown all of these. More like, he’s got a technician doing it for him. Look,” he turned to her, his face tight with urgency. “Will you wait here while I go and get Lucien? He’s not far away and he needs to see this.”
“Can’t you just call him?” She asked, remembering Lucien proudly holding up his old Nokia.
Henry shook his head in frustration. “He won’t have his phone switched on. He’s got a thing about turning it off completely for meetings. Says it’s disrespectful or something.” From the look on Henry’s face, he didn’t agree with the scholar’s attitude. Right then, Effie didn’t agree either.
“Fine. Go.” She said. “I know I’ll just slow you down.”
He smiled at her gratefully and disappeared. Effie hoped he didn’t run into anyone in the corridors. He’d have a job explaining how he could move that fast. Then again, if he did run into someone, they probably wouldn’t be up to asking anything at all since they’d be flattened against the floor.
Looking around again, she wandered over to the nearest bank of plants, peering down at the red liquid at their roots. It looked unnervingly like watery blood.
She shook her head vigorously. “I’ve got vampires on the brain.” She told herself firmly. “I’m seeing blood everywhere.”
A heavy hand on her shoulder immediately shattered whatever reassurance she could take from that thought.
Before Effie could scream, a second hand clamped over her mouth and she was crushed against something hard and uncompromising.
“Now, now. There’s no need for any dramatics.” A familiar voice murmured in her ear. “We’re just going to find somewhere nice and private to have a quick chat, you and I.”
Effie tried to protest but it felt like a fog had descended over her mind, cutting off the connections to her body. All she could do was let herself be marched out of the laboratory.
Somewhere nice and private turned out to be just down the corridor from the laboratory, plastic chairs and metal tables clustered uncomfortably in the centre of what had once been an elegant and now slightly shabby meeting room. Bartholomew forced her into a seat, keeping one hand on her shoulder the entire time.
He’s using control on me, Effie thought.
Dread seeped up from her belly. Chains and manacles wouldn’t have been a better restraint.
Still keeping that physical contact, Bartholomew moved round to face her, sitting in a chair and bringing it so close, their knees touched.
“Now. I think I’m long overdue a status report. How are you getting on with procuring that medallion for me?”
All of a sudden, Effie found she had control of her mouth. She had no idea what to say. Did she admit she wasn’t on his side anymore? Did she dare risk what he would do to her if she told him that? She was pretty sure he wouldn’t kill her, not if he needed her for his plans. But there were many things he could do to her that stopped short of killing her. She said nothing. She suspected he already knew the answer to his question, anyway.
“Tut tut, Effie. What happened to my diligent little partner?”
“She had her eyes opened.” Effie growled. Though she could speak, she couldn’t raise her voice above a low murmur. Sebastian may have said vampire mental abilities weren’t as strong as immortals’, but that didn’t seem to be helping her now.
“So you believed everything they said? How very naive of you.” Bartholomew drawled, letting his lips curl into a lazy sneer.
“You weren’t calling me naive when I swallowed all your lies.” She hissed.
“Very true. But I couldn’t exactly tell you the truth, now could I?”
“Why not? You’re going to reveal all with those portraits, aren’t you?”
“Mmm. Someone’s been doing her homework. I have excellent reasons for revealing the portraits at precisely the right time. I couldn’t risk you spoiling everything by bleating about immortals too soon.”
“Excellent reasons? What might those be?” Effie had no illusions she was about to witness a grand reveal speech but it was worth a shot.
Bartholomew gave her a knowing smile. “Ah, ah, ah. You will just have to find out like all the rest of the fools in the world.”
With whiplash inducing speed, his lazy amusement vanished and he leaned into her, his mouth a snarl. She wished she could lean back, not least because his breath had not improved since she’d last smelled it.
“Listen here, you little bitch. I’ve worked too hard and long for you to get in my way now. You are going to get that medallion for me or else I’ll be looking for your substitute.”
“My substitute for what?” She demanded, trying not to show her fear.
Bartholomew smiled, baring thick, white fangs. She stared at them, fascinated. So this was the real Roberto.
“Do I shock you, my dear? Perhaps you’ll be a little more willing to do as you’re told, now that you have a better idea of what is at stake.”
Effie frowned at him, dreading to know exactly what he meant by that.
He didn’t give her time to wonder.
“You are going to come here tomorrow night with that medallion or I am going to make your life very, very… miserable. I’ve done it before; don’t doubt I’ll do it again.”
He stood up
and gripped the top of her head with one hand. Walking around her while, keeping her facing forward, he hissed in her ear.
“You have your instructions. Don’t disappoint me.” Then he paused, his face against her neck. He inhaled.
If she’d had full possession of her body, that inhale would have set her off shivering like a frightened dog. As it was, only her mind could scream in instinctive panic.
“So tempting.” His breath was hot against her skin. “You are really quite a delicacy, did you know? A potential immortal. So rich. So full of … life. But it’s too soon.” Those last words sounded like they were directed at himself rather than at her.
Then he was gone. The backdraft from the closing door was the only thing to tell her she was now alone. Effie’s body slumped like a puppet’s whose strings had been cut. Everything ached. Worst, she felt like her stomach was going to revolt. Breathing in harsh pants, she leant forwards to put her head between her knees. She would call for help. Just as soon as she could be sure she wouldn’t lose the contents of her stomach in the process.
10
Sebastian skidded to a halt and jumped off his motorbike, barely waiting for Catarina to dismount first. They hadn’t bothered with helmets this time.
Catarina had been trying to get hold of Henry and Lucien constantly on the ride over to the university. The shouted updates in his ear that she still wasn’t getting through only made him rev the engine harder, pushing the bike beyond what was safe or reasonable. It wasn’t that far to the university. Only ten minutes travelling at legal speeds. It had taken them less than five.
Sebastian raced towards the main building, looking around for any signs of the others. There. That was Henry’s bike. Abandoned.
“We need to split up.” Catarina’s voice had the snap of a drill sergeant’s. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”
Sebastian didn’t waste the energy to nod. He just turned, angling away from her to make his way to one of the old, imposing doors.
And ran straight into Henry.
Catching Henry by the upper arms, Sebastian immediately looked over his shoulder, searching for Effie. She wasn’t with him.
