Later, after Nick dressed and helped Malcolm into the white terry robe offered by the train, they sat and talked for a while. The hour was late when he stood and kissed Malcolm’s cheek. “Time for me to get to bed. See you in the morning.”
Malcolm walked him to the door and pressed his lips across Nick’s, letting them linger before saying, “Sleep tight.”
“After this? Oh, I will. Trust me, I will.” Just before he opened the door to leave, he said, “Don’t forget to drink your blood.”
§§§§
Venezia, Italia
The next morning, Dante lifted the side of one of the shades out just enough to take a look at the sky. “Sky’s so overcast it looks like wet newspaper, but I think I’ll keep the shades down to help you stay awake.”
Alexandros, who was dressed in a charcoal gray suit and shirt, put an arm around his shoulder and hugged him. “I’ll be fine. So will Malcolm. You’ll see.”
Dante turned his head and brushed his lips across his lover’s. “That color suits you. You look good enough to eat.”
“Hmm. You taste good enough to eat.”
They separated at the rap on the door. Alex opened it, and Raimundo stepped inside with a breakfast tray, bringing with it the rich scents of coffee, tea, and sausages.
After setting it up on the small table and pouring coffee and tea for them, he said, “Anything else I can get for you?”
Dante shook his head. “That looks wonderful. Omelet, sausages, and French toast. Makes my mouth water.”
Alex agreed, with a slight quirk of his lips.
“We’re on schedule to arrive at ten-fifteen. Please wait until the train comes to a full stop before leaving it. Your luggage will be delivered to the baggage area in the terminal.”
“Thank you for everything,” Dante said.
“My pleasure. Perhaps I can serve you again on your return trip. Enjoy Venice.”
When the door closed behind him, Dante spread the toast with fresh butter, doused it with syrup and sprinkled it with powdered sugar. He was washing a bite down with strong, hot coffee when Alexandros sat beside him.
“Dante.”
“There’s a serious tone in your voice, Alexandros. What’s up?”
“Although it’s difficult to speak seriously to someone whose lips are coated with powdered sugar, you must listen to me.”
Dante put his fork down and wiped his mouth with the pale blue linen napkin. He fastened his gaze on Alex’s deep green eyes. “Listening.”
“You must give me your word that while Malcolm and I sleep you will not leave the room or let anyone enter. Please do not contact friends or family to let them know you are here and where we are staying.”
When Dante opened his mouth to respond, Alex lifted his hand. “I know you do not believe in the lurking danger I sense, so I am asking you to trust my instincts. You must give me your word on this.”
Dante couldn’t deny the genuine concern Alex felt. It revved up a tinge of trepidation in him. “You have it.”
Alexandros handed him an engraved business card. “If anything happens to Malcolm or me, contact Prince Massimo in Naples or his lieutenant, Agapeto Maciodi.”
Dante nodded. “You really are worried, aren’t you?” And Alex’s instincts had always been right on.
“Yes.”
Prince Massimo was the leader of all the vampires in southern Italy. He and Agapeto had become their staunch supporters when he and Alex had first met. He looked up from the card. “That reminds me—as if I could have forgotten—is there a leader of the northern Italy vamps we need to appear before?”
Alex grinned, the worry gone from his face. “Tonight, lover. Tonight. But it will not be as it has been. We’ve been invited to the doge’s home for a personal visit.”
Now, Dante smiled. A prince at Naples, a count in New Orleans, and now a duke (a doge) for Venezia. “I thought there hadn’t been a doge here for centuries.”
“Human, yes.” Alex’s cell phone rang. He flipped it open and punched it. He listened, said, “Okay,” and clicked off.
Dante lifted his eyebrows, as if to ask who it was.
“Malcolm.”
A rap on the door sounded again, and Alex let the other vampire in. Malcolm was carrying a bottle covered with one of the fluffy hand towels.
Alex’s brow drew together in puzzlement when he saw it. The intoxicating smell of fresh blood filled the room when Malcolm ceremoniously removed the towel with a flick of his wrist, he asked, “Good Lord, where did you get that?”
“My steward.”
Dante watched Alex bristle in disapproval.
“How—”
“Met him before.” Malcolm explained about the Vampire Ball. “You remember? We went together, and you met him, too.”
Dante could almost see the thoughts tumbling through Alex’s mind. Then his face cleared somewhat and he nodded.
When Malcolm told them of Nick’s assumption he’d been in costume as Lestat that night, they all laughed long and hard.
When they’d recovered, Malcolm said, “We hit it off, and I liked him very much. He gave me his number when we parted. I wanted to see him again, but he was young and I…well, it was before you’d hooked up with Dante and at that time being involved with a human didn’t seem a good idea. Turns out he tried to find me. Even haunted the old cemeteries at night.”
Alex and Dante shuddered in tandem.
“Right. Told him he was damned lucky to be alive. Anyway, when he saw our names on the passenger list, he wondered if it was us. Recognized me the minute we came in view. He brought blood for me last night, and this morning he left this with me for you. Raimundo doesn’t recognize what we are.”
A still clearly suspicious Alex read the label, then removed the cap and smelled it. Dante saw his fangs begin to lengthen at the scent, but he didn’t tip the bottle up to drink.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alex. It’s been hours since I had mine, and I’m fine. It’s not like Nick’s a complete stranger. He was very happy to see me again. And I was really pleased. I’d liked him at the ball, and I like him still.”
“Have a seat while Alex feeds,” Dante said. “You look very handsome in your brown suit, by the way. Very professional. Armani?”
Malcolm shook his head, staring at Alex. “Ralph Lauren.”
Dante continued, “Now, tell us what you know about this guy.”
Instead, their friend sat, as if dazed.
“Malcolm?” Dante figured Malcolm’s distraction was because he was fighting to ignore the unsettling coppery scent issuing from the bottle from which Alex was drinking. The desire to rip it from Alex’s hands and down the blood himself was no doubt strong, but Dante knew he wouldn’t stoop to robbing a friend. Besides, it would mean a fight, and while Malcolm was no slouch, few vamps were better than the famed Alexandros Nicolaides.
Malcolm’s attention snapped back to Dante. “What? Oh. My apologies. Nick lives in Monroe. Worked for Delta Airlines, but was temporarily laid off in a slow patch. He’s single, and this was a chance to see and do some things he’d always wanted to do, so he took this job. I think he’ll be my steward on the return run to Rome.”
Dante wasn’t dumb, and Malcolm almost glowed as he spoke of Nick. If his friend hadn’t been solidly gay, Dante would’ve looked for lipstick on his collar. Dante recognized that glow…could almost feel its warmth surging through Malcolm…because he and Alex had shared such a reaction last evening.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of running water in the sleeping cabin. Alex had finished the blood and was rinsing the bottle and recapping it. He came out with his carry-on, stuffed the bottle inside and zipped up the bag. With a wide grin, he said, “Wouldn’t do to discard something labeled ‘O Negative’ in the wastebasket.” Alex took out the map. “Thank you, Malcolm. I’m feeling better already.” He cleared his throat. “I think we should all go over this again. We need to be on the same page.”
Dante stoo
d and held up a big tube of sunblock from his carry-on. “First, rub this on. It needs to be on half an hour before exposure to work its magic on your skin. Then face makeup.”
Soon the smell of the creams filled the cabin as they rubbed and talked about their plans.
The train’s speed slowed.
“We’re coming into the station,” Malcolm said. “Time to suit up.”
By the time the three of them approached the train door, their shirts were buttoned up to their throats, big dark glasses hid their eyes and much of their faces, while hats with broad brims sheltered what little skin was still exposed. They wore expensive leather gloves and carried briefcases in addition to their carry-ons.
§§§§
Stazione di Venezia Mestre
The train jerked to a full stop with a wheeze. A steward opened the door and lowered the stairs. They lined up, preparing to leave the train, Alex first, then Dante, followed by Malcolm.
“I feel like the salami in a sandwich,” Dante complained as they waited. Then, when he felt Alex stiffen in disapproval, he said, “Sorry. Just making a joke. How is everyone feeling, by the way?”
Alex drew a gloved hand up to his face and staggered a little. “I am feeling very sleepy. Aren’t you, Malcolm?”
“Not…sure I can make it.” Malcolm’s voice was weak and unsteady.
Dante’s eyes widened in alarm.
Alex laughed. “Just making a joke.”
Malcolm’s laughter joined Alex’s. “We’re fine, my friend. Lead on, Alexandros.”
One by one, they prepared to disembark. Dante sensed the vamps go on the alert, a fact he found so unnerving after this morning’s warning that he glanced around for threats, too. What he saw was who he thought was the striking blond steward from last night leaving from several cars ahead of theirs. He was dressed in dark jeans, running shoes and a blue T-shirt. A backpack was strapped on, so Dante couldn’t be sure it was the same man. He walked briskly toward the terminal, but slowed when a rough-looking man approached him from the station entrance. They talked, rather heatedly Dante thought, then something changed hands and the steward picked up his gait and hurried into the terminal.
“Isn’t that—” His question to Malcolm was interrupted by the attendant on the ground dressed in the train’s livery.
“Thank you for traveling the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay.” He spoke in English to Alex. In turn, he spoke to Dante in Italian and Malcolm in German.
They turned toward the city and began the journey to the terminal.
Without warning, Alex halted. “Christós,” he murmured, and it was tinged with awe.
Dante knew how he felt. It was the same for everyone who saw the Queen of the Adriatic for the first time. They were gazing across the expanse of stone paving beneath their feet to where it ended at the edge of the Grand Canal. Across the way, the canal’s deep green waters lapped at walkways and huge marble, brick and stone buildings of earlier eras that kissed the canal’s very edges. Red tiles dominated the rooftops. The domes and elaborate spires of St. Mark’s Basilica, with its gilded Byzantine mosaics and Gothic architecture, reached into the sky as if to God Himself.
The canal was dotted with traffic—black-and-gold gondolas, sleek water taxis, bulky buses, private motor boats, and workhorse traghetti designed to ferry you at certain stops from one side of the canal to the other.
“Incredible,” Malcolm said.
“Told you,” Dante said. He almost said, “Wait until you see her in sunlight,” but stopped himself in time.
Malcolm asked, “What are all these red-and-white striped poles topped with golden finials that stick out of the water?”
“They mark public and private docking spaces. The solid blue poles do the same.”
They waited in the baggage area until they could retrieve their luggage. Their suitcases could be converted into backpacks, but for now they kept them in the wheels-and-handle mode because it would be faster when they walked to the lagoon. It took longer than Dante had planned, and he could tell the movements of his friends were growing sluggish. His nerves took a hit at the thought they might not hold out until they were safely in their rooms. At last, they reached the water and could leave.
“This way. I’ve arranged for private taxi service to our hotel.” Dante shivered as he hurried them quayside.
A taxi had seemed the best choice for getting the vampires to their quarters before they collapsed. Once in their rooms, they could drop fully clothed and sleep on the floor for all it would matter then. The shiver deepened. Heaven help me if someone chooses to attack me when their reflexes are slow. It could make all the difference.
Pushing his shoulders back and holding his head up to shake away the doom-and-gloom attitude, they reached quayside just as a taxi drew up and the driver called, “Signor Dante Rocco?”
Dante waved, identified himself and handed over their prepaid tickets. Soon they were skimming along the canal, white wakes flying on either side of the bow and the salty scent of the sea filling their nostrils. He drew in a slow, deep breath. A muddy Mississippi River smell could never compete with that of the always-fresh scent of the salty sea.
His friends were quiet now, but he noticed them taking in the sights. Alex’s mouth tightened in a smile at times, and he would turn and his marvelous eyes would flash at Dante. Knowing him as he did, Dante guessed he was appreciating the historic architecture and statues in stone and bronze as they whizzed past. He hoped part of that enjoyment was that they were seeing it together. Alex had shared his beloved New Orleans with Dante; now Dante was sharing amazing Venice with him.
The sound of the motor slowed, and Dante watched the driver guide the craft smoothly up to the dock. Looking up, he saw they were at the entrance to their hotel, a converted palazzo. They clambered onto the worn stone walkway, and the driver handed up their luggage.
“Grazie tanto,” Dante said.
Before he could tip the man, Alexandros had slipped too many euros into his hand.
The boatman’s grin was wide as he saw the bills. “Grazie mille!”
As the boat left the dock and roared away, leaving a wide white wake, Malcolm said, “What do you bet he makes sure he’s the one who picks us up for the return trip?”
The vamps wanted to sit down while they waited for the hotel manager to arrive to show them to their rooms.
“Oh, no,” Dante whispered. “If you fall asleep, I won’t be able to wake you and then we’ll have the Italian paramedici here thinking they need to do CPR on men as pale as death.”
Malcolm smothered a laugh. Alex was getting grouchy, but he agreed.
Rather than risk the somewhat shaky looking elevator, Dante insisted they climb the stairs to the third floor. They were escorted into a suite of huge rooms with simple but elegant furnishings. Wide windows overlooked the Grand Canal, and the view of the canal and the city were spectacular, despite the gray sky. Dante had his hands full coaxing his friends to their beds. He drew the curtains over their windows and closed the doors to their bedrooms. Now, he was free to check the few food stores he’d ordered ahead and make his lunch.
Everything was there, with some to spare. He slapped together prosciutto, provolone, and tomato between slices of crusty bread and poured a small glass of wine, taking a seat in a breakfast nook where he could observe the activity on the canal and survey the tall buildings on the other side. As he enjoyed the strong flavors of his sandwich, he thought about what he saw across the lagoon. The buildings touched each other without space between. The encroachment of the sea in times of storms and flood tides could be seen in areas where high water levels had stained and caused deterioration and crumbling of the brick and stone buildings. It was a city built on pilings driven into mud and sand. It was a constant battle not to lose Venice to the sea.
With only sixty thousand residents, Venezia was a moderate sized town. It had a golf course, football—soccer —team and an elaborate gilded theater. Still,
Dante wasn’t sure he’d want to live here. It was nice to visit the unique and beautiful seaside resort, but it was horribly crowded during tourist season. Despite being Italian, on his few visits, Dante had sensed how much residents resented tourists. Things were also expensive in this unusual town and no one was overly friendly to strangers.
Because you could walk from one end of this island to the other in an hour, Dante thought he’d be bored in a very short time, despite his trips around the world as a courier. Besides, he fingered his new ring, New Orleans and my life with Alexandros are growing on me. Despite touches of homesickness, it was getting easier and easier to leave Italy behind.
Thinking had driven his vision inward, but as he focused once again on the scene outside, he caught a glimpse of a man’s figure and a bearded face in one of the windows of the building opposite them. He had the impression the man had been interested in him because he ducked back and disappeared. Dante was amused. He also thought there was something familiar about the way the man moved.
Probably embarrassed to have been caught staring at me.
From the bedroom came a low moan, and Dante, distracted from the window man, wondered if Alex was having a nightmare. It had happened only once, when they were in New Orleans and Alex had sensed some evil threatening them. A few days later, Giacomo had attacked, bent on destroying them. Dante listened, but heard nothing else. Approaching the door in his stocking feet, he opened it and peeked in. Alex slept undisturbed now. He didn’t stir when the door clicked shut.
Dante finished his lunch, then washed his few dishes and stacked them in the drying rack. Grabbing up an apple, he munched on it while he paced around the room. It was really the pits being cooped up like this. The long flight and cramped train ride had made him feel stiff and out of shape. After tossing his core in the trash, he practiced lunges and Pilates planks plus yoga moves to strengthen his core and quiet his restlessness.
Oh, hell. I give up. After removing his shoes, he slid fully clothed beneath the covers with Alex and slept.
Night Train to Venice Page 4
