“Stop that.” Edoardo sat on his bike. He had asked Raphael to leave Nimbus at his garage by the station, then drove both of them to the Cantari’s estate on the Appian Road, the rich and famous green slice of heaven in the heart of Rome. “And stop that too.”
One hand on his cell phone he hadn’t even realized he was checking, again, Raphael swore.
“You’re cute when you curse in Latin.” Edoardo laughed and lazily stretched on the bike.
Raphael had no idea he had done so. Blinking, he diverted his thoughts away from Luisa, the Reds, stealing V, and how much he felt tainted by the whole idea. “How’s it living large like that?”
The wolf followed Raphael’s eyes staring at the big iron gate. Beyond the gate, a long straight path bordered by carved boxwoods led to a palace trimmed by porches, balconies, and arched windows. “Lots of privileges.” He hopped off the bike, and landed on his two feet firmly planted on the gravel. “A life so full of thrills it becomes dull the moment you realize how fake it is.”
Edoardo wasn’t royalty like Ludovico—an earl—but he was the son of the Argentinian werewolf ambassador. The two shifters had met at a ball thrown by Edoardo’s father when they were fifteen, and never separated. Raphael had met the duo when he was fourteen, and—as often was the case with him—in trouble. During one of his gathering trips, he had stolen from yet another vampire. The Street Angels stopped the undead from beating Raphael to a pulp. Unlike the first vampire he met and stole from, this one proved to be not a defenseless victim.
“I wish I could try that kind of dullness for a full day.” Hands on the intricate wrought-iron décor of the gate, Raphael brought his forehead to the metal to cool his thoughts. The evening was fast approaching, and he couldn’t shake the feeling they were wasting time out there.
“You’re free to fall in love with anyone you want. I wish I could try that for a change.” Following Raphael to the gate, Edoardo too placed his face between the iron bars carved to resemble rose stems. “He won’t be long, don’t worry.”
The rumble of a bike engine interrupted the late afternoon quiet, scaring a storm of birds out of the branches of one of the magnolia trees near the house. Ludovico’s blue Kawasaki sped through the path, raising gravel and dust in its wake, going faster and faster toward the closed gate.
Edoardo’s eyes lit and his lips curved up. “I’d move.”
A few meters away from the gate, the bike didn’t give any sign it would slow down. If anything, it gained speed.
“What is he—?”
With a laugh, Edoardo pulled away Raphael as the gate opened at the last moment, letting the bike through with mere millimeters to spare. As soon as he was outside his property, Ludovico hit the brakes, making the bike drift in a circle before them. Then he accompanied it to the ground and strode toward Edoardo, while removing his helmet in haste.
“I missed you.” Edoardo met Ludovico halfway and made to embrace him, then his eyes went briefly to the column on the right of the gate, where a camera had just moved. “They’re watching us.”
“Let them watch then.” Ludovico took Edoardo’s face in his gloved hands and lowered his mouth to Edoardo for a tender kiss.
Deciding they had enough audience already, Raphael averted his gaze to give the couple some privacy.
A moment later, Ludovico patted Raphael’s arm. “Lighten up, everything will be all right.” With a bright smile, he gave Raphael a wink. “Not exactly proud of what we’re about to do, but a girl’s safety depends on it, so I’ll get my hands dirty.”
“Thank you.” Raphael took Ludovico’s hand for a good shake. “I’ll repay you—”
“Don’t mention it.” Ludovico’s eyes went to Edoardo. “If he were in danger, I’d do anything for him.” One hand stretched toward the wolf, he grabbed Edoardo’s arm and pulled him closer to him. “Even steal V.”
“We better move. Your father has sent for you.” As Edoardo pointed at the end of the driveway, where two massively big men were running toward them, he stole another kiss from his boyfriend. “New bodyguards?”
With a long-drawn sigh, their foreheads connected, Ludovico nodded. “Long story. Meet Mr. Red and Mr. Blu. Ex-army.”
To the two men’s shouts of, “My lord!” the shifters mounted their bikes, and Raphael took his place behind Edoardo.
“Does his father usually send the cavalry after you?” After securing himself by circling Edoardo’s waist, Raphael looked over his shoulder. The earl’s employees stood by the gate and they were scary-looking.
Edoardo’s body tensed at first, then he hunched over the bike and laughed. “That’s a relatively new thing. He used to send Ludovico far away, but we always found each other, so he had to change his strategy. Those are the newest version of the terminators he has been hiring for the last month or so.” He revved the bike and dirt hit them.
The visor of his helmet still up, Raphael ate a mouthful of dust and spat it out. “Hopefully, he’ll come around for his son’s sake,” he croaked.
“I hope so. It means too much to Ludovico that I am accepted by his family.”
Ludovico cruised alongside them, and forty minutes later they reached Olgiata, the exclusive neighborhood favored by paranormal stardom.
Since Cinecittà, the Italian Hollywood, had opened his studios at the beginning of the last century, paranormals had taken by storm the movie industry. Charismatic, eclectic, and sensitive, those actors, directors, and truly anyone who worked around the big factory of dreams that was Cinecittà, were susceptible to live highs and lows as no one else in the paranormal community. Chasing fame and fortune forever, literally, made them the perfect candidates for depression, and it didn’t come as a surprise that they were the highest consumers of V.
Edoardo parked outside a three-story villa, bordered by cypresses trees and decked out for a party. A procession of people dressed to the nines walked along the entryway, leading to a majestic marble staircase.
The trio dismounted, and Ludovico opened his arm to the side. “Ready to party?”
“Where are we exactly?” Raphael had heard Edoardo’s part of his conversation with Ludovico, and he remembered the words movie star, gala, and old friends had come out several times. When he had asked the wolf for an explanation, Edoardo said Ludovico could enter any high society gathering, and those were the places where they could find V. “I thought we were talking about hunting down a pusher delivering in this area.”
“I was invited to attend Luciano Primotti’s new movie release celebration.” Ludovico messed up Raphael’s hair. “Relax.”
Raphael looked down at his dusty jeans, and at his white shirt stained with a day worth of riding through Rome. “I can’t even pass for the help. They won’t let me in.”
“You underestimate your friends’ social influence.” Ludovico headed toward the entrance of the villa.
“Don’t worry.” Edoardo walked past Raphael and motioned for him to follow.
At the white wrought-iron gate, a man, wearing a dark suite and holding a tablet and a stylus, checked off people as they passed through. When it was their turn, the man pointed down his nose at Raphael, but Ludovico announced, “Ludovico Cantari, with two guests.”
The man’s face showed his disconcert for the briefest of moments, then he forced a smile. “Good evening, my lord.” With a slight bow, he raised his hand to the side to let them in. “Please.”
Raphael felt judging eyes burning holes into his back as he headed toward the staircase, and walked faster.
Edoardo turned toward him. “Slow down. You’re a welcome guest.”
Raphael forced himself to do as Edoardo had suggested, but all his senses were on alert. Never in his life, he had visited a house like the one he was about to enter. “I had not realized how well-off you guys really are.” The insight made him look at them with different eyes. “I mean, I knew you were rich but—” Worried he would offend them, he raked his brain for the right words but they eluded him. “You neve
r told me you were filthy rich—” He slammed a hand against his mouth.
“That’s because we aren’t particularly proud of it. It’s not that we did something to earn it.” Ludovico reached the first step of the staircase, and took Edoardo’s hand in his. “Let’s make a grand entrance, shall we?”
The couple entered the villa by a triple glass door that revealed the largest foyer Raphael had ever seen outside of a department store entrance. Inside, polished marbles, white columns, gilded mirrors, and Venetian glass chandeliers in pale blues framed the room.
Dizziness overtook Raphael. Too many scents, too much noise, and the heat that—despite the villa must have had a state of the art AC—was hell to endure. Plus, he remembered he hadn’t eaten much of the dim sum feast Edoardo had ordered.
As if reading his mind, or maybe Ludovico had heard Raphael’s stomach rumbling, the were-puma grabbed a whole tray from a waiter. “Eat before you pass out.” He picked a tramezzino from the plate and offered it to Raphael. “Ham and eggs. You’re a carnivore, right?”
“Yes, thanks.” The small triangular sandwich of soft, crust-less white bread tasted delicious. Raphael was amazed at the texture of the bread and at the delicacy of the ham. “Rich people food tastes better.” Avoiding the vegetarian selection that he left to the shifters, he devoured everything else on the tray.
Edoardo intercepted another waiter, and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water with one hand and three glass-blown chalices with the other. “Have some before you choke.”
Only when his stomach was full and he had gulped down several glasses, did Raphael realize how close he had been from fainting. But the clock was ticking. “Let’s find what we came for and get out of here.”
“Right on it.” Ludovico led them in and out of several adjacent rooms. He paused once or twice in his meandering to exchange greetings with people who asked after his family.
By the time they reached the internal garden, Edoardo was recognized as the Argentinian ambassador’s son and people approached him as well.
“Guys, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t have time for socializing.” Even though the full moon was two weeks away, Raphael’s wolf paced inside his mind, demanding action, and he had a hard time keeping his beast calm. All the control he exercised in the morning had been eroded by exhaustion that was both physical and mental.
“Here they are,” Ludovico whispered, then canted his head and pointed at a group of younger guests milling around a fountain, and added, “You must trust us.” With his back straight and a slow gait, he strolled toward them. “Are you still good at pickpocketing?” he asked Raphael from over his shoulder.
“You betcha.” Raphael perked up and gave the group a better look. “Are they all were-pumas?”
Ludovico nodded. “High school buddies of mine.”
The sarcasm in the shifter’s voice was hard to miss. As it was the look of disdain one of the buddies gave Ludovico, which was followed by a series of arched eyebrows when the rest of the group turned to face them, moving in sequence like domino tiles.
“This is going to be good.” With a grin that lit all his face, Edoardo winked at Raphael. “Ready your nose and sharpen your reflexes, little wolf.”
A low, unfriendly murmur rose as they approached the fountain. Step by step, the tension grew to a palpable level, until Raphael could have stuck out his tongue and tasted the shifters’ hormones raising the hairs on his skin.
“Earl,” one of the were-pumas addressed Ludovico, but his eyes were on Edoardo.
Ludovico stopped before the puma, invading his personal space, and offered his hand. “How’s life, Carl?”
The puma’s face became red, and he dropped the hand he had raised to shake Ludovico’s. Not privy of were-royalties etiquette, Raphael watched the interaction but didn’t understand what was happening.
Ludovico’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, he showed more of his teeth. “Have you met my boyfriend?” Tilting his chin toward Edoardo, who was waiting a step behind, Ludovico invited him by his side. “Edoardo, those are the schoolmates I told you about.”
“What a fortunate coincidence to finally meet all of you.” Edoardo puffed his chest and took Ludovico’s hand in his. “I’ve waited a long time to stand before the royal brats who helped my Ludovico become the wonderful person he is.”
“How dare you!” Carl shouted, and the group moved at once, nostrils flaring and mouths snarling.
“Wolf lover.” A whisper at first, the insult was repeated and gained volume.
Yet, the couple remained untouched by the show of power from the united pack.
Edoardo turned toward Raphael and mouthed, “Now.”
Opening his senses, Raphael concentrated on the scents emanated from the pumas. Among the perfumes, the sweat, the smell of roast beef one of them had eaten earlier in the day, the acrid stench of racism, he found the sweet aroma of fresh V.
“You two make me sick.” Carl spat on Edoardo, and Ludovico punched him on the face, giving the official start to a fight that soon degenerated in vicious biting, kicking, and name calling.
As Ludovico and Edoardo seemed to have the time of the day splitting lips and knocking out teeth, Raphael concentrated in finding the vial of V before it was smashed.
His nose led him to the burliest of the group, a were-puma whose neck was as big as Raphael’s thigh. “Oh, come on.” Raphael approached the shifter from the back, trying to keep downwind and surprise him.
The puma turned at the last moment, and his eyes widened in disgust when he saw Raphael. “You—”
Whatever insult the puma had reserved for Raphael died in his mouth, when Raphael barreled into his chest. He feigned to the side before making contact, smashing his knee against the puma’s groin instead. This time, Raphael didn’t feel any remorse in playing dirty. His right hand slid under the big oaf’s expensive jacket, and with the softest of touches he removed the small vial without the puma being the wiser.
Leaving the were-puma on the ground, Raphael gave Edoardo the thumbs up and moved out of the way, heading toward the exit. A few minutes later, the couple joined him outside of the villa.
“Best night out ever.” Laughing, Edoardo patted Raphael, then, for once, he was the one checking the time. “Eight fifty-five. We better hurry or you’ll be late, Cinderella.”
Despite the adrenaline high, Raphael felt deflated. Inside the pocket of his shirt, he had just hidden a vial of vampire blood. Tainted poison he was about to barter for the chance to become a ruthless gang member. “Luisa, I love you,” he whispered as Edoardo recklessly drove through the streets of Rome.
Chapter Seven
At nine fifty-nine p.m., Mr. Wifebeater opened the door and looked down, his annoyed expression changing to disconcert the moment he saw the vial of V dangling from Raphael’s hand.
“As you ordered, sir.” Before the man could say a word, Raphael raised his cell phone with the screen facing the werewolf. “Right on time and with a full minute to spare.” He then pushed the drug into the werewolf’s hand. “Can I come in?”
“I’ll be damned.” Scratching his shaved head with his free hand, the shifter moved the vial to make the blood slosh from one end to the other. “I didn’t think you were going to show up again.”
“Told you I always deliver.” Raphael raised an eyebrow and pointed his chin at the spot behind the man’s shoulder. “So, what’s inside?”
The werewolf moved to the side and let him in. “What’s your name, scrawny thing?”
“Raphael.” He stepped inside a large room furnished like a billiard parlor. Couches and pool tables with pristine maroon cloths filled one side, while on the other a full bar took up the whole length of the wall. The place was empty. “What’s yours?”
The werewolf exhaled a long breath. “Sir.”
Fatigue coupled with headache and general uneasiness made for the perfect recipe for disaster. Especially when Raphael needed to maintain that thin balance between flippant and
arrogant. “What’s your name, sir?”
“You’re something else, aren’t you?” Mr. Wifebeater laughed. “You’re lucky I’ve a little brother who’s a smart ass like you.” He went behind the bar, took a tall, frosted mug from a stainless steel, double glass-door fridge, and served himself a beer. “Name’s Rock.” With a ruler he tapered the foam from the mug. “Are you old enough to drink?”
“Just turned eighteen.” In his wallet, Raphael kept a fake ID for when the need arose, but he didn’t have to prove he was of a legal age.
Rock—although the Red had changed into a jean shirt, Raphael still thought the name Mr. Wifebeater was more appropriate for the werewolf—filled a second mug for Raphael. “Why are you here?”
“I want to join the Reds.” The beer was a pale ale, cold and refreshing. After a few gulps, Raphael put the mug back down.
The werewolf wasn’t drinking either, his dark eyes were on Raphael, a serious expression on his face as he drummed his fingers against his mug. “Why?”
“I’ve been living by myself since I was twelve, and I want to belong.” Two truths that made a big lie. Raphael brought the mug back to his lips.
“Okay.” Mug raised in salute, Rock tilted his head to the side. “Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to Tancredi.”
Raphael choked and sputtered.
Rock slapped Raphael’s back, making him cough beer from his nose. “Don’t get too excited. The alpha might decide you aren’t prospect material.” Stretching his neck, he yawned. “Time for me to get upstairs. Make yourself at home.” With a sweeping motion, he indicated the couches, then headed toward one of the three doors opening into the room. He rapped on the stainless steel surface, and the door slid into the wall. “See ya.”
Raphael blinked, and the door closed before he could have a glance at what lay beyond.
The morning after, Rock kicked him off of the couch where he had fitfully slept. “Tancredi will see you now.”
Raphael (The Immortal Youth Book 1) Page 8
