by J. D. Brown
Bridget
I shoved the last forkful of ground beef into my mouth and chewed. A game show host droned on in a phony upbeat voice on the television screen. My eyes were dry and grainy from binge channel-surfing, and I was fairly certain my brain had sprouted mold.
Retirement. What a joke.
I knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, I would get tired of watching my skin cells fuse with the couch fibers, but for now I was content to punish myself with endless hours of reality TV. Did humans really watch this connerie? No wonder their life spans were so short.
My cellphone rang. I glared proverbial daggers at it and watched as it vibrated across the coffee table. Who on earth would call me? Didn’t they know I wanted to be left alone? I let the call go to voicemail and picked up the remote control instead. The ancient box only had twenty channels. I didn’t usually watch television, except to occasionally check the news, so buying one of those high-tech flat screen contraptions seemed like a waste of money—money that I would desperately need to save, now that I was retired. What on earth would I do for the next thousand years? Go rogue?
I scoffed at the idea. Going rogue was a sure way to get killed. I may not have much to live for at the moment, but that didn’t mean I wanted to commit suicide. Damn self-preservation. I guess I could work for the R.E.D. Something low-key, like a hotel receptionist, or cleaning lady. I could ask Heidi for a recommendation. Life as a civilian couldn’t be that bad, could it?
The phone rang again. I rolled my eyes and ignored it while swirling the Styrofoam tray in my hand. Red juice sloshed around, threatening to spill. I debated drinking it. The sensible choice would be to save it for later, but I wasn’t feeling very utilitarian at the moment. I lifted the tray to my lips and gulped the blood. Going to need a new job sooner than later. A girl had to eat.
I grabbed the cellphone and, ignoring the missed calls notification, entered Heidi’s number. My thumb moved to press the final digit when suddenly, a call came through. Instead of hitting the eight key, I accidently pressed the answer-in-coming-call key.
“Hello?”
I cringed as Naamah’s voice came through the speaker. What did he want? Weren’t they done with me? No one even noticed when I left the castle.
I drew a breath and then pressed the phone to my ear. “Oui?”
“Bridget, finally. I have a job for you.”
Talk about irony. I hated when a conversation started with those six little words. It was going to be a nice day when I filled out my first paper application like a normal person.
“Sorry, but I’m retired.”
There was a long pause. Then, “When did you file the paperwork?”
I sighed. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“Then you’re still in commission.”
Smart ass. “Consider zis a heads-up.”
“At least listen to the specifics.”
I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. I had the right to decline the job. What harm could humoring him do? Besides, it beat listening to Mr. No-Talent Game Show Host. “Fine. You have five minutes.”
“Helldora is alive.”
That got my attention. My brow pinched as I pushed upright. “Zee Neo-Draugrian Arm? I heard she died in zee ambush.”
“She is in bad condition, but alive nonetheless. Apollyon is keeping her hostage.”
So it’s a rescue mission. That was always a welcome change from a murder mission. However, it didn’t alter the fact that I was retired. “Why don’t you send one of your own men to retrieve her?”
“Apollyon’s second coming is still classified information. I intend to keep it that way. You are already involved. Not to mention, you are one of the best.”
Flatterer. I pursed my lips and let the silence linger while I thought it over. I was trying to make things right between me and Jesu. According to him, that meant not getting involved.
“It would be fast and easy,” Naamah added. “I already know her location. Apollyon only has one man on guard. All you have to do is take him out and bring her home. Hardly any mess.”
“Sorry, but I’m off zee roster.”
“Going rogue?”
My gaze narrowed and I chose my words carefully. “I’m declining the job.”
“On what grounds?”
“I have an injury.”
He didn’t bother to dignify that with a reaction.
“I’m too emotionally invested.” That was an honest excuse. “Take your pick.”
“I will pay you five-million euros.”
My spine went ramrod straight. “Excusez moi?”
“You want to retire from the Elite. Five-million should keep you comfortable until you find a proper civilian income. I will even push your resignation papers for you.”
Manipulative bastard. I really hated vampyres. What gave them the gall to string me along?
“Think about it,” he said.
Oh, I’ll think about it all right. I’ll think about the fact that you’ll probably convince the program to decline my papers if I don’t take your stupid offer. Not to mention, I’d really like to keep my apartment, and that meant paying the rent.
“One condition,” I said.
“Anything for you, my friend.”
I resisted the urge to snort at his choice of endearment. “Prince Jesu never finds out about this.”
“You have my word.”
I grimaced, somehow knowing I would regret this later. “All right, give me zee location.”
Chapter 15
We arrived in Venice in true Venetian style. Maria, Jesu, Brinnon, and I raced across the lagoon in a speedboat, the wind in our hair and the water spraying our arms. A clear night sky stretched across the heavens. The occasional seagull glided overhead, cawing in warning to his sleeping brethren. I cringed to the side. I would never get used to animals recognizing us. It wasn’t quite the same wary reaction they got around humans. Vampyres gave them a more instant-terror effect. Our driver grinned over his shoulder, flashing his fangs. He seemed to find the bird’s reaction amusing. Venice was a heavily populated city, with a high tourist rate. To say I was apprehensive about sharing close quarters with over two-hundred thousand humans was an understatement. Maria and Jesu watched me with guarded expressions.
I can absorb energy, I reminded myself. I don’t need blood.
I gripped the rail and watched the floating city grow in the distance. It lit the black sky like a rising star, aglow with street lamps and window lights. I touched the rim of my sunglasses and smiled. I always dreamed of visiting Venice, a municipal known across the globe for its vigorous history and iconic influence in the arts. Not that Finland and Germany weren’t amazing, but Italy had a leading role in both the Crusades and the Renaissance. My historian spirit soared with glee at the very idea.
The mouth of the approaching Grand Canal reminded me of photographs of New Orleans and the Mississippi river. The rustic porticos of the surrounding buildings closely resembled the multi-level verandas of the French Quarter. We sailed farther into the canal, entering the heart of the city, and Venice quickly morphed into a world unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The shops, hotels, cafés, and other edifices stood wall to wall, with no alleys or streets between them. The door fronts came all the way to the water. Only a select few properties had docks to park boats. It was as though the city literally stood on the sea.
The Venetians favored arches made of a white cement material, and they used them ubiquitously. The windows, doors, bridges, and pavilions were all arched and elaborately decorated in gothic patterns. While elegant on their own, the arches didn’t match the pale brown brick of the walls and walkways. The city was a hodgepodge of Byzantine, Spanish, and Baroque architecture that clashed with the graceful gothic pieces. The result was a horrendously beautiful wabi-sabi effect. I leaned against the port of the boat and sighed, hopelessly in love with it all.
Like any decent tourist trap, the shopping, eating, and sightseeing we
nt on well into the night. Several hundred humans in every shape, size, and color milled about with no regard to the late hour. The scent of coffee, wine, cheese, sweets, fish, bread, and tobacco all rolled into one over-stimulating cloud, but it was nothing compared to the heavenly aroma of human flesh. I inhaled a deep breath, filling my lungs with the salty goodness. A jazz band played a lively tune just outside a café, but the notes paled in comparison to the many heartbeats pounding against my eardrums, calling out to my inner Nephelim. The sheer volume of strange faces was enough to convince any predator that a single death would not be noticed; a quiet disappearance in the slip of a shadow; one soul missing in a sea of thousands. It could be hours before any distracted loved ones thought to look for the victim.
A hand gripped my shoulder and I jumped. I glanced at Jesu’s pale blue fingers and sighed in relief. His brow and mouth were tightly wound, but he didn’t say anything. He still wasn’t speaking to me, unless absolutely necessary. Why he bothered to go on this trip, I didn’t know.
I forced a reassuring smile—if he wasn’t going to talk, why should I?—and then lowered my hands between the boat rail and my stomach. I phased my fingertips. My breath hitched at the thickness of the air. It stuck like hot tar to the atoms of my invisible fingers. I solidified, but the energy was so potent, it zapped through my body, amplifying every nerve ending, energizing every blood cell. My stomach churned with the sudden force and I vaulted forward, vomiting over the side of the water taxi. The wind blew a few chunks back in my face and across Jesu’s shirt.
After a shared moment of mortification, Maria pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to me. She turned an apologetic smile to the driver. “Motion sickness. She spent the entire flight here hunched in the restroom.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. Maria’s words were a bit of an exaggeration. I had only puked twice during the two hour flight, but Brinnon didn’t know I was pregnant, and the three of us agreed to keep it that way, so I played along with the motion sickness excuse. The driver rolled his eyes and faced forward. I wiped my face on one side of the handkerchief, folded it in half, and passed it to Jesu. He took it and wiped at his shirt. Thank goodness he always wore black, the stain wasn’t too noticeable.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
Jesu didn’t say anything.
The rumbled of the boat engine quieted to a slow gurgle, and we approached a small dock. The dock doubled as a terrace, with a wooden fence on each side and a thatched roof from which potted ferns and flora hung. The driver aligned the side of the boat with the narrow entrance of the terrace and then stalled. He waved two fingers toward the dock and whistled, giving the all-clear for dismount.
Jesu stepped from the port to the dock in one long stride. He extended a hand toward me and I reluctantly took it. I couldn’t levitate in front of all the passersby along the canal, and I didn’t trust my short legs or poor balance to make the leap. The heat of his touch sent small tingles shooting through my fingers, and my heart faltered. I pursed my lips in silent resignation and focused on my feet while Jesu lifted me onto the dock. He immediately pulled his hand away and offered it to Maria. I told myself he wasn’t being rude, though some deep ugly part of my consciousness pointed out the fact that Maria really didn’t need three men helping her off the boat.
Whatever.
While the guys unloaded our luggage, I inspected the small patio, taking in the white wicker table and chairs and the cobalt blue seat cushions. Punch-red and canary-yellow flowers enclosed the space, giving a sense of privacy without blocking too much of the scenic canal. My attention went to the building at the end of the dock, specifically the white lancet arch in the center, and the wooden door waiting inside. Hints of decay showed in the peeling paint and spider cracks. A small tarnished gold emblem hung from a nail at the top of the door. In a city that compensated for its chronic corrosion with an overbearing amount of stimulants, the tiny piece would go unnoticed by all who did not know its meaning. But I knew—just as Maria, Brinnon, and Jesu did—the meaning of the serpentine dragon shaped in a ring with its tail in its mouth.
The symbol indicated that this hotel was owned by the Reclusive Eternal Dragons Society, which meant it was a safe haven for vampyres and vampires, but any guest staying there would be recorded and monitored by the secret human fraternity. Jesu had explained the R.E.D. to me briefly in the past. He promised the R.E.D. helped vampyres live in peace by keeping their existence a secret, but Jesu also made it clear that I did not want to break any of their rules. I already had one strike against me from when I accidently phased over a busy street in downtown Berlin, but I had managed to weasel out of my punishment by forming an alliance with Nikolas. I never did ask Nikolas what he told the R.E.D. when he decided not to carry out the sentence. I didn’t really want to know. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss. But I had to wonder why Brinnon didn’t opt for the local Inn, where our endeavors would be kept private.
The guys finished unloading. Maria grabbed her pack and then took my hand.
“Let’s go check in.” Her iron grip pulled me through the arched doorway before I could respond. I glanced over my shoulder at Jesu and shrugged in apology as he carried both our suitcases. I was a light packer, so mine wasn’t heavy, but things were so awkward between us, and I’d just vomited on him. I didn’t want to add insult to injury by making him my errand boy too.
Cream-yellow walls gave way to a lavish little receiving hall with high ceilings and an imitation-marble tiled floor in shades of gray. Unlike the vacant R.E.D. hotel in Berlin, vampyre guests filled the brown leather settees in the lobby, dressed to the nines and sipping red liquid from long-stemmed flutes. I cupped a hand over my nose and mouth to avoid another episode of morning sickness. I couldn’t win. Pre-pregnancy, all I wanted was to glut myself and rampage like a savage animal. Now, I had the exact opposite problem. My body repelled the stuff like a toxin, immediately triggering my gag reflex at the first sign of blood.
When Brinnon entered behind us, the guests went aflutter with loud whispers and open stares. At first, I didn’t understand their reaction, then it dawned on me. Prince Brinnon. Italy fell inside Alpan territory. That made him a celebrity in their world. The poor guy glanced around, realized he was the cause of the commotion, and then blushed as brightly as a pale vampyre could. He nodded politely and shook a few hands.
Jesu hung back with the luggage and kept an eye on the prince. Maybe we should have brought one of Nikolas’ soldiers to act as a bodyguard. Apparently, though, vampyres weren’t big on the paparazzi. No one took out a camera, or took too much of the prince’s time. I didn’t know what words were being exchanged, due to the language barrier, but they seemed to be simple pleasantries like, “Send my regards to your parents,” or, “Enjoy Venice,” and so forth. It all ended quickly.
The receptionist greeted us with a wide smile displaying all her sharp teeth. “Benvenuto.”
To my surprise, Maria answered in the woman’s native tongue. Was I the only monolingual vampyre in Europe? The receptionist typed a few notes into her computer and then handed Maria four plastic key cards.
“This way,” said Maria. We lumbered into an elevator and rose to the fourth floor. Our rooms were only a short walk down a hall that matched the lobby. Mauve doors displayed brass numbers. Maria paused between two such doors labeled 4A and 4B. “How do you want to split the rooms?”
“Men in one, women in the other?” Jesu suggested. His glaze flickered in my direction and he cleared his throat.
Brinnon shrugged. “Seems proper.”
Maria handed each of them a card. Brinnon unlocked 4B and went inside. Jesu followed and closed the door behind him without a word.
Ouch.
Maria handed me a copy of the key card for 4A. She used hers to unlock the latch and then opened the door. The suite was very spacious, with high ceilings and wide arched openings between the kitchenette and living area. Teal blue walls held paintings of the Venetian landscape in gold-plated
frames. Elegant throw rugs lined the hardwood floors. The furniture was the same natural wood color as the floor, with cream-colored cushions on the chairs and couch. Glass sliding doors lined the far wall, leading out to a veranda with a fantastic frontal view of the Grand Canal.
“Do you have a bed preference?” Maria asked.
I turned and followed her with my eyes as she toted her suitcase into the bedroom nook. Jesu still had my bag. I scoffed to myself and rolled my eyes. That crafty little minx. If he thinks I’m going to be the one to cave, he’s going to be disappointed. Except, I needed my bag. I really wanted to take a shower. I smelled like lagoon water and vomit.
“Take whichever one you want. I need to go next door, Jesu has my bag.”
I marched into the hall and then rapped my knuckles against door number 4B. Jesu’s bare chest answered, his manly nipples looking me right in the eyes. I blinked several times before remembering that my eyeballs harbored the ability to look elsewhere, like Jesu’s face, for example.
He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over his scalp. The movement caused his delectable chest and abs to stretch upward as he pushed his hair back, extending his lean triceps in the processes. “You need something?”
I struggled to swallow and then smiled innocently. “Just my suitcase.”
He turned and disappeared inside. I stayed in the hall just in case Brinnon was also changing clothes. Jesu returned, wearing a clean pinstripe shirt. He hadn’t bothered to button the front, leaving his chest fully exposed. An open shirt was somehow sexier than no shirt. Damn my hormones. Seeing my bag in his hand, I reached for the handle. Jesu twisted away and scowled.
“You are not carrying anything in your condition.”
“My con— Oh please, it’s not even heavy.”
His gaze darkened. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you carry your own luggage?”
