Dark Becoming (An Ema Marx Novel Book 3)

by J. D. Brown

  Jesu was right, the sunglasses he’d lent me were too big and often slid down my nose. “I love them. They totally match my outfit today.”

  Jesu drew a nervous breath. “Good. I hope you also like hats.” He reached into the bag and produced a red baseball cap with the flag of Italy embroidered above the brim. Jesu placed the cap on my head, pulling the edge over my eyes and pushing the sunglasses down my nose. I adjusted them, lifting the brim over my brows and pushing the lenses up.

  Brinnon laughed. “Jesu, man, didn’t anyone ever tell you that girls like flowers and jewelry? What next, a baseball mitt?”

  Jesu frowned. “No…” He took one more item out of the bag; a black umbrella. Only, instead of a water-repellent nylon top, this one was fashioned with satin and a thin lace trim. Jesu presented me with the wooden J-shaped handle. “It’s a parasol. In case you did not like the hat.”

  “It’s, um…” I took the umbrella while fishing for words. “Girly?”

  “Should have gone with roses,” Brinnon teased.

  Jesu glared at him. “For your information, these are just the preparatory gifts.” He looked at me and his cheek dimpled. “I have the entire day planned.”

  My brow furrowed. “Planned for what, exactly?”

  “Sightseeing,” he whispered. “Experiencing Italy. I promise the sunshine will only be a temporary nuisance.”

  I smiled at Jesu to hide the slight disappointment. Not that I didn’t love the idea of experiencing Italy—I really wanted to do that—but I was trying my damn hardest to avoid spending too much time with him. Turning away when Jesu tried to kiss me earlier was hard enough. Touring the world’s most romantic city with him would be even worse. “I’d love to, really, but we should stay and help with the spell.”

  “Nonsense.” Maria made a shooing motion with her hands. “We can handle this. Go, enjoy yourselves.”

  “Are… are you sure?” I cocked my brow, hoping Maria could somehow catch my telepathic plea for an excuse not to go live out my biggest fantasy with Jesu.

  “I insist. Go have fun.”

  Damn.

  Jesu laced his fingers with mine. “Come. Venice awaits.”

  I couldn’t think of another excuse. Defeated, I let Jesu pull me along. We left the hotel hand-in-hand, and stepped onto the dock. Even with sunglasses and a baseball cap, I squinted. The Grand Canal glowed something fierce in the daylight. The surrounding buildings took on a washed-out yellow haze. People’s faces blurred into white featureless silhouettes. I opened the umbrella and hid under its shade. Jesu drew the hood of his jacket over his head and then placed a hand against the small of my back and led me forward.

  A traditional gondola and its driver waited at the end of the dock. Jesu stepped aboard the narrow boat in one graceful stride. Then, he reached out and grabbed my waist, hoisting me into the gondola like I weighed nothing.

  “Buongiorno,” the gondolier greeted as Jesu and I sat side by side on the felt bench seat. Without any direction from Jesu, the man dipped his paddle into the lagoon water and pushed us away from the dock, along the bustling canal. He began to sing a lovely Italian folk song in a tranquil voice, and my heart melted. What woman in the history of the world didn’t long to share this exact experience at least once in her lifetime? I took a deep breath and bit my lip to keep it from trembling with emotion.

  I peeked at Jesu from under the parasol. He watched me, his sideways smile lifting as our gazes met. He leaned back and draped an arm over my shoulders while turning to admire the sights. I guess he was content with the silence between us. That worked out fine with me. I let my gaze roam, but there wasn’t much to see in the blinding white light of day. I sighed, disappointed.

  Jesu flexed his arm, gently squeezing me against his side. “Do not worry, you will see everything as soon as the sun sets.”

  “That’s not for another ten hours.”

  His smile stretched all the way into his dimple. “Trust me, Ema, we will see as much of Venice as possible today. We will simply start indoors.” Jesu nodded at something in the distance. I followed his line of sight, squinting to see through the blur of sunshine. Not more than a mile away, a wide boardwalk with dozens of small ports for parking boats rose from the canal edge. A handful of tourists already flocked to and fro, pointing their cameras and taking pictures. The photo-worthy spot in question was undoubtedly the massive white building standing behind them.

  The edifice sat upon a huge open portico, fenced by row after row of tall arches. The second level boasted an elaborate gothic-style balcony that wrapped the entire building. The third level was patterned in a crisscross of pale brick, creating a faux mosaic look, spaced with a few large arched windows encased in protective metal bars. In a city awash with decorative stone arches and roman church-style terraces, this place was by far the most majestic of them all.

  Jesu leaned close and whispered. “Welcome to Piazza San Marco.”

  I recognized the name and my eyelids flew wide. “No way! That’s not… is it?”

  Jesu chuckled. “Indeed it is. The Doge’s Palace.”

  My breath left my lungs in a dreamy sigh and I held a hand to my elated heart. “Don’t we need tickets for this? Isn’t there a ridiculous wait time and an outrageous price?”

  “I think,” Jesu said carefully, “that we can bypass the ticket line.”

  I eyed him and lifted my brow. “Don’t go getting my hopes up.”

  Jesu scoffed. He leaned away just enough to unzip his jacket and reach inside. From a hidden pocket, he produced two tickets and then presented them to me. “I want your hopes up, Ema. Always.”

  I squealed so loudly, the gondolier jumped. I threw my arms around Jesu’s neck and bounced in excitement. “I love you, you are the best boyfriend ever! Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m going to see The Doge’s Palace!”

  The driver scolded me for rocking the boat. I mumbled a “sorry” and then let go of Jesu. He laughed and grinned so wide, his eyelids crinkled.

  “I am glad you are happy,” he said.

  I was more than happy, I was overjoyed. But my error didn’t go unnoticed. I told Jesu I loved him. I called him my boyfriend. Like he hadn’t been giving me the cold shoulder for the past two days. Like I didn’t have Bridget’s warning playing a constant loop in my head. Like we were a regular peachy couple.

  I bit my lip and set my sights on the approaching plaza. I didn’t know what to do. Tell Jesu this had to end? Break up with him? I wasn’t the kind of woman who would string a man along just for expensive dates. No, my procrastination wasn’t about the museum. It was about the fact that the mere thought of breaking up with Jesu tore my heart apart. Letting him go was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I couldn’t look at him. I tried to smile, but my mouth teetered. “Nothing. Tears of joy.”

  Chapter 19

  Jesu helped me off the gondola and then paid the driver. “We will tour the plaza after sunset,” he said, taking my hand. He led me across the pier to the cobblestone square. My eyes went everywhere at once. I didn’t care about the blinding sun or the growing crowd of humans. I couldn’t stop staring at the elegance carved into every inch of what was essentially miles of stone molded into a kaleidoscope of fourteenth-century architectural perfection. Grand arches, statues of Roman gods, Griffins, angels, and biblical paintings decked the plaza, and that was only what I could see while peeking between buildings from the waterfront.

  While my attention wandered from one masterpiece to the next, Jesu navigated the crowd, toting me along as he weaved through the shadows offered by the outer portico of the palace, until we joined the line under the façade. I immediately realized why Jesu insisted on arriving early. The Doge’s Palace wasn’t even open yet, and already a line of eager tourists wrapped the waterfront. However, once the doors opened and the line started moving, it wasn’t long before we reached the Porta del Frumento.

  I c
losed the umbrella, but kept my sunglasses and cap on to protect against the artificial light from the many wall lamps. The receiving hall alone put both Nikolas’ and Jalmari’s castles to shame. The golden staircase leading to the main floor was more magnificent than any structure I have ever seen. And I thought vampyres liked to flaunt their wealth. Then again, neither the Korentos nor the Wölfes had housed more than three generations of vampyres in the past two-thousand years. The Doge’s Palace, on the other hand, withstood at least a dozen generations of humans, plus the inner workings of the entire Vatican Republic judicial court and, not to mention, two eras worth of the best artists in Italy.

  Jesu and I took our time strolling through the many rooms and exhibits, marveling at the sculptures, oil paintings, and ancient weapons. The names and descriptions had English translations and I made a point to read them all while giving each piece several minutes of consideration, studying them from all angles and varying distances, allowing ample time for the appropriate amount of appreciation to sink in. Sometimes, Jesu and I would walk together and stand side by side while looking at the same painting or admiring the room at large. Other times, one of us would move ahead while the other lingered on a favorite item.

  Despite the commotion of the other visitors, the atmosphere harbored a tranquility that I had long since come to associate with museums. Jesu and I were content in our silence toward one another, and I appreciated the simple pleasure of his presence the same way I appreciated experiencing the artifacts. Jesu was, after all, not unlike the antique weapons on display. He, too, was ancient and had experienced firsthand the events of history. He knew the truth about things humans could now only speculate. Secrets of a long life hardened him, taught him diligence. But I could only imagine that, inside, he must have wanted what all the artifacts in the palace wanted—to be used again. To have a purpose. To be loved. Not locked away behind glass.

  Jesu caught me looking at him and smiled. I sighed and then smiled back. I love that man. And for that moment, I let myself be happy with this simple fact. I didn’t analyze it. I didn’t question it. It just simply was.

  The final exhibit ended in the palace courtyard. We exited the building and I was surprised to find that dusk had fallen over San Marco. Artificial spotlights kept the court aglow, so I kept my sunglasses on, but removed the baseball cap and strung the back strap through the umbrella’s handle, carrying them both in my left hand. Jesu trailed behind as I admired the Scala dei Giganti, a large stone staircase flanked at the top by statues of Mars and Neptune. The stairs were blocked off from tourists by a red velvet rope. I wondered what hid in the corridor beyond and toyed with the idea of phasing inside those blocked parts. Who would know? Yet, I had no real intention of trying. At least not with a bun in my oven. I wouldn’t risk giving my child scoliosis, or a tail, or whatever happened as a result of phasing a fetus.

  Jesu stood beside me and took my hand. “Ready for more?”

  “Please.”

  We walked hand in hand past the Forscari Arch and through the Porta della Carta—a narrow gate guarded by a winged lion. The heart of the San Marco plaza stretched out before us. The waterfront, where the gondola dropped us off this morning, now sat to our right. Had it really been that long since we arrived? How strange that the most popular building in Venice now stood behind us, a thing of the past. A lifetime dream, completed and over. I bit my lip and glanced over my shoulder at the stone lion.

  “What’s wrong?” Jesu asked.

  “It ended too soon.”

  Jesu chuckled. He let go of my hand only to slide his arm around my waist and pull me close, our sides touching. “It is just beginning, Ema.”

  It occurred to me that Jesu could have visited Venice before. In fact, he could have seen the Doge’s Palace while the Doge family still lived in it. I couldn’t even imagine, nor did I want to. I wanted to pretend this experience was a first for both of us, something private we shared, because when you dated a man thousands of years older than you, carving a unique memory in his mind wasn’t easy. I put the idea out of my head and nodded. “Okay, let’s do this. Let’s see Venice.”

  Jesu grinned. He took the umbrella and cap out of my hands and then started walking, his other arm snuggled around my middle. We strolled passed the Basilica and the Campanile, both wonders in their own right. Pigeons and people filled the square, wandering in and out of our path. Little store fronts and cafés glowed with the activity of curious shoppers and hungry travelers. The scents and sounds teased my inner beast, but I kept it in check. It was much easier to do with Jesu’s warmth anchoring me to the present.

  “Pretty necklace for a pretty lady?” said an old woman carrying a case of silver chains and trinkets.

  “Oh, no thank you.” I waved my hand, meaning to continue past her, but Jesu stayed still. He studied the jewelry thoughtfully. My cheeks warmed. “I don’t need a necklace, Jesu, really.”

  “How about a bracelet?” He selected a thin chain with tiny silver roses attached to the links. “This one suits you. Do you like it?”

  “Jesu, I couldn’t…”

  “Come on,” he said, a grin tugging the edge of his lips. “Let me make up for the parasol and baseball cap.”

  “I like the parasol and cap. They serve a purpose. Besides, you more than made up for them with the palace tour.”

  Jesu sighed and then handed the bracelet back to the saleswoman. “Another time, perhaps.”

  His arm wrapped my waist again and we continued our stroll. Bemusement colored Jesu’s gaze as we passed a hotdog cart. He watched as the vendor slapped a hot wiener between a bun and then packed it high with condiments. “Are you hungry?”

  “Always, but not for a hotdog.”

  “Hot… dog?” His brow lifted. “I fail to see the resemblance.”

  I paused in my tracks. “Wait, you’ve never had a hotdog before?”

  “Does uncooked sausage count?”

  I snorted. “Not exactly, but you’re not missing anything anyway. Hotdogs are horrible for you. Well, they’re horrible for humans.”

  Jesu shrugged. “You need to eat.”

  “I’ll eat when we get back to the hotel. I don’t feel like sharing that hotdog with the fish right now.”

  He chuckled and we started walking again. “So, if I am not missing hotdogs, then what am I missing?”

  “Oreo cookies.”

  “Oreo cookies?”

  I nodded. “Sugar, chocolate, milk. No better combination than that.”

  “And where would one purchase such a concoction?”

  “Oh no you don’t. I will not defile the savory memory of a delicious Oreo by eating one now. It will taste like an ashtray and ruin the whole experience. My entire childhood would be crushed.”

  His laughter dimpled his left cheek. “Very well, no Oreo cookies. What is something you detested?”

  I thought about that. There wasn’t much I disliked when it came to food. At least not when I was human. “Coconut cookies.”

  “Then you shall have a ready supply of coconut cookies that will never defile your expectations.”

  I scoffed. Then I realized something. “I will have to drink again soon, won’t I? The food is okay for the baby, but it doesn’t have any nutritional value for me.”

  Jesu shrugged. “As long as you eat a protein-rich diet, your health will suffice until the sickness passes. Then you will crave liquids again.”

  “You know, when human women are pregnant, they eat a lot and have weird cravings. Will I have weird cravings?”

  “We can ask Dr. Gordon at your next visit, but Ema, you will have to come clean to Nikolas about this soon. It is not something we can hide for very long.”

  “I know,” I said, lowering my gaze.

  We crossed a small stone bridge going over a canal pass. The San Marco plaza ended there. The alley on the other side was so narrow, we were forced to walk in single file. Jesu guided me ahead of him. I marveled at the tall brick walls sandwiching us on eithe
r side. Their pale brown and crumbled edges were strikingly plain compared to the extravagance of the palace, yet they still managed to stand proud in the face of decay. Somehow, I liked their modest grace better than the flashy beauty of the museum.

  We climbed another small bridge. A gondola floated downstream below, and I slowed to a stop to admire the sight. A lovely Italian ballad filled the tight space as the gondolier sang to the young couple sitting in his boat. The lady’s dramatic ogle-eyes were locked on the young man who held her tight. I leaned my elbows against the edge of the bridge and watched as the bow approached the underpass. The happy couple noticed me and waved. Startled, I hesitated before waving back. They smiled, and then went back to holding each other as they disappeared under the bridge.

  Jesu stood beside me, mirroring my posture as he leaned against the stone ledge and peered at the dark lagoon water below. A smile touched his lips, but it evaporated the moment our gazes met.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I wasn’t aware my feelings showed. I inhaled a sharp breath and steadied myself, standing erect. “Nothing. I guess this city is a bit overwhelming. That’s all.”

  Jesu pulled his lower lip between his teeth and studied me. I glanced away, feeling a bit exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. He glanced at the water again and raked his fingers through his long black tresses, pushing the locks out of his face momentarily. I watched from the corner of my vision as he grinned to himself and then extended his left hand toward the water. Jesu flexed his fingers, as though grabbing onto some invisible item, but we were much too high for him to touch the water, much less reach inside it to retrieve anything.

  I furrowed my brow. “What are you doing?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Suddenly, a stream of water shot into the air, spraying a light mist over us. I instinctively turned away and shielded my face. When I turned back, the stream had gathered into a floating undulating mass. Jesu rolled his thumb and index finger together, and the liquid elongating into a thin cylinder. He rapidly plucked at the air around the cylinder, and liquid leaves sprouted from the stem, followed by a tiny rose bud at the tip. The bud swelled in size and then burst into full bloom, sending a shower of tiny droplets cascading over us. Jesu furrowed his brow in concentration. He lifted both hands and squeezed his fists together. I gasped as the rose-shaped mass began to crystalize, until it froze solid. Jesu’s toothy grin relayed his pride. He gently took the long-stemmed rose sculpture between his thumb and forefinger, and then presented to me.