Caius hurried outside, gave his master the briefest of glances, taking in the bloody knuckles and the sour temper Quintilius knew he exuded from his every pore. “I’ll take the cart.”
But once thrown onto the cart, the beggar moaned. A human would not have heard the faint lament, but Quintilius did and held up one hand. “Wait.” He then leaned over the rags and amidst the dried blood and mud he found a skinny girl all curled up. Being accustomed as he was to the many horrors a city like Rome uncovered on a regular basis, Quintilius still flinched before those skeletal limbs and the emaciated facial features.
The girl, whose skin was dark brown, opened her eyes and with great difficulty tilted her chin up and stared at him. “Please, don’t hurt me.” Her voice was hoarse and her words were slurred, but she repeated the plea a second time before she passed out.
That day, Quintilius was born as a father and he swore no one would ever hurt the girl again. And so far, he had never failed her. Now, Ophelia trusted Peter to keep her safe, and Quintilius felt he could no longer protect her. He had been able to deal with the fallen angel, at least, and knew the man. Even though Quintilius hadn’t been happy about Ophelia’s infatuation with Samuel, he knew the liaison wasn’t interested in her if not in a brotherly way.
“Quintilius?” Drako moved, standing before him and roused Quintilius from his fugue.
“Sorry.” He waved his hand. “Family stuff.”
“I hope everything’s okay.” Samuel approached Quintilius, his hand extended.
Quintilius grabbed the proffered hand and patted the angel on his arm. “Everything’s fine. I just stress about the well-being of my pack.”
Marcus Aurelius too came to greet him with a one-armed hug. “I go insane with only a wife and a kid. I can’t even imagine what it must be like with an extended family of your pack dimension.”
“I don’t sleep well at night, that’s for sure, but I love them.” Quintilius laughed, then shook his head. “But anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
The centurion slapped one heavy hand on Drako’s shoulder. “The enforcer had asked for flowers, but the Greek forgot to buy them.”
Quintilius could only sympathize with Drako’s predicament. “There’re plenty left. Don’t worry.” He held his arm to the side and showed them the trail opening at the end of the driveway.
The men followed him and he asked about their families. Quintilius always found it interesting how those three had changed so much in such a short time. He had come to know them better in the last few months, thoroughly enjoying their company.
“I like what Wolf’s Haven is doing here.” Drako looked around at the rehab compound. “You did some serious good when you gave them the land for free.”
“We’ve had too many kids ruined by vampire blood addiction. I couldn’t just sit and watch. I was actually putting down plans to open a place like this, when our neighboring clan in Umbria asked me if I could rent them part of the Reserve for Wolf’s Haven Rehab Center. They’ve been open for less than six months, but I’m blown away by the difference they’ve made in so many lives already.”
The Roman pointed at the field ahead of them. “And the idea to make those kids work is great too.”
Quintilius nodded. “I’d had this farm for quite a few years and the trees were already tall enough to turn a profit. The next logical step was to provide the income needed for the center.” He took the narrow path that led to the greenhouse and started climbing toward the ridge. “You should see how proud they were of their work. In December, they sold more than a thousand Christmas trees.”
“I’m so glad facilities like this exist for the paranormals as well. The humans are so much better equipped to deal with those kinds of problems.” Samuel passed Quintilius and stopped a few steps ahead to look at the rolling hills below the ridge.
“You’re right, and in truth, Wolf’s Haven has been structured like one of the human rehab centers near Civitavecchia. The whole concept of creating a self-sustained community was copied from that place.” Quintilius paused near the angel, waited for the other two to catch up, then motioned for them to follow him down toward the glass building. “Wolf’s Haven produces not only Christmas trees, flowers, and houseplants, but also fruits and vegetables. They have stables and even looms for weaving textile goods. Later, when you stop at the store to pay, I can show you the rugs and blankets they make. Every Sunday, they attend craft classes and learn anything from jewelry making to typography. Plus, the students are strongly encouraged to take online courses to earn their degrees. And martial artists volunteer their time to train those kids as well.”
“Mens sana in corpore sano,” Drako commented.
“It’s the center’s motto.” Quintilius stopped in front of the greenhouse and let the men wander inside, then he walked to the row of barrels filled with fresh cut roses in every shade of pink and red. “Here. What do you think of these?”
Drako stepped up and took a good look at the flowers. “I think I’ll need four or five barrels. At least.” He turned and pointed at the orchid vases sitting on the shelf on the opposite wall. “And a dozen of those.”
“Great.” Quintilius walked back to the greenhouse entrance where the garden carts were parked by the wall. “Grab one,” he told Drako as he wheeled one of the carts to the barrels. The two of them loaded the carts with the roses, as the centurion filled a third with the orchids Drako had selected.
“This place is charming.” Marcus Aurelius looked around the delicate-looking glass structure. “I’d love to come back some time with my family.”
“I’m pretty sure the staff will be more than happy to open for nocturnal visits as well. Later in the year, they have plans to transform the greenhouse into a butterfly haven. I’m sure your kid would love it.” Quintilius made a mental note to ask the rehab’s manager about it.
“I think Martina would like to volunteer at the center. Now that she can’t work mortal hours anymore, she has lost her job and misses helping people.” Samuel walked to the door and held it open for the cart to pass through.
“I only volunteer here twice a month, but I would miss it too if I couldn’t. I know the center needs an attorney for cases when human world violations are committed. Your companion’s help would be much appreciated.” Quintilius pushed his cart out of the greenhouse and onto the paved trail.
At the store, he waited for Drako to pay for his purchase, and helped him load the flowers into the angel’s car. Then, as promised, he gave them the tour of the ground floor where all the center’s crafted products were displayed. The three men complimented the kids who took great pride in showing them their work. Before they left, they each bought gifts.
“Sign me up for some volunteer time.” Drako held more than six bags full of kids clothes made of all-natural fibers and old-fashioned wooden toys.
Quintilius relieved him of two of the bags and nodded toward the hallway leading inside the center proper. “If you have a moment to spare, I can fetch the manager.”
“Sure,” the centurion answered for the three of them. He too carried a bag overflowing with items he bought for his son. He had been particularly happy to find a wooden horse and a spinning top. “I had similar toys when I was a kid,” he explained, wearing a smile, and Quintilius realized it was the first time he had seen that from the Roman.
Quintilius led them through the rustic building and pointed at the details in the structure. “It took a month and a half and a crew of almost a hundred werewolves to transform the decrepit casolare into this. The tuff brick walls were mostly eroded and the structure wasn’t sound. Per regional laws, the original materials like the bricks, the wooden beams, the terracotta tiles, and the copper pipes had to be reused and integrated into the new layout.” The building had been there as long as he could remember, and he liked that the structure was now home to those kids who needed a second chance. He saw a nice parallel in that. Good karma.
“Magnificent masonry.�
� Marcus Aurelius passed his free hand over a granite windowsill, then his eyes focused on the internal court, and he frowned. “You have little kids here?”
Quintilius looked out as well and nodded. “Unfortunately, teen pregnancies go hand in hand with addiction. Some of those young mothers came to Wolf’s Haven because it was their only chance to keep their babies. Here, the little ones are safe, and their mothers don’t have to accept illegal jobs or prostitute themselves.”
After that, the mood of the group darkened. No one said anything until Quintilius stopped in front of the manager’s office and knocked on the door.
“Carlo?” Quintilius heard the man pacing inside and talking to someone.
The grandfather clock on the opposite wall chimed the hour, and Drako shifted on his feet. “If he’s busy, we can come back another day.”
Samuel nodded. “Yes, it might be better anyway if Martina is here too.”
The centurion pushed away from the wall. “Fine by me.”
As Quintilius turned to leave, the door swung open.
“Quintilius—” Carlo’s face was etched with worry, and he flinched when he saw the other men. “I was coming to fetch you.”
Quintilius heard the undertone. “Something wrong?” he whispered.
Carlo looked at the trio who stood a few steps away and answered in the same hushed tone, “I’m not sure—”
Drako held up one hand. “Like we said, we’ll come back when it’s more convenient for everyone. Thanks for the tour, Quintilius.” He then addressed Carlo. “Congratulations. You did an amazing job here. Anything we can do to help, let us know.”
The three men turned and left.
Carlo seemed to think about it, then called them back. “Actually, I might need help right now.”
Quintilius would have preferred the man had consulted him first before making that decision, but Carlo was also an alpha. If he thought they needed to involve outsiders in whatever was happening, the situation must have been dire.
“Please.” He showed them all into his office, then closed the door. He motioned toward the chairs, but no one sat. “We have a missing girl.”
“Who?” Quintilius asked.
Carlo slumped down on the chair behind the desk made of a salvaged, wooden door and two wine barrels. “Luisa, the renegade werewolf.”
It took a moment for Quintilius to put the name together with a face. “Luisa, who came from the Renegade Youth Shelter?”
Carlo sighed. “Yes, Luisa from RYS.” He angled his body toward the window to his right. “She must have left sometime during the night, but her roommate didn’t realize she hadn’t slept in her bed until this morning. The child left a body-shaped heap of pillows in her stead.”
“Is this the first time she’s escaped?” the centurion asked.
Carlo pressed two fingers on his forehead and moved his thumbs in circles around his temples. “She has pulled a few stunts during her stay here, but, you know how these kids tend to react at first. We are the authority and they want freedom.”
“Do you believe she’s in trouble?” Samuel leaned against one of the brick buttresses supporting the walls.
“She’s coming out of her addiction, and despite her lack of cooperation, she’s getting good results.” Carlo placed his arms on the desk, then steepled his hands. “Out there, anything can happen to those kids. They look so tough—” He sat back in his chair and shook his head. “But they are frail. And Luisa never told us about her life before coming to the shelter. The report from the enforcer’s office that sent her to RYS only mentioned that, one day, completely out of the blue, she appeared at their doorstep, panting as if she had run for dear life. She was an orphaned minor who proclaimed renegade status. The enforcer who took her in asked her the usual questions, but she remained tight-lipped the whole time until her transport arrived. The notes indicate that she was severely malnourished, and her head was shaved. The officer also noticed she had cuts on her wrists she tried to hide with long sleeves. Mrs. Lade, the psychologist who has been working with her, thinks she might have been in a gang at some point. Maybe she escaped from it. She shows all the signs of a history of abuse and neglect.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “I can’t even imagine what she might’ve gone through. But I know it’s not safe for a girl so young to be alone without a support system that can keep her from finding an easy fix.” His mouth tightened into a straight line. “Because the craving is always there, below the surface, and it only takes one sip to destroy all the work we’ve done here.”
A moment of silence followed and was interrupted by the centurion who paced a few steps along the room. “Do you have any idea where she might be? Does she have friends outside of Wolf’s Haven?”
“As I told you, we don’t know anything about her previous life, and she didn’t seem interested in making any friends here, but she spent several months at the renegade shelter.” Carlo’s eyes went to the telephone on the desk. “I’ve just called them and asked about her roommate.” He switched positions in his chair. “Her name is Laura and she’s a were-panther. She wasn’t available to take the call because she was working at the greenhouse.”
“We can go talk to this girl and see if she knows her friend’s whereabouts.” Drako moved toward the door.
Quintilius followed him, and before exiting the room, turned to Carlo. “I’ll let you know what we find.”
Carlo leaned back, pushing his chair against the wall. “Please.”
Chapter Three
Peter’s heart grew heavier as they neared the Reserve. As always, the place was beautiful, and the bright light of the February sun cut the scenery in sharp colors. The foliage of the evergreens was covered in dewy pearls, and the paths were blanketed with moss, but the small buds looming through the bushes announced that spring was around the corner. Peter knew how much both Ophelia and her wolf loved this place. The Reserve was home to them, and he had to learn to love it too.
“He’ll warm up to you,” Ophelia said.
“Of course he will.” Her intent gaze weighed on him, and he repeated with more conviction, “He will.” Peter would make sure of that.
Her gloved hand caressed his thigh.
After discovering a mere contact sent them into a frenzy, they had decided she should wear leather gloves too.
Yet, even her gloved brush created a spark inside him. He sighed. “Ophelia—” A brief glance to the side of the road confirmed what he already knew—no place to stop the Jeep—the road was barren of trees or bends where they could seek a moment of intimacy.
Ophelia followed his eyes and echoed his sigh. “That would’ve calmed my nerves.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I can remove one glove and caress you—”
She closed her legs and her chest heaved as her sigh became a huff. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Am I?” He reached for the collar of his button-down shirt and lowered it, showing her the bite mark gracing the skin where shoulder and neck met.
At the next sigh, she moaned. “You were naughty.”
Words like that from her had the same effect of the most intimate touches on Peter, who had to shift in his seat. He kept driving and was displeased to see the entrance to Wolf’s Haven ahead. “You are a savage.” His hand touched the bite mark. The before and after memories of that bite were still raw, and he would have loved to replay the whole sequence right then and there. Unfortunately, they had arrived at their destination.
The whole time, Ophelia hadn’t lifted her eyes from him. “But it looks so nice on you.” She reached for that spot. “I can kiss it to make it better. Would you like that?”
He pointed ahead at the clearing that had been turned into a parking lot beside the Wolf’s Haven casolare. “I’d like that very much, but if I’m not mistaken that is Quintilius leaving—” He drove the Jeep parallel to the dark SUV, and waved to the driver who he recognized as Samuel. “You’re in luck, the whole group is here.” A second glance at the car had rev
ealed the presence of Alexander and Marcus as well.
At the sight of her family and friends, Ophelia’s face lit with joy, and her hand shot toward the door handle before Peter brought the Jeep to a complete stop. In the other car, Quintilius, who was just lowering himself into his seat, was the first to notice her.
“Wait a sec—” He laughed, but she was already out and flying into Quintilius’s outstretched arms.
A melee of hugs and kisses followed. A few tears were shed by both Ophelia and Quintilius while her friends gave them a moment of privacy and focused their attention on Peter.
“Good to see you, man.” Samuel went for a one-armed hug and Peter reciprocated.
“You too.” Peter greeted Alexander and Marcus at the same time. “Gentlemen.”
“Easy with the insults, demon.” The centurion smiled and slapped Peter’s shoulder.
“Said the renegade.” Alexander offered Peter his hand. “And Roman to boot.”
Besides sharing with Samuel one of the most horrific moments of his life, Peter hadn’t spent enough time with Alexander and Marcus, but, for the little he had seen of the three, he thought he would like to be friends with them.
“So, Valentine’s Day errands?” Peter pointed at the back of the SUV filled with flowers. “Kind of an eleventh-hour run, isn’t it?”
Marcus nodded. “The Greek is a terrible planner.”
Peter’s eyes went to Quintilius and Ophelia and saw how his words were upsetting her. His heart grew heavy. They had barely returned and trouble was already brewing. Anger rose in his stomach. Quintilius could have waited a day or two to ruin Ophelia’s homecoming.
“We’re dealing with a bit of a situation.” Alexander stepped before Peter.
Peter turned his attention to the three men. “What kind of situation?”
Marcus pointed at the casolare. “A girl from Wolf’s Haven ran away last night, and they are all worried she might be in trouble.”
“We’re heading to the Renegade Youth Shelter because the missing girl used to live there before entering rehab. Her former roommate might know something.” Samuel inched back toward the SUV.
An Immortal Valentine's Day Page 4
