An Immortal Valentine's Day

by Monica La Porta

  At the same time, Ophelia detached herself from Quintilius and hurried toward Peter. On her face, Peter could read that stubborn resolution he loved so much in Ophelia.

  When a few steps from him, she asked, “Peter, do you mind if we help with something?”

  Peter smiled at her, then turned toward the rest of the group. “I guess we’re coming with you.” He walked back to the Jeep and held open the passenger door for Ophelia. With a smile, he leaned to brush away a rebellious strand of frizzy hair from her cheek, and whispered to the corner of her mouth, “For the record, I’d never mind doing anything you ask of me.” He closed the door and walked around to take his seat.

  Ophelia summarized the salient facts for him during the short ride from Wolf’s Haven to the Renegade Youth Shelter—another institution on the Reserve established thanks to Quintilius’s generosity. The werewolf had donated the land to RYS and had even given them free use of part of the park for their monthly shifter runs. Per his office as Renegade Controller, Peter knew the place all too well. He had sent the majority of its inhabitants there, although not the missing girl, Luisa. She was one of the few minor renegades who turned themselves in.

  “Luisa left without a note, anything.” Ophelia bit her lower lip. “She’s just a kid.”

  “We’ll find her. Don’t worry. I know her friend, Laura, well. I rescued her and her boyfriend just before I met you. She’s a nice girl, and if she knows anything, she’ll tell us for sure.” He parked in the back of RYS’s main house by the big greenhouse made of glass and white metal arches—a twin of the one on Wolf’s Haven grounds.

  The shelter was small, but no expense had been spared to give the youth living there comfort and peace. The greenhouse was another example of Quintilius’s big heart. Knowing the man was essentially as good as they come enraged Peter even more because the werewolf had decided not to see reason only where he was concerned.

  He put aside his bleak thoughts to focus on the task at hand, and opened the greenhouse door for Ophelia and the rest of the group who had just arrived.

  “Laura?” he called.

  The small were-panther was hunched over a wooden table covered with red and pink primroses pots. Luka, her boyfriend, and one of the few were-dogs in Rome—a Newfoundland—was, as usual, by her side. Except the few times when they had been forcefully separated, Peter had never seen the two kids apart.

  Laura raised her head from the primroses and a bright smile illuminated her tiny face. When Peter had rescued her and taken her away from the Promenade, where she had holed up for four years, she had looked like nothing more than skin and bones. She had eluded his attempts to catch her on more than one occasion. He was glad to see she had gained weight and looked radiant. The boy had grown a few centimeters and built some muscles too.

  “How is my favorite escape artist?” Peter smiled at the girl.

  “Hi to my favorite controller—” Laura’s expression darkened when she noticed the crowd accompanying him, and her eyes widened while her nostrils flared. She stepped back in a hurry, hitting the table and sending a few pots rolling around.

  “These are my friends.” Peter held out his hands, palms up, waited for her to look more at ease, and only then introduced the group to her. “Marcus, Samuel, and Alexander—”

  At being mentioned, the three stepped forward and offered their hands to Laura and Luka.

  The boy greeted them first. “Nice meeting you.”

  After giving Luka a furtive glance, Laura accepted the men’s proffered hands. “Nice meeting you.”

  “You might know of Quintilius—” Peter continued.

  Laura nodded in recognition, then per shifter protocol—which equated all the were-species under the same body of rules—she bowed slightly to honor the alpha.

  Quintilius smiled at the girl and took her small hands in his. “No reason for formalities, child.”

  Finally, Peter turned to pull Ophelia closer to him. “And this is my life mate, Ophelia.”

  “The Controller got a girlfriend,” Laura singsonged as she smiled first at him and then at Ophelia. Then she sobered. “Why are you here?” She looked from him to the rest of the people now loosely scattered around them.

  “Laura, it’s okay. We aren’t here for you—” He saw her stiffen again.

  Laura looked at Luka and the boy put his hand on her shoulder.

  Peter shook his head. “And we aren’t here for Luka. We only want to ask you a few questions about your friend Luisa.”

  Laura seemed to relax a fraction, then her eyebrows shot up again. “What about Luisa?”

  “She’s missing. Apparently, she left Wolf’s Haven without telling anyone where she was going and we were wondering if she told you.” Peter’s gaze went from Laura to Luka and back to study their reactions, but the two kids looked genuinely surprised.

  “I haven’t talked to her in a few months.” Laura lowered her eyes to the terracotta tiles.

  Luka pressed his hand to her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

  Quintilius stepped forward. “What’s not her fault?”

  Laura looked up at Peter, tears swelling in her eyes.

  Peter knew how strong Laura was and it broke his heart to see her crying. “What is it, sweetie? You can tell us.”

  Laura threw her arms around Luka’s neck and hid her face in his chest as she sobbed.

  “Laura, whatever it is, please tell us, so we can help your friend.” Ophelia left Peter’s side and touched Laura’s arm, then lowered herself on her haunches, balancing on her heels.

  Laura inched slightly closer to Luka and tilted her chin to the side to look at Ophelia. “I don’t want to betray her, even if she was mean to me last time we spoke.”

  Ophelia caressed the girl’s arm. “You are not betraying Luisa. You are helping her. She could be anywhere. Alone. Afraid—”

  “She’s not alone,” Laura blurted, then covered her mouth.

  “Who’s with her?” Peter knew Laura had problems with authority figures. After he had rescued her, it had taken lots of effort to make her trust him. “Laura, whatever you say, it won’t be used against your friend.”

  Luka whispered something to her, and she nodded, then said, “Luisa has a boyfriend. He’s the reason we argued.”

  “You don’t like him?” Peter moved beside Ophelia so she could lean against his leg.

  “He’s the good for nothing gang member who I’m sure sold her the vampire blood. I told her she should leave him and stop doing drugs and she got mad at me and told me I got it all wrong and that I didn’t know him and to leave her alone.” Laura took a breath, then wiped away the tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to her. She’s always been very secretive, but she was my best friend, then she changed. She came back from a full moon run and was a different person. Mean. Moody. Always lashing out. One day, I found this small sachet in our room. It must have fallen from her purse. I asked her what it was, but I knew. I wanted to help her, but she didn’t let me. Then I asked one of the adults for help and I made it worse because Luisa was sent to Wolf’s Haven soon after and she hated me for that. I went there several times, but she let me know she never wanted to see me again.”

  “You did the right thing, sweetheart. You are a good friend.” Ophelia gracefully stood on her long legs and opened her arms to the girl.

  Laura hesitated for a moment, then left Luka’s arms and accepted Ophelia’s hug. “I don’t think I am that good of a friend.” She sniffled. “I knew she hurt herself. I didn’t tell her I knew. She was always trying to hide the cuts, but I saw them, and I never said anything.” She leaned into Ophelia’s embrace, hiding her face against Ophelia’s jacket. “Then she started using and I couldn’t keep quiet about that. She’s my friend, the only girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

  Ophelia patted Laura’s back and whispered soothing words. Marcus, Alexander, and Samuel, who had kept quiet during the whole exchange, stepped farther away from them while Quintilius
moved closer.

  Peter waited a moment before asking, “Laura, can you tell us Luisa’s boyfriend’s name?”

  She sniffed again and nodded. “Raphael. His name’s Raphael. Long, dark-blond hair. Bandanas, tattoos, piercings. I was told he used to live here, but Luisa met him when she was living in Rome.”

  Peter and Quintilius swore at the same time, then both apologized to the kids.

  “Is this boy’s last name Letta, by any chance?” Samuel asked.

  Laura nodded as Peter said, “Yes, that’s his last name.” The moment the girl had said the name and described the boy, Peter’s heart dropped. Raphael was Peter’s biggest regret.

  “I have a dossier this high—” Samuel held his hand, palm down, to his chest “—about Raphael Letta. He’s just turned eighteen, and he’s under the enforcers’ radar for vampire blood trade and several other felonies he committed for the Reds.”

  “The street gang?” Alexander asked.

  Samuel nodded. “Yes, the infamous Reds.”

  Peter shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know all about this kid. I’ve been dealing with Raphael since he was twelve. I found him squatting in one of the barges under Milvio Bridge. He had a history of family abuse and ran away from home. But he never found his place at the renegade shelter, and unfortunately we discovered that, during his time there, he was also a victim of a counselor’s abuse.”

  Recounting the kid’s story was painful for Peter. When he heard of what had happened to Raphael in the one place he should have been safe—the place where Peter took him with all the intentions to give him a better future—he felt the urge to hurt the supervisor. He went back to the shelter, planning to inflict pain on the man responsible. But he arrived late.

  Quintilius shuddered and said, “And to think I personally hired Beltrami because of his experience with abused kids. It was one of the worst moments of my life when I found out what was going on at RYS.” He combed his hand through his leonine mane. “I personally dealt with that animal, but by the time one of the other abused kids came forward, it was already too late. The damage was done. Raphael never trusted another adult after that. He escaped, and Peter brought him back to the center a few years later.” Quintilius looked at Peter.

  Peter remembered the day he caught up with Raphael as if it were yesterday. “He escaped through my fingers several times, but I finally tracked him down two years ago. Raphael was with a girl, and I’m pretty sure the only reason I could catch him at all was because he wanted that girl out of my reach. After running away from me for years, he practically stepped into my open arms. Anyway, I got him, then Quintilius decided to help the kid—”

  Quintilius nodded. “When I was informed by the new staff that one of the boys mistreated by Beltrami had come back, I went to the center to meet with him personally. I felt guilty for not having seen what an evil, perverted bastard Beltrami really was.” He sighed, his voice cracking and breaking up with every word. “I put Raphael under my wing and offered him boarding and a job at one of my offices. Clerical stuff, nothing too heavy, but he would skip work and go to the beach during the summer or sleep the day away at the desk. I cut him a lot of slack, but that was a mistake. One day he didn’t come to the office, and I never saw him again.”

  “He probably left you when he joined the Reds.” Samuel shifted his weight by rocking back and forth on his feet.

  “After all he went through, I can understand why he did. Gang mentality gives rejected kids a sense of belonging, something a renegade like him craves more than anything else,” Marcus said. “And he’s going to be prosecuted as an adult, right?”

  Samuel turned toward his friend. “Yes, and if the girl is a minor, he’ll also be accused of kidnapping her.”

  “How old is Luisa?” Ophelia released her hold on Laura.

  “She turns eighteen tomorrow, on Valentine’s Day.” Laura hugged herself and Luka promptly moved close to her.

  Samuel shook his head. “He will still be prosecuted for her kidnapping since technically it had happened before she became an adult.”

  “Where could they go? Do you know?” Peter asked Laura.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. She didn’t want me in her life anymore and—” Laura’s lower lip quivered.

  “It’s okay. You helped us and Luisa a great deal.” Ophelia took her in her arms again and kissed the top of her head.

  Peter turned toward Quintilius and Samuel, who were talking in hushed tones. “I think I know where they might be.” He thanked Laura, promised her he would call as soon as he had news about Luisa, then took Ophelia’s gloved hand in his and walked out of the greenhouse, followed by the four men. Outside, he addressed Samuel, “Are you familiar with the side of the Promenade that borders both the catacombs and magik territory?”

  Samuel seemed to think about it for a moment. “Yes, I think so. What’s there?”

  “The Den of Rejects, an underground community made up of renegade kids. I followed a few down that rabbit hole, but since they had just turned eighteen, I didn’t have jurisdiction over them and had to let them go. Luisa and Raphael might have gone there.” Peter hoped they were there.

  The place was run by the oldest members, but everyone had a right to vote when it came to the community’s welfare. Although Peter had little doubt that kids as young as twelve lived in the Den, he had never brought that detail up to the Renegade Control Office. In truth, he had never written a report about the Den. After what happened to Raphael at RYS, Peter had sworn to himself to never remove a kid from a situation where he was safe, even if that situation didn’t adhere to the Immortal Council’s parameters. As far as he was concerned, the underground community worked better than RYS itself. “They must be there.”

  Alexander, who had passed them on his way to the car, nodded. “Okay. That’s a start.” His cell phone rang. He looked down and grimaced. “It’s Ravenna.” He stepped away and took the call.

  Peter turned to Ophelia. “Let’s get moving.” He was worried she would ask Quintilius to ride with them, but she shook her head while giving him a knowing smile and he released a long breath of relief.

  She laughed, then got as close as she could without touching him. “Demon mine, what should I do with you?”

  “I’ll tell you as soon as you enter the Jeep.” He had lowered his voice to the faintest of whispers but knew at least a few in the group had very good ears.

  In fact, several meters away from them, Samuel chuckled.

  Meanwhile, Alexander had finished his call and hurried back to them. “Ophelia—” He looked at her with big pleading eyes and brought both hands united to his chest. “Please, would you go to my house and help Ravenna with the party’s organization?”

  Ophelia let out a chuckle. “Is she going crazy already?”

  “You know Ravenna. She’s a perfectionist and wants the flowers delivered now, but—”

  She raised one hand. “No need to say more. I’ll go. I’ve been dying to see her anyway.” Ophelia pivoted on her heels and extended a hand to Peter, her chin slightly tilted, exposing a bit of throat for him, her eyes sparkling with that light he loved. “Keys, please.”

  His turn to shake his head and smile, Peter reached into his pocket and found the Jeep’s keys which he promptly held out to her only to withdraw his hand as she reached for it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you did it on purpose to make me ride with Quintilius,” he whispered to her.

  “It just worked out great. Don’t you think? Spending time alone without me, it’ll do both of you good.”

  He thought their definition of good was worlds-apart different. Then he realized that since leaving for their honeymoon they hadn’t been separated in months, and he wished they were alone again. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you more.”

  ****

  Marcus helped move the flowers and plants from Samuel’s SUV to Peter’s Jeep. The day had taken an unexpected turn and brought back me
mories from a past Marcus didn’t want to relive. During the whole conversation with Laura, he had kept his distance. He would have skipped the visit to the Renegade Youth Shelter altogether. To him, that place, although built with the best intentions in mind, was the proof the paranormal world was rotten.

  Quintilius was a good man, but he was one in a society of many who didn’t give a rat’s ass about renegades. Despite that Marcus had somehow lost his unwanted status by marrying Diana, and thanks to Alexander’s endorsement they had been able to adopt Daniel, he still was a renegade. In his heart, he disagreed with the Immortal Council’s policies and the Peace Pact Alliance’s laws.

  A society that didn’t care for its fringe citizens was a society he didn’t want to be a part of. Only his centurion skills and resilience had saved Marcus when living all over the world without the safety net of his people. For two millennia, Marcus had not belonged anywhere. Neither mortal nor paranormal, he had felt alone and full of rage.

  But he had a family now, and Diana had healed most of the wounds festering for so long inside him. Yet, a day like the present came, and the stirring of a familiar emotion, all simmering and dark overtook Marcus.

  “Are you okay?” Alexander moved around the vases to secure the orchid plants on the floor of the Jeep.

  “Just peachy.” Marcus arranged the barrels closer to each other.

  Alexander shrugged. “All right.”

  “We need something to tie the barrels together.” One look over his shoulder and Marcus saw Peter was busy saying his goodbyes to Ophelia. Without bothering them, he rummaged through the vehicle and found a piece of rope, which he then wrapped around the barrels. With a grunt, he secured both ends to two hooks by the side of the Jeep’s walls. “That boy shouldn’t have been by himself all that time. Abuse after abuse. The isolation. No wonder he ended up dealing drugs. And now, he’ll be prosecuted as an adult for something you and I would’ve done in our youth without thinking twice.”