Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Welcome back,” Praetor began. “You’ve had some adventures out in the Wild West, I’m told.” Someone at the end of the dais sniggered.

  The brothers bowed in tandem, as they had done for decades. They both made sure the bow was long, and low.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see us at such short notice, Council,” Marcus began. “We have urgent news we felt the Council needed to hear from us directly, and in person.”

  One of the members Paolo did not recognize slammed his fist on the table and yelled, “Where is the book, Marcus? That is all that matters here.”

  “We are trying to locate it—“

  “I’m told you had it in your possession, and yet you allowed a mortal woman to take it away with her? How can that be?” another member demanded.

  “Not true, sire. We have never seen this book. Only heard about it. To my knowledge, no one has seen this book since it disappeared in the fire before we were born,” Marcus replied calmly. “It could very well be destroyed, for all we know.”

  “Then why the hell are all the darks revving up for war over it?” another Council member asked.

  “I don’t have an answer for that.” Marcus was running out of room to maneuver. Paolo could see his brother shaking slightly. So much was at stake. They’d had little time to plan for this. The sudden accusatory tone of the Council distressed him as much as it did his brother.

  Paolo stepped in front of his brother. “Members of the Council. I am the one responsible for this series of events. I came to be acquainted with a young woman, a college professor in California, who is an expert on vampire mythology. During this casual conversation I discovered that, while she did not believe in vampires, she had followed a lead to a rare book on the subject that she was able to purchase from a bookseller in Prague.”

  Several members nodded. Two muttered something unflattering. Paolo paid little attention. He focused on Praetor Artemis as he completed his statement. “What happened next was a lapse in judgment, something you are all aware has happened to me before.”

  The room fell silent. Paolo knew no one could argue with the logic of his statement. “It was my error that I became too obviously curious about her studies. But, in the course of the conversation, I learned she had found this book, which claimed to have been written by a British explorer who studied early vampire legends. He traveled throughout India and wrote a book about the Temples of the Vampires in the Sind, dating back to a few hundred years after the death of Christ. She found references to a joining, an apex of races. I believe he may have discovered the book, or information about the origins of our species.”

  “This is blasphemy!” the member who had slammed his fist on the table. “There is no such history. There is no apex.”

  “Oh, but there is,” a voice behind them said smugly Paolo and Marcus turned to see Dag Nielsen standing just inside the doors. He was the first dark coven leader to ever be allowed entrance into the Council chamber.

  Chapter 39

  Dag sauntered to the front of the room, and began pacing in front of the dais. Paolo wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, but he struggled to tamp down his emotions so as not to give the dark leader something else to gloat about.

  Marcus appeared to be in shock. Praetor was searching the table from side to side. “Who gave this man entry?”

  “I did,” the angry council member responded sweetly. “It seems we’ve been blinded by the legendary Monteleone family and their secrets. I call it a fatal case of hero worship.” The robed member leaned back in his chair, studying the brothers, then abruptly turned and addressed Praetor. “And since you are friend to these two, I call for a vote of no confidence. I believe your judgment has been colored by your affection for this family.”

  “Nonsense. No dark coven leader has ever been granted admission to our halls. Never in thousands of years.”

  “But , with all due respect, you’ve never faced the extinction of your race,” Dag inserted himself. Several on the Council gasped. Groups of two or three members whispered and muttered amongst themselves.

  Paolo swallowed hard. His light-hearted thought about this being the last day of his freedom came back to haunt him, turning his stomach into a pit of oily black rage.

  “As I see it, we have two items on the floor,” one member spoke up from the opposite side of the table. “First we have a vote of no confidence which has been leveled at Praetor Artemis, a man I have found to be exceedingly fair and just in all the years I have known him. But it is Capuro’s right to request a vote. The timing is what I find unclear.”

  Artemis leaned forward. “And since I am not yet the unseated Council member, the other item on this floor is the admittance of a dark coven leader to our halls. And for that, I do not give my permission at this time.”

  Capuro leaned back and stared at the ceiling, extending his hands out to the sides as if he’d tried his best and was giving up. Dag began to turn beet red at the attempt to muzzle him. Before he could spew out something venomous, Paolo stepped toward the dark leader and grabbed him by the elbow.

  “This man is a traitor—not only to himself and his own family, but to the entire race of dark vampires. He is amassing an army. He is killing the Goldens’ mortal children. I now formally accuse him of also planning the destruction of this great body. He is not your ally nor your friend. He does not seek peace. He cannot be trusted. He is dangerous, and he is my sworn enemy. As well as yours. If he remains here, then this body, this Council, will no longer speak for me.”

  The collective gasp that erupted from the dais surprised even Paolo. He continued to hold Dag by the elbow, taking care to make sure the dark leader remained in a small amount of pain.

  “You would listen to the man who has ordered the killing of young Rory Monteleone and his younger brother, who was only a boy of ten?” Paolo shouted over the commotion.

  Artemis stood. “And I have knowledge of three other children of this house who have perished at the hands of a dark guard. They were not accidents. There is a systematic attack going on, consuming the lives of some of our youngest and brightest children. This has never happened while I have been a member of this Council.”

  No one said a word. Dag had inhaled to shout something, but Paolo twisted his arm up at an angle and thought perhaps he felt a small bone break. The pain set Dag off, just as Paolo knew it would.

  “You! You and your stuffed hedonistic bodies and your sanctimonious attitudes.” Dag jerked himself free and swore as his arm hung at an unnatural angle. “Who are you to tell any of the dark covens they are not your equals? Just because you have the privilege of walking in daylight, doesn’t mean you have the right to claim dominion over everyone and everything else. I’ll personally watch each one of you burn in the fires of Hell. And I’ll do it while fucking your wives, your girlfriends and your daughters. I will spread my seed and spawn throughout the Golden vampire race and will create a lineage that will last forever, the lineage originally denied me. I claim dominion! Mark my words. I will prevail.”

  Marcus and Paolo glanced at each other.

  Guards traced to surround Dag as he struggled to free himself from their confinement. As quickly as it had begun, it was all over. Dag had traced himself away to a safe location.

  Paolo cursed to himself, wishing he’d grabbed the man and traveled to the middle of the sun-baked deserts of Death Valley. He wanted to smell the burning flesh of this animal and watch until he had withered to nothing.

  The guards were looking around for signs Dag was still in the room.

  “You. You are a traitor,” Artemis pointed to Capuro. “You allowed him entry without Council permission, nearly costing all of us our lives.” Artemis gave the order and guards took the former Council member away in silver chains.

  The whispering amongst Council members subsided. Praetor Artemis sat back down and straightened his red robe. He was not smiling. He showed Paolo and Marcus no friendship, no mercy. “This changes little. All the facts ar
e still the same. The book must be found and if you can’t do it, then we will and you will be stripped of your holdings, you will be denied the protection of the Council, and you will be left to your own devices.”

  Paolo and Marcus both bowed. He hadn’t given them a time limit, which was good, Paolo thought.

  “One more thing,” Artemis said as he stood up. “You have twenty-four hours to produce the book. And bring the girl here.”

  “Cara? Here?” Paolo asked. “Why—“

  “You wish to argue with my lenient proposal? In twenty-four hours the fates of everyone in this room will be sealed. If I thought I could do this any faster, I’d have you in chains and would go about it myself. But if you test me, if you fail, everyone you care about will pay dearly. Some with their lives.” He sat down. Looking from side to side he came upon a sea of nodding heads and one who had fallen asleep in his wheelchair and was snoring.

  Artemis leaned forward on one elbow, braced his chin on his arched fingers, and said with icy clarity, “I suggest you get going right away. You now have less than twenty-four hours left.”

  Marcus and Paolo didn’t bother to take the time to bow. They looked into each other’s faces and traced away. They had both been thinking about home, the villa in Imprunetta. That’s where they went.

  Lucius was giggling in the yard outside the tall metal and glass doors to the kitchen. The kitchen smelled of freshly baking pies, which was a custom in the Monteleone household, since Lucius still ate as a mortal child. His favorite was blackberry.

  Laurel was gathering flowers in the garden. Paolo sighed as he looked at them both. Marcus capped his shoulder with his palm. “They will be safe. Somehow, we’ve got to make this work.”

  “Brother, I—“

  “Nonsense, Paolo. Your instincts were perfect. You assessed the situation far better than I could, and your actions probably saved our lives, possibly the life of Artemis as well. I’m beginning to believe in divine intervention. Your meeting her has turned out to be a godsend. Just think what would have happened if we’d had no warning? Lucky for us, we have her safely stowed away at the villa in California. Otherwise, I’d be willing to bet we’d be thoroughly screwed.”

  Chapter 40

  Paolo wanted to trace to California to see her again, but the urgency of the mission to learn more about the bookseller in Prague eclipsed his desire. At least he felt it was desire that prompted his need to see her, and he was learning how to do the right thing, rather than the first thing that came into his head.

  When he arrived in Prague, he was greeted by an early afternoon sun that warmed his otherwise cold flesh. He walked down the designated street and stopped in front of the bookstore, troubled to see that it was boarded up.

  He looked at the slip of paper Marcus had given him and dialed the number. He was rewarded with the sound of a phone ringing inside the store. No one answered. He redialed and again got no response.

  He tried calling the bookstore once more. This time an answering machine answered with a message in a heavily accented, guttural man’s voice. He decided against leaving a message, and against calling the local police.

  He scanned the area around the little shop, looking for someone on guard, and saw none. He stepped closer to the once hand-lettered windows of the bookstore and peered between the shards of broken glass and pieces of metal and scrap wood keeping out the public. He saw that some books remained, and that someone had been packing them into crates. He needed to investigate further. Checking to make sure there was a clear spot inside the store, he stepped into the alleyway and traced to inside without being noticed.

  He was immediately assaulted by the smell of death and decay.

  Saturated by the distinct iron smell of blood, he walked carefully around the concrete floor, which was littered with papers and remnants of books torn asunder. When he accidentally stepped into a nearly dry pool of blood, his boots almost stuck to the floor.

  Paolo knew the police wouldn’t be investigating this scene. There was no evidence on the outside that a crime had even been committed here. That was both good and bad. Good that he would be allowed to rummage through the contents of the store without being disturbed. Bad that he had little time in which to do it, and since he was alone, it would use up precious minutes they could ill afford to lose.

  Where to begin?

  He walked over to the crates. They were all being shipped to a bookstore in San Francisco. It was clearly Dag’s handiwork . Paolo sniffed the air. No trace of the dark vamp remained, if he’d even done this himself. Probably Dag had assigned the executioner and the other dark guards he used to do his bidding.

  Paolo’s boots made crackling noises as he stepped on more broken glass. Protective bookcase doors had been shattered. Even reading lamps and tables had been upended. A cash register, the old fashioned kind without a digital anything, was yawning open. Its vacant drawer hung down like the tongue of an old prospector.

  Towards the back of the store was a narrow stairway leading up. Paolo stepped quietly, but the boards underfoot groaned anyway due to his size. He wasn’t sure what he’d find there, so, although he needed the element of surprise, his need for safety was primary, so he did not trace.

  A few precious moments later, he found a young, pregnant woman lying dead, next to the bodies of a pudgy little boy and his dog. It was an execution killing, done several days ago, and the stench consumed the room. No trace of the bookseller, but from the size of the pool of dried blood below, Paolo didn’t doubt he was dead as well.

  He was sure the perpetrator had wanted information and didn’t shrink from using innocents to obtain it. However, if they had found the information they sought, the place wouldn’t have been ransacked. Cara’s office had been similarly ransacked.

  Holy God of vampires. They don’t yet have the book!

  Was it too much to hope?

  He glanced around the little family living space. He was looking for the phone, so dialed the number again. It rang next to a bed that had been ripped apart, and the mattress stuffing strewn all over the room. Drawers were ripped from the dressers and their meager contents dumped on the floor. Under the phone sat a square device with a blinking light. Paolo pushed the red button and heard the familiar voice of the women he now knew he loved.

  He listened to Cara’s message. “You also said you were receiving another shipment. I would be most interested in what you found.”

  Another shipment?

  Paolo was about to go downstairs when he heard the end of Cara’s message, and another one left after it.

  The man was speaking in broken English. Paolo could barely make out that the man was from a trucking company, and was asking for instructions for delivery of a crate of books from overseas. Paolo was ecstatic.

  He ran back to the machine and replayed it again, jotting down the phone number and address. He hesitated, but then decided to erase the tape, just in case he was being followed.

  Once outside the shop, he ran through several alleyways until he came to the dirty riverfront. He could see the name of the warehouse across a delicate metal span bridge. He ran across the metal planks on the walkway as little cars buzzed past him.

  At the office of A. Novak & Company he spoke softly to the shipping clerk who sat behind metal bars, sending some glamour her way. Her eyes fluttered, crossed, and then she promptly fainted, her plump legs resting on the swivel chair cushion she had been sitting on.

  Damn it.

  He took a chance and traced into the little office. In the back he heard the sound of workers and machinery, including forklifts. He decided she would make a good front for him to gain entry.

  “Scusi,” he said, using his practiced pigeon English/Italian dialect. “The signora has fainted. Please. Come. You must help me. She is too heavy for me to carry.” He pretended to nearly drop her and several workmen came running over to give him a hand.

  A clerk with a clipboard and without a hard hat addressed him. “You see what happ
ened?”

  “I was jes talking to her. She fell over. I think she hit her head, maybe? I don’t know. So sorry.”

  The man looked Paolo over carefully, ending with laser focus on his shoes. It occurred to Paolo he might recognize his $1000 leather pumps. “My brother-in-love is a shoemaker in Napoli. He gets me the very finest at a good price.”

  That seemed to satisfy the man.

  “Scusi, but I am sent here to pick up a crate for a mister—" Paolo dug the slip of paper from his pocket. “Tomas Novotny.” He showed Marcus’s note to the man. “I was to be here yesterday, and I am so sorry. I have car trouble.”

  The man frowned. “Hope you have something bigger than a car. This crate is full of books.”

  “Perhaps I will find a truck for taking crate back to Napoli.”

  “Thought you said it was for Tomas Novotny.”

  “Yes, yes, it is. But I am to sell for him in Napoli at the book festival. You’ve heard of it perhaps?”

  “All right. You can come this way.”

  Paolo walked behind the man just as he heard the woman beginning to talk. He was glad she had not been hurt by the fall.

  The crate for Tomas Novotny was about four feet cubed.

  “You want to inspect it?”

  “Sure, sure. Yes, I can do that.”

  The workman pried open the top with a crowbar. He removed some shredded pine packing material to reveal several antique book covers.

  “Ah! Molto bello. I can look for a moment or two?” Paolo asked.

  “Fine.”

  “I also call my friend and see if he has right truck.”

  The man walked away without saying a word.

  Paolo took out his cell phone and dialed Marcus.