The Immortal City

by Amy Kuivalainen

  Zo smiled. “Bella, if he wanted to do that there isn’t a thing in the world you could do to stop him. But no, what I’m trying to tell you is that he won’t do that to you. Maybe he’s finally gotten lonely, or you found a chink in his incredible armor. His perfect willpower has abandoned him at last. The fact that he kissed you is groundbreaking. He may have ignored the murders, but the fact that you’re involved now ensures that he’ll hunt every one of Thevetat’s new fanatics down and wipe all memory of them from the face of the Earth.”

  “Because he’s the Defender…”

  “Because he cares for you like you are one of us. We are all ungrateful, unworthy assholes. All magicians are. But he’s never failed us, even when we deserved to be drawn and quartered. None of us deserve that kind of loyalty. He saw the papers this morning and thinks you have bailed because of them. I have to ask, is your hesitation the media or the magic? If it is the former, there are ways to get them to back off.”

  The pain in Penelope’s ribs tightened, and she stopped walking. “The media thing is embarrassing, but it’s not the main problem. You want to know what I am truly frightened of?”

  “Tell me. Let me help, if I can.”

  “I’m worried that once this murder investigation is over our destiny knot will unravel and he’ll realize I’m just a plain, boring human that’s never been able to maintain a relationship longer than six months. I already feel too much for him and have since he pulled me from that bloody canal. If it’s all because of some cosmic bullshit that he likes me and that goes, where does it leave me? He’ll be over it. He’s had a million lives and loves, and I’ll still be Penelope, filled with wondrous knowledge that I’ll never be able to prove, and obsessed with someone I can never have. That’s the price of kissing him back.”

  Penelope didn’t realize she was shaking until Zo wrapped his arms around her. He was warm under his jacket and smelled of coffee, leather, and rosemary.

  “You’re not going to believe me when I tell you this, but he’s just as nervous, if not more so than you are about the whole idea. He’s been playing the cello nonstop since you left. He only plays like that when he’s worried about something deep in his soul. He knows you left the house and I think he’s worried he scared you off.” Zo gave her back a gentle rub. “Come home, Penelope. End the misery.”

  “Of course I was going to come back,” Penelope said, releasing him. “I just needed some space.”

  “Good, because Aelia will probably be sitting on the stairs of his tower crying and I can’t handle seeing her tears,” Zo said, lightheartedly. “Music is her magic, and she’s so empathic that when Alexis plays all his melancholy songs, she feels it the same way he does. She loves and hates it, so she’ll be crying but won’t interrupt him.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to interrupt it? I love the cello. I’ll probably sit beside her.”

  “No, you won’t, because if you do, I’ll march you up those stairs myself,” threatened Zo.

  “Aren’t there rules about bothering a magician when he’s busy? I know he let me up there before, but that hardly qualifies as a standing invitation,” said Penelope as the blue door appeared on the wall of the Calle dei Cerchieri.

  “Penelope, that’s exactly what it means. A magician lets no one into his sanctum sanctorum unless he wants them to visit again. Trust me on this.”

  “If he turns me into a toad, I expect you to turn me back, Zo,” Penelope said. As the door shut behind them, the whole house seemed to echo with music. It was as if every wall, tile, artwork, and piece of furniture hummed with the deep bass of the cello.

  “I told you,” Zo said with a shake of his head. “Everyone feels it, even the palazzo, when he gets like this.”

  “I’ve never heard anything like it,” Penelope whispered.

  “You know what’s better? Pancakes. I am going to make some, go and retrieve il stregone so the paintings will stop crying.” Zo pushed her gently toward the stairs that had appeared. Penelope looked up in alarm to see a Renaissance painting of Persephone weeping gently. Clearly, when the house felt something, everything in it did too.

  Penelope hurried up the stairs, focusing on the tower. The wall in front of her opened and as Zo predicted, Aelia was sitting on the bottom step looking up toward the notes of music that vibrated in the air. Her impeccable makeup was smeared from the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “About time you got here.” She sniffed angrily and got to her feet. “Make him stop before I melt completely.”

  Penelope brushed past her and climbed the tower steps. The closer she got to his room, the more the music in the air glittered with visible, twisting plumes of silver, gold, and blues. The music rose and fell in deep, graceful arcs. It was the sound of heartache, and it vibrated through the stones and the air and her skin, filling her chest as her heartbeat tried to match the music.

  Taking a deep breath, Penelope quietly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  Alexis sat on a small stool with his back to her as he moved the bow in his hand. The tips of his dark curls were damp from perspiration as they brushed his bare shoulders and back. She could see faint blue tattoos moving under his skin, streams of words and symbols that danced in time with the music.

  Every word in Penelope’s head seemed to vanish as she watched, mesmerized by the sound and energy in the room. She sat down at his workbench, not knowing how to interrupt, or if she even wanted to. A cinnamon, firecracker smell hung thick in the air as his magic weaved into the sounds, turning them into heavy streams of light.

  “Alexis?” Her voice was barely a whisper pulled from her tense lungs. The music faltered as the bow jerked off the strings. Alexis turned, his indigo eyes burning with the magic of the music, and as he let the magic go, they faded back to a deep blue.

  “Penelope.” His voice was like smoke, his accent curling in husky twists. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” He got to his feet and placed the heavy cello back on the stand.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Zo sent me up to see if you wanted breakfast.”

  He joined her at the table, and the heat and proximity of his naked brown skin nearly knocked all sense from her head.

  “I saw the papers this morning and thought you might have…changed your mind about staying here,” Alexis said tactfully.

  “I went out to meet briefly with Marco. He wanted to share some profiling details with me,” she said hurriedly, hating that their mouths were saying one thing while their eyes were saying another. “He showed me the paper. Honestly, it was more derogatory toward you than me. It’s your reputation that will be ruined. Mine’s already in the toilet.”

  “I’ve never particularly cared what others have thought. I especially don’t care about the reputation of a mask I wear. I may court whoever I wish, just as you shall.” He caught her eye and the hard shell of his gaze cracked. “You are entitled to change your mind, Penelope. I would never judge you for wanting to leave or regretting a drunken kiss.”

  “I don’t regret it,” she said defensively. “Do you?”

  “No,” he replied. He gave the back of his neck a bashful rub. “But I don’t want you to feel like you need to reciprocate if you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Believe me, I’d have no problem expressing myself if I didn’t want you to kiss me,” she said with a smile. “Besides, how could I leave when there’s the Archives downstairs that I haven’t begun to explore?”

  “You only want me for my books,” he said, sighing dramatically. “I should’ve known.”

  “I’m shallow that way.”

  “Did Marco give you any insight that could help?” Alexis asked, as he stroked the underside of her wrist and made the hair on her arm stand on end. His fingers held indentations from holding down strings for hours.

  “He has a suspect, and that’s given me an idea about what the spells are trying to do. If you come downstairs, I’ll tell you,” Penelope said, the reckless wanting of him from the ni
ght before creeping over her the longer he touched her. “As much as I love your playing, I need your brain more.”

  “So, it was my brain that lured you back,” he said teasingly.

  “The rest of you isn’t so bad either,” she replied as her pulse pounded in her throat. “But your brain is what I need most right now.” Lies. She wanted to kiss the sweat off the back of his neck just to know what it tasted like.

  Alexis pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, and she fought not to tremble.

  “Very well, I’ll be down shortly. I’m starving,” Alexis said, releasing her.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen…eating,” she mumbled, watching him walk to the shower. Oh God don’t think about Alexis in the shower. Penelope bolted.

  Outside the door, she congratulated her iron willpower and hoped like hell that Zo’s pancakes were worth turning her back on Alexis wet and naked.

  It wasn’t until she was back downstairs watching Zo beat a dozen eggs that Penelope reconnected to reality, the music and the need to crush Alexis’s body to hers finally leaving her mind.

  “That was embarrassingly quick,” he said, looking up from his mixing bowl. “You don’t look even a little bit tousled.”

  Penelope shrugged, taking an apricot from the fruit bowl on the bench. She sat down on a stool and watched him move about the kitchen with ease. “I convinced him with words, and he’s hungry.”

  “Thank Zeus for silence,” Phaidros said, sitting down beside her. “That music has my energy levels jangling all over the place. The only thing worse than Alexis’s playing is Zo reciting poetry.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Penelope. All the best poetry in the world is Zo’s.” Aelia appeared, her face fresh, and makeup reapplied as if the emotional mess on the stairs had never existed.

  “Thank you, my princess,” Zo said, kissing her cheek. “Your pancakes won’t have spit in them, unlike the ones I’ll give to Phaidros.”

  “Anything to make them taste better,” Phaidros retorted.

  “I know you supposedly wrote the Inferno, but what else?” asked Penelope, trying to get her mind off Alexis.

  Zo dramatically slammed down his frying pan, announcing, “Forget youth! But know, the Power above, with ease can save each object of his love; Wide as his will, extends his boundless grace…”

  “Homer!” Penelope interrupted, folding her arms. “You’re just messing with me now. Next you’ll tell me that you were Ovid as well.”

  “Fuck Ovid, the dirty coglione!” Zo shouted, making Penelope jump. “That son of a whore was no better than a thief who stole my lines and ideas…” he continued to rant in a spill of Greek and Latin curses that were so fast and complex, Penelope couldn’t keep up with them. He was spouting the stories that had been stolen and the structural vision that had been pillaged until Alexis came in.

  “Oh no, you mentioned Ovid, didn’t you?” He came and stood behind her. “It was a terrible lover’s quarrel. Never mention Ovid, or he’ll never shut up.” He had showered and smelled so fresh and good in his peacock blue shirt, Penelope wanted to hold him close just to breathe him in. God, girl, you need to get your hormones checked. Men don’t do this to you.

  Zo’s rant halted when he saw Alexis, his verbal diatribe reverting back to poetry. “The great Odysseus, in his home again, had himself bathed and rubbed with oil and was fitted out in a beautiful cloak and tunic. Athene also played her part by enhancing his comeliness from head to foot…”

  “Stai zitto!” Alexis rolled his eyes at him. “Hurry up and cook if you are going to cook.”

  “Where are the others?” Penelope asked as they each took a seat around the large wooden kitchen table, their plates stacked with pancakes.

  “They will be in the Archives,” Aelia said, handing her a bowl of fresh raspberries. “Galenos is Nereus’s assistant for most things, and Lyca is still her guard.”

  “Nereus doesn’t seem to be in danger amongst books,” Penelope pointed out.

  “Old habits die hard. Lyca has served Nereus her whole life,” explained Alexis. “She never leaves her side unless Nereus has commanded her to. Despite her spryness, Nereus is far older than any of us and having someone care for her is no bad thing.”

  “Are you going to eat all the honey?” Phaidros complained as Aelia poured until her pancakes were almost swimming in it.

  “What if I am?” she asked sweetly. “Don’t pout. I saved you some.” She handed the jug to him, licking her sticky fingers slowly. It was an innocent action, but he blushed around his ears all the same.

  “I’m surprised you have any teeth left at all,” he said, but without malice. Aelia smiled widely at him, the whiteness of her teeth an affront to her eating habits, and he laughed despite his complaining.

  Penelope grinned to herself. Her family meals were such a quiet affair, both parents firmly engaged in whatever they were reading at the time, that to be around playful, squabbling magicians was unusually nice. The normality ended when Zo floated over a fresh pot of coffee, which started to refill everyone’s cups.

  “If you need to see Nereus, I’ll take you to the Archives after you eat,” Alexis said to Penelope over the chatter of the others. “She and Galenos have been working nonstop. They are going to know what the walls say.”

  “Good because I think we are going to have another murder in the next few days.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that as well,” Alexis said, and something in his tone made the rowdy magicians stop talking. “I summoned you three here for your safety, but also to help.”

  “What do you need, Defender?” Aelia asked, her expression serious.

  “I want you to go out into the city and try and find any traces of magic that are not our own. The polizia will be working on the murder sites still, but get as close as you can and see if you can feel out any magical trace leading away. Our killer must be hiding in the city, and if the Demon isn’t the one tutoring him, then he’ll have a master.”

  “I can take Santa Croce, and Zo and Aelia can head across to San Michele—” Phaidros began, but Alexis interrupted him.

  “No. You all go together. You have different skills and different magic, and what one might not see, the others will.”

  “I don’t need bodyguards. The boys can head to one, and I’ll go to the other. We’ll cover more ground that way,” Aelia said.

  “It’s not about that. We don’t know how many allies the Acolyte has or if he’s the only one with magic. Go together. Don’t fight me on this.” There was a command in his voice that made all of them, including Penelope, sit up straighter. The magician had changed to the general in the blink of an eye.

  Penelope and Alexis left Phaidros and Aelia arguing over doing dishes, slipping away to the elevator that appeared in the wall. Penelope’s pulse jumped as the doors slid shut behind them locking her in with Alexis.

  As the elevator began to pass through the open sea, Alexis pushed the stop button, pressed Penelope up against the glass, and kissed her. All of the churned-up feelings she had that morning vanished, along with her doubts about pursuing a more personal relationship with him. When Alexis kissed her, she felt it with every part of her, and in that moment, she knew she was done for. Just when she felt like she could take no more, he broke off the embrace.

  “I’ve been waiting for that good-morning kiss since dawn,” he admitted, his breath warm against her lips. “You sure know how to make a man wait.”

  Penelope could taste the lemon and sugar he had on his pancakes, and combined with his cinnamon scent, she could’ve eaten him alive. Penelope gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him back to her lips, and kissing him long and hard as her hands snaked into his thick curls. She could hear the music of his cello again, humming through her and the connection that bound them.

  “Good morning, Alexis,” she said, as she reluctantly let him go.

  “Buon giorno, cara,” he replied, eyes filled with wickedness. “Time to work.” He reached back and pre
ssed the button to get the elevator moving again.

  Nereus eyed them suspiciously as they exited the elevator slightly more ruffled than what they went in.

  “Took your time. Something wrong with the elevator?” Nereus asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

  “Not that I noticed,” Penelope replied innocently. “I had a meeting with Marco this morning, and I have a theory.” They headed back to Nereus’s lab where the projections of the murders still stood in all of their gory detail.

  “Penelope! Nereus and I have translated—” Galenos started, but Nereus held up a hand to stop him.

  “She already has a theory; I want to see how accurate she is. Go ahead, Penelope.”

  “Marco has narrowed down the killer to a potential follower of this guy Tony Duilio.” Penelope passed Nereus her phone, the screen showing the smiling millionaire. “He wanted the commission to turn Venice into one of his floating cities. Instead, they went with MOSE. He and his followers have caused several protests and a lot of social media noise, especially in the last month.”

  “I remember the controversy he made at the time,” Alexis said thoughtfully.

  “Duilio believes that the MOSE is a haphazard approach that will ultimately fail as the seas continue to rise,” Penelope went on. “His floating resorts are anchored with a complicated cabling system that could be lengthened over time to counteract the rising sea level. I believe one of his followers is trying to use dark magic to cause some kind of event, like a tidal wave, to overload the MOSE barriers and sink Venice, proving Duilio’s theory right all along.”

  “My, my, what an excellent theory,” Nereus said, handing back the phone. “I don’t know about Duilio’s exact motives, but the magic aligns with a sea-based disaster.” She snapped her fingers and lines of pale blue text appeared over the top of the graffitied walls of the murder scene. Penelope rushed over to them, her fingers scanning the lines.

  “Wow, this guy is pazzo.” She twirled her finger at her temple. “I knew it was a petition to Poseidon.”

  “And a threat,” Nereus agreed. “There is a part about Thevetat using his demon fire to heat the waters and kill all of Poseidon’s sea life if he doesn’t comply with this one request. Having the sacrifice on San Michele drew on the power of the dead, strengthening the spell.”