The Demoness of Waking Dreams (14 page)

Corbin had barely gotten out of hell this last time. He had bargained his way out, promising the Prince of Darkness himself that he would find Luciana and bring her back. That was a task he would accomplish with the greatest of pleasure.

Oh, yes,
Corbin thought.
I will return Luciana to hell. I will reap my rewards from the devil. And once again I will walk amongst humans as the most powerful Archdemon on earth.

He would claw his way back to the top if he had to.

Regardless of whom he had to destroy to get there.

Chapter Seven

V
ery early in the morning, before the sun rose, Luciana crept out of the palazzo.

And she went back alone to the glass gallery. To gather information.

What a shame they had put everything back in its place, not a shard askance. The rows of glass stood, perfect and pristine. Glistening and still. Artful. Tasteful. And all restored merely one day later. When she had trashed the gallery, it had been enormously satisfying. Smashing all that beautiful glass had been such a liberating feeling.

Entering the back room, she pulled open the door and mounted the stairs.

“Mother of Lucifer, how I despise this place,” she muttered to herself.

Once upon a time, when she had been a girl, there had been no need for such a facade. The brothel had been legal, and Venice had been the city of courtesans, famous all over Europe for the beauty of its whores. Prostitutes had vastly outnumbered noblewomen, far more visible on the streets of the city than gently bred girls.

As one of those gently bred human girls, Luciana never would have come here.

As a fledgling Rogue demon clawing her way out of hell, she had no other choice.

She’d paid off her debt to the devil through working here.

How Carlotta stood it here for so long, she did not know. Obviously, the woman fancied herself a sort of Veronica Franco, a member of the extinct breed of
cortigiana onesta,
the “honest courtesans” who once ruled Venice with their educated wit and their political influence. Once, the courtesans of Venice had entertained noblemen. Even the king of France himself had spent a night between Veronica Franco’s thighs.

For Luciana, this place had been hell on earth.

To her, no matter how rich or powerful a client was, he was still a client.

Still a man who paid to bury himself between her legs.

A fleshy, drunken human man grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, saying, “Come on in, gorgeous. Join the party!”

Party,
Luciana thought,
is a tame label for what’s going on up here.

To her, it looked like a full-fledged orgy.

And it had been going on for quite a while, Luciana guessed from the look of it. Women and men cavorted everywhere; in various states of inebriation, undress and copulation. She pressed forward, into the sea of exposed flesh, looking for Carlotta.

To find out what the brothel keeper knew about Brandon, and what she had
told
him.

Dressed in a low-cut crimson gown, Carlotta stood watching the spectacle from the balcony above. She smiled, showing white, sharklike teeth that seemed to have grown sharper since the last time Luciana had seen her.

“La Lucciola!”
called the courtesan.

“La Tenutaria.”
Luciana flung back the Italian word for
madam.

“I hate that word,” Carlotta said. “I told you never to use it.”

“Likewise.”

Every demon within earshot laughed, for all of them understood the reference. Luciana ignored them and mounted the stairway, glaring up at the courtesan. “I need to speak to you at once.”

Carlotta simply laughed. “How did you know we were having a party, Lucciola? We’re having such a wonderful time. You should join in. You never reached your full potential in this business, you know. There was so much more you could have accomplished.”

“I don’t do this anymore,” Luciana gritted out. “I haven’t for a long time.”

They went into the silence of Carlotta’s office, where a couple was in disarray on top of the desk. Carlotta shooed them away, settling into an armchair as they picked up the scraps of their clothing and hurried out the door.

“Really, why did you come here? Was it just to check up on me? Or did you come to scream at me for directing that big, strapping man of an angel toward your house? I hope he managed to find what he was looking for,” Carlotta said.

“How much did he give you?”

Carlotta smiled, fluttering her eyelashes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“How much did the angel give you to sell me out?”

The courtesan sighed. “There was a small sum involved. But I would have done it for free, you know. You’re such a bitch. You only come to me to complain. Honestly, I don’t know why you brought him here in the first place. Putting all of
us
in jeopardy while you keep your own household safe and sound.”

“Well, you fixed that, didn’t you? Ca’ Rossetti is no longer safe, thanks to you. Don’t forget what’s at stake for you if my household is infiltrated,” Luciana said, the threat hanging in her voice. “Need I remind you of all that has passed there?”

“No,” Carlotta said, lapsing into silence. “But why did you have to come
here?
”

Luciana sighed. “Running here was the only thing I could think of to do with that angel behind me. I had intended to seduce him. This would have been the ideal place to accomplish that.”

In fact, this
had been
the ideal place. In his dream.

But Carlotta didn’t need to know that.

“Leading him to your home was the only way to get him away from
my
home,” Carlotta shot back. “It was gratifying, even though I knew you would come poking around here afterward.”

There were a thousand insults on the tip of Luciana’s tongue. But she swallowed them down, knowing there was no use in squabbling.

“So what are you going to do about him now? It should not be difficult to seduce him, if that’s what you intended. Get inside that head of his. For you, that should be easy. Are you still poking into men’s dreams?” Carlotta said.

“It has been known to happen from time to time,” Luciana said.

“How do you manage it?”

“I can’t explain it. How do you see? Feel, taste, touch, hear? It’s the same for me with other people’s dreams. I sense the same things I would in the waking world. I don’t know how it happens. I only know that it does,” Luciana said. “If I had a choice in the matter, I would steer clear of this man’s unconscious mind. In fact, I plan to get rid of him entirely.”

“If you don’t want him, bring him back here. There are plenty of girls who would give him a free ride,” said the madam. “Hell, I would take him myself.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot how much you enjoy other women’s things,” Luciana said, looking pointedly to the ornate emerald drop earrings Carlotta was wearing.

The earrings Carlotta had stolen from her.

The emeralds had been in the Rossetti family for centuries, given to Luciana by her mother as a wedding gift. They had been the first item she had recovered when returning to Venice as a Rogue demon. When she had departed this godforsaken brothel, the circumstances of her departure had been rushed, to say the least.
I escaped,
the demoness thought.
The earrings did not.
They had ended up in Carlotta’s lobes, and ever since then,
La Tenutaria
had refused to give them back.

“These earrings are mine, and they have been for a long time,” said the madam. “You left them here when you departed. You should have been more careful if they were so precious to you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Luciana said, narrowing her eyes at Carlotta.

“You can see yourself out,” said the madam with a dismissive flick of her hand.

Just as she opened the door, she spotted Corbin down below, ensconced in the arms of a pair of Carlotta’s girls. She hesitated, turning back to tell Carlotta. “You had better be careful. Corbin is more dangerous than you can even begin to guess.”

“I don’t need your advice,” said Carlotta. “I can take care of myself.”

Luciana shivered, knowing just how dangerous the Archdemon was. However, if Carlotta didn’t want to listen…

On her way down the staircase, Corbin grabbed on to her arm. “Where are you going, lovely?”

“I have business to attend to, Corbin,” she said, “which does not involve you.”

“Everything of importance involves me,
cara.
You had better get used to that.”

She shook off his grasp and hurried down the stairs, back into the hot day.

* * *

The Company safe house had not been luxurious, but it had at least provided Brandon with some basic comforts. Here, in this condemned building, there was no air-conditioning.

Not even a fan.

No relief from the stifling heat of summer, the humidity.

Sweat trickled down his undershirt.

Across the canal, the shutters were closed on the demoness’s palazzo, closed up and silent as a sepulcher. Yet within that mortuary stillness, he felt her breathing. Sensed her thinking. Knew, rather than saw, the plans being laid around polished tables within that house. The team of Gatekeepers in there with her, plotting.

He watched for hours. But across the canal, nothing moved. Not a flicker. Not a sound.

Nothing.

Don’t fall asleep,
he told himself.
Think of something else.

In this city with no cars, the itch for the driver’s seat crawled beneath Brandon’s skin. The hum of acceleration vibrated in the marrow of his bones. His palms twitched to feel the familiar curve of a steering wheel. His foot pressed, seeking the resistance of a gas pedal and its resulting acceleration.

He closed his eyes and felt himself driving.

Felt the instant of escaping the material world.

The moment of surpassing the limitations of the human body. Yet still totally within its confines. Hurtling forward at a hundred miles an hour, yet in total stillness. Veering along a deserted country road, completely alone. Totally connected, completely attuned to the divine.

Hand on the stick, he shifted into a higher gear.

And felt a hand gently squeeze his thigh.

Looked over into the passenger seat and saw Luciana there, green eyes brilliant and a slight smile on her lips.

He jolted out of sleep, shocked back to the reality of his present situation.

Back to a city where there were no cars.

Only water, and the endlessly curving pedestrian walkways.

And a demoness who’s driving me completely crazy.

He got up and paced around the perimeter of the room, trying to shake off the feeling of her hand on his thigh. Luciana was an enigma, a contradiction of elements combined within an elusive package. Her face could range from purely innocent to worldly wise in a fraction of a second. To him, she seemed both vulnerable and dangerous at once.

For a woman who had killed so many people, he had never expected such breathtaking charm. She had a strong personality, certainly. But there was also the element of the chameleon about her. She would become what a man wanted. His waking dream.

He had to remind himself, for the hundredth time since his arrival, of what she was.

Not a waking dream, but a walking nightmare.

* * *

When Luciana arrived home, she returned to her workroom, settling down to once again dedicate herself to her formula. Late in the afternoon, she heard a faint sound of a woman’s singing coming from the ground floor of Ca’ Rossetti. It sounded like opera.

Tosca,
if I’m not mistaken,
she thought.

The Gatekeepers lived in an area of their own, on the third floor of the house, which had always been used as the servants’ quarters. However as the head Gatekeeper, Massimo had his own converted apartment below, in a space that the Rossetti family had once used as warehouse space for their silk trade.

She never ventured into any of the servants’ quarters, letting the Gatekeepers run themselves. Massimo kept them in line, and kept the house running smoothly. The work that traditionally fell to women, the cooking and the laundry, the polishing of the silver, the cleaning of the floors…the staff performed it all with surprisingly little complaint.

The only thing she asked was that the Gatekeepers practice discretion when it came to their carnal activities.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Even after the debacle with Violetta…. Well, she had let that slide. She had not disciplined the Gatekeepers after all, as she had originally intended.

However, tonight when Luciana went to investigate, she regretted that decision.

She held her ear to the heavy wooden door, listening to the soft sound of singing there.

And then Massimo opened the door.

Behind him stood Violetta. The girl drifted behind Massimo, indistinct and translucent, a disembodied spirit who glared at Luciana with large, otherworldly eyes. The demoness did not bother to ask why Violetta had come back to Ca’ Rossetti. The reason was obvious.