The Immortal Greek (5 page)

Samuel raised one eyebrow and gave him a half-smile that meant he would ask him later what was going on. “Were you going to add anything to Miss Del Sarto’s deposition?”

Alexander tilted his head ever so slightly toward Ravenna, smiled at her, saw how her dark eyes widened, then he angled his body on the chair to face Samuel. “No, I just changed my mind about the tea. If you don’t mind.” He thought he heard a deep intake of breath from Ravenna and his smile widened.

Samuel waved his free hand toward the side table. “Please.”

Alexander asked Ravenna if she wanted some tea. When she shook her head and whispered a barely audible “No, thanks,” he walked to the breakfast station, and fixed a cup for him while she resumed her narration.

After another good ten minutes, she finally wrapped it up. “In conclusion, regarding the death by suicide of the John Doe found at Mister Drako’s Roman residence, Mister Alexander Drako is the principal suspect. My professional advice is to take him into custody until some light is shed on the facts that led to the victim’s poisoning and consequent death.”

“This is utter nonsense.” Alexander forced himself to stay on the chair and not raise his voice. He avoided looking at the enforcer and refrained from telling her
his
professional advice would be to take her into his custody. Instead, he sipped from his cup. The tea was cold and went down his throat like bile. “You know me, Samuel. I would never give the Immortal Death to anyone, let alone a kid.”

She stood up, and stepped back. “I’m only following procedure.” Her voice was too high and her hands were shaking. The charms dangling from her right hand made a sound like a dancing rattlesnake.

The hell you are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve got something against me.
For the second time, Alexander fought the impulse to yank the bracelet off her wrist. “Are you?”

“How dare you suggest I am anything less than one hundred percent professional.”

Alexander couldn’t help but snort.

Samuel laid his cup on the table, looked first at Alexander, then turned to Ravenna. “I suggest we try to be civilized.” He waited for Ravenna to sit, and nursed his cup for several heartbeats. “I can vouch for Mister Drako. Despite his name being associated with Bacchanalias and other colorful forms of entertainment, he is one of the best men I have ever met.”

“Thank you.” Alexander turned sideways to smile at her. Ravenna opened her mouth to say something, but Alexander didn’t let her. “Let him finish, please.”

Samuel gave him a warning look and Alexander murmured an apology to him. The angel’s eyes focused on the enforcer. “The John Doe has a name.” He drummed his fingers on the empty cup’s rim.

Both Alexander and Ravenna asked at the same time, “Which is?”

Samuel kept looking at Ravenna. “Sigmund Stross.”

“The victim belonged to
the
Strosses?” Her voice cracked at the end. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Samuel nodded. “I’m sorry, Ravenna.” He finally looked back at Alexander. “Also, given Alexander’s extensive contacts within the Roman jet set, starting now, you two are working together on this case.”

“What?” Alexander asked, while the enforcer slowly helped herself up by pushing her palms over the desk. Without a word she exited the room and closed the door behind her.

Ravenna left the same way she had come, by using the lift that went straight from the Promenade to the Council offices. Only Council personnel knew about it. Given how distressed she felt, a long stroll through the Promenade would have been a better choice, but she wanted to be out of there and back to her house as soon as possible.

Once she reached the garage, she remembered she hadn’t driven to Castel Sant’ Angelo and went back upstairs to the human ground level where she called a taxi. She arrived home with barely a recollection of the steps she had taken to be there. She couldn’t even remember telling the driver her address or paying him the fare to the Appian Way. The cab left and she stared at the façade of her home, a two-story building she had bought a few decades earlier. She had altered the structure and internally united the two apartments to have one single-family home, a luxury in Rome where people lived in small apartments. Being an immortal and being able to accumulate money had its advantages.

At her door, she leaned against the wooden surface and let her tears fall. Her house was her sanctuary, the only place where she could be herself without having to prove how good she was to anybody.

“Ravenna?” Karl’s voice came muffled from the other side of the door.

The voice of her fiancé was the last thing she wanted to hear at the moment. His sight, as she opened the door and looked inside, was even less welcome. Once, she had loved this immortal’s thoughtfulness and all the little things he did for her. He had proposed to her at the base of the Eiffel Tower after he had treated her with a surprise trip to France. Now, she hadn’t even asked him if he wanted to go on a vacation with her. She had just informed him of her plans.

“Love, you look so tired.” He studied her a moment longer, then walked to her and took her in his arms, leaving a trail of kisses all over her head, without noticing she was standing still. “Let me take care of you. I’ll run a bath and we can cuddle afterward.”

Only when she turned her head away from his lips searching for hers did he stop and give her a good look. “What is it, baby?”

She hated pet names. Ravenna was a strong name and she owned it. “How did you know I didn’t leave?”

“Samuel was looking for you and called me when you didn’t answer your cell.” She must have made a face, because Karl raised his hands and added, “I’m in your contact list.”

“Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Then let me help you relax.” He grabbed her by the elbows and turned her so she had her back to him. He started massaging her shoulders. “You’re so tense.”

She managed to free herself without slapping his hands out of the way and headed for the kitchen, where she found a whole meal in the making. Fruit peels and cores were scattered all over the counter by the sink. Fresh-squeezed orange juice filled the transparent jug to the rim and had spilled over. Egg shells were inside the sink. An attempted crepe lay half burned inside the non-stick pan. A metal spatula was casually laying too close for comfort to the pan. Ravenna sighed out loud.

“Don’t worry about the mess. I was expecting you to come back later and I planned to have everything clean by then.” He hugged her from behind, nuzzling her neck with his nose. “Maybe I can find a way to make you forget about your morning.” His lips brushed the spot under her ear, his right hand shooting up to cup her breast.

“Karl, not now.” She was getting angrier by the moment and he didn’t seem to read her vibes.

A second hand traveled down to the hem of her skirt, his fingers creeping under it and tracing circles on her thigh. “But I know what’s best for you, baby.”

She put a hand over his and stopped him from getting any closer to her panties. “I said not now.”

“Baby—” He finally released her and walked away from her, frustration all over his face.

With a name evoking ravens and darkness, Ravenna resented the pet name “baby” more than anything else he could have thought of. “I’m tired, and if you would have called me beforehand, I would’ve told you this wasn’t a great time to stop by.” She gave the kitchen another look, then headed toward her bathroom, where she intended to take a long bath. “Listen, let’s talk later.”

Karl stood by the kitchen table, rearranging the plates. “I guess we can take a nap together, if that’s what you want.”

Ravenna stopped at the end of the kitchen before entering the bricked archway that led to the short corridor ending with her studio on one side, and her master bedroom and annexed bathroom on the other. “What I want is to be alone.”

Karl’s eyes widened in surprise as he stepped back. “Are you asking me to leave?”

She swallowed the retort that had immediately come to her mind. “Yes, please. The investigation I was assigned to is a difficult one for me, and I don’t remember the last time I slept on a bed. I’m cross and I don’t want to take it out on you.”

“Are you sure we don’t need to talk?” He hooked both hands in his jeans’ front pockets, rocking on his feet.

His words had an awakening effect on her. She inwardly sighed, shook her head, and gave him a smile she didn’t feel while pointing at the kitchen table. “Maybe you’re right. We should talk.” The moment she said it, she felt lighter.

“Sure.” He pointed his chin toward the counter behind him and the mess he had created. “You know I hate to idly sit.”

She knew he didn’t want to have that conversation, but it was long time due. “Don’t worry. Marina’s coming today to clean anyway.” It wasn’t entirely true. She would call her housecleaner later to ask if she could come on her day off. When he didn’t make a move to reach for a chair, she took his hand and walked him to the table. She waited for him to sit, then eased herself onto the chair opposite him.

“I’m not in love with you anymore.” Another weight was lifted from her shoulders.

He opened his mouth, but not a sound came out of it.

“And I don’t think you are. We’ve grown apart for some time now. We both know it.” She lowered her cold hands on her lap, massaging her fingers, wanting nothing more than to take a long, warm bath.

“We should think about it.” He looked at her and the hurt on his face was painful to bear.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to think about.”

“You have already decided then.”

“It’s for the best. No need to drag things on longer than necessary.” Cold was now radiating to the rest of her body and she wanted the conversation to be over. She stood and walked to the door.

Head low, he followed her, a beaten shell of his previous self. When she opened the door, he took her hand in his. “I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Please, Karl, don’t make this any harder.” She gently extricated her hand from his and stepped to the side to let him out.

“I still care for you—” He paused on the first step of the landing.

She looked him in the eyes. “I do too, but it’s not enough.”

He finally turned and she closed the door. Ravenna watched as he slowly descended the stairs and headed to his car parked around the corner. Discarding her clothes as she went, she wondered if she and Karl had ever really loved each other. They had met during World War II and immediately connected, but never lived together. She had always needed her space and her line of work wasn’t conducive to family life. Every decade or so they decided it was over, but soon after got back together again. She had always been okay with it, until now. Now, she knew it was over.

She stepped in her bedroom, removed her heels, discarded her panties and bra over the bed, then carefully removed the earrings and the bracelet. Finally, she headed to the adjacent bathroom where she started running the water for the much-anticipated soak in her cast iron tub.

****

His eyes heavenward, the pale light of the early morning bathing his face, Alexander waited for Marcus to pick up the phone and answer his call. He loved the Centurion as a brother, and as such, the Roman infuriated him on a regular basis. He knew Marcus often let his calls go to the answering machine when he saw Alexander’s ID. As a result, he had learned to call Diana’s phone after the third unanswered call. He had also double checked if it was too late to call them. The sun was out already, and the couple kept nocturnal hours since Diana was a vampire. Maybe they had already retired for the day and Marcus had shut off his phone. He was about to hang up when Marcus answered.

“It’s important,” Alexander said before his friend could insult him. He had called Marcus as soon as he had left Samuel’s office and was now standing outside Castel Sant’ Angelo, at ground level, looking at the traffic slowly building on the other side of the bridge.

“Okay.” Marcus was a man of very few words, but he was reliable and a true friend.

“One of us, a young man, committed suicide in my house yesterday.” The boy’s death had affected him more than he would have liked to admit.

Marcus swore. “And you want to know how he came in possession of the Immortal Death, right?”

“Yes.” He slightly hesitated. “I’m sorry I have to ask, but do you or Diana know anything?”

A year before, Marcus had been forced by Diana’s sire, the vampire Claudius, to drink the Immortal Death. Alexander had managed to get the Immortal Council involved to save the couple’s lives, but none of them liked to reminisce about the events that had led to that night.

“I’ll pass the phone to Diana.”

A low murmur followed a few seconds of silence, then a delicate, feminine voice greeted him. “Alexander, it’s so nice to hear from you.” She paused to instruct Marcus about the right way to use a brush. “Sorry. We’re repainting the walls of our bedroom since we had to move it to the basement.”

“Hi, Diana. Forgive me. I know it’s bedtime for you, but I’ll be brief—”

“It’s okay. The basement is light-proofed and now that I’m a year old, I’m much stronger and have a few minutes left. Anyway, Marcus tells me you’re looking for Claudius’s dealer?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately, nobody knows where Claudius is. He disappeared after last year and no one has seen him since. But, he has connections with all the European families, and he was very influential inside the Vampire Nation.”

“Bottom line, he could’ve gotten the potion from anybody in Europe.”

“Yes. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help.”

“It was worth a try just to hear your voice. And remember, when you get tired of that crude Roman, I’ll be here waiting for you.” He heard Diana giggle, then Marcus grabbed the phone and after he insulted and threatened to emasculate Alexander, Marcus told him to find a woman and call at a more civilized time, then hung up with another insult regarding his Greek ancestry.

Alexander smiled. He was happy for them. Marcus and Diana both deserved happiness and it was evident they loved each other senseless. Sometimes, he wondered if he could ever feel anything as deep toward another human being again. He considered himself lucky because he had found love and affection not once, but twice, but with Eloisa and Cherry, a part of him had also died.

Bittersweet memories of the two women who had meant everything to him kept him company the whole way back to his house. He had noticed those introspective moments were more frequent now that his friend had found bliss in his unexpected marriage. Once back home, he went straight to his private apartments on the third floor. He hadn’t thought to tell the enforcer about them since they were accessible solely through an internal set of stairs known only to him, Pietro, and the maid, Pietro’s wife, Marta, who was the only woman allowed there.

Walking toward his master bedroom, he entered his office first, a room with only one purpose: to commemorate Eloisa and Cherry. He didn’t have any other use for the antique rococo desk if not sitting behind it and spending hours looking at the opposite wall. He raised his eyes to look at the two paintings dominating the space. He had painted the oil portraits himself over the span of several decades and under the tutelage of four different artists he had hired to teach him the technique. The two images weren’t a perfect depiction of Eloisa and Cherry, but they were the best his memory could muster. At least, for Cherry he still had a daguerreotype he kept in his safe. Eloisa’s oil portrait, a piece she had commissioned to give him as a gift, had been destroyed in a fire. He would have given away all his considerable fortune to have that painting back.

The phone on his desk rang. Alexander saw it was Samuel’s private line calling, then automatically checked the time. He had seen the angel not even an hour ago. “Yes?”

“I called your colleague, but she isn’t answering her phone. I have a few leads you might be interested in pursuing. They are upper echelon and members of several clubs you belong to.” Samuel paused. “It will be easier for Alexander Drako to persuade them to share any info they might have."

The fallen angel was persona-non-grata in several Roman paranormal establishments. His broken wings were a sight people wanted to avoid, and he could only glamour his appearance before humans who saw a cripple when interacting with him.

“Anything to help.” Alexander opened the hidden drawer under the top of the desk and removed a piece of paper and a pen. Samuel told him the names of the people he needed to meet. “I know all the clubs they belong to, but it will be several hours before any of those people show their ugly faces outside of their houses.”

“I figured that out, that’s why I called you ahead of time so you could plan your outings today accordingly.”

“At least there is enough time for a shower.” Alexander opened his laptop to search for the best route between clubs.

“And please, you must include Ravenna in this.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll call her as soon as I hang up. I’ll start from the clubs farther away from my house in an hour. Sometimes, I have breakfast at the one on the Appian Way, so it won’t look strange if I arrive unfashionably early.” Rich and affluent paranormals were stuck in the times when royalty was proud of being societal parasites. For the rest of the world, it was two thousand fourteen, but for the upper echelon—as Samuel liked to call those paranormals who unfortunately led them—it was still the era of kings, nobles, and plebeians.