The Shades of Time (10 page)

His Eminence
knew one's enemies must never forget that the family had access to
almost limitless resources, when pressure was applied correctly.
The Cardinal removed his hat and set it on the small table by his
side. He waved to Benedetto to sit next to him. The small man
thankfully slid onto the uncomfortable seat and continued his
diatribe as if the interruption had not occurred.

Antonio stood quietly by the doorway, cataloguing and
evaluating each guest, some of whom he did not recognize. His
cousins, Guilio and Benedetto, and several of the managers of the
various mills from his father's vast holdings in Florence and the
nearby Duchy of Modena to the north and the Republic of Siena
bordering the southern reaches, made up the bulk of the assemblage.
He was uncomfortable that so many of his father's supporters should
risk being in one spot without suitable protection, although he
discerned the presence of several of the Papàl Guards stationed
surreptitiously both inside and at several points behind the
domicilio elegante
.
Protection from invasion by way of the canal seemed well in
hand.

"It is good to
see you, Brother," a deep voice whispered in his right ear. Antonio
nodded his head once, his body vibrating with excitement. This was
an unexpected pleasure.

"Nico," Tonio
grunted roughly, "what the hell are you doing here? Didn't you get
your fill of boot licking at Maximillian's court?"

Nico smiled and
moved close to his taller brother. "It's not boots I'm licking
these days, big brother. I am after bigger prey than that petty
despot."

Antonio swung
to embrace Nico, pounding him on the back with so much enthusiasm
the smaller man grunted and pulled away.

"It's been too
long, Nico. Are you staying with Father? When did you get in? And
why…?" Tonio's questions exploded in a rush of affection. As much
as he loved his younger brother, his middle brother, only five
years his junior, had earned his undying respect and admiration.
Like Stefano, the man was canny in the ways of the court, using the
Medicis' gifts, and their own special shared lineage of powers, to
ferret out intrigue with such astonishing clarity that their father
has assigned him to permanent residence on both the Spanish and the
Habsburg courts without the yoke of marriage to constrain his
movement and shifting loyalties.

"I'm not
staying, Tonio. In fact I must hie to the docks and pick up passage
to Castile. I leave soonest." He drew his brother deep into the
recesses of an alcove. "There is someone here of interest, Tonio.
Be wary, for there is great power, power I do not understand."

Tonio looked
sharply at his brother. "Where?"

Nico glanced to
the ornately carved banister and the elegant stairway leading to
the living quarters of the Courtesan whose house had been
conscripted by the Cardinal and his retinue.

"Upstairs,
Brother." Tonio tried to brush past his muscular sibling but Nico
grabbed his arm and restrained him. "I am not joking, Tonio. Be
careful."

"
Sono sempre attento,
fratello
, you can trust me to take
care."

"Then I must be
off. Give Father my regards. I shall report when I have the details
I need."

"Travel safely,
Nico."

"
Ciao
. And
Tonio?"

"Now what?"

"If you hurt
him again, I will not tolerate it, do you understand?"

Antonio's face
flamed with shame. He had hoped his brother would not get wind of
his indiscretion but there had never been secrets between them.
Their actions, feelings, intentions—all an open book, like a single
mind sharing two different bodies.

"I promise on
my life, Nico," Tonio murmured as his brother strode through the
door. It was a vow he would keep, no matter what the cost.

In his heart he
felt the faint stirrings of Stefano's dismay and something else …
disturbing. To find his brother's sensitivities intruding unbidden
was unusual and worrisome but he had no time to analyze that now.
The woman he sought was close, though her energies dissipated in
the cacophony of power blasting him: men of fervor, religious and
otherwise, men of acumen and political savvy, men of corruption and
men of violence. Too many men with too much power in too small a
space. He felt claustrophobic and short of breath.

How did Stefano
and Nico put up with it, the incessant din, the bickering and
backstabbing?

Though counterintuitive, he deliberately sought the calm
amidst the familiar discord, seeking to pinpoint Veluria's exact
location, and to determine if she were alone. Backing into the
wall, he lost himself in the shadows. Once more admiration colored
his perception of the woman. It took a certain amount of
insolenza
to enter a known
lair of Medici power and influence—an all-male one at that—without
incurring curiosity and discussion. Apparently only Nico had noted
and remarked her passage to the upper reaches of the
house.

He squinted
against the smoky haze, willing himself to focus. With a start he
felt the familiar tingling in his groin, the unwarranted desire and
quickening pulse. He tried to control his breathing but it came
shallow and fast, making him lightheaded. The headache that had
nearly disabled him early in the evening came back with a full-on
rush of pain.

"
Sì, vi sono ora,
strega
," he whispered. He had her now.
But
what
he had he
could not be sure. Was she a witch, a siren, or someone like him—an
anomaly, a mistake? He would find out soon enough.

The hunter
crept quietly up the marble stairs, cloaked in shadow,
unremarked.

Chapter
Eight

Andreas pressed
against the stone wall. He grew weary of cold, damp stone and
narrow alleys leading to water, always to water. The 'pearls' the
poets waxed bucolic over were nothing more than stinking, fetid
channels of refuse. He longed for his own time, though not what he
knew would be a trying interrogation with the Council. He was not
exactly keeping 'on message' as their scribe would say.

He'd also gone
far beyond the Monsignor's simple exhortation to follow, observe
and report, though probably not far enough in the Council's
estimation with the timeline in jeopardy and the key poised to
wreak havoc on all their futures.

He'd stolen the idea of 'the key' from Veluria's subconscious.
The Council had suggested the presence of a magic totem,
inadvertently discovered and its powers released with a cascade
effect that impacted their own time and place. That reeked of an
overactive imagination. He didn't believe in magic but he did
believe in the power of greed and self-interest. Like Veluria he
would keep his options open, and like her, he was betting that the
key they both sought was a
someone
, not a something.

While he
managed to redefine the parameters of his mission into terms that
had logical consistency, he had yet to factor how to use the
woman's powers. All he 'felt' was some congruence between the Demon
de' Medici and this puzzle that was Veluria, and it tweaked a deep
well of lust and longing in his groin.

He must seek
out another vessel soon or risk losing himself to her allure. That
fortuitous encounter with the whore had been like a small
unsatisfying appetizer for a starving man. The main course lay just
within reach, so close he could taste it, smell it, feel it. A
tortured moan escaped his lips as he pictured her writhing under
him until he lost himself in her pale flesh. His ears rang with the
pounding of blood coursing through his system, gasping at the dank
mist in choking pleas for surcease from the beast gnawing at his
innards.

He could deal
with the competing demands of the Church in this dimension, and the
far more dangerous Council in his own time, but he paled at the
insistent demands on his body, a body too eager to respond to
whatever 'she' insinuated into his psyche.

Andreas came on
a gurgled moan, humming her name, and pleading to his God, "What is
she, my Lord? I need to know if I am to serve you well."
Weak-limbed he crept out of the shadows and drew the stiletto from
within the folds of the tunic. With irritation he drew the blade
along the inside of his forearm, watching the rich red flow trickle
past his wrist. As her hold on him grew stronger he feared what
might be necessary to shock his system into severing the bond.

He knew that
the real fear was that he would succumb to that bond and be
corrupted, lost forever, the impossible made manifest … and
strangely desirable.

"You are lost,"
he muttered, aware that this mantra rose unbidden to his lips with
increasing frequency.

The slamming of
a door to Andreas' left startled him into leaping back into the
safety of the shadows. He risked peering around the corner of the
building to confirm that the Demon, the Dark One, had exited the
building in haste and was proceeding quickly in the direction of
the city docks. His long strides soon carried him out of his line
of sight.

Furious at the
distractions wreaking havoc with his senses, he worked through the
limited possibilities: either the woman was on the move and the
Hunter grew bold enough to pursue her openly, or they had all been
wrong about her location and Antonio had been forced to cast his
net in a wider circle.

Andreas glanced
at the slowly healing slice on his arm, mildly curious that it was
taking longer than normal for the pink flesh to knit. His groin
ached and his cock already felt the irritation of the rough wool,
slick with his seed. He hated this place. If he didn't leave soon,
he would never feel clean again. In any case, he was running out of
options.

"Find her for
me, you bastard," he growled.

Without
thinking, Andreas pushed off on his damaged ankle and hissed at the
shooting pain. Bracing a hand against the cold stone to keep
himself steady, he waited impatiently for the ache to subside. He
knew better than to blame fate, yet it did seem that his luck had
taken a decided turn for the worse. If he lost Antonio, and by
implication, Veluria, his chances of infiltrating the halls of
power would be slim to none. The Monsignor simply did not have the
political clout to ease his passage to the power mongers of the
time.

Grumbling
irritably, he followed the retreating figure as best he could.

****

"Hold your arms
out, child. I do not wish to bind you overly tight. The talisman
must remain accessible."

"
Gracie
,
Marie. It was good of you to take the risk. But hurry. I feel him
approaching."

"There, the
Reverend Mother would approve." The tall woman spun Veluria in a
small circle, the rich satins in a waterfall of palest blue,
ballooning over the stays.

Veluria minced
to the mirror over the vanity and leaned forward, adjusting the
laced bodice to accentuate her small breasts. The small pearl on
its black satin ribbon hung suspended above her cleavage. She
inhaled softly, testing the limits of her corset, satisfied that
Marie had left just enough slack so if she had to move quickly she
would not be constricted by the insane fashions of this time. She
would never again complain about her order's ceremonial habit.

She glanced at
her cohort in the mirror and hissed, "You must go Marie. You, uh,
stand out and he must not see you."

The woman
chuckled. "What, shrimp? Just because I'm six-feet tall and…?"

"Marie, please,
he is almost here. I must compose myself. This one is not
easy."

"All right, but
take care, child. We will track you as best we can. Be safe."

Veluria thought,
'that may not be so
easy,'
as she pivoted toward the door,
hands clasped white-knuckle tight as she poured her energy into the
gateway to ease her sister's passage. When she felt the last puff
of energy fold into itself, she exhaled slowly and
waited.

Veluria had
been drawn to the house, not because of the vaulted company within,
but because she'd sensed the energy signature of a gateway … and
not a naturally occurring portal. It was too good an opportunity to
bypass.

What she'd
discovered, after surreptitiously sneaking past the card players
and drunken sots passed out about the spacious room, was an upper
floor and Marie, anxiously awaiting her arrival. That was bold,
even by Mother Superior's standards. Although, so long as Marie
stayed close to the gateway and did not interact with anyone else,
the perturbations in the present timeline would be unaffected.

That was the
theory.

Marie had
quickly replaced Veluria's ruined gown with a lighter weight
garment into which they'd cleverly inserted several talismans in
case she needed backup of a magical and not-so-magical nature. One
such was a stiletto with a jeweled hilt and poison embedded in the
steel.

At that point, with both the Council operative and Antonio de
'Medici in hot pursuit, she would have enjoyed the security of a
large caliber composite handgun. But of course,
that
was forbidden.

Instead she
leaned against the bedpost and awaited the pleasure of the Demon on
stealth approach in the hall, armed with nothing more than her
feminine wiles and not a small amount of anticipation.

****

Antonio
hesitated at the top of the stairs. The landing off to his left
opened to another, narrow set of stairs leading up to servants'
quarters and storage areas. The small rooms to his right, accessed
by a hallway dimly lit by candles spaced unevenly down its length,
beckoned with a familiar energy, and something more. Cautious now,
he stole quietly toward the rear of the house, keeping to the
floral patterned rugs to mute his passage.