The Shades of Time (26 page)

At the
Reverend's 'can you manage', Andreas simply nodded and settled into
the plush leather recliner with a grateful sigh. Matteo slid an
ottoman close to the chair and helped Andreas lift his aching leg
to settle it on a stack of pillows.

The shamans had
buzzed about stress fractures and spiral this and that, all of
which went over his head. What he did know was it hurt like hell
and wasn't getting any better. And apparently a less-than-graceful
exit through a cobbled together gateway had wreaked additional
havoc on the soft tissue.

"You were
lucky, you know."

"You have a
gift for stating the obvious, Matt."

"The scientists
have always suspected the gateway's energies might be … oh, what's
the term they used?"

"In-con-fucking-gruent?"

Matteo laughed
and went to a narrow sideboard bearing a decanter and heavy Murano
goblets. "Can I get you anything, Andy?"

"Yeah, whatever
you're having and make it a double."

"You want
ice?"

"Oh fuck yes."
Andreas grinned at his superior. "You have no idea what it's like
back then."

"Then perhaps
you will educate me?" Matteo tipped his goblet toward Andreas and
sipped the amber liquid appreciatively.

Andreas
considered the tall man lounging on the settee opposite him. Matteo
had eschewed his cleric's garb in favor of jeans and a
tight-fitting tee-shirt that showcased an impressive physique. A
former cyclist with turns in the Verrano Open and the now defunct
French Pyrenees Challenge, he'd retained his lean build without
resorting to the asceticism preached by his cohorts.

"Well, you
already know about the Sisterhood's involvement." He sipped the
scotch and let the flavor explode on his tongue. The heavy amber
goblet refracted light as the ice cubes bumped and jostled across
the surface. He was buying time and Matteo knew it. But the man was
nothing if not patient.

At the
prelate's 'um' of acknowledgment he continued, "They've sent an
operative, one of their … super tarts," he did air quotes, "and
she's quite good."

"And does this
one have a name?"

"She's called
Veluria…" He hesitated at Matteo's sharp intake of breath. "Do you
know her?"

"Not
personally, no. But Tomas had an unfortunate encounter with this
one on his last assignment."

Andreas stared at the man, open-mouthed. He'd had no idea the
object of his desire was
that
operative. Tomas had had his mind scrubbed and
placed in solitary for his own protection, his withdrawal so harsh
he'd been on suicide watch for more than two cycles.

"Andy. Did she
get to you?" Matteo sat up straight, his eyes boring into his skull
like blue laser beams.

He felt the
power like a slow trickle, a mere suggestion. If the prelate ever
loosed his full spectrum, he'd crush him like a bug, shutting his
internal organs down one at a time, maximizing the agony.

He'd seen his
superior do that during an especially entertaining interrogation of
one of the Sisters a few years back. It had sent the gallery
rushing to the exit, retching—all except for him. He had stayed and
observed. That simple act of fate, serendipity as it were, had
brought him to Matteo's attention and guaranteed his position in
the Brotherhood.

Under the man's
guidance he had achieved clarity of purpose … amongst other things.
If he admitted his culpability in succumbing to the whore's charms,
he risked losing the man's trust and faith in his abilities to
carry out the Order's prime directives.

Fighting the
familiar tightening in his groin, he decided full disclosure would
gain him not only sympathy but perchance an opportunity to make a
case for returning to that timeline. Matteo understood revenge all
too well.

Andreas said,
"Hell, yeah, she got to me. Fuck man, it was a rush." He brandished
the goblet and chuckled, "I even said a few Hail Marys as
penance."

Matteo barked a
laugh, "Jesus, Andy. You did not." He rose and retrieved the
decanter, refilling their goblets before asking slyly, "And what
else?"

"You're a
bloodthirsty bastard, aren't you? How about I save the gory details
for … later." Muttering, "Fuck," he twisted in the seat, trying to
situate his leg to a more comfortable position.

Once settled
Andreas continued, "Here's what I know…"

Two hours
later, Andreas and Matteo sat glassy-eyed, having finished off the
decanter. The plexiglass had automatically darkened to shield the
room from the unrelenting afternoon sun.

Matteo grunted
and sat back against the cushions, processing the information. Out
of the blue he said, "We lost the Grand Plaza last week."

"Shit, can't
the engineers…?"

Matteo shook
his head 'no'. "They've tried everything. I fear we shall lose our
pearl, Andy. Our world is sinking under the weight of its own
folly." He sighed and rose to stand at the expanse of window
overlooking the city. "Our future must be built on reinforced
plasteel, like houses on stilts. Venice will never be the
same."

Andreas
intoned, "The Brotherhood will lead us from the sea of temptation
to the light."

"From the
Darkness shall we emerge," Matteo responded with a sneer, "but I
fear growing gills more than I fear any darkness, my friend."

"What of the
negotiations?"

"Negotiations?
There are no more negotiations. All sides have retreated to their
respective corners, locked and loaded. Fifty years of peace down
the fucking tubes and all because something or someone altered the
timeline." Matteo paced around the expansive room with long
strides, fists clenching in anger. Reflexively he ran his hand over
the small of his back.

"Still carrying
concealed, Matt?" Andreas lifted an eyebrow. The Council would shit
a collective blue brick if they knew their Head of Order flaunted
one of their sacred vows.

One reason
Andreas allied himself with the man was because he had a certain
moral flexibility that resonated with Andreas' own beliefs.

Matteo pulled
the Glock from the waistband of his jeans and set the weapon on the
conference table.

"Busted." He
sat at the table and tapped a manicured nail on the polished walnut
surface. "So, let's review. You've got the Wicked Witch of the
sisterhood sucking your dick, virtually speaking." He glared at
Andreas. "It is virtual, yes?"

Andreas choked
out a 'yes', the image too close for comfort.

"And you've
managed to confirm what we've long suspected—that the Medicis have
some genetic anomalies, Cosimo's clan in particular, that give them
at least a modicum of psychic abilities." He ticked off the list,
"Prescience for Cosimo, a certain mathematical precociousness for
Nicolo, sexual deviancy for the pup, Stefano. And for this 'key'
you've ID'd?"

"Antonio, the
Demon de' Medici." Andreas huffed with a mix of disdain and
admiration. "He's a cold, hard bastard. You'd like him. He's as
close to your gifts as anybody we've run across. He can deep-drill
and core truth out of the most determined victim. I suspect he can
kill psychically, and may have without realizing he's done it."

"Compared to
Cosimo?"

"More powerful
by an order of magnitude, but it's like comparing apples and
oranges." He hesitated to bring up his real concern. "There's
something else…"

"Spill it,
Andy. I'm getting sober and I won't be quite so accommodating
then."

"He and the
Sisterhood's operative may have combined powers."

"That's not
possible."

Andreas agreed
in principle but he'd seen, and felt, the reality of their powers
when they danced and blended outside the strict genetic encoding
imposed by the scientists and mathematicians. For all the
Brotherhood had enlightened their world with carefully applied
scientific dogma, they still fell short when it came to
understanding human emotions.

"Possible or
not, I felt it. Veluria is assuredly aware of the implications, the
Demon … I doubt it." His heart ached with her betrayal of his
sacred trust. He could still feel the phantom fingers of her
energies wafting through his system, like a drug that gave him a
perpetual high.

"So you think
this coupling is the event that does … what exactly?"

"Matt, I wish the fuck I knew. All I do understand is that
it's not normal, that she's fighting it." He carefully placed his
leg on the floor and eased himself to a standing position. The pain
wasn't nearly as bad. Limping to the table he spoke with such
intensity that the prelate ceased breathing for a moment. "Whatever
has caused the change in our reality, our hegemony over the peace
process, is a direct result of something that
will
happen."

Irritated,
Matteo growled, "But what?"

"I. Don't.
Know." Andreas stared out the darkened glass with sightless eyes,
hating to admit he had absolutely no clue what would be the final
trigger to set their worlds askew.

"So let's think
this through. She's run off with the youngest Medici but Antonio's
in hot pursuit. Veluria's not the prize. The son is. He's the glue
to cement Florence's position in the upcoming political
transformation. They'll make sure the pup fulfills his destiny,
leaving the Demon to return the woman to Cosimo."

"But why to
him?" Andreas could barely contain the grip of despair clutching
his heart. If they hurt her, they would answer to him,
personally.

Matteo
shrugged. "She's a curiosity if for no other reason. They'll
recognize a kindred spirit. Cosimo's too smart to let an asset like
that get away."

"But she can
leave any time she wants," Andreas objected.

"Well, they
don't know that, do they?"

Andreas felt
suddenly very foolish. Here he was, a world removed, and the woman
still commanded his heart … hell, she consumed his entire being. If
Matteo ever guessed, a mind-wipe would be the least of his
worries.

Matteo
continued, his voice barely masking his concern, "Andy, we both
know mucking with time has unintended consequences. Damn, just
having two operatives in the same time-space might be the exact
reason why all of our current efforts have disappeared down a giant
political black hole."

"And if either Veluria or Antonio de' Medici somehow do
something
…?" He didn't
bother finishing the thought. The probabilities ranged from n minus
one to infinity with more solutions than even
he
could fathom.

"I don't think
it's an 'either or' situation, son. My gut's telling me we're going
to have to neutralize both of them."

"Then send me
back. I know where they are. I'll take care of it."

"Not until you
are at full capacity. You can barely think straight when you're in
so much pain. How do you think you'll get around?" He smirked at
the small man. "I didn't think you were fond of horses."

Andreas felt
the whine build in his throat. He wanted to get back … to her. God,
he longed for the promise of having her twist in ecstasy under him.
With a start he realized Matteo had taken him by the arm and was
guiding him toward the elevator.

"Patience, boy. With them in Spain, or whatever the fuck they
call the peninsula, no one's going anywhere fast." He tapped at the
button on the wall and squeezed Andreas' shoulder. "Remember, for
once, time's on
your
side."

"Can I at least
talk with the statisticians?"

"Later. Let's
go to our quarters and get lunch. Saul promised to prepare your
favorites."

Andreas wrapped
his robes about his small frame and limped after his superior into
the elevator. They rode to the living quarters' floor in
companionable silence. Matteo led them to his suite and keyed in
his code.

Andreas sighed
with satisfaction. The smell of tomato sauce simmering on the stove
filled the room with a fragrance he loved.

Matteo asked,
"Are you hungry?"

"I can wait." A
thrill of anticipation shimmied down his spine, hot blood flooding
his loins.

"Good. I
thought as much." Matteo slipped Andreas' robe off his shoulders
and moved in close to nuzzle his neck. "God damn, I've missed you,
boy."

Andreas
whispered, "How much time do I have?"

"A month, my
love. And I plan to make every minute worthwhile."

Matteo lowered
his head to plunder Andreas' mouth, commanding every fiber of his
being.

Andreas pulled
away and gazed coyly at the older man. "When shall I tell you about
… you know. Before or after?"

Matteo laughed
out loud. "You tease. You know I can't wait." He led Andreas into
the bedroom and roughly shoved him on top of the feather quilt.
"All right. I want details. Now."

Andreas grinned
and launched into his tale, "She was a filthy piece, almost made me
gag, but…"

Chapter
Nineteen

Tonio stretched
and scratched at his tousled mop of hair absently. The air in the
room was stuffy, thick with humidity, leaving his skin clammy and
prickly with unease. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten
there.

I can't
remember my own name. Goddamn that hurt.

His scalp felt
bruised, like he'd been whaled on by a squad of corsairs wielding
battering rams. Prodding at the multiple lumps, his fingers came
away sticky with blood.

I can't have
been in here long if it's still fresh. Where the hell am I?

Pushing himself
off the dirt floor he staggered to the heavy wooden door and
listened carefully. Distant voices echoed as down a cavern but he
couldn't quite make out the words. The shuffling of boots alerted
him to his captor's approach.