The Shades of Time (7 page)

Bemused,
curious, Stefano pulled the woman closer until he could fondle the
edge of the mask. The woman dodged away with a giggle. She
sauntered to an alcove, dimly lit, and paused as if waiting for
something … or someone. He followed close behind, still unsure.
There were highborn families amongst the throng and he dare not
make an error that would compound the mess he'd already made of the
evening. With a flourish the woman released the mask's binding,
then turned and grinned devilishly, her sea-green eyes crinkled in
mirth.

Stefano
sputtered, "But you aren't…"

He found it
difficult to focus on the woman's features, so similar to Veluria's
that if he tilted his head just so he could convince himself it was
her.

She giggled and
pulled him toward the rear of the building. Placing a finger to his
lips, she teased in a breathy voice, "I found a place where we can
be alone."

That did not
seem like a good idea. But on the other hand, it wasn't a bad idea
either. He swayed, bracing his hands on the flirt's waist to keep
from falling over.

Confused, he croaked, "But what about…?"
What about what?
some inner voice
whispered. Since he had no answer to that question, he allowed her
next words to over-ride his better judgment.

"Never mind all
that. You and I have better things to do with our evening." The
woman giggled and climbed the stairs without a backward glance.

Stefano
staggered after the woman.

****

Veluria paused
at the rear entrance to the baccaro. The courtesan had done her
part well. The Sisterhood had traced her movements with their usual
precision and had anticipated such an opportunity once the
parameters became apparent. Still, she stood in awe at the speed
with which they had placed her doppelganger, the whore a most
satisfying short term solution. The probabilities calculated to a
very favorable eight-five percent success rate.

Moving swiftly
past the cluttered tables in the servant's quarters, she took care
to leave no trace of her passage. The solid oak door stood slightly
ajar. She could hear the faint sloshing from the canal, mere meters
distant and reeking of decay, and worse.

Silently she
gathered the remains of her gown, now devoid of several layers, as
the courtesan had cleverly removed sufficient material to refashion
a dress remarkably similar to the original. The only drawback was
the bodice—and the woman's ampler gifts—though Veluria doubted
Stefano would take note when the object of his desire presented him
with such largesse, especially in his drugged state.

Veluria had
urged the woman to keep her own mask, given that it encompassed her
face completely, unlike hers which covered the eyes only. Under the
influence of the aphrodisiac, Stefano would easily be led astray,
his mind focused on the coming pleasures to the exclusion of all
else. And once in the heat of passion she was certain he would
acquit himself with his usual fervor. Veluria was almost jealous of
the woman's opportunity to enjoy the young one's special talents,
especially with the 'enhancements' flooding his system.

She eased onto
a narrow ledge that skirted the brackish canal. Glancing left, then
right, she determined that her most likely location was on the
Canale Della Giudecca. To the left she could follow it eventually
to the Lido, to the right the Piazzali Roma. Somewhere along this
route there would be a gondola to take her out of range of the Dark
One, the Demon de' Medici who, even now, was scanning the narrow
streets waiting for her to bolt to freedom. Before she'd
encountered this man, such awareness and near constant surveillance
would have been unthinkable.

She sighed,
vexed at the unrelenting barrage on her senses. There had to be a
way to neutralize his abilities, or at least redirect them away
from her before he forced her off task. Too much was at stake in
her world to risk this kind of interference.

She murmured,
sotto voce, "Help me Reverend Mother, your daughter accedes to your
everlasting goodness, lead me to the light, bestow upon me the
gifts of my womanhood that we may serve thee through time and space
for all eternity."

Despite the
lingering heat, and damp, cloying air, Veluria shivered. She rubbed
her bare shoulders and arms vigorously, hoping to speed the blood
flow and dispel the residual essence of Antonio. Where he had
touched her, brief though it had been, she still tingled with
energies familiar and disturbing, though not all of it his. On this
matter she remained confused and not a little concerned.

Her senses bled
softly into the stygian darkness. To the left, she pulsed energy,
testing and evaluating. That way led back toward St. Mark's Square
and potential complications with the Papàl Guard—and who knew what
all pursued her this foul night. Her better chance lay away from
the crowds and away from the faint source of energy that could only
come from the Council operative.

She'd wanted to
ask the whore if she had any information from the Sisterhood but
the woman had been tasked with one job only—and that did not
include a dossier on the man who so baldly breached her defenses.
She spun right and tiptoed gingerly along the rough stone walkway,
ghosting silently toward her destination.

****

Tonio leaned
against the bacarro's front entrance door, concerned that his
instincts, for once, might have led him astray. He was unused to
indecision, to not knowing. He'd not been surprised that his idiot
younger brother, a witless, charming ass, would be the one to lose
their quarry. That it was he who had laid the scenario for that
eventuality would mean hell to pay when he reported to Papà. The
old man was not so infirm that he couldn't do damage should he
choose to punish his oldest son and most trusted advisor.

Kicking the door in irritation he bellowed,
"Fuck this! Eduardo, find my ass of a brother.
Now."

Eduardo, the
nearest guardsman, drew his short sword and pushed the heavy door
open. He turned to Tonio with a questioning look. "My Lord, what if
he's with…?"

Antonio glared
at his man. "I don't care how many he's fucking. Bring him to me.
Naked if need be."

"
Sì, mio Signore.
Immediatamente.
"

Tonio rubbed
his temples, the old pain resurfacing as it always did when he
probed for too long. He'd been at it for hours, nibbling at her
edges, only to be rebuffed, shut out when penetration seemed
assured. He remembered the taste of her lips, soft and quivering
with anticipation, prepared to yield, albeit reluctantly. He'd
taken great delight in drawing her in, seizing control, then
withdrawing. Such simple satisfaction, to have her press upward,
ever so slightly—curious and oh so willing.

If he were
honest with himself, it had taken every ounce of his considerable
will-power to not ravish her on the spot. Her scent, so delicately
kissed with lavender and a fragrance he didn't recognize, had
intoxicated him. As had the taste of her lips and the warmth of her
tongue briefly tangling with his own.

He'd gotten her
off-balance, tweaked her interest.

Dammit, I can't
afford to let her get under my skin. She's nothing but trouble.

Tonio wished with all his heart his beloved, dim-witted
brother had not taken her fancy. The man-boy was ill-equipped for
the machinations of the court ladies, let alone one such as this.
That his House, his family, the very structure of his culture was
in desperate disarray because of these evil influences pulling
strings gnawed at his gut. Something, someone, was forcing them all
to dance like marionettes. He had enemies all around, but the one
he feared most passed beyond the realm of words, a realm to which
he was convinced
she
held the key.

"My Lord."
Eduardo pushed through the door with Stefano and another in tow. "I
found him with this … woman. He claims she is the one you
seek."

Tonio waved
Eduardo aside and stared at his hapless brother with distaste. The
young man was virtually naked, and clearly still in a state of
arousal, a fact the thin bit of cloth draped about his waist and
nether regions failed to hide. The woman in question bore a faint
resemblance to Veluria—height, facial features, hair color—but she
was far too voluptuous, reeking of whore instead of the refined
sensuality of the alleged Frenchwoman.

Stefano giggled
and wrapped his arm about the woman. "See, Brother, I did not lose
her after all." He parted her pale rose-coloured silk robe,
stroking the gentle rise of her belly and nuzzling a plump
breast.

Tonio balled
his fists, fighting for control, strung tight. He felt the air
about him disappear, sucking his lungs dry, until a red haze coated
his eyes and his anger and fear erupted in a startling display of
sheer power. With breathtaking speed he drew his stiletto and
flicked it through the thin cloth protecting his brother's manhood.
With a roar he slammed the smaller man against the stone wall,
pressing his left hand against Stefano's throat, his right holding
the stiletto perilously close to the young man's cock.

"Why you?" he
hissed. "Why is this…" he pricked soft flesh "… so much more
valuable than mine or Nicolo's?"

Stefano gurgled
in blind panic, writhing in pain as sensitive tissue responded to
the rapid knicks and pricks. Tonio emphasized each word in blood,
taking no small amount of joy from his brother's acute pain and
paralyzing fear.

"I should cut
it off and save us all from the misery of watching you fuck
everything up."

"Tonio.
Please." Stefano gurgled, his face contorted in agony. "I'm going
to be sick…"

Antonio
released his brother in disgust. He motioned to Eduardo to bring
the woman over. After a cursory examination he determined she had
nothing to offer him, though his men could certainly use some
entertainment for the night's aborted mission.

"See that she
fulfills her obligation to my dearest brother."

Wild-eyed,
Stefano choked out, "But I can't, not like this. Tonio,
please."

Tonio barked to
his man, "She is yours after."

"
Gracie
,
M'Lord." Eduardo thrust the woman onto the cobbled stone, her
silence strange and foreboding. He was sure that nothing good would
come from this but his fear of the Demon de' Medici overrode any
other concerns.

Antonio turned
to go. A black mist coagulated about his soul, driving him into
despair and self-loathing. He needed to find her, though not for
reasons he understood. As the pain ramped to excruciating hammer
blows to his temples, he prepared his senses to once again seek the
thing that eluded him so cleverly.

"M'Lord? Where
are you going? Don't you wish protection? The night grows long and
there is an ill feel in the breeze."

"
Caccia, il mio vecchio
amico
. I go hunting.

Chapter
Six

Veluria stole
quietly through the night, ever aware of competing energies
demanding their due. She had avoided a potential derailment of her
plans, such as they were. Meeting the pater familias of the Medici
clan had an appeal, to be sure, but she preferred it be in a more
public, less adversarial venue where she could make use of any
competing loyalties, jealousies and ill-will garnered through
Cosimo's sometimes heavy-handed plotting.

And she would
like to understand his oldest son's capabilities before tackling
the old man. Rumor had it that he was an order of magnitude more
powerful than his offspring—something to mull over and give one
pause. Going one-on-one with Antonio had been stressful enough.
With two of them probing her at the same time? She was not a fan of
suicide missions.

Leaving the
party, escaping to regroup and reassess her options, had seemed
prudent, especially when the Sisterhood had so conveniently
provided the means. She had taken that as a sign. Now she worried
that she had perhaps miscalculated and jumped at the chance for an
easy out. Had her judgment been that clouded by the psychic
assaults coming from two fronts?

Stealing through the night, sans her benefactor and
r
aison d'etre for
gathering information, put her in an untenable position. Though she
had curried favor amongst the lower elite and was not without other
options, those pathways would be less effective, and infinitely
slower to utilize. Almost like starting over.

And what were the odds that Stefano,
or his damnable brother, would simply let her vanish into the
background? How had
she
suddenly
become a 'person of interest'? She wasn't
the key
—her term for the elusive clue that would allow their
scientists to understand and rectify the threat to her own
civilization.

This all felt like one
monumental
mistake. Mother Superior chose
her because she wasn't prone to errors.

Why can't I see
clearly?

Why did she see only him, the Demon de' Medici, so aptly named
for he compelled her undivided attention with devilish ease?
Intermixed with dominance and control, she perceived a strange
passion driving him. Lust she was used to, it was after all her
preferred method of control, one of her very special gifts, that
translating of
want
to
need
.

That one kiss,
barely a touch, had somehow developed an import, a significance
blown so out of all proportion that she had panicked, rushed into
making hasty decisions. His reaction had been as perplexing:
withdrawal, confusion, even anger but whether at himself, her or
his brother was difficult to say.