An Immortal Valentine's Day (6 page)

“To the Den of Rejects,” Peter answered.

Caelum frowned but didn’t ask anything. “Follow me.” Tall and gangly, the warlock led the way toward the trail running along the river Styx.

Past the first moment of uneasiness, Marcus relaxed and looked around, noticing a few details that surprised him. “It’s so bright down here.” He seldom came to the Promenade by himself or during the day. Although the whole structure of caves and corridors was underground, paranormals preferred to simulate the day and night cycle by projecting on the ceiling, dozens of meters above, the same meteorological conditions the sky outside displayed. He saw that lots of immortals hung around. Some of them were jogging, others were dressed in suits and ties. The majority of them lazily strolled toward the many cafes and restaurants placed along the river running through the whole length of the Promenade.

Before Diana, Marcus never cared for that underground world but had come to appreciate the freedom the Promenade gave the Roman paranormal society. Every species, shifters and vampires alike, could feel free here. They were all welcome and establishments catered to every whim and need of their clientele. Stores were open 24/7, and eateries offered menus that went from raw meat to flavored blood and anything in between. Although he would never permit Diana to drink anyone else’s blood but his, and preferred her cooking in any case, Marcus enjoyed taking her to the Promenade for a stroll and some shopping. Sometimes, they brought Daniel with them. Other times, he hired one of Alexander’s nannies and had a proper date with his wife.

“Did you see the new arena they’re building beside the Cineplex?” Caelum, who walked next to him, pointed at the big hole excavated on the other side of the road by the rock wall. “While patching up the pipeline, a few months ago, the contractor found the remains of Artemius Appius’s Arena, and the merchant association has decided to restore it to its ancient splendor and host fights again.”

“Fights?” Marcus remembered Appius’s Arena. He had fought matches there. Not for money, but to numb his senses, to not feel. The senseless fighting had come soon after he became immortal.

Caelum nodded. “Yes. Boxing, mixed martial fighting, shifter fighting, and vampire duels, anything really.”

Alexander sped up his pace. “I know several athletes at my gym who might be interested.” He turned to Samuel, who was talking to Quintilius. “I’m sure Martina would like that.”

“Not a chance,” was Samuel’s immediate response, but he smiled.

Caelum crossed the road and stopped in front of a bistro, leaning against the rock wall as if part of it. With a wave of his hand, he turned toward the group. “Gather close, please.”

Marcus and the others followed the warlock inside the small restaurant. A waiter greeted them and nodded at Caelum. The place was as charming as he had expected it would be, with the added pleasant surprise that the daily menu—written in white chalk on the blackboard—was fully vegetarian. Maybe, one night, when they were both exhausted from watching over Daniel, he could come here with Diana and try something.

“Stay close.” Caelum walked toward one of the revolving doors opening into the kitchen and kept it open for them. When everyone had passed through, Caelum walked to the end of the large room where a cook and two helpers were at work. “Hi, there.” Caelum waved his hand at the men and they waved back wishing them a good day.

The warlock stopped by a wooden door with a colorful ceramic knob for a handle. He said something in a language Marcus had never heard spoken. The warlock accompanied the spell with a few rotations of his wrists, long fingers waving in rhythm with his hypnotic voice. At the end of the incantation, he grabbed the knob and opened the door. “After me.” On the other side, dim light revealed an alley excavated into the rock and bordered by stores and buildings made of tuff bricks with terracotta tiles on the roofs. Small balconies were decorated with vases filled with geraniums, and lace curtains hanging from the arched windows completed the picture.

Marcus was the first to cross the threshold. “I didn’t know Magik Nation looked so medieval.” He inhaled the smell of beech bundles smoking up the fireplaces. “I like it. It reminds me of when I was a kid and my mother stoked the fire to roast chestnuts from our orchard.”

Caelum walked ahead of Marcus and pointed at the buildings around them. “Everything you see is exactly as it was hundreds of years ago. Magik laws are very strict when it comes to city planning.”

Alexander studied the surroundings. “It looks like any hamlet in Umbria or Tuscany.”

Samuel nodded. “It resembles Todi,” he said, referring to the small, walled city in Umbria where he owned a vacation home. He turned toward Marcus. “Which reminds me that Martina wants to organize a weekend there with you and the rest of the family.”

“Diana would love that.” He had been thinking about taking a break from the city and spending some time in the country.

Caelum raised one hand to draw Marcus’s and Samuel’s attention back to him. “You just need to hear about a rule or two.”

“Apologies.” Marcus walked to Caelum and Samuel followed him.

“While you are with me, you are a welcome guest of the Magik Nation. Traveling through magik territory is quite easy when you know what you’re doing. Every arched bridge you see is a portal.” He indicated one to his right connecting two buildings. “On the wall, there’s a marble plaque.” He walked closer to the arch’s exterior so they could read the inscription on it. “On the plaque, you’ll find information about where that portal opens.” He read out loud the words on that particular inscription, then added, “This one will take you directly to the Promenade’s portions below Piazza Navona.” He stepped away from the arch and turned to his left. “The one you want is a few blocks from here.” With a nod of his head, he showed them an alley opening on their right and headed that way. “To enter a portal, you need a warlock or a witch who can vouch for your good intentions.”

Samuel chuckled. “I’ve had a few cases reported to me of shifters and immortals who wanted to try the thrills of entering the magik territory without permission and even used a portal. Funny stories.”

Marcus knew of those stories because Samuel entertained their poker nights with such tales. More than once, Marcus, Alexander, and Ophelia had stopped any pretense of playing, and listened to Samuel’s fascinating anecdotes instead.

Caelum laughed. “Extra limbs and misplaced genitals?”

“Yep.” Samuel seemed to remember an episode that must have been hilarious, because he had tears in his eyes while laughing. “For privacy reasons, I can’t tell you what happened to those two guys, but let me tell you that you warlocks and witches have a wicked sense of humor.” He paused to breathe. “And I can’t thank you enough for making my Mondays tolerable.”

Caelum bowed. “Our pleasure.”

They walked for a few minutes through the burg, and Marcus greatly enjoyed being immersed in that ancient world with its long forgotten scents and colors. He needed the respite before chasing the two renegade kids, knowing they might be better left alone altogether. As he had been better left to his means. But he was already an adult and knew what he was doing, while Luisa and Raphael were just cubs. Despite his desire to help the two werewolves, he had the sinking feeling that he and his friends were the bad wolves in this tale.

Caelum walked past two arched bridges before stopping by a third one. “Here we are.” He pressed his hand against the column to his right. “It’s now safe to enter the portal,” he announced when the brick he had touched illuminated first, then retreated inside the column a few centimeters. A small statue emerged from the recess.

“That’s Janus.” Marcus smiled, looking at the dual-faced Roman divinity who protected gates and doorways. “Mother had one at the entry of our villa.” Fancying himself a modern man, he hadn’t wanted one for his house when he married his first wife, Aurelia. Later, when his life had been uprooted and in tatters, he often thought of that small statue that had guarded his youth, and he looked for it. Unfortunately, when he woke from his haze, several decades after losing his Roman wife to the hand of a vampire, and turning immortal himself, his family’s villa had been sold. The Janus figurine and all the votive gods were gone with it.

“We like to stick to tradition.” Caelum’s cell phone rang from his back pocket. He smiled, reached for the phone and checked the screen. “But we can’t do without modern technology.” He held out one hand, motioning for them to enter the arch. At the same time, he sent a text as they took the narrow alley.

Marcus, who was the closest to Caelum, noticed how his jovial expression had clouded for a moment, and he thought he saw the warlock’s eyes swell with tears. Caelum turned slightly toward the wall and away from the group. When he turned back to them, he was as composed and carefree-looking as before he’d received the call, and Marcus decided it was prudent not to ask.

“And you’ve reached your destination. Thank you for riding magik portals,” Caelum joked, showing the large square opening on the other side of the alley. “We are under the Roman Forum, and to your right is the closest entry to the Den of Rejects. You’ll have to pass through part of the catacombs to reach the den, but you all are big men. I’m sure you don’t need me any longer.”

Everyone thanked Caelum for his help. Marcus saw Peter whisper something to Caelum before they all headed the same direction, and the warlock returned to the alley which promptly closed after him, leaving a solid rock wall in his wake—no arched opening. Whatever Caelum was going through, Marcus wished him the best. The warlock seemed a nice soul, and Marcus knew how his intervention had helped save Ophelia from a terrible fate when she and Peter had confronted the ex-archangel, Arariel.

Marcus’s mood darkened as they left the Promenade to enter the kilometers of burial lots excavated inside the rock stratum upon which Rome had been built. Even forcing all the memories attached to that place aside, every step he took through the catacombs brought him closer to the Den of Rejects. Yet, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw once Peter led the way and took them directly inside the renegade haven.

A small citadel had been built entirely from waste. It seemed as if everything society threw away had been collected by the renegade kids and recycled. Marcus had expected poverty and degradation. Although poverty was the den’s hallmark, degrade wasn’t part of it. On the contrary, the one road bisecting the den was clean of debris, and the buildings facing from opposite sides were one story high and appeared solid. The structures made of pallets, plastic sheets, even bricks and terracotta tiles in places gave an impression of stability. A big sculpture of a tree—that too was made of recycled material and decorated with origami hearts—sat at the end of the road beside a large construction project, the only one that stood two stories high. Lots of bicycles, old models, but all well-kept, were parked in front.

“Where’s everybody?” Marcus’s question was answered a moment later when a bell rang, and people, very young people, exited the large building in throngs.

When the first of them saw the group of friends, reactions varied greatly. A few ran back inside while others walked in angry strides toward Marcus and the rest. Peter stepped forward. The older-looking renegades seemed to collectively blanch at his sight. Marcus wasn’t sure that was a good sign. Scared kids wouldn’t be inclined to cooperate.

He took two steps and stopped near Peter, then raised his open hands, palms toward the crowd. “I’m Marcus Sulpicius Aurelianus.”

One of the kids, a were-puma and the toughest looking of the lot, with a scar on his young face that rivaled Marcus’s, detached himself from the compact line of his peers. “Are you the one who told the Immortal Council to eff themselves?”

Marcus tilted his head. “The one and only.” He waited for the other to make a move or say something, but the kid remained still as if studying him and the ones with him. “We aren’t here to cause trouble.” He moved a step forward to test the waters. When his words and movement didn’t elicit any reaction, he kept walking toward the renegade group. “We’re looking for two werewolves. They might be in trouble and we only want to make sure they’re okay.”

The tough-looking were-puma stood tall and raised his chin in defiance and folded his arms across his chest, showing the tattoos circling his forearms. “Roman, you should know better.” He made a disgusted face. “Renegades don’t betray their kind.” His eyes sparkled with anger. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what’s like to live on the outside.” He pointed a finger at the group standing behind Marcus. “Maybe it’s because you keep such exalted company. I can see the infamous fallen, the controller, the head of the most powerful werewolf clan in Europe, and the playboy. What are you really doing down here? Having some fun at our expense? Looking for some thrills? You won’t touch any of us. No matter how much you promise us. We. Are. Not. For. Sale.” He took a pause, then walked all the way up to approach Marcus. When mere centimeters from him, he reached out and poked Marcus in the chest. “Go back to your fancy life.”

In close proximity, Marcus saw through the façade the renegade was putting up his own invisible wall of protection. The tough-looking shifter was young—too young, and not so tough anymore, despite the tattoos and the scar. Marcus admired his sense of responsibility for the rest of the den, when he probably was as scared as the rest of those kids. “None of us would ever ask any of you for anything inappropriate. And I’m sorry you have reason to believe we might want to exploit you in any way. We’re here seeking information about two kids because we want to find them before the enforcers do. We don’t have much time. In a few hours, a missing person’s report will be forwarded to the Immortal Council’s adult court, and one of these two kids will be accused of kidnapping a minor. You know well what that means for a renegade.”

The shifter blinked, opened his mouth once. Silence.

Marcus held his hands to the side. “We need to know if you saw Raphael Letta with a werewolf girl named Luisa. He doesn’t deserve to end his days at Regina Coeli, but if the enforcers find him first he won’t have a chance.”