Damoren (30 page)

“
You said the authorities were...” Luiza’s eyes widened. “If the police don’t have the GPS info already, then something’s wrong.”

Matt downed his coffee.
“Exactly. The eclipse is tomorrow and a busload of people coincidently ups and vanishes.”

“
No harm in checking it out. What was the tour company’s name?”

“
Tuscia Tours.”

Luiza typed the name into her computer.
“Here we go.” She tapped the screen, selecting a language. “Due to recent events, all tours are cancelled until further notice.”

“
Any street address for them?” Matt asked.

Her finger scrolled along the page.
“Not seeing it. Places like this usually just take payment online and pick you up somewhere. We’ll probably have to call them to find out where they are.”

Matt
’s phone rang. He pulled it out, leaving the pendant case in his pocket and checked the screen. Luc.

He answered it.
“Yeah?”

“
I think I found something,” Luc rumbled.

Matt grinned.
“Let me guess. Missing tour bus.”

Luc paused.
“Tour bus?”

“
Yeah, a tour bus went missing last night. Why? What did you find?”

“
I’m standing on the street looking at that symbol right now.”

Matt straightened up.
“The cult symbol?”

Luiza
’s gaze lifted up from her screen.

“
Yes,” Luc said. “I found it.”

“
What is it?” Luiza asked.

“
Luc,” Matt answered, holding the receiver away from his mouth. “He found the symbol.”

Chapter
Seventeen

They found Luc standing on a corner beside a tightly packed row of parked scooters. Luc peered down the narrow lane. He wore an old fashioned green backpack. His heavy, flanged mace left an irregular bulge where it pressed against the pack’s leather bottom.

Luc turned as Matt and Luiza approached.

“
Got here as fast as we could,” Matt said.

Luc returned his attention to the other street.

Matt followed his gaze.
The narrow road, pressed between three-story buildings, extended a little over a block before curving out of view. Black iron bars of various styles encased all the first floor windows on either side, relics left from Tuscan house wars. Open shutters framed the upper windows. “What are you looking at?”

“
Third door on the right,” Luc said, subtly pointing that direction.

Squinting, Matt peered at the dark wooden door about forty feet away.
Thick stone molding outlined the entrance, blackened by years of soot and exhaust. “What am
I
looking at?”

“
Top middle.” Luc glanced around. “I haven’t seen anyone. Go. Look closer.”

Matt checked his compass.
Still pink.

He motioned to Luiza
, and they made their way down the alley. He tried to look casual, hand resting on his bag just above the access slit. Luiza walked beside him. The street was too small for even a sidewalk.

A monstrous bronze knocker stared out from the center of the door, sculpted like a lion
’s head. The ring in its mouth formed two women curving down to an etched sphere in their outstretched hands. Matt’s gaze moved up to the top of the door. The stone border was chipped and worn, its carved details eroded nearly away. At the center above the door, the molding blossomed into the shape of an oval shield, held up by a pair of winged creatures. An elaborate fleur-de-lis adorned the right upper section of the shield.

Matt stopped.

A long, winged serpent, its feminine head raised as if to strike, decorated the oval’s bottom.

It
’s been here the whole damned time.

Luiza removed a gray camera from her bag and turned it on.

“What are you doing?” Matt hissed. He scanned the streets on either side. A teenage girl walked up the street a block away, her attention apparently hostage to the phone in her hands.

“
If they’ve seen us, then we’ve already been seen.” The camera whirred, its lens telescoping out. It beeped, snapping a picture. “Otherwise we’re just another pair of tourists photographing every door in the city.”

If Anya
’s people were inside they’d know what every one of the knights looked like. Did they know they’d followed them to Florence? Matt glanced back at the girl. She was getting closer.

The sharp click came from the door.
Matt’s fingers slid into the bag, finding Dämoren’s ivory grip.

The door pulled open and a slender man with thinning hair stepped out.
He glanced at Matt and Luiza standing just a few feet in front of him. No acknowledgement. No familiarity. He reached into his pocket.

Matt cocked Dämoren.

The man withdrew a ring of jingling keys and turned to lock the door behind him.

Matt ground his teeth.
Either this man was an incredible actor, or simply a local seeing some tourists outside his house. Luiza was giving him a ‘What do we do’ look. Matt glanced at Luc still at the end of the street, standing a bit straighter than he had a moment ago. The full moon was a day away. There wasn’t time for caution.

“
Excuse me sir,” Matt said in Italian, no idea where he was going with it. “Is this your home?”

The man turned, giving Matt a puzzled look.
“Yes.”

“
My name is Walter Franks. I’m an author.” Removing his hand from the bag, Matt gestured to the symbol above the door. “I noticed the crest above your door and wasn’t familiar with it.”

The man looked up to where Matt pointed.

Luiza shot Matt a wide-eyed look.
“What are you doing?” she mouthed.

“
Play along,” he whispered back in English. Matt looked to the man. “I’m writing a book on Florentine heraldry and happened to see that. Do you know what family it is?”

“
My mother said it was an old family. Barugni or something. I don’t know.”

“
Your mother knows?” Matt asked. “Could we contact her? I’m very interested to know more about it.”

The man
’s mouth opened in hesitation. He held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t think—”

“
I will pay for your time, of course,” Matt said, reaching for his wallet. “Will one hundred be enough, Mister...”

The man
’s hand lowered. “Celestini.”

Matt withdrew a hundred euro note.
“Mister Celestini, I would very much like to add this crest to our catalog. Might we speak with your mother about it?”

The man smiled.
“Yes. Please, call me Gianni. I’m sure she would love to speak with an interested author. Could she call you tomorrow?”

Matt gave an exaggerated wince.
“Unfortunately my associate and I have to be in Rome tomorrow.” He slid another hundred partially out from his wallet. “Could you help us now?”

Gianni
’s smile widened. All teeth. “Of course. Please, come inside.” He turned to unlock the door.

“
What did you say to him?” Luiza hissed, low and sharp.

“
I told him about the book we’re doing on lost heraldic symbols. He said his mother knows the history of it.”

“
His mother?”

“
Yeah.” Matt pulled the phone from his pocket and called Luc.

Gianni opened the door and gestured Matt and Luiza inside.

“Yes?” Luc answered, his tone curious.

“
Hi Alexi,” Matt said in French, holding a finger up to Gianni. “Look, something came up and we’ll be a little late. Just stay there and listen to the presentation for me. We shouldn’t be too long.” Before Luc could speak, Matt turned the phone’s speaker down as low as it could go and slipped it, still on, into his pocket.
Please don’t hang up.
Smiling, he motioned Luiza, ‘After you,’ and they followed Gianni inside.

“
Mama?” Gianni said closing the door.

Matt swallowed, his hand resting on his bag.
The house smelled vaguely of lavender and old pipe smoke. A red and white vase rested on the entry table beside them, the leaves of its artificial flowers slightly faded. A metal crucifix adorned the opposite wall.
A good sign.

“
Yes, dear?” a woman’s voice called from further inside.

They followed Gianni through a tiny living room and into a cream-colored kitchen painted with yellow flowers.
Matt could see a little courtyard through the window. An old woman sat at a narrow table in a side nook, hunkered over a printed word puzzle. She looked up, pencil still in her hand.

“
Mama,” Gianni said. “These people would like to talk to you. They’re writing a book and have some questions about the markings on the door.”

Matt offered his hand.
“Walter Franks, ma’am. This is my partner... Maria Estrada.”

She shook his hand.
Her old skin felt like tissue paper. She motioned them to sit. “Are you Tuscan?”

“
Me?” Matt said, taking a seat. “No, ma’am, I’m American.”

She smiled warmly.
“Your accent is Tuscan. I would have guessed you local.”

“
Thank you, ma’am.”

“
Please, call me Zita. Gian,” she said, to her son. “Bring something for our guests. Coffee?”

“
Yes, please,” Matt said.

Gianni hurried over to the coffee machine in the corner.

Matt shifted his bag onto his lap below the table. “Zita, as your son said, I am writing a book about lost family crests in Italy. I noticed the symbol above your door and didn’t recognize it. Gianni said you might know something about it.”

The old woman nodded and pushed her puzzle aside.
“That is the Barugnani family crest. They built the original house in 1601. Of course, it was very different back then.” She smiled. “Bombings destroyed the back part during the war. The front stonework is still original.”

“
Barugnani?” Matt repeated loud enough to hope Luc could hear him. He didn’t have any notepad in his satchel and wouldn’t have risked opening it if he did. Not with Dämoren and a machine pistol inside. “Can I have your tablet?” he asked Luiza.

She removed the computer from her bag and turned it on.

“
How do you spell that?” Matt asked Zita. He tapped the letters in as she did.

Gianni set a pair of tiny white cups on the table, their foamy contents dusted with cocoa.

“
How long have you lived here?” Matt asked.

“
I grew up in this house,” Zita said. “My grandfather was the first of my family to live here.”

“
So you are not related to the Barugnani family?”

“
Oh no,” she laughed. “That family has been gone for a long time.”

“
Gone?” Matt asked.

She nodded.
“Gian, go upstairs and bring us my family box. The gray one.”

The thin man obediently hurried away.

“
I have all the information on them with our genealogy records,” Zita said. “A hobby I picked up from my mother.” She motioned to the coffees. “Please drink, Gian will only be a minute.”

Matt and Luiza shared a look.
A tension in her lips told him ‘no’, but he didn’t want to offend the old woman, not when she could help them.

He took a sip.
It tasted good. Not as good as the hotel’s or even Luiza’s at the chateau. He didn’t notice any tang of poison, not that he really knew what to taste for. Malcolm claimed the snake tattoo on his arm could warn him of poisons, and Matt really wished he was here now.
Never thought I’d wish for that.

“
So you research your family tree?” Matt asked, hoping to distract the old woman from the fact Luiza wasn’t drinking.

“
Yes,” she said. “At least I used to. Haven’t looked at it in several years. It’s a bit exciting.”

“
Really?” Matt asked.

“
Oh yes. Lots of secrets come out.” Her eyes gleamed mischievously. “Scandals your family never knew or didn’t tell you.”

“
I can imagine.” He pursed his lips. “So if you’re not related to the Barugnani family, why research them?”

“
Once you’ve found all about your own family that you can, you still need something to research.” She shrugged. “My mother found a few papers during the restoration, so I added to them. The house is part of our family so...I decided to learn where it came from.”

Footsteps clomped down the stairs and Gianni came in carrying a gray, plastic file box.
“This one?”

“
Yes,” Zita said. “Bring it here.”

Grunting, Gianni heaved it into an empty chair beside the old woman and opened it.
Dozens of yellow folders, each labeled in crisp black writing and packed with papers, filled the box.

“
Here we go,” Zita said, flipping through the bent tabs. She removed a thin folder and opened it on the table. “The Barugnani family.”

“
What do you know about them?” Matt asked, leaning closer.

The old woman squinted over the page, running her finger along the text.
“It was an old family. Merchants, but not very important. In...1578 Guittone Barugnani gained favor with the Medici’s who
encouraged
a marriage with Imalda Veronesi. Her dowry made the family very rich. In 1580 she gave birth to their only son, Marco. Guittone died of a sudden illness in 1593, leaving thirteen year old Marco head of the family.”

Zita leaned closer.
“Marco Barugnani , now there was a scoundrel. He was said to be beautiful and quite brilliant. His rivals also had a tendency of dying. They said that no woman, or man, could refuse his charm. Eventually rumors of scandal became too much and he chose to leave Florence and founded the village of San Pettiro in 1608.”

“
What rumors?” Matt asked.

“
Oh, many,” Zita said. “Some said he had seduced the Grand Duchess, even fathering one of her children. Others branded him a devil worshiper. And instead of punishment or assassination, do you know what the Grand Duke did?

Devil worshiper?
Matt shrugged.

“
He gave him title and a village to rule.”