Notturno (19 page)

“What?”

“That you hoped I would retrieve my journal.” Donte

hesitated. “Did you mean that, più amato?”

“Yes.” Adin’s voice cracked. There was a silence on the

other side while Donte digested this.

“I have it. I took it from the man who stole it from you. He

will not be stealing from anyone again.”

Adin closed his eyes, trying not to think what that might

mean. “I’m glad you have it.” He cleared his throat. “I guess the

end justifies the means.”

“I’m not sorry for my actions. I had to render you unable to

interfere.”

“You scared me.”

“You should have
always
been scared.” Donte sounded

angry. “I can’t comprehend why your ignorance persists.”

“My ignorance.”

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131

“You know we exist. There are more monsters in the world

than you can imagine, and you must know there are those who

would see you dead because of your connection with me. You

can no longer claim ignorance. You must abandon its false

security.”

“I don’t claim to
be
ignorant, Donte.” Adin rubbed at his

temple with a finger while he tried to make sense of his feelings.

“I have faith, which I am certain is misplaced entirely, in my

ability to continue my life even given this new knowledge. And

I have faith, Donte, in you. Even—it seems—after your many

attempts to eradicate it.”

“
Adin,
” Donte growled in his ear through the phone. “What

the
hell
do you use for brains?”

A plane took off beyond the glass windows of the busy

airport, and the noise sounded shocking and loud to Adin’s

ears. “Sorry. I’m very happy for you. I hope you know…” Adin

idly opened the images of the diary on his computer. “I hope

you know that.”

“Perhaps I’ve been harsh—”

“Look. Spare me any further lectures, all right? Thank you

for letting me know about the journal. I really am very glad you

have it.”

“I see. You’re welcome.” Donte hesitated. “Take care of

yourself, Adin.”

“Thank you.” Adin sighed. “Don’t eat any wooden Indians.”

He hung up, savoring the rich timbre of Donte’s laughter.

Adin ordered a double of whatever he was drinking.
Notturno

was out of reach, and with it, Donte. He knew he should feel, if

not good, at least philosophical about his loss. No one would be

happy at the university, but the manuscript was insured. He was

going home. Soon, he thought, the sucking blackness in his

heart would be just a dim memory. He continued to read and

drink.

^\

Renata has somehow ferreted out our secret, my love, yet you are far
away and I am here. I keep this journal where she cannot find it as she has
132 Z.A. Maxfield

destroyed the others. I don’t care what she thinks, and I’m certain she cares
not at all what we do, as long as we are discreet. She has the children, both
boys, and if she chooses she can take a legion of lovers and have more or
none at all. It is not a hardship to be Renata. That she was angry
surprised me more than I can tell you, though, because she has been willfully
unkind since the day we married and I thought she liked me not at all. I
should have thought she’d be pleased to be rid of my unwanted attentions
and glad to have my protection. Who can tell with women?

Now I am free to spend all my time in dreams of you. I hear your wife
has given you a son! My beloved, congratulations, I know how you will love
him. My own sons are growing strong, the eldest once again is on a reign of
terror with the animals, taking his passion out now by chasing after the
horses. He will be a fine horseman, as he shows no fear whatsoever. It fills
me with pride to ride with him before me and to teach him to sit a horse.

Something you can look forward to teaching your Cristiano.

I look forward only to gazing on your beautiful face and giving you all
the love I’ve held within me. As Renata refuses my company, I am entirely
at your service and ready to fly at you like a harlot. When shall I see you?

I have control over much, but you are the master of my heart.

^\

My darling, I dream of you and pray this means you are well. I sent a
letter to you last full moon, yet I wonder if it arrived. Renata plans
something. I do not understand her. She has been secretive and spying, and
has brought foreigners into our home that I cannot like. They feast all night
and lie about stupid with wine in the daytime. They dance and drink and
put on indescribably terrible plays. The last contained a veiled reference to
us, my love, and it has made me cautious. I worry that she is unhinged. It
is late summer, and I wish I could sit with you and savor the scents of the
garden where I know you spend your time.

There has been so little time, has there not? It is not what I promised
you at all. I hope that because you are an angel from heaven you will forgive
me. The time of year makes me feel so empty without you. Far better when
the land reflects my sorrow, as it does in the icy depths of winter when I do
not expect to be happy. But in the late summer evenings, with the scent of
the sweet blossoms in the air, I cannot tell you how completely dead I feel
inside. My boys are the only joy of my life, and I love them fiercely. It is for
NOTTURNO
133

this reason alone that I have not killed their mother. Are you shocked?

You shouldn’t be.

You know that I am only a man, perhaps less than that if you look at
me in the light. You are the angel, and I should never have aspired to bring
you to the earth with me when I did, that first time. Once you lay with me,
we were both damned. I’m sorry. I love you. Forgive me. I fear that you
have been my very soul, without which, I am no more than an animal.

^\

My beloved Auselmo, Tonight I have the privilege once again of

watching you as you sleep. Forgive me for coming to your home, but I could
not bear for one more day to wait and watch and wonder how you fare,
while Renata and her foul friends take over my home and strip it of every
comfort I have left.

How beautiful you are! You are made even more magnificent when you
hold your son. He is fine and strong, and I’m sure he’ll believe that you are
the very god who holds the sun in the sky, as I do. I pray for him daily as I
do my own sons, and hope his life is a charmed and happy one.

While you lie next to me in tangled linen, I plot how I will take you
next, and what I will do, and I find I have only to run a finger down your
cheek and you turn, ready for me. Tomorrow, I think I shall blindfold you
and put a cloth about your ears so that you feel only what I give you to feel,
and think only of me. Perhaps I shall bind your hands and touch you
everywhere, so that you shiver with anticipation and anxiety and need. I am
truly a monster, a devourer of innocence, and you, my love, my sustenance.

If you were not the very purest sweetness of my life, I could probably let
you go, but all my life I will hold only you sacred, and be damned for it.

^\

When the buzzing began, at first Adin didn’t know what to

make of it. To him, it was an annoyance, like a gnat or a bee

that continued to circle his head even though he had brushed it

off. Adin blinked as the sound came nearer and looked around

to see if anyone else was bothered by it. No one seemed to

notice it. Then he realized it was whispering inside his head with

the Spanish words that had so caressed and then assaulted him

before at the nightclub. Before he even knew what he was

doing, he was shutting down his laptop and shoving it into his

134 Z.A. Maxfield

case. His keys fell to the floor, and when he went to retrieve

them, he saw an exquisite pair of Italian leather loafers peeking

out from under trousers tailored to a perfect break and creased

to a knife-edge.

“Well, hello,” said a deeply masculine and richly cultured

voice. “I must say I’m rather surprised.”

“I beg your pardon.” Adin rose to his full height.

“I thought you would be more…”

“More?” Adin’s eyebrows rose.

“Just more.” The man sighed. He smoothed his flawlessly

white shirt collar and shot his cuffs. “I need to discuss the

Notturno
manuscript with you.”

“I’m sorry. I no longer have it,” Adin replied. He turned to

leave, anxious to get away from this man, anxious to find his

gate and maybe hide until he could board his plane and return

home.

“Yes, I know.” He caught Adin by the elbow and propelled

him out into the terminal. Adin attempted to pull his arm away,

but the man who held it in a viselike grip looked no more

inconvenienced than if Adin had been a child. “Donte Fedeltà

has it. Unfortunately that was the worst possible outcome, and I

am now forced to make other plans.” The man looked around

him and pulled Adin into a break in the wall near a drinking

fountain and a pay phone. He smiled. Adin tried to push his

way around the man, who had him trapped between his body

and the wall.

“I can’t see how that could possibly have anything to do

with me… Mr.…”

“Santos.” He looked distracted. “I’m Cristobel Santos, and

I’m afraid it has everything to do with you…”

“What?” asked Adin as Santos smiled a convivial smile and

leaned in as if to speak with him privately. The next thing Adin

knew, Santos pulled him close and clamped down on his neck

with razor-sharp teeth, sinking so deep he gasped. Adin

struggled, but it was no use. Santos held him in an iron grip and

fed from him. There was no pleasure with Santos. He could feel

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135

the life draining out of him; the effort to keep his eyes open

became almost impossible.

“Hear me,” said Santos in his face, his mouth glistening with

drops of Adin’s blood. “Do as I say or die.” He snapped his

fingers and several men came up from behind him suddenly,

surrounding Adin as his knees buckled and he began to slip to

the ground.

Loudly, Santos remarked, “Adin, I told you not to drink on

the plane… The altitude makes the alcohol that much

stronger.” To everyone around, Santos and his friends appeared

to be retrieving a drunken companion from the airport. Adin

stumbled along, his head dangling, unable to lift it or to utter a

single word to help himself. Someone took hold of his case,

which dropped from his numb fingers. They continued until

Adin felt the crisp outdoor air, and he was unceremoniously

dumped into the back of a large car. He put his head down on

the seat back behind him and held his tongue.

“That was good, Adin,” said Santos, catching the front of

his hair and yanking his head up. “Now. Let’s see if you’re

worth all this.” To the driver he said, “Go.”

The car came to rest and Adin felt himself dragged from the

backseat, where he was wedged between two large men. His

head felt heavy and at the same time detached, as if it were

floating like a balloon. He could hardly keep it from flopping

over onto one shoulder or the other, and he was unbearably

thirsty. He was pulled none-too-gently to standing and led up a

long walkway to a massive neo-colonial home. He had no idea

where he was, no clue how long they’d been on the road. He

smelled the ocean but couldn’t see or hear it. It crossed his

mind that he’d missed his plane, and he almost laughed at how

insignificant that ought to seem to him. Men dragged him by

each arm, and one carried his case.

Once inside, he was taken down a hallway and dropped into

a chair in a room that looked like an office or a library.

Someone went through his pockets and then his briefcase,

tossing his papers and personal effects onto a large ebony desk

and handing his laptop to the man named Santos. Santos toyed

with Adin’s light-emitting safety device before shoving it into a

drawer in his desk. He then casually yanked the flash drive from

Adin’s laptop and tossed it to him. Adin made a grab for it and

failed, then reached over to pick it up off the floor.

Adin almost succumbed then, to the dizziness he felt, but

someone said, “Mortal trash. Don’t quit your day job,” and it

made him so angry he sat up, the adrenaline clearing his head.

“Is anyone going to tell me why I’m here?” Adin looked at

each man in turn. They were similar in height and build and

could have passed for brothers. They had dark hair and eyes

and light skin. One was heavily pockmarked, but the others

were smooth and pale. The suits they wore made them look like

bad mob stereotypes or Vegas rat-pack wannabes. The room

itself was large but closed in, walled on three sides with books,

and stank of cigars. Adin recognized one of the men as the

businessman who had smiled up at his hotel window.

138 Z.A. Maxfield

“You are here,” said Santos, “because for several hundred