Prophecy: Child of Light (23 page)

“You are very quiet. Are you feeling all right?” he said as they left the hotel behind them.

She came out of her thoughts long enough to smile at him. There was concern in his eyes, a flicker of his other side. Over time, he seemed to be slipping more often. He’d changed so much since they’d left Prague, but at the same time, he seemed the same. She wondered if he was really changing or just growing used to her presence and letting his guard down. Either way, she preferred him like this. It was far better than the cold, indifferent man she’d first met.

“Fine,” she said and then dropped her gaze. “How’s the shoulder?”

He looked at it with a raised brow. “Healing. You did a good job of dressing it. I never did thank you.”

She shrugged, not wanting him to thank her now because it would make her feel awkward and she didn’t want that. She was silently thankful when he didn’t say anything more on the subject. He just continued walking.

Her eyes roamed the streets around her. It was beautiful, just like it had been in the pictures, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that said that whatever fate had in store for them, it wasn’t going to be romance and flowers like the scenery suggested.

The city was old and, for that reason alone, it was probably the favoured haunt of many different demon species. With an unknown bounty on their head, it wasn’t going to be easy to move about undetected. A dark sense of foreboding told her there were going to be fights and there was a high probability that they were going to face worse things in Venice than they had done in Paris. They were going to have to stick close together and she was going to have to learn how to use her magic if they were going to make it through.

“Whereabouts are we going?” she said, trying to dispel the silence between them.

“Campo dei Frari,” he replied, turning down another narrow street.

She wondered if he really knew where he was going. He seemed to know the city well. Had he lived here for some time too? It would be a wonderful place to live. She’d once seen a program about the carnival they held here. The people were all wearing masks and dressed in elaborate costumes. The canal was packed with boats of different shapes, sizes and colours. It had been a real Mardi Gras. It was a shame it was spring now. She would have liked to see such an event. It reminded her of the Creator Day masquerade held by the pure bloodlines.

When they came out into a square, she immediately looked around her. The buildings were all old, their plaster façades beginning to deteriorate with age. They had small windows and their roofs were low and tiled. She looked at the well in the centre. One side of the square was open and lined by a canal, with a small white bridge crossing it to the other side. As they walked further out into the open, she noticed the imposing front of the church and frowned up at it. She never could stand the sight of a cross. It made her stomach turn and her demon visage push to the forefront. Valentine didn’t seem at all bothered by it. He strode purposefully towards a building opposite them and went in.

She wove her way through the corridors and narrow stairways, following him as he moved further into the building. Her unease grew when she looked around. The building appeared to be empty, unlived in. The walls were dirty and most of the lights didn’t work. She focused, letting her senses reach out and using them to survey the area.

When Valentine stopped in front of a door on the second floor, his signature grew stronger and she realised that he was doing the same as her. He was using his senses as a radar to see if there was any danger on the other side.

He knocked and she ventured a step closer when the door creaked and gave way, opening a crack. Something wasn’t right.

Valentine looked at her and she shook her head, silently telling him that she couldn’t sense anything on the other side.

“This is not good,” he said.

“Why... oh.” She realised that his hand was inside the boundary of the apartment and that could only mean one thing.

Their contact was dead.

Valentine frowned and withdrew his hand.

The curator had been human, and no vampire could enter a private place owned by one without an invitation. He tried to see into the room through the crack but it was too dimly lit to make anything out. Signalling for Prophecy to stay put, he pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment.

He stopped dead as it hit him and he covered his mouth. For the first time in nearly three centuries, he felt like retching.

The air was heavy with the scent of rancid blood. The coppery smell of it was tinged with death and decay, causing his stomach to lurch as he breathed it in, practically tasting it on the edge of his senses.

He fought the temptation to breathe and moved further into the room, his hand still covering his mouth. He held his other hand up when Prophecy started to follow him and shook his head. She probably hadn’t caught the scent of death yet and it was better that she didn’t. He didn’t know how she’d take it. He found a lamp and turned it on, glancing at Prophecy.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the floor and he looked there too. There was a trail of blood leading across the living room and as he followed it, he noticed the blood streaked across the walls. It made them look as though they had been scratched and were bleeding.

He moved stealthily across the room, letting his instincts guide him towards where the scent was strongest. He stared at the door ahead of him and edged towards it, uncertain of whether he really wanted to see what it contained. He slipped into his vampire guise, trying to use the extra boost it gave his senses to see if anyone was in the room waiting to attack, but they were too full of the scent of rancid blood. His teeth receded, his face shifting back into its human form. He listened intently for a sign of someone as he approached the room.

Stepping in front of the door, he looked into the room long enough to know that the ones responsible had been gone a long time and then turned his back on it. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the carnage for fear of being sick. He could feel Prophecy’s eyes boring into him.

“What is it?” she said from the threshold of the apartment.

He could hear her footsteps on the soft carpet, could sense her approach, but couldn’t move quick enough to stop her.

“Don’t...” He raised his head and shook it, hoping she’d listen to him.

“Why?” She frowned at him, searching his eyes for the reason he didn’t want her to come any closer.

“You do not want to see this,” he said and grabbed her shoulders when she stepped up to him, holding them tightly in an attempt to stop her from seeing past him into the room.

She peered over his shoulder and her eyes widened in shock, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. The colour seemed to drain from her face. He pushed her away and she turned, running for the door as fast as she could.

He listened to her retching in the hall and steeled himself before turning to look at the room again.

It was carnage. It looked as though it could have been three men originally. Their bodies were battered and mutilated, their flesh slashed open and torn apart. Blood covered the floor and drenched the sheets until it was a sea of red. It was splattered across the walls. There were deep grooves in the plaster where it had been broken in the fight.

Valentine stared at one of the men. His right arm had been torn out of the socket and his face had been smashed in. The other two men had suffered a similar fate of being mauled to death and having their skulls crushed. Looking down at the one nearest to him, Valentine could see the maggots crawling over his broken flesh and it looked as though he’d been gnawed on, partially eaten by whatever had done this to them.

Valentine stared blankly at them.

He didn’t need this kind of setback.

Turning away from the room, he walked over to Prophecy. She was bent over in the hall with her hands pressed into the wall. She was breathing heavily. His brows furrowed when he sensed her distress and he went to her. He rubbed her back gently, not knowing what else he could do to soothe her.

When she straightened up at last, he led her down the hall. He took long deep breaths and tried to clear his senses of the smell of rotting meat and blood. Looking across at Prophecy, he felt sorry for her when he saw she was still struggling against her desire to be sick. He’d only ever thrown up once since becoming a vampire. With nothing in his stomach but remnants of undigested blood, it had been horrible. It was one reaction he could live without but it seemed the human mind didn’t forget the instinct, just as it didn’t forget to make you breathe until you were nearing five centuries old, and even then he knew some vampires that still kept up the pretence in public so they didn’t draw attention to themselves. Although he could stop himself from breathing, it was still an automatic reaction for him and he couldn’t control it for long. He wondered if Prophecy could control her breathing.

Stepping out into the square, the cool night air washed over him, carrying away his nausea. He closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Why... what did that?” Her voice trembled and he looked at her. She was stood clutching her stomach, her skin still drained of colour.

“Werewolf, possibly two by the looks of things. The curator was not alone. Whatever killed him, killed another two men at the same time.” He felt concerned when she went a little paler and swallowed hard. “The question I would like answered is who sent the werewolves and how did they know we were going to see that man.”

“You think they know we’re here?” She looked around them at the empty square.

“They know, or at least someone does, and that someone did not want us discovering the location of the scroll. It is safe to say that somebody knows what we are up to and they are willing to go to any length to stop us.”

“But who?” she said. His brows met briefly in a frown. She seemed to see straight through his eyes and into his thoughts. “Arkalus wouldn’t. At least I don’t think he would.”

“You place a lot of faith in someone who has combined forces with my lord to hunt you down and kill you,” he said, walking away without bothering to check if she was following.

He hated the way he felt whenever she mentioned her family’s Chosen Son. It gave him an overwhelming desire to hit something, or someone, possibly Arkalus himself.

“We need to contact Mathias. Surely he’ll know of another source of information about the second half of the scroll?” she said, catching up with him as he headed towards the bridge over the canal.

“We need to get back to the hotel in one piece first.” He caught hold of her arm when she slowed down and frowned at him.

He scanned their surroundings for potential trouble and was only mildly reassured when he couldn’t detect anything.

Their contact was dead but the werewolves that had disembowelled and played with the three men in the apartment were very much alive. If their master was clever, they would have been ordered not to stray far from the bodies so they could catch Prophecy and himself when they arrived.

Leaving the square in the opposite direction to which they’d entered it, he led Prophecy into the maze of narrow alleys at the heart of Venice.

They needed some answers and he knew where he might be able to get them. He glanced at Prophecy. She was walking beside him, her eyes darting down each alley they passed. He’d have to tell her his plan, but he was going to have to find the right way to break it to her.

She wasn’t going to like it one bit.

T
hey wove through the streets of Venice, trying to leave a trail that would be hard to follow as they made their way back to the hotel. Prophecy could feel Valentine looking at her as she walked next to him with her hand still pressed against her stomach. She felt better, but the images of what she’d seen were haunting her still.

She slowed as they walked over a large bridge that crossed one of the canals. The bridge was old and packed with tourists. In the centre of it were little stores selling souvenirs and she looked at them, taking her mind off the dead curator. She came to a halt when she saw the Grand Canal stretched out in front of her. The lights of the buildings along its length were reflected in the water and made it sparkle as the surface rippled in the wake of the boats.

It was breathtaking.

Narrow boats passed by below her, the tourists onboard them waving up at the people on the bridge. She looked at them. Everything here seemed so peaceful and relaxing.

“Prophecy?”

She turned her head and found Valentine watching her with concern visible in his clear green eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, struggling with the words she wanted to say and then finding the strength when he took a step towards her.

“Can we stay out a while? Just, I don’t think I can go back yet... I feel safer out here.”

He nodded and she was thankful that he hadn’t questioned her about it or told her it was best that they went back to the hotel. She wanted to be out in the city, enjoying the night and letting the images of buildings and people erase the horrors of Campo dei Frari. She wanted to be out in the open where she could run if it was necessary, not get trapped in a room where there was no easy escape.

When Valentine leaned against the wide white stone wall that formed the side of the bridge, she mimicked his move. Her eyes traced his profile while he looked at the city and then moved to rest on the canal when he turned to look at her.

She smiled at the people in the gondolas and then turned her back on the canal and watched the people walking over the bridge.

Meeting the eyes of people as they passed, she wondered what she and Valentine looked like to them. They probably appeared to be a couple, just some more tourists in a tourist infested city on a warm spring night. She pondered how unaware of everything they were, not only of the presence of vampires and demons, but of the impending war.

She wondered if they really were as blind as they appeared.

They wrote stories about demons, had television programs and movies about them. It seemed to be instilled into some cultures. They had folklore about zombies, vampires, and various other ghouls and goblins. She looked at her hand. Even magic was something they dreamt of having. People became vampire hunters, and witches were magically inclined humans. It meant that at least some of them knew demons were real.