The Demoness of Waking Dreams (33 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

L
uciana dragged her sacrifice toward her destination. This time, it was not to the Redentore Church. On landing at the airport in Venice, she commandeered a boat and drove out to the nearby island of Murano.

To the place she had sworn she would never come.

To the place she knew she could finish off the sacrifice, once and for all.

“I’m taking you somewhere very special,” she told Jude as she steered the boat. “We’re going to visit a
fornace,
a glassblowing factory. You’re going to get an exclusive opportunity to experience the glassworks as no other tourist has before.”

Jude continued to stare blankly into space, not registering their surroundings or her words. She slowed as she approached the island, winding the boat through the canals until she reached the building she was looking for, where she pulled up and tethered the boat. She led him out onto the
fondamenta,
guiding him toward the
fornace.

Like the glass gallery in the
Rio Tera dei Assassini,
the factory had a storefront where products were sold to tourists. Rows of glassware stood in the darkness. Much like the gallery at this time of night, it was totally quiet.

“I have always hated this factory just as much as I hate the gallery,” she said, shuddering as she tugged Jude through the storefront. She led him to a pair of large iron doors, framed by an archway of colorful mosaic tile. She knocked, and a burly Gatekeeper hauled one of the doors open just an inch.

“Yes?” he growled, peering through the crack.

“I need to speak to the maestro,” she announced. “Tell him Luciana Rossetti is here.”

The master glassblower appeared in the doorway a moment later. He was a ruddy-faced man dressed in a heavy apron with spatters of red. He frowned slightly, but bowed and said, “
Baronessa,
what a surprise to see you here. We never thought you would grace us with a visit.”

We never thought you would stoop to enter this place,
was his unspoken message.

Every demon in Venice knew that Luciana Rossetti disliked the heat and the noise of the
fornace.
That she avoided it because of its association with the glass gallery, and with Carlotta. But also, in Luciana’s eyes, the killings that went on here lacked sophistication.

It had nothing to do with the art of glassblowing.

But with the maestro and how his Gatekeepers operated.

I have no choice,
she knew.
I have to finish this task. For Brandon.

“I have a very special guest with me,” she said, ignoring the maestro’s frown and its subtext. “He deserves to have a unique experience of Venice. One I know only you can give him.”

“In that case, please enter,” said the maestro.

“You’ll want to be fully conscious for this,” she said to Jude. Snapping her fingers in front of the human’s face, she brought him out of his mental haze.

He blinked several times, trying to process his surroundings. The maestro towered over them, grinning in anticipation. The Gatekeeper hauled open the iron doors with a great screech, and a sweltering gust of hot air blew through them. Jude wobbled backward a step, knocked off balance by the heat.

And by what he saw inside.

The demoness pushed him through the doorway, into the factory. The raised metal platform on which they stood overlooked the factory floor. Hundreds of Gatekeepers stopped to look up at them. A hive of activity at the ovens froze momentarily as the demons stopped to see who had just come in. Some of them nodded to Luciana, acknowledging her entrance.

Then, as abruptly as the workers had stopped, they returned to their activities.

Some of the Gatekeepers were blowing glass. They stood at the burning ovens with their glowing-hot blowpipes, rods and tongs. Many stood shaping and twisting bubbles of glass into ornate sculptures, vases and stemware.

Others were forging weapons. Making various kinds of swords and knives, they heated the metal in the ovens and pounded it with massive hammers. The ring of the blows echoed in the large space of the factory.

Still other demons were busy burning things. A bloody mass of severed limbs—some animal, some human—stood heaped in the middle of the factory floor in a great pool of blood. A charred smell, the scent of seared flesh, hung in the air.

“In the traditional
fornaci
of Murano, in the ordinary glass factories, the ovens burn twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” the maestro explained. “Human glass masters begin work at six in the morning and stop at four in the afternoon. However, we demon artisans work all hours. Here, the fires are kept burning for many different purposes, as you can see.”

Jude’s eyes went so wide Luciana wondered whether they might pop out of his head.

“Normally, the openings of the ovens are relatively small, only a few feet in circumference. We have modified these ovens somewhat, you’ll notice,” said the maestro.

Large enough to fit a human body. Or several, if need be,
Luciana noted.

“Much of our operations are still in experimental stages,” the maestro said. “We are preparing for what is to come. There is so much yet to accomplish. When it is finished, our humble
fornace
will be one more step toward reconstructing hell on earth.”

Luciana leaned in close to Jude and whispered, “And guess what? You’re going to be a part of it.”

The human screamed. A very bad idea.

Hundreds of eyes swiveled back toward the platform. The demons had been relatively disinterested in the pair’s arrival. But a screaming, terrified human was entirely different. Entirely more interesting.

“Well, now, Jude, it seems you have caught the attention of our hosts,” she told him. “Why don’t you run along and take a closer look?”

She pushed him, and he stumbled down a few stairs toward the factory floor. A few demons came to collect him, and Jude began to struggle, kicking and screaming. He grabbed on to the metal railing of the staircase, but the demons pulled him off and dragged him away.

Good,
she thought.
He deserves to suffer as much as Brandon suffered. Jude deserves the equivalent of three thousand deaths.

“Don’t dispense with him too quickly,” she called to them. “Be creative about it. Your glass creations are beautiful and so distinctive. I’m sure you can apply your inventiveness to this task, too.”

Jude heard her, and screamed again, louder, begging God to save him.

“
He
is not exactly popular with this crowd,
mio amico,
” she called down to Jude. Then she muttered, “This pathetic human is the most you’re getting from me this year,
diavolo.
”

The sound of the iron doors scraping open behind her made her look backward.

Corbin stood in the doorway, his amber eyes glowing with satisfaction. Behind him was Massimo.

“Oh, no,
caro mio,
” the Archdemon said, grinning. “This scrawny little human won’t do the trick. I thought I’d already made that very clear. You should have done your duty when you had the chance,
baronessa.
You were supposed to deliver the angel.
He
will accept nothing less.”

Of course Corbin would come. She had expected it all along. Had known she couldn’t outrun him. Had thought that avenging Brandon’s death would be worth anything she would have to suffer.

But Massimo?

Her once-trusted servant stood behind Corbin with a look of barren anger in his eyes. The ache of his betrayal cut her deeply. She glared back at her former Gatekeeper, silently accusing him.

“I will never deliver Brandon to you, no matter how much you threaten me. No matter what you plan to do to me. I would rather rot in hell for the rest of eternity,” she told them.

“You know what’s in store for you. If you’re not afraid, you should be,” Corbin growled. “I should have known you would never deliver that angel. You’re in love. How sweet. We can all wait for your lover together, darling.”

“He doesn’t know about this place,” she said, thinking back frantically.
I never mentioned it. Did I?

“He’s a smart man. He’ll figure it out,” Corbin laughed. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her face to his so he could press his cheek against hers. “Shall we see?”

* * *

Arriving at Marco Polo Airport, Brandon sprinted down the pier to the line of water taxis waiting to be hired. His best estimate put him forty minutes behind Luciana. There wasn’t a moment to waste.
If it isn’t already too late,
he thought. He was in the middle of engaging one of the drivers when Infusino and Arielle pulled up in a blue-bottomed municipal police boat. In the vessel sat a few other members of the local unit.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Brandon,” Arielle said. “Come with us.”

He glared at her for a long moment. “You must be insane to ask me that. You tortured Luciana.”

“Brandon, I know you feel strongly for her,” said Arielle. “But she is a demoness. She is part of something that could end us all. Not just the Company. Not just angels. But humankind. The world as we know it could disappear forever. We have received information that the demons here in Venice are preparing for something bigger than we had ever imagined. We must deal with Luciana. Tonight.”

In that moment Brandon paused. The question in his mind was,
To whom do I owe allegiance? To Arielle or to Luciana?

To neither,
was the answer.
I owe allegiance to my duty as a protector of humankind.

He got into the boat, needing to see for himself exactly what Arielle was talking about. He could not let Luciana murder a human. Even if that human was a murderer himself.

“Come,” said Infusino. “We must hurry to the Redentore Church.”

“She’s not going to the Redentore Church,” Brandon told them as Infusino started the boat. “She’s going to Murano. To the glass factory that supplies the gallery her sister ran.”

“What? How do you know?” Arielle asked, her intense gaze gleaming.

“Just trust me,” said Brandon.

“I know where the
fornace
is,” Infusino said, then revved the boat into gear.

As they cleaved through the water, Arielle radioed the Venetian unit for backup.

“Why didn’t Luciana take
you
to this
fornace
if she wanted to finish you off?” Arielle asked him as they sped toward their destination.

“Because she never seriously intended to kill me,” Brandon said. “Every attempt she ever made on my life failed miserably, because she could never bring herself to do it. But that’s not the case with Jude.”

Arielle fell silent. She pursed her lips and stared out over the passing lagoon.

Once they reached Murano, Infusino quietly ushered them out of the boat.

“We cannot simply pull up to the front of this factory,” said Infusino. “We must be subtle. There is a back way.”

They disembarked and followed Infusino through a twisting passageway that led to the back of a large, brick building. Cylindrical chimneys billowed smoke into the night sky. Light spilled from the large windows into the darkness around them. From inside came the repeated ringing of metal striking metal, and the flaring roar of burning flames.

Infusino motioned for the rest of the group to stay behind, while he and Brandon crept over to peer through the brightly lit windows.

What Brandon saw there brought him to only one conclusion.

They’re preparing for the End of Days.

Torture instruments. Weapons. Ovens.

Piles of dismembered limbs.

How many bodies were there, he could not even say. The flesh was skinned and bloody, an amalgam of limbs so disfigured it was impossible to tell whether they were human or animal or both.

And Jude.
Trapped in the middle of a horrific scene, with demons all around him, prodding at him with burning-hot tools.

For an instant, a primal urge deep in Brandon’s gut was finally satisfied.

After all this time, my shooter is getting his punishment....

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, willing that thought away.

Forcing himself to remember.

Who I am…what I am....is a Guardian.

Whatever base emotion had swept over him, whatever satisfaction he had momentarily felt at seeing Jude in pain—that was all overridden by the conviction that his role as an angel outweighed everything else. Brandon’s oath to protect humankind was more important than any revenge he could have wished on a miserable person like Jude.