From Hell with Love (4 page)

“He wasn’t lying, Nico.  Until he breathes his last, Räum can still attack,” Cadmus said as he walked past his friend.  Niccolo shook his head before crossing his arms.

“I… still can’t believe this,” Niccolo said while the reaper stood beside him.

“That he went feral?” Cadmus asked, preoccupied with the same thought.

“Yeah, it’s just…why is this happening?  Why is it all happening now?  Räum held power and dignity for more than a million years and Crocell had to cut him down for turning into a glorified crow.  What is going on?” Niccolo asked, but he knew that his friend did not have the answer. 

“It’s not our place to know,” Cadmus said, seeming to read his friend’s mind.  “As Horsemen, we do what we’re told.  We live with it.”  As he said the words, Cadmus realized he was just trying to convince himself, but that did not stop him from performing his duties.  Cadmus walked toward the dying beast and lowered his scythe, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves.  Reaping was never a pleasant experience, and he had no idea what he could expect from Räum’s soul.

The Horseman of Death brought his blade across the feral demon, seeing the blade flicker into a blue ghost of itself as it cut through Räum’s spiritual essence.  Almost immediately, hidden thoughts and aspirations, emotions and fears flooded into Cadmus’ mind, causing the Horseman to reel away from the corpse.  Visions tore through his head while Räum’s voice screamed at him, threatening to shatter his mind.

Cadmus had been the avatar of death for seven hundred years and he had been trained to take in the minds of his victims.  He had been forced to kill former humans and lesser demons, each experience more harrowing than the last.  There was a part of Cadmus that thought he was prepared for this.

Räum’s mind was like reaping ten thousand souls at once.  Cadmus retched as reality swam about him, as he heard the whispers of millions of conversations and felt the pain of a fallen angel.  For a moment he almost felt the tranquility of Heaven, but then his mind was shunted toward the present.  Even though he could not feel Niccolo’s hand on his shoulder, the contact was enough to bring Cadmus back to the memory of Räum’s final struggle with Crocell.  He could feel the fallen angel’s disgust with himself as he fought his brother; Cadmus could feel his sadness as he struck out at the slayer and sunk his nails into the blue demon’s flesh.

“Oh no,” Cadmus said as the present started to burn away, as he realized who Räum had been during his life.  Räum and Amon had created the prophecies, detailing how the Apocalypse would begin and creating their own version of the Book of Revelations.   Cadmus could only shudder as he realized that he was about to inherit something beyond his understanding.

He lost consciousness as the future claimed his mind.

***

Niccolo watched his friend take turns curling into himself and lashing out, the reaping taking complete control of his body.  He could not help Cadmus as he writhed and shook in the throes of pain and emotion, but eventually Niccolo jumped forward and held the reaper’s shoulder in an effort to stop the Horseman from hurting himself.  When Cadmus slumped to the ground, Niccolo crouched over him and was disturbed by what he saw.

Cadmus’ grey irises had vanished, blue energy pouring out of his eyes, and the avatar of death was murmuring nonsense.  Niccolo had heard the dialect only a few times since he had fallen to Hell, but he knew that it was the original angelic language.  After a few moments of speaking the uncorrupted dialect, Cadmus closed his eyes and passed out. 

“Cadmus! 
Cadmus
!” Niccolo shouted while shaking the Horseman’s unconscious body, but only after half a minute did Cadmus stir.  The Horseman was even more pale than usual, and when his eyelids fluttered open, he was finally able to see Niccolo’s worried face.  As Cadmus lifted himself up, his friend helping him along the way, he tried to make sense of the things he had just seen.  He did not know how reliable Räum’s prophecies could be, but what he saw was enough to make him sick.  The horrible scene flashed through his mind again, the disorientation causing him to turn over and retch once more.

“Are you alright?” Niccolo asked, rubbing his friend’s back.  He had never seen a reaping have this kind of effect on the Horseman. 

“No, no, I’m not.  Nico…” Cadmus said before turning to his young friend, despair etched on his face.  

“Someone just… someone is going to murder Lucifer.”

Chapter 2: Past - Sons of Firenze

“Come back here, you rat!”

Niccolo opened his eyes and felt the sun’s warmth on his face, the chaotic sounds of the street below assaulting his eardrums.  The merchant’s son had fallen asleep on the roof of his father’s estate and his back promised aches and pains for the rest of the day.  When he turned over, Niccolo felt like his mind was covered in mud, his thoughts sluggish and murky.  He wondered how that had come to pass, but then he saw the empty wine skin and the few dark stains on the roof which told of the night before.

Niccolo groaned as he realized what had occurred.  His friend Marco had convinced him to go out on the town and revel in being the only heir of Carlo Vespucci da Firenze, since Niccolo would no longer have that distinction in just a month.  Niccolo smiled as he thought about his father’s new family, but it retreated once his mind fell to memories of his mother. 

The young man pawed at his chest to find the cross hanging there and then lifted it to his lips, kissing the warm metal.  After a moment’s prayer for the woman that had raised him, Niccolo picked himself up and then walked over to the stairs into the house.  He had never been one for prayer, but his mother’s faith was one of her dominating features.  It felt appropriate to honor her piety since it allowed Niccolo to fool himself into thinking that she still existed, even if it was just in his mind and in his wishes.

Despite his fondness for his departed mother, Niccolo actually liked Allegra, Carlo’s soon-to-be wife, as she had quite the sense of humor and was not particularly awful to look at.  The young merchant’s son could appreciate beauty in a woman, even if he would never be allowed to indulge in a more intimate setting with the blonde woman from the North.  As he walked toward the stairs leading down from the roof, hazy memories of Marco’s jests came back to Niccolo.  He laughed when a vision came to his mind, his friend holding bags of grain under his tunic to imitate Allegra’s natural endowments.

As the memories started to filter into Niccolo’s consciousness, he became uneasy.  He cursed himself for overindulging on the wine and tapped the side of his head as he walked down the stairs.  There was something important that was just out of reach, and when he passed one of the servants, a horrible realization occurred.

The merchant’s son ran out of the front door in a rush, raising quite the alarm among the servants.

“Young master, where are you going?” one of the maids shouted, but Niccolo did not have time to talk with the spinster.  He almost knocked over a crate of oranges as he flew down the streets, and he only just missed colliding with a dog by jumping over a barrel.  It was mid-morning in Firenze, so all the streets were packed with merchants and customers trying to get the best deals and sell their wares. 

Niccolo turned into a side street in an effort to avoid the congestion and had to duck to avoid getting hit by clotheslines stretched across his path.  After a few twists and turns of the serpentine alleyway, Niccolo found himself in an open square.

“Nico?  What’s the rush?” asked one of the vendors selling his wares as Niccolo sprinted across the marketplace.

“Can’t talk now, Arturo!  I have to do undo a mistake I don’t remember!” Niccolo said with a wicked smile as he ran past the merchant, who was selling all kinds of cloth and thread from scratchy plain linens to expensive silks.

“Nico, you’re too much trouble!  Tell your father I’ll get the shipment to him later,” Arturo shouted as he looked back down at his stall.  Niccolo only threw up a hand and glanced backward before waving.

“You’ll probably see him first!” he shouted, turning back just in time to see a rickety cart holding bags of wheat getting pushed in front of him.  He skidded to a halt, still bumping into the cart, but he was able to maneuver around after a second.

“Outta the way, kid!” commanded the burly man holding onto the handles, but Niccolo was already off and down another alley.

After ten more minutes of running, Niccolo finally found his way to the quiet Gherardini estate situated across town from his own.  He gathered his breath and then looked around for some makeshift present he could make for his lady, but figured that she would see right through the ruse.  As a result, Niccolo just walked around the gate and to the back of the house, sighing as he looked at the old tree nearby.

The merchant’s son scaled the tree just like he had so many times in the past and was soon right outside the window of the second floor.  Due to the heat of the summer sun, the window had been left open, which caused Niccolo to smile.  He crouched, gathering his strength, and then leapt for the opening.  His fingers wrapped around the edge of the windowsill, which was enough for the man to pull himself into the room and land on his ass.

“You’re allowed to use the front door, Nico,” a harsh voice came from above him.  Niccolo looked up and found himself staring at the hard cheekbones and strong jaw of Antonio Gherardini.  Having been caught red-handed, Niccolo was put into quite the position.

“I’m guessing you’ve climbed through many windows in your day, Master Gherardini.  I’m sure you know how fun it is…” he said, his face drawn into a wicked smile.  After a moment, Antonio’s face broke into a slight smile of his own.

“It certainly is, but I also remember what happened after I climbed through my windows.  As much as I like you, young Vespucci, my daughter will keep her innocence.  You just have to wait,” Gherardini said before heading toward the stairwell.  “She’s in her room.  If I hear anything, Nico, your father will not be able to save you.”

“He will not have to, Master Gherardini, I promise,” Niccolo said, lying easily to the merchant.  It was the first skill Niccolo had learned in his apprenticeship to his own father, who was more than adept at bending the truth.  After seeing Antonio depart, Niccolo walked over to the room at the end of the hallway.  He knocked, not caring if anyone else heard.  At this point he had already been caught.

“Who is it?” a mid-ranged, feminine voice asked from the other side of the door.

“A curious party,” Niccolo said, trying to keep his voice as charming as possible.  It was only a few seconds before the door opened up with some force, the wind rustling against Niccolo’s clothing, though he did not notice.  The only thing he was able to observe was the beautiful girl on the other side of the threshold, her dark hair falling loosely past her olive-skinned shoulder.

“What are you doing out in the open, Nico?” the girl asked, grabbing the young man’s shoulder and pulling him into the room before shutting it, standing against the frame as if to protect him from enemies.

“It’s fine, Camilla, your father already caught me as I came in the window.  I just had to promise him that you would maintain your innocence,” Niccolo said with a wink, but the girl sighed at his actions.

“Well, it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” she said before Niccolo walked up to her, standing close enough to feel the heat coming from her body.  She was wearing a light dress, the summer air too much for bundles of clothing.  Niccolo just wanted to wrap his arms around her and sink his fingers into her skin, but he held off his urges for the moment.

“Everyone knows that you and I have been having our fun, Camilla.  It’s only a matter of time before our fathers give up their stubbornness and arrive at a reasonable compromise.  It’s just business at this point,” the merchant’s son said before caressing Camilla’s face with his left hand.  She looked up at him and Niccolo was drawn into her dark, brown eyes, wanting to do much more than caress her face.

“I know, but we must keep some appearances, at least.  I want to wear white at the wedding.  Do you want to make a liar out of me?” she asked before slipping out of his grasp and walking to her own window. 

“I guess we shall maintain some semblance of dignity, my love.  Now, I have something to ask you,” he led on, which caused the girl to look at him over her shoulder.

“About tonight?” she asked, but Niccolo shook her head.

“No, no, the wedding will be fine.  I’m sure you will be more beautiful than my father’s new wife.  No, this is about… last night.”  He hesitated before saying the words, drawing closer to the girl who was looking at him with skepticism.  It was very important he did not let her on to his intentions.

“And what about it, young Vespucci?” she asked.  “Did someone drink too much wine?”

“Perhaps, my love, perhaps,” he said before closing his hand around hers and bringing it to his lips.  “I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what we discussed last night.”

“What we discussed?” Camilla asked, raising her brow and adopting an inquisitive stance.

“Yes.”

“You were only here for a few moments before you and Marco ran away, obviously celebrating some sort of devil’s game,” she said, which allowed Niccolo to act defensive.

“It was my last day as the only child of Carlo Vespucci da Firenze!  We had to do
something
,” he said, playing at being offended.

“Of course, of course, this is what normal sons do when their fathers remarry,” Camilla said before withdrawing her hand and then crossing her arms in front of her.  Niccolo did his best to ignore the cleavage presented him, even if the woman’s curves did not match his father’s soon-to-be wife.

“I should think so,” he said, struggling to maintain eye contact, “but I would like to know some of the other details of our conversation.”  Camilla glared at him, trying to figure out his game, but eventually sighed and sat down on her bed.

“Like I said, you weren’t here for very long.  You and Marco decided to wake up the neighbors, and my father, by shouting outside my window.  You tried to climb up the tree but I convinced you out of it.  Mostly…mostly you said nice things,” she said with a smile, which brought confidence to the merchant’s son.