The Immortal Greek (6 page)

“Ravenna lives nearby. I’ll give you her address as well.”

Turning on his cell phone, Alexander memorized both her phone number and her address as Samuel gave them to him. Then he headed toward the shower to soothe his muscles. The lack of sleep from the night before wasn’t a problem. He was used to functioning solely on power naps, espresso, tea, and a few meals when he remembered to eat. Like any immortal, half an hour under the sun and he was good to go. He didn’t need much more to be alert and operative, but he felt tense at the idea of having to face a bunch of people he didn’t like in the company of a woman who clearly detested him. Maybe he could go out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable too. He could always mention what he would like to do with her. Silk ties had made an appearance in the detailed scenes he had been creating in his mind since the moment he met her.

He let the water run until it scorched his skin, then sat on the built-in reclining bench and breathed in and out the hot vapors mixed with the eucalyptus oils being sprayed into the shower stall. He took his time to relax, mentally preparing to spend the day in unpleasant business. He conjured the enforcer inside the shower, languidly lying on the tiled bench, her long, black hair trailing down toward the floor, her dark eyes semi-closed, her pink lips parted in a moan, the strand of pearls between her breasts, and her arms, one over her head, the other resting just under her belly button, her legs united and following the contour of the bench as a modern-day siren. The tension in his body increased and he sighed, but he didn’t let go of the image.

Several minutes later, he stepped back into his master bedroom and chose his ensemble for the day: the lightest hue of blue for his shirt, a pair of dark blue jeans, custom-made charcoal gray leather shoes, and a pair of sleek sunglasses resting on his blond hair. He drank a cup of espresso as he passed through the kitchen on the first floor, thanked Marta, who told him he looked handsome, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Tell Pietro not to wait for me. I’ll be back late tonight.” He grabbed a croissant Marta had just taken out of the oven and headed down to the garage.

****

Ravenna sipped from the stemmed glass of red she had poured for herself. Once the water filled the tub and she had selected the salts for her bath, she realized something was still missing from the picture. The fact it was morning didn’t detract from her need for wine.

Now, her head above the hot water, her reader safely strapped on the bath tray she had bought from some airplane catalogue or another—she travelled so much for her job memories were blurred or maybe the wine was already effecting her. She wasn’t a drinker, but once in a while she indulged her palate with expensive reds.

Knowingly or not—it didn’t matter—Samuel had dumped a world of grief on her. She’d been wrong twice when she thought she knew why the angel had assigned her to that job. Her abilities and Drako’s friendship to Samuel hadn’t had any weight in the liaison’s decision to call her. The dead boy, Sigmund Stross, of the famous Stross family, one of the most influential among the immortal community, had been one of Tommaso’s closest friends. She had never met the boy—at the time of Tommaso’s death, they had been estranged—but she knew of Sigmund and his accolade. She had never wanted to meet Sigmund, even though he had written to her asking to talk after Tommaso committed suicide. At first, she had wanted to lay the blame of her brother’s death on Sigmund. Later, she deduced Tommaso had been murdered. She hadn’t seen her brother for several decades and just as they had reconciled, she lost him in such a senseless way. She felt guilty and angry at the whole world for her loss. She had met Karl soon after and the handsomely dark immortal seemed to pull her from her darkness at just the right time.

She wished she had been nicer to her fiancé earlier, but what was done was done. When Karl—the man she had been exclusive with for the better part of sixty years—had leaned over to kiss her, she had seen someone else before her eyes. She had seen Alexander Drako and almost said his name out loud. Hence the need for her most expensive red in the middle of the morning.

Soft steps resonated through the kitchen. Karl must have come back. She wasn’t happy at the idea of having to confront him again, but she understood one talk wasn’t enough for him. With a sigh, she put the red on the bath tray next to her reader, open to the same page for the last forty-five minutes, and pushed the tray on its rail to the other side of the tub. Careful not to spill water everywhere, she reached for the terry robe she had hung on the wall hook.

By habit, she kept her body angled so she could see the door and caught a glimpse of a dark, scurrying shadow. Senses on full alert, she exited the tub as she let go of the robe. In complete silence, the figure covered in black came running into the bathroom and pushed her against the edge of the tub. Her knees buckled and she steadied herself by grabbing the hook over her head, but the hook couldn’t hold her weight and pulled out of the wall. As she fell backward, she still tried to defend herself from her assailant’s blows by raising her arms before him. She stopped an upper jab, but a kick hit her in her chest, making her lose control of her body. She hit her head against the back wall as she sank into the tub, water splashing over the edge and splattering like shattered glass on the floor. The assailant’s hands were at her throat and she was pushed down until her face was under water.

While still fighting to free herself, she slowed her breathing and regulated her heartbeats so she wouldn’t need air for at least half an hour. Her assailant was paranormal. She wouldn’t have had any problem fighting off a man, but this one had strength that rivaled hers, therefore he couldn’t be human and knew he wouldn’t kill her by just keeping her head under water. She thrashed, bucked, and kicked, and felt the man release his hold. One of his hands left her throat and she pushed herself up with the intention of head-butting him, when she felt a stabbing prick on her hipbone.

The man suddenly let her go and she was back in the tub, her legs dangling over the ceramic edge, dizziness possessing her at an alarming rate. Her eyes went down to her right hip, where a thin rivulet of blood marred the water, but her vision was blurred. In a last effort, she propelled herself out of the tub to unbalance the man.

****

On his way to the club on the Appian Way, Alexander called Ravenna several times, but she never answered. He informed Samuel he had done his best, then kept driving to the club where he had his breakfast and waited for anyone on the angel’s list to show up. As he had anticipated, the first to arrive had been one of the most powerful men in the paranormal scene, Lucius Seneca Quintilius, one of the few werewolves who had business with the Immortal Council, the Vampire Nation, and the rest of the paranormal tribes. The Were Nation tended to be secluded from the other species, but Quintilius managed to make everybody happy by sharing a good portion of his fortune with the rest of the paranormals. He also had dealings within the human realm. In almost three thousand years, he had accumulated so much he could afford to be magnanimous.

“I heard you had quite the eventful night.” Quintilius had made a beeline toward Alexander as soon as he stepped inside the club’s breakfast nook and saw him.

Alexander pulled a chair out for the massive werewolf. “Not as fun as you think it was.” He had counted on the rumor mill to work for him. It made asking difficult questions easier.

“My nephew told me otherwise.” Quintilius took the chair, opened the last buttons on the jacket of his suit, then sat and raised his hand to let the hovering waiter know he was ready to order. “What are you having?” He gave Alexander’s plate a mildly interested look.

“Fresh fruit.” He brought his fork to his mouth and ate a small cube of watermelon.

“The usual for me.” He dismissed the waiter with a flick of his fingers. “So, I heard the Stross boy committed suicide. Is it true?”

Alexander nodded.

Quintilius shook his head. “I don’t understand this immortal fixation with death.”

“Me neither.” Alexander put down the fork and sipped from his glass of sparkling water. “The Immortal Death is so difficult to acquire it takes true determination to go after it.”

Quintilius’s eyes lit in interest. “Yes, I heard the potion takes some skill to be put together.”

Alexander wetted his lips with another sip from his glass. “The ingredients are not what you would find in your spice rack.”

Meanwhile, two waiters had arrived with the werewolf’s breakfast. Soon, every space on the table had been filled with plates of cold meats, boiled eggs, fish, purple figs, and a whole loaf of bread. “Its production must be a dangerous, but lucrative business.” He gestured for Alexander to take a bite of anything he wanted from his smorgasbord, and Alexander politely declined. Showing impeccable manners, Quintilius took fork and knife, cut a piece of thin prosciutto, and paired it with a slice of bread and a plump fig. He closed his eyes as the morsel disappeared inside his mouth, then reopened them a moment later to look intently at Alexander. “It could also be political.”

Alexander made a
hmm
sound, as if he were pondering that idea, and sipped the rest of the water. He dabbed his lips with the white linen napkin, then folded and placed it on the table by his half-finished fruit salad. “Well, I’m sure the Council will look into that.”

Quintilius tilted his head, a small smile showing around his white canines. “You know what they say, never leave any stone unturned.” He took a piece of bread and dipped it in the honey bowl. “Or, as
I
say, never fail to look for the ones who have the most to gain in any situation.”

Alexander kept the conversation going a few minutes longer, then looked at his Rolex and excused himself. He had already heard what he needed and there wasn’t any need to visit the other clubs. Quintilius’s words had been both a tip and a warning. The werewolf never engaged in idle chat.

On his way back to the valet stand, he called Samuel and reported the conversation he had just had. The morning had been very productive so far and he still had a full day ahead. The sun was shining bright in the blue, cloudless sky; the temperature was perfect, and a gentle breeze ruffled his blond curls. With any luck, the whole mess would be entirely in the hands of the Council from now on, and he would be exonerated from the investigation given his usefulness had reached its limit. When the young, pimpled valet drove his car to the club’s entry, Alexander tipped the boy handsomely.

From the car, he automatically called Marcus to invite him to a tennis match, only to remember at the fourth ring his friend was sleeping in his wife’s tender embrace. Next, he tried to reach Ophelia, who answered immediately, but only to wish him several scenarios of violent deaths in excruciating details. He understood she was nursing a hangover even though he couldn’t remember her drinking that much the night before. It must have happened after she had left his party.

Alexander felt restless. He was awake, dressed, and with nothing to do on such a splendid day. The thought that he was done with the investigation came back, and with it the knowledge that his dealing with the enforcer had also come to an end, and without thinking, he called her. The call went to the answering machine right away. He exited the club and drove along the Appian Way for fifteen minutes, breathing in the pine-scented air and enjoying the sight of the secular trees and the Roman ruins framing the road. Then he turned right, parked on a private street, and searched on his phone for Ravenna Del Sarto’s address. She was only a few minutes away from his current location, and he thought it would be a good idea to stop by and ask her if she wanted to grab a bite for lunch so they could talk about his conversation with the werewolf. He had been miffed by the way she had left Samuel’s office earlier that morning. If her abrupt departure had been caused by his behavior, he felt the need to apologize to her before parting ways. The ongoing movie playing in his mind, with Ravenna Del Sarto starring mostly naked in it, had nothing to do with his actions.

After giving himself all the explanations he needed for wanting to see the enforcer, Alexander reached her home three minutes later. He parked at the corner of her building, a few meters from a big pine tree that, although majestic and giving plenty of shade, would also cover his beloved Mercedes in pine needles and scented resin almost impossible to remove from its bodywork. Once he raised the top and secured the car, he walked to the staircase leading to the main entrance. He looked up at the façade of the building and found it suited Ravenna perfectly. The two-story house was simple, but elegant. From the subtle decoration over the door and windows, he deduced it had been built soon after World War I. The two narrow balconies jutting out from the arched, central windows dominating the façade were filled with terracotta pots full of white roses.

Feeling more excited than he had been to see a woman in a long time and surprised by it, Alexander climbed the steps, but hesitated before ringing the doorbell. He shook his head and inwardly laughed at his reaction. When he went to push his finger into the doorbell button, he realized the door was ajar. He pushed it open, but didn’t pass the doorstep.

“Miss Del Sarto?” Nobody answered. He gave a look inside. Nothing seemed out of place, but somehow she didn’t seem the kind of women who would leave her door open and unattended. He called her name a second time. He thought he heard a scuffle coming from inside the house. Uncertain, he walked a few steps toward the direction of the sound. He passed a modern-looking kitchen where someone had attempted and failed to prepare a meal. The place was untidy and that too didn’t look right given the little he had seen of Ravenna.

A scream pierced the silence and Alexander ran toward the hallway opening to the left of the kitchen. He passed an archway and followed a second scream that led him inside what must have been her bedroom and to the bathroom where she was fighting a black-clad figure.

For a moment, Ravenna thought she was hallucinating. She was fighting, half-unconscious, when Alexander Drako sprung into her bathroom and attacked her assailant. Utterly confused, she fell to her knees, unable to support her weight anymore. Somehow, she was out of the tub. She couldn’t remember how and when that had happened.

She watched as Drako locked his right arm around the man’s throat and pushed against his windpipe, while at the same time dragging him away from her. The man tried to free himself, but Drako redoubled his effort and pulled him all the way out of the bathroom. Ravenna felt her limbs becoming heavier until it was hard for her to keep her eyelids open. From the corner where she had fallen, she saw the fight become more violent, but Drako used his fists skillfully until he had the attacker on his knees, blood gushing all over his black uniform.

“Where can I find something to tie him up with?” Drako called toward her, but it took her a few seconds before she could understand what he had meant by it. “Miss Del Sarto?”

In a sudden burst of lucidity, she remembered her nudity and found his formality comic.

Drako swore in Greek. “Ravenna, are you okay?” When she didn’t answer, he raised the assailant by his collar and shook him. “What did you do to her?”

The man must have given him an answer Drako didn’t like because he hit him so hard the man’s head bounced several times. Then Drako repeated his question. The assailant shook violently, then slumped between Drako’s hands.

With the last of her strength, Ravenna gave one last look at the unfolding scene while trying to raise her hands to cover her breasts.

Drako checked the man’s pulse, swore again, and let the body fall to the floor with a thud. “Damned coward.” He was at her side a blink of an eye later, his face a worried mask. “Ravenna, can you hear me?”

She wanted to nod, but wasn’t sure she could. He had called her by her name.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’m calling Samuel right now.”

She knew from the reflection off the door mirror he was stroking her shoulders, but couldn’t feel the pressure of his hands on her skin. He left her line of sight for a moment, then reappeared with the white terry robe dangling before her eyes. He draped her with the robe, gently adjusting her limbs to cover her.

“Help is coming.” He reached his arm around her back and tried to help her get up, but she kept sliding down. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.” He took her in his arms and cradled her to his chest, then carried her out of the bathroom.

She heard him make a few phone calls. He said something to her as well, but she was too tired to answer.

****

Alexander looked down at Ravenna nestled in his arms. She looked peaceful, almost childlike. The thought made him smile. Ravenna Del Sarto was a formidable woman and would have probably punched him if he ever told her she looked like a child. She was definitely going to punch him as soon as she regained consciousness and realized she had lain scantily clothed on his lap. He rearranged the lapels of the terry robe to fully cover her chest.

When he called Samuel, the angel told him to wait for the para unit to arrive and that it would take a few minutes. He had snarled back at Samuel to send them over yesterday, surprising both the angel and himself. Now, the adrenaline rush was ebbing and he shook as if he were running a fever. On unsteady legs, he rose from the couch where he had sat to take a breather, then carried Ravenna to her bed. When he bent to his knees to lower her on the white coverlet, she moved against his chest, burrowing closer to him. He lowered both of them to the bed and laid her on its center, then peeled away one side of the bedding to cover her with it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s feet and decided he had to remove the body from the bedroom. Alexander grabbed the man by his ankles and dumped him in the middle of the kitchen, where he furiously paced, waiting for the cavalry to show up.

The para unit and Samuel arrived a few minutes later. While the doctor and the nurse examined Ravenna, Alexander took Samuel to see the body. “My guess is he bit a poison capsule.”

“I’m sure the autopsy will confirm that.” Samuel crouched by the dark figure and removed the ski mask covering his face. Then he turned on a recorder similar to the one Ravenna had used and gave the man a good look. “Immortal. Approximate human age between thirty and thirty-five. Average height and build. Sudden, unexplained death. Possible cause, poison, self-administered.” He then rose and headed to one of the kitchen counters where he opened and closed several drawers before finding a wooden spatula. He strolled back to the body, then used the flat end of the spatula to raise the dead’s lips, first the upper lip, then the lower. “Scratch that. Sure cause of death, self-ingestion of poison.” He gestured for Alexander to step closer and lowered the man’s lower lip to show him the dark brown stain coloring his gums and the inside of his lip. “He must have truly feared his employer’s anger.”

Alexander straightened his legs then hugged himself, rocking on his heels. “Why the attack on Ravenna?” He caught himself one word too late. “Why Miss Del Sarto?”

Samuel looked at him from under his lashes. “Don’t know yet.” He stood and went to the counter and rummaged through the drawers again, found a box with transparent freezer bags, and dropped the spatula inside one of them.

Alexander followed him and leaned on the counter. “She was distraught back at your office. Was she just upset about having to work with me?”

“Well, I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled about that.” Samuel moved to the sink and washed his hands with soap and water, then grabbed a towel from a hook and dried them.

Alexander raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s disappointing.”

The angel moved about the kitchen as if it were his home. He reached for the moka sitting on the higher shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge, then grabbed the coffee beans can sitting on the counter top. “Would you like some coffee while we wait for the doctor to finish?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” Alexander sat at the kitchen table. For some reason, he didn’t like that Samuel was familiar with her place.

Samuel poured a good handful of coffee beans into the coffee grinder and let it run until the whole kitchen smelled of freshly roasted coffee. He brought the container with the ground beans to his nose and breathed in with great gusto.

“Why do you think the doctor is taking so long?” Alexander wanted to check on what they were doing to Ravenna.

“Relax. She’s in very good hands. The doctor knows her well.” Samuel fixed the moka and turned on the smaller burner on the gas stove.

“Is she often in danger?”

Samuel turned to face him and opened his arms to the side. “She’s an enforcer. And why the interest?”

Alexander shrugged. “Just to make conversation.” He wanted to ask several questions, but resigned himself to look outside the window and let his mind wander to the recent events that had disrupted his usually easy life.

When Alexander looked back inside the kitchen, Samuel held a cup of fuming coffee over a saucer and appeared deep in thought.

“She was upset in my office,” the angel said.

Alexander straightened on the chair.

Samuel brought the cup to his lips and drank the coffee in one draw, then put cup and saucer in the sink and washed them. “She has a personal reason to investigate Immortal Death’s suicides. Her brother was one of the first opting out of immortality using the potion.”

The doctor and the nurse chose that moment to come out of Ravenna’s bedroom.

“How is she?” Alexander asked, once again realizing a moment too late how that sounded.

Samuel echoed his question a fraction later and gave him a raised eyebrow.

“She’s fine. As suspected, she was poisoned. We had to flush the poison from her system and the practice is rather taxing. She needs to drink small sips of water every half hour or so.” The doctor, a gentleman in his fifties whom Alexander had never met before, talked in a low monotone, gesticulating with his gloved hands.

“Do you know what kind of poison she was injected with?” Samuel had left his chair and was now towering over the doctor, who had moved to check on the body lying on the kitchen floor.

The doctor opened the dead’s mouth as Samuel had already done. “The same the assailant died from, but in a smaller percentage. A paralyzing mixture. Possibly curare. My guess is that he didn’t mean to kill her right away.”

“But she will be okay. There won’t be complications.” Alexander inched closer to the bricked archway, wanting to see with his own eyes that she really was fine.

“We pumped her stomach and it hadn’t passed enough time for the poison to do any serious damage. So, yes, my professional opinion is that she will recuperate from this ordeal. She’s a strong woman. She’s been in worse situations and she kicked back in no time.” On his way out, the doctor passed by Alexander and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

Samuel walked the doctor and the nurse to the door, then came back, and looked at Alexander with a grin on his face. “I’m assigning a detail to look after her tonight.”

“I can stay.” Alexander realized, yet another time, he had spoken too fast, but the words were out.

Samuel’s grin became more pronounced, a strange sight on the fallen angel’s usually composed face. “I’m sure you have things to do. Parties to attend. Women to ravage.”

Alexander inwardly groaned. His friend could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. “I won’t leave her alone.”

Samuel stepped forward, his serious self back. “Be careful. She’s different.”

“And you would know because?” Alexander couldn’t help but raise his voice.

The angel sighed and shook his head. “Because we are good friends.”

Alexander wanted Samuel gone.

“I’ll send the detail anyway. They’ll be outside.” Samuel tipped his head and turned to leave.

Alexander didn’t wait for his friend to close the door behind him and headed straight to Ravenna’s bedroom. She was lying in the middle of her big bed, over the sheets, sleeping. The coverlet he had covered her with was gone. Her head rested high on two pillows, and her hair fanned all over the white linens. The nurse had changed her because she was wearing black silk pajamas, one of those sets resembling a man’s shirt and matching pants. Pearls of sweat crowned her forehead. He leaned over her and wiped her cold, clammy skin with the palm of his right hand.

Looking around the room, he saw the armoire in the corner. He opened it and found a quilt to wrap her with. Her eyes moved fast under her eyelids as if she were in the middle of a dream. He hoped it was a good dream and brushed her cheek with his fingers.

Alexander stepped back and looked at the woman who had filled his mind with all sort of thoughts. And all had happened in less than twenty-four hours. “You must be part-siren. There’s no other explanation.” He chuckled at his own flight of fancy. “I can have any woman in Rome and I’m here playing nurse to a sleeping beauty.” Remembering his duty, he walked to the kitchen where he filled a pitcher with fresh water, looked for a glass and linen napkin, and a few minutes later was back by her side.

He put the pitcher and the glass on the nightstand, then dipped one corner of the napkin in the water. “Let’s see if you like this.” He lowered a knee on the bed and leaned closer to pass the soaked fabric over her lips. She softly moaned and he took that as her assent, and gently stroked her eyelids and forehead with the linen. When she parted her lips ever so slightly and tilted her head up, he reached under her neck and raised her to let her drink a few sips from the glass.

Reluctantly, he lowered her back to the bed, then retreated to the padded armchair on the side. He wanted to lie with her and wrap her in his embrace instead of the quilt, but it would be highly inappropriate given the fact they were nearly strangers. He pinched the arch of his nose and pushed his head to the headrest behind, his eyes staring at the white ceiling.

“This wasn’t one of my smartest ideas.” He sighed, then tried to make himself comfortable on the chair, but he was a tall, restless man, and that chair was his enemy at the moment. He looked out the window; the sun was lower on the horizon, casting long shadows inside the room. His Rolex confirmed it was still afternoon, and he had the whole night ahead of him. To his left, French doors opened into a small studio. He checked that Ravenna was still peacefully sleeping, then entered the studio.

Despite all the obvious differences, the room reminded him of the coziness of his alcove. A modern desk, aluminum with a black top, faced an oval window overlooking the pine trees outside and the faraway Roman cityscape. A matching chair with a tubular frame was packed under the desk. On the opposite wall from the door, two bookshelves were crammed with books. In fact, as he surveyed the whole space, books were everywhere. On the mosaic floor. On the windowsill. On the chair under the desk. Over the desk. On the shelf right over the door frame. The French doors, their glass panels covered by two white curtains fitting inside the frame, couldn’t be closed because books were in the way. He smiled. Ravenna’s sancta sanctorum was rather messy.

“Let’s see. What do you like to read?” A few minutes later, he had discovered that Ravenna Del Sarto, the enforcer with the capital
E
, had a penchant for tragic love stories and was a history buff. He was also pleased to find several books about Ancient Greek history and mythology. He found a title regarding life in Florence at the time Ravenna had been born, and after leafing through it, he saw the notes written on the margins. He exited her studio and took the book with him.

She stirred and mumbled a few words. He thought he heard her calling out names, but couldn’t be sure. A moment later, she was calm again. He gave her a few sips of water, then sat on the chair and opened the book. Back during the Renaissance in Italy, the same time she had started her life as an infant in one of the most prestigious families in Florence, he had been in Rome, living at the court of Pope Borgia. He taught Greek and Latin to the pope’s
nephews
, when Ravenna had been learning to walk.