Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) (2 page)

Hollywood, the producers, and directors of DCM, planned for him to become the first heartthrob to appear in the invention of the century, the talking movie. As the thought crossed his mind, he threw his training aside and grimaced bitterly. He wondered what the public’s reaction would be, if they discovered the Armand Gerino was nothing more than a poor immigrant with horrendously broken English, a man solely reliant on his sultry good looks and is graceful stride.

He turned away and closed his eyes, inhaling the smoky air, before stepping into the long corridor behind him. The hall lighting seemed excessively bright as he reopened his eyes, his expression bordering on panic. He had to escape, to vanish from the crowd before his scheduled entrance below stairs.

Art Deco scones glowed around him, casting shadows over lustrous antique furnishings and velvet draperies. The same light illuminated the gloss of his hair into a sheen resembling the color of night, and his equally dark eyes reflected a sadness he barely ever revealed. Purposefully, he headed for the secluded on the hotel’s fifth floor. Potted palm fronds waved in the slight draft he created as he walked by, silent and beckoning fingers appearing to pull him back to the awaiting crowd.

Amado wanted to continue until he couldn't walk anymore, to disappear in the anonymity Chicago offered, leaving every trace of the fictitious alter ego behind him. He longed for the lush hills of home, to the smell of baking bread and his father's voice, and to sip a slightly warm glass of Chianti on a humid summer night. He wanted to see the people who looked at him
for him
.

He pushed through the doors leading to the isolated patio, gloom surrounding him. Sighing, he moved to the edge of the enclosed garden, and peered down to the busy city street. He inhaled the crisp night air into his lungs, frowning. He exhaled slowly before taking a long drink of champagne, finishing the glass. Swallowing, he stared at the faint twinkling of lights far above.

“Excuse me?”

A few feet from him stood a stranger, an individual he’d not seen when he first entered the garden terrace. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in the most up-to-date style of crisp white linen. He didn't wear the typical tuxedo identifying him as a guest at the gala. His suit proclaimed him more of a hotel resident on a much-needed vacation.

Amado blinked. In that insignificant second, the man stood before him, and barely an arm’s length separating them. He saw the pallor of the stranger's skin, and smelled the slight perfume of the pomade he used. Resentfully, he admitted the man possessed the high-quality Hollywood strove for, the perfect Anglo charm and masculinity found appealing by avid cinemagoers. A million thoughts shot through his mind before settling on the obvious.

“I don't ‘ave the power to get you an audition.” He struggled to form the explanation correctly, and knowing he failed miserably. After seven years, learning English was a battle, one he wished he could correct. Thickly accented and broken, he suffered constant humiliation as words escaped him in a distorted stumble.

Self-consciously, he set his empty champagne glass on the ledge. The cool air wafted across his heated cheeks before he cleared his throat. Leisurely, feigning indifference, he heard the man chuckle. It didn’t take much for him to recognize the obvious sarcasm.

“You’re mistaken,” the stranger retorted with a smirk, the action revealing straight and startling white teeth. “I’m not seeking an interview, Gerino.”

“I supposed…”

The stranger’s brows rose as he interrupted, scorn evident in the roguish angle of his chin. “Despite what the denizens of the theater believe of the average man, Hollywood’s pretentious glamor doesn’t appeal to me.”

“
Mi scusi
,” a prickling of unease lifted the fine hairs at his nape, and a chill stiffened his flesh. Amado touched his forefinger and thumb to his chest, his reaction marked by obvious trepidation. “You ‘ave me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but you are…?”

He understood he mangled the pronunciation, particularly when the stranger’s smile tightened further, causing a dimple to develop in his cheek. Formally, the man bowed slightly at the waist, immediately contrite.

“I should apologize, my dear Gerino. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Declan Balthazar.” He straightened and Amado waited for the customary action that followed, but the man didn't extend his hand. Instead, he glared at him with sinister eyes that appeared fathomless in the night, the color indistinguishable.

“You are not lookin’ for ‘ollywood, then ‘ow might I ‘elp you?” Amado managed roughly. His unease grew, and his stomach tightened. He realized there was something peculiar about the new arrival standing before him with casual and elegant ease. “You want autograph,
si
?”

“No,” the chuckle increased, but the sound lacked humor, a lethal and nearly guttural echo obvious in its depths. Apparently unaware of Amado’s unease, Declan Balthazar shrugged as he looked over the actor.

“Then, what are you seeking?”

“I don’t want an autograph, Gerino.” Again, an oddly smug smile tugged at his mouth. “Your name, or any facsimile thereof, doesn’t appeal to me.”

“
Che cosa vuoi
?” Amado’s heartbeat increased, and a coiling of dread spun viciously in his gut.

“What I want is more precious.”

“I do not understand.” Perplexed, Amado’s confusion showed on his expressive face. The man moved slightly back, his slender fingers tracing the stubborn line of his jaw.

“You wound me, Gerino.” Declan’s disturbing eyes glittered. “I come bearing a gift, much as my namesake.”

Amado stilled a wince. Balthazar was a name steeped in history, revered, and respected. Somehow, he sensed this man was supremely different from the benevolent wise man bringing gifts. In fact, his very manner stated he didn’t bring an offering he’d readily welcome.

“Ah, Gerino, I wouldn’t be so quick to thrust my proposal aside,” the man soothed falsely before leaning in close. “Are you aware of what’s in store for you, my dear Hollywood hero?”

The question struck Amado speechless.

“Hollywood is a cruel mistress, my man.” Balthazar’s fingers brushed imaginary lint from the sleeve of his spotless jacket as he straightened. “Have you not listened to the whispers brewing with regard to your sinful town?”

“I ‘ear rumors all the time.” He shrugged indifferently.

“Do you believe I refer to that mess involving you and your wife?” The question made Balthazar laugh outright, the sound scathing as he ran the tip of a finger over his chin. “I’m not interested in tabloid rubbish.”

“I…” Amado paused, his smooth brow furrowing. “Of what do you speak
, signore
?”

“These wonderful new members of the film industry, called
sound technicians
, have plans. These
plans
are nothing more than plots, wicked endeavors to destroy those they despise.” The man retorted with superfluous ease. “There’s a carefully contrived scheme spinning around, speculation of attempts to devastate numerous male actors.”

“Why?” The declaration troubled Amado. “My profession…I bring
fama
an’ jobs to the people!”

“You, little import you are, believe you’re responsible for the careers filling that corrupt little speck of a town?” Declan laughed, the sound a chilling whoosh of breath. “Are you so involved in your screen personality you don’t realize any actor can do the same?”

Amado bristled, but remained silent.

“You have what others do not, yes?”

The comment made him frown. He touched the breast pocket of his coat, feeling the crispness of his divorce papers. “What do you want of me? I ‘ave nothing.”

“You’ve a lot to offer, Gerino, though you don’t think so.” Declan smirked. “I look at you and I see a handsome man. I’ve witnessed how you mingle with women, and your charm is undeniable. Indeed, I’ve seen how they collapse at the mention of your name.”

“I am not what ‘ollywood says.” Amado disputed tightly, and bristled at Balthazar’s casual remark. “I am,
come si dice
? I am an illusion, a
ciarlatano
.”

“You may claim to be a charlatan, but the doting fans of Armand Gerino don't know the difference.” The man countered smoothly, his eyes glittering in the gloom. “They see the movie star extraordinaire, the king of the cinema, and the immortal lover.”

“My fame will not last forever.” Amado grumbled.

“No, I suppose it won’t. You’ll age, like every other human. Arthritis will twist your limbs. Wrinkles will mar your skin…” Balthazar chuckled cruelly.

“That is life!” Amado roared suddenly, his hackles rising at the maliciousness he detected.

“I don’t doubt that.” The man glowered unpleasantly, mockery evident in his tone. “Besides, life is a series of tedious days, and boring beyond belief.”

“That is your opinion
, signore
.” He almost spat at the man’s feet, disgust welling inside him.

“That as it may be, but mortals are quite entertaining.” Declan smoothly interjected. “Tell me the truth, my delicious import. Hasn’t your life been amusing?”

All Amado could remember was Louise’s betrayal. His private life hadn’t been entertaining!

“No.” He muttered glumly.

“My dear man, how you lie!” Declan countered with a jeering laugh. “Shall I remind you, until a few months ago, you had competition among your own countrymen, did you not?”

“I…”
“Isn’t it astonishing how every little Italian boy wants to be Hollywood star, due to your accomplishments?” Declan sneered. “Your journey to America, your success in films...you’re the iconic figure of wealth and prosperity to everyone in your homeland.”

“You believe these sound men will manage this, kill me so easily?” Amado dared to scoff, his brows lifting slight. “This is nothing! I ‘ave bodyguards, and the people adore me! I am a star!”

“You’ve bodyguards?” Balthazar spun on his heels, his action a nearly envious execution of grace and skill. He stopped as he caught Amado’s eye, a skeptical brow rising. “Where are they?”

He groaned, and his eyes flicked over the stranger. Amado had forgotten he asked his guards to leave him in peace, to grant him a few moments of solitude, before mounting the massive hotel staircase.

“I deduced you were alone,” the man hissed. “That’s why I’m here.”

Fury warmed Amado’s chilled flesh. “You come to torture me with these tales. You talk nonsense…”

“I promise you, you’ll be killed in ways that are very simple and legal,” Declan soothed. “Speed up the sound track, and your masculine reputation will be in shreds, far worse than little Louise managed.”

“You know nothing of the films.” Amado ground out roughly, his face flaming at the reference to his ex-wife.

“Perhaps I don’t,” Declan shrugged in a perfect imitation of Amado’s earlier deed. “Go ahead and release your latest movie, with the sound. Your fans will laugh their way out of the movie houses!”

“Impossible!”

His tormentor smirked again. “Would you dare become a laughing-stock for Hollywood and the world?”

“You do not know this for truth,” Amado argued. The divorce had nearly shattered him, but becoming an object of ridicule would destroy him. Ruined, saddled with a voice not his, was worse than his broken English.

“I know the malice in a mortal man’s heart.” Declan’s thick tone made Amado shudder with foreboding.

“The world is cruel,” Amado nodded, but couldn’t understand why he did.

“I know of more wickedness than you could imagine. I, alone, admit I’m capable of concocting evil, when I so desire.” The man neared him, his smooth words a flowing breath. “But, I wish to gift something to you.”

“Join me, Amado Gianni.” Declan breathed, intensifying the actor’s unease. “Leave the persona of Armand Gerino behind, and join me.”

“I must refuse your offer.” Uncomfortable, droplets of sweat materialized on Amado’s upper lip. “I do not know what you ‘ave ‘eard, but I prefer
la bellas
. The men, I do not like them.”

Amado stared into Declan Balthazar’s dark eyes. His mind whispered to look away, but couldn’t, and his bewildered brain shrieking a frantic litany of prayer.

“You’re so deliciously amusing and delightfully dim-witted,” Balthazar crooned.

“I adore the women,
signore
.” Amado objected dazedly, the words thick on his tongue.

“I don’t want you for the reasons you suppose.”

Issued with a sneer, the comment sounded more like a gentle chastise instead of the supposed insult. Amado made an effort to straighten and walk away, but the action required too much effort. Bewildered, he gaped at the man.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s say you’ve certain….attributes that might benefit my associates and me.”