The Demoness of Waking Dreams (19 page)

Beauty can be evil,
he reminded himself for the hundredth time in the past several days. And for the hundredth time, his body answered back,
But not beauty like this
.

She strode toward him, her skin luminescent in the moonlight.

Look away,
said his gut.

That would be an utter waste,
said the rest of him.

In any case, he found that he could not tear his eyes away, even if he had wanted to. Why he had thought he had any chance of resisting her, caught up in this world of dreaming with her, he had no idea. He was a fool, full of bravado and good intentions.

Intentions he now realized were mere paving stones along the road to hell.

As if he had a choice.

“Enjoying the show?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she walked toward the pool. “In case you were wondering, they’re real.”

He flushed red, because he
had
wondered…

She ran a finger along the edge of one taut silver triangle. Then she went to sit on the edge of the pool, dipped her toe into the water. “
Così buono
, ‘that feels so good.’”

He rolled his eyes toward the darkened sky.

Somewhere up there, Michael and the rest of the Archangels must be looking down and having a good laugh at his expense.

“Well, are you just going to stand around and watch? Why don’t you join me for a swim? I know you must be hot. It would be such a relief just to take a little dip, wouldn’t it?” She beckoned, holding out her open hand toward him. “Come on. You know you want to. We could even swim
senza vestiti
.”

“What does that mean?” he said, feeling like a complete moron when the answer was so glaringly obvious. Still, he could not control himself. It was as if someone else was speaking for him, controlling his tongue here in his dreamworld.

Luciana,
he thought wildly,
is gaining more and more of a hold over me
.

She smiled as though she understood everything perfectly.

“I could tell you. But why don’t I demonstrate instead?” she said, reaching behind her neck. Two quick pulls of a silver string, and the top of her bikini fell away. He felt himself harden at the sight of her large, dark nipples. “See? Isn’t learning Italian fun?”

His mouth was completely dry; he didn’t even try to speak.

“Come,” she beckoned.

He found it impossible to resist.

He went to her, shedding his clothes along the way, dropping them onto the pool deck behind him. He came to sit beside her, lowering his own legs into the pool. After days of sweating in that abandoned building, he was ready to plunge right into the depths of the water.

Reaching up, she brushed the side of his cheek with her fingertips. He reached down to cup one of those glorious breasts, brushing his fingers over the nipple, feeling it tighten beneath his touch.

She kissed him. The sweetness of it was impossible. He pulled her into the water so they stood waist-deep, lifted her leg so it rode his thigh. He was just on the verge of entering her, of plunging into the sweet depths of her.

When a voice came whispering through, shattering the moment of intense pleasure.

Chapter Nine

“B
randon, wake up
.
”
The whisper of a woman’s voice, the teasing brush of her hair on his face lured him from sleep.

“Luciana?”

A delicate perfume filled his nostrils. A scent he knew well. Roses and a hint of vanilla.

Not a scent he associated with the demoness.

In the early morning sunlight, he blinked, dazed for a moment.

The eyes peering down at him were clear blue. Not green. The crease between them was one of profound concern. A flood of sunlight illuminated a halo of bright gold hair. The woman who hovered over him was so near that he almost flinched at her presence.

“You must have been in the middle of a nightmare,” Arielle stated flatly.

Her intense blue gaze swept over his disheveled state, assessing in a single glance. What a sight he must look, sweat dried on him, unwashed and unshaved. Her dainty nose twitched slightly; her mouth pressed into a thin little line.

Yet, she knelt so very close. And lingered over him a little too long.

When she straightened to stand, the sunlight behind her seemed to dim, and the intensity of her presence faded as she backed away. Dressed in one of her usual perfectly tailored suits, Arielle looked completely out of place in this dusty Venetian ruin.

Luciana is…not your run-of-the-mill nightmare,
he thought, blinking hard. He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the last remnants of the dream from his mind’s eye.
But that’s nothing you need to know, Arielle.
His former supervisor and ex-lover had never been privy to his dreams; they were not something he wanted to share with her.

Not in the past. And especially not now.

Heat flushed into his face. And he was a man who never blushed. But he felt like he was back in his bedroom in Detroit as a teenager, busted by his mother for “reading” a nudie magazine. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Arielle had noticed his erection. Luckily, in her presence, it shrank at an amazing speed.

“I came to help,” she said. “You look like you could use some assistance.”

“I’ve been in Venice for two and a half days,” he said, irritated as he sat up. His body ached from lying on the hard concrete. He twisted, trying to stretch; he saw her eyes flicker over his bare torso. He chose to ignore that. “I’m not a rookie. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder.”

“I came for your own good,” she said.

For your own good.

According to Arielle, everything she did was for someone else’s good.

He had gotten his first taste of that ten years ago, when he had joined her unit in L.A. Arielle had taught him a lot. That was undeniable. Had let him follow her everywhere, had answered every question he ever had about being a Guardian. What’s more, when he had been sunk in grief over leaving his human existence and his wife, Arielle had been there to comfort him.

But things had changed. At first, it was nothing he could put his finger on. Just a low-lying feeling in his gut that something wasn’t quite
right
with Arielle. And then the real controlling behavior had begun. Checking up on his every move, constantly nitpicking over the tiniest details. And she never broke from that constant neutral tone of hers. Just outlined her criticisms with unwavering composure.

No matter what he said, she always insisted the criticism was
for your own good.

After three years of it, he’d had enough and applied for a transfer.

Now, as she said it, those lips of hers pressed into an even flatter line.

“Things have gotten out of control,” she said. “What are you doing, Brandon?”

“My job,” he growled. “If you recall, the Company agreed that I would handle this assignment on my own.”

“I know you’ve made significant contact with the demoness, and I know you allowed her to escape. Some members of the Venetian unit told me,” she said.

Briefly, he recalled an image of the gray-haired, dignified concierge at the pensione. So he’d been ratted out.
But, why?

“Venice is a small town,” she said. “Word travels fast here.”

She began to talk, and his head began to ache. She paced around the room, outlining a long list of reasons she had felt compelled to come here. Instead of listening, he watched her face as she rambled. Watched her eyes flicker over his body as he pulled on a shirt. There was something hungry in her gaze, and it irked him. More concerning, when she talked about Luciana there was a little spark in her eye that—if Brandon didn’t know better—he would have pegged as hate.

But he did know better.

Arielle is an angel,
he told himself,
and angels don’t hate.

“We need to pin this demoness down,” Arielle continued. “To do that, we need to enlist the help of the local unit. I’ve contacted Israel Infusino, the Venetian supervisor. He and some of his team members will be arriving shortly. We’re primarily here to—”

“Keep tabs on me,” Brandon said.

She shook her head. “I only came because this assignment is so important to the Company. There’s too much at stake here. We need to accomplish what’s in everyone’s best interests.”

My ass,
he thought.
What’s your agenda?

“What was that?” Arielle said, turning her head sharply toward a noise from one of the other rooms.

“I collected two of her Gatekeepers. I’ve interrogated them, but haven’t gotten anything useful out of them yet.”

“Collected?” said Arielle, her eyes going wide. “You’re keeping Gatekeepers under arrest, without following Company protocol?” She shook her head. “This is completely unacceptable. We definitely need to call in backup.”

“Fine,” was all he said. “You’re probably right about that.”

She stood, looking around them in disbelief, as though she were trying to figure it all out.

“What happened between you and I?” she said softly. “It could be good between us again, Brandon.”

Good? Again?
It had never been good. What he wanted to say was,
Lady, you’re on crack.

He bit his tongue.

Out loud what he said was, “We’re just different people, Arielle.”

“You’re a complex man, Brandon, with complex desires.”

“Let it lie,” he said gruffly. “And by all means, call in the local unit. You and I will tear each other apart if we’re stuck working alone together.”

A few hours later, Arielle returned with the Venetian unit, who moved in with their equipment.

“This is Infusino, supervisor of the local unit,” Arielle said, gesturing toward the smiling gray-haired man whom Brandon recognized instantly. He was the concierge from the pensione. “He and his team will be helping us from now on.”

“You didn’t mention you were a supervisor,” Brandon commented.

“You didn’t ask,” Infusino said.

The Venetian unit certainly did things differently.

They spread picnic cloths on the bare floor. Unpacked food and wine. They lit candles around the room, dispelling the foreboding atmosphere of the abandoned building. They chatted to each other in quick quips of Italian, laughing freely.

Luciana was the stuff of legends.

By the glow of candlelight, the Venetians spoke of her in whispers. The stories they told of her were like ghost stories about a mythical woman who did not exist. Rather than a flesh-and-blood incarnation of a woman who was across the canal at this moment, plotting the downfall of the Company and everyone it stood to protect.

“…she bathes in the blood of young girls....”

“…she eats human flesh for breakfast....”

“…she has seduced half the men in Venice....”

There was so much whispered gossip about Luciana Rossetti that Brandon had no idea what was true.

“One thing we know for certain is that for the past two and a half centuries, Luciana has managed to elude capture by our unit,” said Infusino. “The secrecy around her palazzo has been unbreakable. Until you came along, Brandon.”

The angels around him raised their glasses to him, various shades of eyes shining in the candlelight.

Might as well invite the whole neighborhood over for an open house,
Brandon thought.
And who cares if the folks across the way happen to be our sworn enemies?

Brandon was grateful for the creature comforts they had brought. He was appreciative of the companionship. But he still had a job to do. He finished his glass of wine and went to sit apart from the group, taking his customary place by the front window.

He shifted uncomfortably, watching.

Waiting.

“Why don’t you sleep, Brandon,” Infusino said, coming over to place a hand on Brandon’s shoulder.

Brandon shook his head. “If I sleep, then the whole damn assignment goes to hell.”

* * *

Time is running out.
Luciana could feel it slipping through her fingers. Before sunrise, Luciana rose and went to her worktable, took stock of what she had left.
Not enough. Not strong enough. Not quick enough. Not deadly enough. Just…not enough.

She bent her head to the table, touched her forehead to the old wood. Closed her eyes for a moment. And the regrets began to flow, pouring out like a torrent that threatened to wash her away.
If only I had more time…if only Corbin hadn’t taken that damned vial of poison…if only I had never run into Brandon in the Redentore Church…if only Julian Ascher hadn’t walked into my life at that moment over two centuries ago, near the Rialto Bridge…if only…

The noise behind her made her start.

“Apologies,
baronessa,
” Massimo said, bowing slightly.

She frowned. She was going insane; it felt like she had spent years in this workroom, trying to create a poison that would kill an angel as powerful as the one she could practically feel breathing from only a few hundred yards away.

“Wait, Massimo, I need your assistance.”

“Yes,
baronessa.
It would be my pleasure.”

“Go catch one of the goblins. I need to test this formula.”

He was back shortly. She administered the shot. The goblin lay down, frothing at its ugly little mouth. But in the next instant, the creature popped back up again, choking a bit. A white froth smudged the edges of its mouth, but it was still breathing. It stood up, cackling to itself before it hopped off the table and scurried under a workbench.

The poison had failed to kill it.

Luciana put her head down on the worktable, closing her eyes for a moment.
If only…

“What has gone wrong with it,
baronessa?
” Massimo said, stopping her thoughts. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.”

Opening her eyes, she sighed. “Most likely, the blood from Violetta’s death wasn’t strong enough. She died very quietly, which isn’t the usual way I collect blood. It’s possible that goblin might die within the next few days. But if it does, it will probably have a very gentle passing. However, that’s only a guess. What’s gone wrong with the poison is not entirely clear.”

What had gone wrong with
herself
was infinitely more troubling.

She knew exactly what was wrong with her.

It was tall, dark and American.

Luciana could feel him. Closer and stronger than she had ever felt him before.

Where are you?
she wondered.

“In any case, Massimo, we must work to find a solution. Either we must find another victim, or bolster the formula with another ingredient. Either way, we must work quickly. There is no time to squander.”

Massimo went to peer through a crack in the shutters. When he turned back to her, his face was ashen.

“What is it?” she demanded, and went to look for herself.

Across the water, the abandoned palazzo was no longer abandoned.

Luciana saw the light coming from within, noted the figures moving in the darkness.

Massimo said, “He is no longer alone.”

* * *

Don’t fall asleep,
Brandon told himself repeatedly. Sitting in his observation point at the window, staring at the closed palace across the canal, Ca’ Rossetti seemed like a mausoleum.
Do not sleep. Not now.

Not simply because of the dreams themselves.

But because now, an entire unit of angels was here to witness them. Including Arielle.

“You must sleep,” Infusino coaxed, shaking his head as he watched Brandon fight to stay awake. “Your physical body is completely exhausted.”