Want to say thanks to everyone who is popping by for a read.The name of London, being Londin is deliberate, it’s as in Londinium, the Roman name for London.
Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV
Chapter V: When in Venice
Venice, 1486.
‘This is not wise, sister,’ mutter Zuriel in her sister’s ear as Aracelle pinched her cheeks to make them red.
Aracelle brushed her off with a smile. ‘It’s just a little look,’ she replied.
‘No,’ said Zuriel putting her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘You caused enough of a scene yesterday when he saw you. I implore you not to draw attention to us again.’
‘I will not,’ replied Aracelle, ‘we will just watch with our faces turned away so as not to show our interest.’
‘Your interest,’ Zuriel amended. ‘Besides sister, if you think feigning disinterest will be enough to not cause a scene, then you are misguided.’
Aracelle turned from her vanity table to look at her sister with cold eyes.
‘I think you are trying to snare him,’ continued Zuriel disapprovingly.
‘I am not,’ replied Aracelle stiffly, ‘he is a human, he is simply nice to look at.’
Zuriel threw her arms in the air. ‘It does not do, dear sister, for one of your perceived status to flirt with a Principe in such a manner,’ she hissed at Aracelle, ‘you look like nothing but a common whore and Principe Niccoló is a notorious womanizer. You are a fool.’
Aracelle was about to open her mouth in retort when there was a knock at the door. ‘Enter,’ she yelled with a quelling look at her sister warning her to keep her tongue.
A small, regally attired pageboy stepped into the room, whipped off his hat as he bowed low to Aracelle. ‘Il Principe Aracelle send a token of his affection,’ he informed Aracelle before producing a single red rose. ‘His Royal Highness was careful to remove the thorns.’
Aracelle took it with a smile and inclined her head politely. ‘If you would thank His Royal Highness,’ she said.
‘Ma’am,’ replied the page before retreating backwards.
Zuriel clicked her tongue and Aracelle huffed out a breath. The two sisters glared at each other for a moment before Aracelle turned to place the rose on her vanity table.
‘And you still think you will not cause a scene?’ asked Zuriel with her hands on her hips. ‘The man is sending you favours.’
Aracelle smiled but not so Zuriel could see it and looked at the rose and its delicate petals.
‘You cannot seriously be thinking of still going when he is pressing his favour,’ continued Zuriel with an almost hysterical note to her voice.
Aracelle sucked in a breath before turning to her sister. ‘Just one more look.’
Il Principe Niccoló watched the stands fill but so far there was no sign of the angelic Aracelle and her disapproving sister. He had first seen Aracelle a month ago and now, somehow, she had become engrained in his mind’s eye. The copper of her hair was startling as were her magical blue eyes.
He swished his sword as footsteps approached. ‘Something vexes you,’ said his youngest brother, Angelo. ‘The girl is not here?’
‘Not as yet,’ he said casting another gaze out to the stands. ‘It will wound my chances if I do not have her face to look upon.’
Angelo clapped his hand on Niccoló’s shoulder. ‘She will come,’ he assured him, ‘now I must go, Giovanni is gambling his wealth away. Father instructs me to ensure that he does not return home penniless tonight.’
‘I say leave him to his games,’ said Niccoló, ‘he should go penniless to his clothes and perhaps he will learn his lesson.’
‘I do not disagree,’ replied Angelo, ‘but father will not allow the humiliation.’
Niccoló laughed hollowly. ‘It is already a humiliation,’ he said grimly, ‘its just father doesn’t yet see it.’
‘Indeed, brother, but I must do as he commands, he is Il Re,’ said Angelo, he glanced up over Niccoló’s shoulder. ‘I told you she would come.’
Niccoló turned and indeed stood just a few feet away in a emerald green that complemented both her hair and eyes. Her hair fell in soft waves with a circlet of silver about her brow.
He turned back to his brother. ‘Good luck in your task,’ he said.
‘And you in yours,’ replied Angelo before bowing and setting off into the crowds.
Niccoló turned to Aracelle and walked towards her as she dipped into a low curtsey which must have left her knees on the ground.
‘My Lord,’ she said reverently as she looked up to meet his eyes.
With a smile he held out a hand and lifted her to her feet before pulling her flush to his chest. ‘We will have none of that,’ he said. ‘Did you get my token?’
‘A beautiful addition to my day,’ replied Aracelle with a shy smile. ‘Indeed, I have come to return the favour.’
She pulled an embroidered clothe from her sleeve which was decorated with the ensign of her initials and angel wings. ‘It is for luck, so that you might return to me safely.’
Niccoló pressed his lips to hers, cradling her jaw gently.
‘Knowing you are waiting for me will bring me back from anything,’ he said against her lips before slowly releasing her but not letting go of her hand. ‘I shall wear this with great honour. When I am victorious, I have a matter to discuss with you.’
Aracelle smiled. ‘Then I will pray you thwart your enemies so that I might hear all you have to tell me.’
‘I hope it will be a pleasing subject to your ears.’
‘All that you have to say is pleasing to my ears,’ she said before curtseying again. ‘I must take my place.’
‘I will look for you, my love.’
Londin, 2011
Aracelle looked up as she heard the door snicker close. Seconds later the scent of pizza reached her nose before Stephen appeared in the doorway. Aracelle flipped her journal shut and put her pen down on the leather binding.
She smiled warmly at him but she knew, from the look in his eyes that what he was here for was not a friendly chat over pizza and cola. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
Stephen put the pizza on the oak table before sitting down in one of the overstuffed armchairs next to Aracelle’s sofa.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said leaning forward, ‘I will keep your secrets, but I want to know what I am keeping. I know Niccoló was in that alley way this afternoon. I want to help you, you don’t have to do this alone.’
Aracelle nodded and flicked open the pizza box. ‘Our vampire friend is not guilty of this crime either,’ said Aracelle. ‘The crime scene is, as he suggested to me, a perfect reproduction of one of his earlier crimes excluding the ceiling decoration.’
She pushed a file over to Stephen before grabbing a slice. ‘It’s perfect.’
Stephen pulled out the pictures and studied them. ‘You realise this could make you a prime suspect?’ said Stephen. ‘There have been cases of criminologists and demonologists who have become obsessed with the crimes and begin to replicate them.’
Aracelle smiled tightly. ‘I thankfully bypassed the psycho disposition,’ she remarked. ‘Not to mention, we were here all night and then travelled to work together.’
‘Larissa will believe it, no one else will,’ remarked Stephen heavily, ‘okay, so if not you, who is the copycat?’
‘Although he doesn’t know it yet, Niccoló has already provided me with the answer,’ she said before getting up to her feet. She grabbed her journal and slid it into the bookshelf. ‘You and I are going on a little trip.’
‘What sort of trip?’ he asked.
‘The Venetian Consulate,’ said Aracelle, picking up her coat and bag. ‘We will be speaking with Angelo Valentio.’
Stephen’s eyebrows shook into his hairline. ‘I’m underdressed,’ he exclaimed.
‘You’ll do fine,’ Aracelle soothed, ‘I’m not exactly in haute couture.’
‘True,’ agreed Stephen taking in her maxi dress and accessories, ‘but you aren’t in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt.’
‘You’re a warrior,’ said Aracelle, ‘the effect is rustic.’
Aracelle drove them through the streets of Londin with the same skill and erratic sense of the taxi drivers. Her number plate was registered with the Consulate, she had explained as she zipped down another bus lane and skipping past the traffic.
‘Why do you have a connection with the Venetian Consulate?’ asked Stephen as she had to slow for a bus.
‘The Kingdom of Venice is my true home,’ she said, ‘I always return their eventually and return to my adopted family.’
Stephen nodded. ‘I’m glad you have family,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t like the idea of you just wondering the world alone and occasionally returning to a dusty haunt that hasn’t been lived in for years.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Are the rest of your family Seraph’s?’
Aracelle shook her head. ‘No, I fell in with the Valentio family in the fifteenth century and they’ve never booted me out.’
‘So you’ve seen generation after generation come and go?’
‘Not quiet,’ she said as she pulled up to gilded gates. She got out the car and pressed the buzzer on the wall. ‘Doctor Serafino,’ she announced after a grainy welcome from the guard. ‘I have an appointment with Sua Maestá Re Angelo.’
‘Si, si, Vostra Altezza,’ came the reply as the gates started to swing open.
Aracelle climbed back in the car and started up the engine of her little coupe. She drove the car up a long drive way bringing them to a halt outside a white building with columns creating a balcony. The lights on that upper level were on and Aracelle knew them to be the personal quarters of Angelo and Carlota Valentio.
A footman rushed out the door and around the driver side. He bowed low for Aracelle while Stephen was treated to the same experience next to her. She bit back a laugh has he stammered a thanks; he was clearly out of his depth but that was his own fault. He shouldn’t have just turned up on her door step.
She led the way into a massive marble entrance hall at the same time that the blustering Personal Assistant of Angelo came down the stairs gesturing wildly as he rattled of a steam of Italian.
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Stephen in Aracelle’s ear.
‘He’s complaining that he doesn’t have Criminal Check on your and that I should know better,’ she explained before turning to Ludo. ‘I told Angelo I might be bringing him.’
‘Sua Maestá did not mention it, Altezza,’ replied Ludo.
Aracelle smiled. ‘No doubt one of Sua Maestá’s little amusements for the day.’
Ludo then turned to Stephen. ‘Your name perhaps?’
‘Stephen Needleson,’ he said holding out one of his large hands to Ludo.
Ludo clasped it for the merest of seconds before withdrawing. ‘I shall see you up,’ he said before focusing on Stephen. ‘I presume you know how to greet royality?’
Aracelle stepped across. ‘Indeed he does,’ she said, ‘now come on, time is a precious commodity.’
Ludo led the way up the grand staircase with Aracelle and Stephen just behind. The young warrior grabbed the arm of his friend. ‘You could have warning me that the Valentio family you fell in with was the Valentio family.’
Aracelle smiled. ‘I didn’t want to alarm you.’
‘So what are you, some sort of honoury Princess?’
‘Good heavens no,’ said Ludo as he reached the top stair. ‘Sua Altezza is La Principessa di Venezia though her marriage.’
Stephen goggled at Aracelle. ‘You are married?’
She laughed in reply. ‘I have lived on Earth of over five hundred years, I think we can safely say that I have felt the tug of love in that time,’ she replied then followed Stephen’s eyes to Ludo who was watching them. ‘Ludo knows what I am,’ she informed her friend cheerfully.
The older man brought them to some huge, white wooden doors with gold trimming. With great importance, he threw them open to reveal a couple stood in the middle of the floor space. The man was in a suit of black with his tie missing and button’s undone at the top, while the blonde haired woman was wearing deep burgundy dress.
‘Okay, perhaps a little under dressed,’ Aracelle conceded to Stephen as Ludo cleared his throat.
‘Sua Altezza Serenissima, La Principessa Aracelle, La Principessa di Venezia e il signor Stephen Needleson,’ Ludo announced with great diginity.
Stephen bowed low as Carlota move forward to embrace Aracelle in the manner of long parted sisters. Angelo took charge of the moment dismissing Ludo with a few words before grasping Stephen’s hand.
‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘Aracelle has spoken most highly of you.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ Stephen replied.
‘We’ll have none of that,’ Angelo declared, ‘you are amongst friends here.’ Then he turned Aracelle and embracing her. ‘My dearest sister, how good it is to see you once more, I trust you are keeping well?’
‘Indeed,’ she replied, ‘I find my work most interesting; if a little close to the bone at this time.’
‘Carlota mentioned your recent liaisons,’ said Angelo, ‘but you seem to be bearing up rather well.’ He turned to Stephen. ‘So that we are on the same page, I assume you know?’
‘Know?’
‘He does,’ clarified Aracelle, ‘he saw one of my quicker than lightening moves yesterday.’ Aracelle turned to Stephen. ‘Angelo and Carlota are very good at concealing our true nature.’
Stephen looked over the King and Queen of Venice and back at Aracelle. ‘They are Seraph’s like you?’ he asked.
Aracelle shook her head. ‘They are both human,’ she said.
‘Very long lived human’s at that as well,’ put in Carlota coming over holding two tumblers. ‘I assume you have no objection to whiskey? It’s a eighty year old classic.’
‘It will be a shame when it runs out,’ put in Angelo as he accepted his glass. ‘you picked a good day to be having this problem Aracelle, we were flying here today to pay our respects of King Edward. A fine man,’ he said gesturing a toast to the skies before knocking it back.
Stephen followed suite and Carlota topped up the drinks before the men sat down in armchairs either side of a large sofa. Aracelle made for the main sofa sitting close to Stephen while Carlota returned with two large glasses of red wine and set one down in front of Aracelle. Carlota took a sip from the wine before walking over to large oak desk and picking up a file .
‘You were lucky to email when you did,’ said Carlota, ‘I had just a spare few moments to dig this up for you. Your filing system remains a mystery to me.’
Aracelle took the folder. ‘It’s chronological,’ she said, ‘but then you don’t have my memory for dates.’
‘I had to check it in your archive, you just wrote ‘Vegas in the twenties’ in your message.’
Aracelle shot Carlota an apologetic smile as she sat down beside her on the sofa. Stephen shimmied a little closer to peer over Aracelle’s arm.
‘Is this the murder you think has been copied?’ asked Stephen as Aracelle started spreading out the pictures on the table. From her handbag she pulled another file and placed pictures side by side. Stephen frowned. ‘Is this wise?’
‘We’ve seen worse,’ put in Angelo, ‘when you have brothers like mine you become used to seeing the devastating results of their respective natures.’
Stephen looked up from the photos. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well, Niccoló can somewhat be forgiven,’ said Angelo, ‘he did not ask to turned into the creature of the night that he is, and in all fairness, he is rather tame in comparison to Giovanni, who sadly has not excuse.’
‘He is a twisted soul,’ said Carlota, ‘I often wish that he had not been in line of that spell.’
Aracelle placed a hand on Carlota’s arm. ‘It was not your fault,’ she soothed. ‘You cannot stop a desperate man from getting anything he really wants. Perhaps he was the balance factor, you make a good person live forever in return you also get an evil one.’ She looked up at Angelo. ‘And speaking of him, have you heard from Giovanni of late?’
Angelo looked up sharply. ‘I made my position clear last time I spoke to him,’ he said darkly. ‘As a consequence he does not make contact with me. Why do you ask?’
‘His name popped up in the same sentence as Alessia, and it didn’t involve his rather overdue death,’ said Aracelle, ‘something far more concerning.’
‘Have you tried contacting Alessia?’ asked Carlota, ‘it was only last month that she was visiting us in Venice.’
‘With no success, I confess to this being the first I’m I’ve been worried about her in a long time,’ said Aracelle taking a sip of wine. ‘I know better than anyone that Alessia can handle herself but recent and impending events don’t fill me with confidence for her safety.’
‘I shall try to contact her,’ said Carlota gently, ‘you need to concentrate on this.’
Aracelle turned her head back to the photos and noticed that Stephen was holding two up and comparing them. Aracelle watched as he put the two down and turned two others in his direction. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t have the same level of experience or knowledge as you do, but I think you’ve missed something,’ said Stephen. ‘Look at the Vegas crime, what do you see?’
Aracelle pictured up the picture of the body and studied the pallor taking particular note of the neck. ‘Traditional bite mark, some blood left in the neck area, the limb tears are tears, as if he has been torn limb from limb; it’s as messy as it is clean.’
‘Then today’s murder,’ said Stephen, ‘thinking along the same lines.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly as she picked up the equivocal picture. ‘It’s not a bite mark is it?’ she said pulling the picture closer. ‘It’s more a puncture wound.’
‘The other injuries,’ said Stephen, ‘they were limb from limb tearing; this body was cut into pieces before being put back together. Also, total blood loss from a body is almost impossible for a vampire to achieve.’
Aracelle was about to open her mouth to speak when her personal mobile started to ring. She slid her hand into her handbag and pulled out the slim smartphone noting that the call was coming from her own apartment which should have been empty.
‘Serafino,’ she answered tightly.
‘Did you forget we had unfinished business, my dear?’ shot back Niccoló, ‘imagine my disappointment to get her and find the flat distinctly empty.’
Aracelle took a moment before speaking. ‘You aren’t the centre of my universe, you know, I do have other work to do that doesn’t relate to you.’
There was a bark of laughter. ‘Now we both know that’s not true,’ he replied, ‘so, what did you find out about my copycat?’
Aracelle only half heard his question has her attention fell on Vegas picture. As a rule she never looked at the faces unless there was a point of interest relating to the case there.
‘You still there?’
‘Who’d you kill in Vegas? Who was the card fiddler?’ she asked.
‘A gentleman by the name of Marco, so he said, but I’d recognise him anywhere,’ said Niccoló his tone now serious. ‘Which brings me to another point, my supposed M.O. in your work isn’t mine; it’s his. I’ve been tracking my brother for years which is probably why you got so confused marrying up his crimes with my style.’
Aracelle felt a dangerous smile creep over her face. ‘You’re brother, Giovanni Valentio?’
‘If Alessia Valenti knows Valentio, then why hasn’t she ripped him limb from limb?’ asked Niccoló, ‘I might be a creature of the night through no choice of my own, but that man is demon through and through. His only redeeming feature is that one day someone might work out how to undo Carlota’s magic so he can be put in the ground where he belongs.’
‘It’s a good question,’ replied Aracelle, ‘it’s the one I intend on answering.’
Without further ado Aracelle hung up her phone and put it back in her pocket. Everyone was looking at her with inquisitive looks. ‘Everything is fine,’ she said, ‘fine.’
‘Right, well, if that is the case,’ said Angelo getting up from the armchair he had been listening from, ‘I take it we need to reclassify eighty year’s worth of murders from Niccoló to Giovanni?’
Stephen was pulling out his phone. ‘What shall I say to Larissa?’ he asked. ‘We at least need to try and tell her that this was a copycat.’
‘Tell her you’ve been looking over the crime scene pictures, and point that out,’ she replied pointing at the neck wounds, ‘and the complete draining of the blood.’
‘What about who the murderer is?’ asked Stephen as he started dialling the number, ‘revealing what you know could be a slippery slope for you.’
‘Stephen is right,’ agreed Angelo. ‘From what you have told me, Larissa is not going to take to your heritage very well, it would be best to keep it as shielded from her as possible.’
You’re right,’ said Aracelle nodding in agreement. ‘If it is Giovanni, then we can find some other way of working him into the picture.’ She stood up and stretched, rolling her shoulders. ‘I’m wondering if it was he that murdered the King, as well.’
‘You will have to consider the possibility,’ said Angelo heavily as he slid his hands into his trouser pockets and retreated to the window.
Aracelle frown and exchanged a small glance with Carlota before she exhaled slowly as Stephen put the phone to his ear. She ignored Stephen as she watched Carlota walk over to her husband. After so many hundreds of years together they could communicate without saying a word.
Angelo looked every ounce of his half a millennia as he looked gravely down at the world before him. Carlota might blame herself for Giovanni’s prolonged life, but the blame lay at Aracelle’s feet. Angelo and Carlota would have long been at peace had it not been for her.
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Angelo and Carlota had sacrificed a lot so that she would not walk the ways of the world alone. However, she was always alone. She was a Seraph guarding a terrible secret from the world. Aracelle knew it was easier to bear with Angelo and Carlota supporting her however, she was acutely aware of their suffering; watching Niccoló and Giovanni paint the world red continued to be a harrowing experience of the kind hearted Angelo.
Behind her, Stephen hung up his phone and Aracelle looked at him.
‘She isn’t buying it,’ said Stephen. ‘Larissa thinks you’re behind what I told her.’
Aracelle pressed her lips together and nodded. ‘I didn’t think she’d believe you,’ she said, ‘but we have to try.’
Stephen ran his hands though his light brown hair. ‘Does this mean we are now working against Larissa?’
‘I think I have an idea to bring her around,’ said Aracelle, ‘but I need a diversion, I need to speak to Henry.’
‘The Prince?’ said Stephen. ‘Why the hell is he going to listen to you?’
‘He doesn’t have the same outright prejudice that Larissa has,’ said Aracelle, ‘if I show him the evidence, he might be able to talk Larissa into seeing sense.’
Stephen laughed. ‘I very much doubt it, no one makes Larissa see sense, I believe it was the reason you knocked her out before setting out to track down Niccoló the other night.’ He shook his head. ‘You know why she feels the way she does, you’ll never talk her into believing a human with a soul could do this.’
‘Well, you will have to try,’ said Angelo, turning to look at them, ‘for all our sakes.’
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