Bay of Sighs
Page 22
“Sure. I bet Bran could fix it up, somewhere private, by the sea. We’ll have gelato and Bellinis.”
“And pizza.”
“Pizza goes without saying.” He couldn’t help himself, and stroked his hand down her hair. “We’ll end Nerezza, but that won’t end us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
At midnight, far too intrigued to resist, Malmon studied the house matching the address on the card Nerezza had given him. He’d already had one of his men take photos of it earlier in the day, and had assigned another to find out everything there was to find on the woman.
It both angered and intrigued him when everything to be found was nothing at all.
But the house suited her, to his mind. Even as he studied it now, from the smoked glass of the limo, he could imagine her inside. It held an eerie grace with its old stone, shielding trees, the gargoyles perched on the eaves.
As his did, it stood back from the road, behind a gate. He appreciated the desire for privacy, the power it took to command it.
What would she offer him? He had to know.
When he ordered the driver to pull up to the gate, he found himself unsurprised it opened immediately. Once the driver opened his door, he stepped out, a confident man in a bespoke suit, who believed he’d already seen and done all there was to see and do.
The wide, arched door opened as he approached. A man, pale of face, dark of eye, stood silently.
Malmon stepped into a foyer lit with dozens of candles. In the shifting, shimmering light, the pale man closed the heavy door. And Malmon’s heart beat quickly.
“My mistress waits.”
The man’s voice scraped rough, like a lizard’s tongue over flesh. Malmon followed him up the stairs—more candles, and urns full of lilies so red they looked nearly black in the candlelight. Lilies so strongly scented they swam in his head.
He entered a large drawing room where Nerezza sat in an ornate chair, almost a throne, that glimmered gold. Its back rose up behind her with a carving of intertwined snakes at its peak.
She wore the same red as the flowers, so deep it showed black, with rubies like fat drops of blood dripping around her throat, from her ears.
An odd bird—not a crow, not an owl, but some odd combination—perched, like the gargoyles, on the wide arm of the chair.
Her beauty struck him like a bolt—both fierce and terrible. And so, in that moment, was his desire for her.
She smiled, as if she knew.
“I’m pleased you came. Leave us,” she told the servant while her dark eyes stayed on Malmon’s face. She rose, her gown rustling like papery wings, and glided to a decanter. Poured deep red into glasses. “A drink, to new friendships.”
How dry his throat; how fast his pulse. He struggled to keep his voice even, casual.
“Will we be friends?”
“We have so much in common already, and more to come.” She watched him over the rim as she sipped. “You came because you wonder, and your life has few wonders now. You’ll stay because you’ll know, and you’ll want.”
Her scent seemed to twine around him, made him think of everything dark and forbidden.
“What will I know? What will I want?”
“You’ll know what I tell you. You’ll then tell me what you want. Your choice to make.” But her eyes told him she knew that choice already. “Shall we sit?”
She didn’t sit on the throne chair, but moved to a curved settee, waited for him. And said, “The Stars of Fortune.”
“You believe they exist.”
“I know they exist. The first, the Fire Star, was found only days ago, in an underwater cave in Corfu.”
His interest piqued, and some irritation with it. His network should have picked up that information. If true.
“You have it?”
Something dark, and far more terrible than beauty, slid in and out of her eyes. “If I did, I’d have no need for you. I told you there are six who stand in the way. They found the star, they have it, and—for now—it’s beyond my reach. Now they hunt for the next, and I hunt for them. I . . . underestimated their inventiveness. I won’t do so a second time.”
Now he smiled, believing he held the advantage. “You want my help.”
“Your skills, your thirst, combined with mine. Force alone proved inadequate. I require guile, and human ambitions.”
“Human?”
She said nothing to that, only sipped again of the wine that swam in his head like the heady scent of lilies.
“You know two of the six.”
“Do I?”
“Riley Gwin.”
“Ah, yes.” Even the sound of her name made his mouth thin. “I know Dr. Gwin. A bright, resourceful woman.”
“She’s more than that. Sawyer King. And I see you have no love for this one.”
“He has something I want, and haven’t yet managed to take.”
“The compass. It can be yours. I have no use for it.”
Fascinated, Malmon leaned toward her. “You know of it, what it’s reputed to do?”
“He is the traveler, for now, able to shift through time, through space as long as he possesses the compass. You want that power.”
“I’ll have it. It’s simply a matter of time. One way or the other, I take what I want.”
“As do I. With these two are four others. None of the six are only what they seem. If you choose to do what I ask of you, I’ll show you what they are, what they have. And what they are, what they have can be yours. I only want the stars.”
“And pizza.”
“Pizza goes without saying.” He couldn’t help himself, and stroked his hand down her hair. “We’ll end Nerezza, but that won’t end us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
At midnight, far too intrigued to resist, Malmon studied the house matching the address on the card Nerezza had given him. He’d already had one of his men take photos of it earlier in the day, and had assigned another to find out everything there was to find on the woman.
It both angered and intrigued him when everything to be found was nothing at all.
But the house suited her, to his mind. Even as he studied it now, from the smoked glass of the limo, he could imagine her inside. It held an eerie grace with its old stone, shielding trees, the gargoyles perched on the eaves.
As his did, it stood back from the road, behind a gate. He appreciated the desire for privacy, the power it took to command it.
What would she offer him? He had to know.
When he ordered the driver to pull up to the gate, he found himself unsurprised it opened immediately. Once the driver opened his door, he stepped out, a confident man in a bespoke suit, who believed he’d already seen and done all there was to see and do.
The wide, arched door opened as he approached. A man, pale of face, dark of eye, stood silently.
Malmon stepped into a foyer lit with dozens of candles. In the shifting, shimmering light, the pale man closed the heavy door. And Malmon’s heart beat quickly.
“My mistress waits.”
The man’s voice scraped rough, like a lizard’s tongue over flesh. Malmon followed him up the stairs—more candles, and urns full of lilies so red they looked nearly black in the candlelight. Lilies so strongly scented they swam in his head.
He entered a large drawing room where Nerezza sat in an ornate chair, almost a throne, that glimmered gold. Its back rose up behind her with a carving of intertwined snakes at its peak.
She wore the same red as the flowers, so deep it showed black, with rubies like fat drops of blood dripping around her throat, from her ears.
An odd bird—not a crow, not an owl, but some odd combination—perched, like the gargoyles, on the wide arm of the chair.
Her beauty struck him like a bolt—both fierce and terrible. And so, in that moment, was his desire for her.
She smiled, as if she knew.
“I’m pleased you came. Leave us,” she told the servant while her dark eyes stayed on Malmon’s face. She rose, her gown rustling like papery wings, and glided to a decanter. Poured deep red into glasses. “A drink, to new friendships.”
How dry his throat; how fast his pulse. He struggled to keep his voice even, casual.
“Will we be friends?”
“We have so much in common already, and more to come.” She watched him over the rim as she sipped. “You came because you wonder, and your life has few wonders now. You’ll stay because you’ll know, and you’ll want.”
Her scent seemed to twine around him, made him think of everything dark and forbidden.
“What will I know? What will I want?”
“You’ll know what I tell you. You’ll then tell me what you want. Your choice to make.” But her eyes told him she knew that choice already. “Shall we sit?”
She didn’t sit on the throne chair, but moved to a curved settee, waited for him. And said, “The Stars of Fortune.”
“You believe they exist.”
“I know they exist. The first, the Fire Star, was found only days ago, in an underwater cave in Corfu.”
His interest piqued, and some irritation with it. His network should have picked up that information. If true.
“You have it?”
Something dark, and far more terrible than beauty, slid in and out of her eyes. “If I did, I’d have no need for you. I told you there are six who stand in the way. They found the star, they have it, and—for now—it’s beyond my reach. Now they hunt for the next, and I hunt for them. I . . . underestimated their inventiveness. I won’t do so a second time.”
Now he smiled, believing he held the advantage. “You want my help.”
“Your skills, your thirst, combined with mine. Force alone proved inadequate. I require guile, and human ambitions.”
“Human?”
She said nothing to that, only sipped again of the wine that swam in his head like the heady scent of lilies.
“You know two of the six.”
“Do I?”
“Riley Gwin.”
“Ah, yes.” Even the sound of her name made his mouth thin. “I know Dr. Gwin. A bright, resourceful woman.”
“She’s more than that. Sawyer King. And I see you have no love for this one.”
“He has something I want, and haven’t yet managed to take.”
“The compass. It can be yours. I have no use for it.”
Fascinated, Malmon leaned toward her. “You know of it, what it’s reputed to do?”
“He is the traveler, for now, able to shift through time, through space as long as he possesses the compass. You want that power.”
“I’ll have it. It’s simply a matter of time. One way or the other, I take what I want.”
“As do I. With these two are four others. None of the six are only what they seem. If you choose to do what I ask of you, I’ll show you what they are, what they have. And what they are, what they have can be yours. I only want the stars.”
