Chapter 14
Antonio hopped across a stream of sewage running down the middle of the street. He heard a grunt as Piero stepped across beside him.
“Disgusting,” Antonio’s Guide mumbled. “At least in Venice the tides wash everything out to sea.”
Tonio smiled. “You could have stayed at the chateau in the country with Alessandro instead of coming back to Paris with me.”
“Sior Alessandro doesn’t need me. Donna Sabrina is very capable of looking after him while the curse takes hold, since it has been partially broken after they found a piece of the Sphere of Astarte.” Piero picked up his foot and examined the bottom of his boot where something mushy and smelly clung.
Antonio nodded. “Si. He has told me that remaining flesh and bone during the day and becoming Shadow only at night has made his life much easier. And he has the moonstone to dampen the Hunger. And a beautiful wife to ease him through it each morning…” He frowned and shrugged to cover the wistfulness that crept into his tone.
“Don’t despair. You will find the piece of the Sphere that is hidden here. I can feel it.” Piero scraped the mess off the bottom of his boot. “Just please find it quickly, Sior Tonio. I long for the clean air of Auriano or the salt air of Venice.” He checked the bottom of his boot again, and his expression turned gloomy. “I fear my boots are ruined.”
Antonio chuckled. “You will have a dozen new pairs when I find the piece of the Sphere. But first I have to find this stupid man-boy who has upset his sister.”
Piero gazed down the dark alley before them. To the east, the sky was beginning to brighten into dawn, but the light had not yet reached the dim streets of the city. “You’d think the young man would have found a more comfortable place to hide.”
Tonio raised his lantern and followed his Guide’s gaze. The alley before them ran between the back entrances of two abandoned mansions and behind several shops and poor, humble residences. Debris lay scattered down its length, and small piles leaned against the walls of the buildings. The stench of garbage and excrement lay heavy in the pre-dawn stillness. From where he stood, he saw no niches, no nooks where a man could hide, but that did not mean there were none. In the past two days, their search had uncovered many hidden places where the poor and the homeless of the city lived, not any better off than before the revolution that was supposed to make every man equal. In fact, one of those unfortunates had directed them here, after Tonio had proffered a few coins.
Stepping forward, he said, “Come, Piero. We’ll look down here, and then we’ll go home for something to eat and a rest.”
Piero heaved a sigh. “Grazie, Sior Tonio. My humble bed is calling to me.”
“Your bed is not that humble, Piero,” Tonio remarked drily, “but I agree that sleep would be very welcome.” He took several steps, then halted. “Do you hear that?”
Coming from somewhere down the alley was a quiet male voice singing. Or chanting? It stopped suddenly, and the sound of breaking glass punctuated the silence. Sobbing reached their ears.
Antonio hastened forward with Piero close behind. He came upon someone huddled into a small alcove where the wall of one of the mansions met the building next to it. The man rested his head on his knees, and his arms wrapped about his head. Glass crunched under Antonio’s boots, and the ground was slick with something wet.
“It’s better this way,” the man sobbed. “She’ll kill me anyway.”
“Gide.” Tonio set down the lantern and squatted before him. “Gide, I’ve come to take you home.”
“Go away,” he mumbled, alcoholic fumes clouding every word. “Go away. She won’t want me.”
“Gide, pull yourself together. Your sister is worried about you. She sent me to find you.”
Gide’s head rolled back and forth against his arms. “She won’t want me after she finds out what I’ve done.”
Antonio wondered what Gide could have done that would make him so miserable. “Of course she’ll want you. You’re her brother.”
“No.” The word came on a sob.
“Gide, come. I’ll take you home.” Antonio touched his shoulder to urge him along.
Gide’s head snapped up. “Get away from me,” he snarled. “This is your fault.”
“Merda!” Antonio breathed when he saw the man’s face. Dirt mixed with wet blood streaked across his forehead and both cheeks. “ You’re hurt. What happened?”
“Nothing I’d tell you about.” Gide’s eyes glinted like hard stones in the lantern light.
Antonio bit down on his exasperation. “Then don’t tell me, but we have to get you home.”
He reached for Gide’s arm to help him to stand, but the young man jerked away. A stain darkened the ripped cuff of his shirt and spread beneath the sleeve of his coat, which was pushed partway up his arm. A jagged, diagonal wound cut across his wrist and flowed with blood.
“Cazzo!” Antonio caught Gide’s arm and held it to get a closer look. “What did you do?”
Gide laughed mirthlessly. “Getting rid of the one thing I thought would get rid of you. What a joke, n’est-ce pas?” Once again, he jerked his arm away.
Antonio tried to grab him with one hand and untie his own stock with the other to use as a bandage, but Gide struggled away from him. Piero caught hold of him and wrestled him to his back. He pinned his arms and kept him quiet with a knee across his chest.
“Thought Binding, Sior Tonio.,” his Guide panted. “Quickly. I can’t hold him much longer.”
Antonio wrapped his fingers around Gide’s throat and pressed against the pulse points. Almost instantly, he was inside the man’s head. A dark fog hovered in one corner of Gide’s mind, and Antonio sensed something spiteful, menacing. He did not stay long enough to discover what it was. He was more concerned with calming Solange’s brother and getting him home. Inducing him to unconsciousness, he retreated quickly. Gide fell slack against the dirt of the alley.
Before Solange’s brother could make any more difficulty, Antonio pulled his stock from his neck and bound Gide’s wrist. Blood saturated it immediately.
“It needs sewing, Piero, or he’ll bleed to death,” Antonio said. “We have to get him home fast.”
They hoisted the young man to his feet and supported him between them. Gide moaned when he was upright.
“I think I’m going to die,” he mumbled. Then he vomited all over Piero’s boots and passed out.
They arrived at Solange’s door by the time gray, predawn light was beginning to brighten the city. After banging several times, they were able to rouse a servant to allow them entrance. Antonio sent the servant scurrying for hot water, bandages, needle, and thread. They carried the unconscious Gide to his room where they placed him on the bed. Antonio stripped him to his waist. By the time he had finished, Solange appeared in the doorway.
“You found him,” she said, relief coloring her words. Then concern verging on panic made her tone rise. “What has happened? What’s wrong with him?”
Antonio turned to her. “He has met with an accident. Piero will do what he can to help.”
He watched her approach. She moved carefully as if she were in some pain. He surmised Vernoux had visited her during the night and handled her roughly. He had warned the marquis about touching her. The thought of that man’s hands hurting her made him want to kill. But he would bide his time. His immediate concern was with Gide.
Solange moved closer and caught a glimpse of the blood and filth that covered her brother. With a gasp, she grabbed the bedpost. The sleeve of her dressing gown fell away, and Antonio saw the raw, red lines around her wrist that spoke of cruel bindings, and the three dark bruises on her neck that looked suspiciously like fingerprints. He tried not to speculate what that French pig had done to her. He clenched his teeth so the violent words that hovered on his tongue would not escape his lips. With effort, he returned his focus to Piero as his Guide cleaned Gide’s wrist.
Despite the fact that Gide’s wound still pumped blood, enough had been cleaned away that Antonio was able to make out faint ridges on his wrist. The wound sliced across them and the blood blurred them, but they appeared to be some sort of design.
“Sior Tonio,” Piero said, “please, I need you to hold the wound closed for me so that I may sew it.”
Antonio knew that Piero needed no such help, but he complied with his Guide’s request. As soon as he did, he saw why Piero had asked. Held together, the ridges formed the glyph of a frog. Sometime in the recent past, Gide had become a novice of the Legion of Baal. He exchanged a glance with Piero. The stakes in the race to retrieve the piece of the Sphere of Astarte had just been raised.
“Grazie, Excellency,” Piero murmured. “If you would be kind enough to send in the young sir’s man-servant, we can get him cleaned up and made more comfortable.”
Antonio cleaned his hands, then took Solange by the arm and guided her out of the room. She looked like she was on the point of collapse. After sending for Gide’s man-servant, he steered her to her sitting room. She sank slowly onto a chair and tried to hide a grimace of pain. Tonio ignored it for the moment, reminding himself their relationship was purely business. But his insides churned with rage at what had been done to her.
“Is Gide. . .?” she began, swallowed, and started over. “Will he be all right?”
Antonio kept his tone cool and remote. “I am no physician, madame, and he has lost a great deal of blood.” He did not need to show her the large, dark red stains all over his own clothes. And he was not about to reveal what her brother had been trying to excise on his wrist. Enough had been done to her in one evening. She looked too fragile to learn such news. Besides, he felt it was Gide’s confession to make. “Piero will do what he can. He is quite talented in caring for wounds.”
She nodded. Without meeting his eyes, she said, “I am very grateful for your help.”
“I told you I would help.” He kept his words mild, leashing the frustration that ran through him.
“Oui. You did.” Exhaustion underlined her words.
As she fell into silence, Tonio could not contain the need to comment on her condition. “Are you unwell, madame?”
Her gaze flew to his face. Panic swept across her features. Then those marvelous turquoise eyes turned chilly as stones.
“I am quite well, Monsieur le Duc. Merci.” She glanced at the windows where dawn lightened the edges of the closed draperies. “I have been consumed with worry over Gide and have not slept well, that is all.” Turning back to him, she graced him with a cool smile. “Surely you can understand a sister’s concern for her brother?”
Her distant and reserved manner annoyed him. He wanted her to throw her arms about him and weep on his shoulder in gratitude and relief. He wanted her to confide the atrocities Vernoux had committed on her, so he could gently undress her and kiss her injuries into pleasure and forgetfulness. Instead, he nodded curtly.
“Of course. I won’t bother you any further, madame. Piero should be finished by now. I’ll leave you to rest. If you need further assistance, please send for me.” He bowed and turned toward the door. With his hand on the handle, he stopped. “I will be here tomorrow evening, madame, to collect payment.”
She stared at him as if she did not understand.
“You promised your time in return for finding your brother,” he reminded her coolly.
He watched her wilt, then in the next second, she straightened.
“I always pay my debts, mon seigneur.” Her chin went up a notch. “I will honor our agreement.”
Antonio allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. “Of course you will,” he murmured. With another bow, he left, anticipation for the next evening already bubbling through him.
Solange paced her bedchamber as she waited for Antonio to arrive. She rubbed her damp palms down the skirt of her dressing gown. Her stomach fluttered. Part of her wanted this night to end as quickly as possible. The other part wished it might go on forever. She hated Auriano for forcing her to play the courtesan for him. At the same time, the memory of his touch made her heart race.
She was grateful that he had found Gide, although she worried about her brother. He had developed a fever. She should be by his bedside, laying cool cloths across his head, giving him sips of water, spooning up broth for him. Instead, she had to prove her gratitude to Auriano by keeping her part in their bargain. Annoyance brought a frown. She did not dare defy him. He could destroy her by going to the authorities and revealing her identity as a highwayman, or he could reveal Le Chacal’s hideout in the Catacombs, which would bring the wrath of the outlaws of Paris down on her. Neither was an attractive option. So she waited for Antonio to come and claim her.
Anticipation of his arrival, his seduction, made her throb. She drew a breath. She was being a fool. Their relationship was a chilly business arrangement. No soft feelings, no sentimentality. Auriano had reminded her of that quite well on the morning they had sat together in that intimate dining room at le Chateau des Ombres.
The aches from Vernoux’s abusive treatment the other night, had faded. At least she was able to walk without pain. She wondered how well she would be able to hide the marks of his cruelty from Antonio. She wanted no pity from the duke.
A knock on her door halted her, and she heard her maid’s voice telling her that Auriano had arrived. Straightening her shoulders, raising her chin, she forced a smile and went to greet him.
He was not in the small drawing room where she expected him to be. Instead, she found him wandering through the dim salon. His dark figure reflected in the rows of mirrors on the walls. He turned at her entrance, all of his reflections turning with him, that graceful, muscular body, that handsome face replicated thousands of times. She wanted to stand and stare, drink him in. Instead, she dropped into a deep curtsey, greeting him in the same manner she greeted Vernoux.
“Mon seigneur,” she murmured. “I am honored at your visit.”
He did not respond immediately, and she remained in her awkward position with her head bowed while she waited for him to speak or make some move. As she did, she realized he had not removed his cape and still held his hat. Irritation at her maid’s negligence flickered through her. Apprehension at his immobility swiftly replaced it.
Finally, she raised her head. “Mon seigneur?”
Antonio stared, speechless, astounded on many levels. The beauty, the sensuality of Solange mesmerized him. Her dressing gown fell off one shoulder, revealing the pale, soft skin, enticing with its suggestion of abandonment. The material was translucent, and the light from the doorway behind threw her lithe figure into silhouette. The memory of those curves beneath his fingers catapulted him into an immediate erection. Her hair was loose and hung in a wavy tumble across her shoulder, ending at her waist. He wanted to wrap that silk around his hand, bury his fingers in it, inhale its fragrance.
But she had greeted him in the most humble, subservient manner imaginable. This was not the bold highwayman before him, nor the brave woman who had matched wits with him. This was, rather, the submissive female who played the whore for her master. She expected him to use her, to take advantage of her, and she would comply with whatever he wanted of her. Her night rail and dressing gown were meant for private seduction, not fit for being seen in public. His demand for her time had been entirely misconstrued. That realization made him furious at the man who had so subjugated her.
Stepping forward, he took her hand and raised her to her feet. “Mademoiselle Delacroix,” he said. “Your beauty has made me speechless.” He brought her hand to his lips in the most respectful of greetings.
A faint blush colored her cheeks, and her lashes swept down over those incredible eyes. “You compliment me too much, mon seigneur,” she murmured. Withdrawing her hand, she stepped back. “My maid has been neglectful and has not relieved you of your outer garments. Please, allow me to take your hat and cape for you. Then we can proceed to my drawing room where I have refreshments waiting.”
Instead of handing her his garments, he took her hand. “No, Solange, you may not take my hat and cape.”
Her eyes widened. Anxiety flashed through them.
“Solange.” Gently, he demanded her attention. “I did not come here tonight for your sexual favors.”
A tiny line of confusion appeared between her brows.
“I came to spend time with you, to be with you, to enjoy your company.” He remained perfectly still, not wishing to alarm her.
“But—”
“You agreed to give me your time, si?”
“Oui,” she said hesitantly.
“Then I may demand anything I wish.” He watched his words instill apprehension in her eyes, and spoke again to erase that expression. “I wish to take you out into the city for the evening. I want to escort you, have you on my arm. I want other men to be jealous of me.” He paused. “Solange, I want to make you laugh.”
She stared. Tears filled her eyes, and she turned away. She ducked her head to hide from him, but he could still see her reflection. Her lips trembled in her effort to control her emotions.
“You mock me, mon seigneur,” she said, her even tone belying her struggle. “I do not parade about in public. I know my place. It is here, on my back, or in any other position a man may wish.”
Violent fury swept through him so fast he lost all sense of where he was. He wanted to kill that monster Vernoux for what he had done to her.
“Mon seigneur? Antonio?”
Her words cut through the red mist that clouded his vision. Blinking, he focused on the woman before him. Wide-eyed, trembling, she stared at him. Her gaze dropped to his side, and he realized he had allowed his stiletto to slip into his hand. Taking a breath, he forced his rage away. The woman before him was not the subject of his anger. She was the victim who had been made into an object for a man’s abuse. And he had frightened her.
He took a step back, sheathed his knife up his sleeve and bowed. “Scusi, ma donna,” he murmured, berating himself for being so stupid. “This misunderstanding is my fault. I should have made myself clear from the beginning.” He smiled. “Let us begin again, si?”
She gave a tiny nod.
He took a breath, allowing both of them to regain their footing. “We have a business arrangement, si? Payment for services. So. For delivering your brother to you, I demand payment. That is, I am asking to spend time with you, to entertain you, to escort you to the theater or the gaming tables or on a cruise on the river. I am asking for your company.”
She stared at him for the length of three heartbeats. He thought she still might not understand his intentions, and he was about to explain further when she shook her head.
“I cannot leave here.”
Frustration made him sigh. She was very stubborn.
She spoke again. “My brother’s fever rages, and I should be here if he needs me.”
“Ah, did I not tell you? Piero came with me. Even now he is with your brother. He will stay until we return.”
Her brows curved up in surprise. “Piero?”
“Si.”
“He will care for Gide? Stay with him?”
“Si.”
Antonio watched as she comprehended that she was free for the evening, that a man wished to escort her through the city, to show her off in public. She clasped her hands, and her eyes sparkled.
He grinned. “Although what you are wearing is alluring, dolce mia, I don’t think we should take you out in it. Go put on something glorious. I will wait.”
With a little jump, she turned to hurry away, then swung back. She ran to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and standing on tiptoe, placed a kiss on his cheek.
“Merci,” she whispered. “Merci, beaucoup.” Then she skipped out the door.