Chapter Four
Anya
The sift wasn’t long, snapping us into a dark, narrow alleyway. Cold night air squeezed through the channel, lifting a dusting of snow on the stone pavement. Salty seawater wafted with it, as well as the unfamiliar sound of a gathering of people beyond the alleyway. Lighthearted laughter and murmuring voices buoyed up. A drift of music, an orchestra of strings, played a dark, sensual tune that vibrated straight through me.
A mongrel snapped and growled behind us, half concealed in the shadows. I spun and drew my blade, not knowing how vicious or wild the creature was. Some demons had been feeding their essence to animals for entertainment and pitting them against each other in fighting arenas. A horrific new sport for the damned.
“Hold up,” crooned Dommiel, edging forward and crouching down on his haunches. “There, there, girl,” he purred, pulling his pack from his shoulder slowly.
The cur almost instantly transformed as he drew near, the fierce growl rolling into a soft whimper.
“I’ve got a treat for you, sweetheart.” He pulled something from his pack and held it out in his palm.
The scrawny dog inched forward with a little whine.
“That’s it, girl,” he whispered.
His words were so soft and gentle, such a paradox to the demon himself, that I found myself transfixed. And confused. This demon wasn’t all that he let the world see. There were hidden layers beneath. And damn if I didn’t want to peel them off one by one and discover them all.
The dog licked Dommiel’s hand twice, then tenderly took the bit of beef jerky between her teeth. She let him stroke down her back, and I felt the tender gesture all the way down my own spine. Mesmerized by his large hand soothing the animal, I wondered what it would feel like if he did the same to me.
What the hell was wrong with me? I never had these kinds of thoughts.
Finally, the dog trotted away in the opposite direction with a forlorn look over her shoulder. I completely understood that look.
I cleared my throat. “You have quite a way with animals.”
He stood and walked toward the open end of the alley where the music drifted toward us, then glanced back at me. With a smoldering smile and a wink, he said, “Just the females. They all seem to come to my hand eventually.”
I swallowed hard at that, fairly sure he wasn’t being a braggart at all with that statement.
I waited in silence as he peered out the mouth of the alley. He glanced back, his expression breaking into a smile that made my heart trip a beat. A wicked look. One I expected on the likes of a demon. Strangely, it shot a thrill of pleasure up my spine rather than repulsed me.
“What is it?”
“Seems my brethren are hosting their own Carnivale.” He shook his head with a snorting laugh. “Right inside the Doge’s Palace. Wait here a minute.”
He sifted away with a sharp crackle. I edged to the opening and peered out. The piazza beyond was filled with a fantasy of creatures. Not all demonkind. Whirling in a menagerie of leather and lace and wearing Venetian masks—both beautiful and horrific—were predominately demons, their dark aura pulsing hard and strong. But amid them were also humans and—
“Damn them.”
Angels. It always felt like betrayal when I saw my own kind falling to wicked depths with demons. I swallowed against the anger burning in my chest.
The air drew tight and Dommiel appeared right in front of me, a black cloak over one arm. I took an unsteady step backward, whipping out a dagger by instinct. He grabbed my dagger arm before I stumbled back into the wall, my wings brushing stone.
“Easy, now. It’s just me.” Letting go, he pulled two masks from inside his leather jacket. “Here. Put this on.” He passed one over.
Sheathing my dagger, I took the gold mask with intricate scrollwork wrapping around the eyes and red feathers extending up and out along the sides.
His mask dangling from his mechanical hand, he wrapped the mantle around his shoulders, fastening the clasp with his one good hand.
“It’s just a mask. It won’t bite you.”
“You mean for us to walk among them.”
“Of course. How else will we find this Marko?”
“The leader of the human resistance is not going to be cavorting among demons.”
He chuckled darkly, the sound tightening something low in my belly.
“If I were the leader of the human resistance, that might be exactly where I’d be, gathering information among my enemies. Especially when a masquerade offers a perfect reason to watch in disguise. Besides, we won’t find his location by wandering the vacant streets.”
He fitted his mask in place—a smiling red fiend with black horns extending upward. I cocked a brow.
“The devil?”
With a rakish grin, he stepped closer. “Always, baby. Now, give me your hand.” He held out his.
For a moment, I could only blink down at it. An unsettling emotion had turned my insides into a knot the moment we’d sifted here. I’d been among demonkind often, but in battle, wielding a sword and expelling them back to hell. Not pretending to be part of their revelry.
“There are angels out there,” I said bitterly.
Rather than laugh in the wicked way he had before, he sobered, still holding out his hand. “Some do switch sides, you know.” His voice had dipped low and grave, sincerity filling the space between us.
“I know,” I bit out angrily, shifting my gaze toward the piazza. “They’re traitors.”
“Yes.” A flare of his shadowed aura tightened around him. “As am I. Now, take my hand.”
I shifted my gaze from the piazza back to Dommiel. He could’ve simply grabbed my hand and dragged me out into the melee. But no. It was important to him that I take his, accepting him in this small way. As if I were tilting toward a precipice, I stepped toward him. Slipping on my mask, I took his hand. His was large and warmer than I expected, gripping me tight, then we were stepping out into the street. At that moment, I felt completely safe and protected, no matter that I was surrounded by my enemies. Somehow, I knew all would be fine with Dommiel at my side.
He led me toward the thick of the crowd outside the torch-lit arcade leading into Doge’s Palace where people mingled in and out. The demons were beautiful creatures, like the angels they were before their fall. But they let their beasts shine through their red eyes and sharpened canine teeth. No wonder the myth of vampires had existed since time began. Demons, these handsome fanged beasts, had been wandering among humans all along.
Before the night of the Blood Moon, when the gates of heaven and hell had opened, demons walked among humankind, hiding the beasts within behind their own masks of human eyes and human smiles, casting illusion. But now, there was no need. They let the world see what they truly were, proud of their monsters beneath the captivating veneer.
I wondered about Dommiel, who still kept his façade in place. His dark brown eye and straight teeth said much about the demon inside. He was still hiding. Or was ashamed of what he was. I couldn’t quite figure out which, and for some unknown reason I truly longed to know.
I winced as we passed a gold-winged seraph, her lovely pale arms wrapped around the neck of a muscular demon. Her pearl-white mask could obviously not hide the fact that she was an angel cavorting with the enemy. Dommiel tightened his grip on my hand, pulling me closer as we passed, the angel sighing as she kissed her demon lover. They whispered lovers’ words in Italian. Others spoke the same or French or German. Some even lapsed into Latin. Angels and demons could instinctively speak any language of any era.
Dommiel guided me toward the arches leading into the palace. I noted the bulky forms of two furies guarding the door. So did Dommiel, squeezing my hand tighter.
Furies were one of three kinds of demon spawn, created by a high demon as slaves to their master. Titans were gargantuan creatures who came in the form of dragons and other beasts of what humans called myth. Essence came in varying forms—mist, smoke, fire, even animals. Familiars like Dommiel’s raven. And, of course, the most dangerous form of essence was transferred through the bite of a high demon. This meant possession and control of the being that was bitten. Hence the desperation that now had me cavorting around Italy with present company.
Furies were hulking beasts with humanlike forms nearly eight feet tall. But their boar-like faces with jagged finger-long teeth protruding from their snouts, their yellow serpentine eyes, and the single gleaming black horn at the center of their foreheads pronounced their demonic origins. And their menacing purpose. Their yellow eyes followed Dommiel and me as we passed, but they made no move to follow.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I pressed close to Dommiel’s shoulder. “Who’s the high demon of Venice? Do you know him?”
“Territories have shifted rapidly since the war began. But from the looks of things, I believe Venice is still in the hands of a demon duke named Valentino. This looks like his kind of party.”
I laughed inwardly at the Italian pseudonym. High demons often took on human names, wearing whatever fantasy they desired. I glanced at Dommiel, whose name was that of a demon. Or, actually, a fallen angel. In this respect, he didn’t hide who or what he was.
“Seems he’s moved up since the war began. The Doge’s Palace is a step up from the mansion he used as his lair before.”
The strains of the orchestra filled the air, a slow cadence, Baroque music, reminding me of the time long ago when I’d wandered the streets of Vienna in search of orphans who needed my help.
“Does he still believe it’s the eighteenth century?”
“He wishes it were.”
Dommiel pulled me close, his hand sliding along the small of my back and gripping me around the opposite hip. I glanced at him questioningly, but his gaze was on the crowd, his dark eye flinty and sharp.
“What is it?” I asked. “Do you sense something?”
“Yes.” He pulled my body closer. “Covetous eyes.”
I took in my surroundings, finding many demon eyes riveted on me. I was accustomed to glares of menace, but that is not how they looked at me now. Their gazes roved, darkening with hunger as they examined me from head to toe.
“Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea,” he whispered close. “I forgot what a tasty temptation a wicked angel is to my kind.”
“I might be deadly, but I’m not wicked.”
“They don’t know that. They presume you’re here for their pleasure.”
I scoffed, the very idea laughable. “Well, they can keep staring, but I’ll cut off their hands if they try to touch me.”
“Not if I do it first,” he growled. “This way.”
He guided me through room after room, the mingling of demons, fallen angels, and wicked humans churning a knot in my gut. Up till now, I’d only seen my own kind fighting battles against the damned. What humans I’d come across were trying to eke out an existence in this new world where the power play of heaven and hell overlooked them. I’d yet come across such flagrant hedonism among all three species. Shame coated me as I watched the angels who cavorted here, indulging in sensual pleasures at the cost of their own souls. When humans suffered somewhere and needed their help.
“Stop staring at them that way,” whispered Dommiel at my ear. “They’ll sense you’re not one of them. Then we’ll have trouble.”
“Why are we even here? No one in Twelfth Night would be caught here.”
“You never know where they’ll be. We won’t find them by wandering the empty alleyways.”
He pulled me close as a drunk couple nearly fell into me. The demon wore a cape and no shirt. The human woman, bronze-skinned and shimmering with glitter, tilted her slender throat back as she laughed, wearing an elaborate mask and only a skirt of peacock feathers that stopped mid-thigh. Her heavy breasts bounced as her lover pulled her along.
Lover. That wasn’t the right word. There was no love between these beings. This was nothing more than an orgy of pleasures. The orchestral music grew stronger as we stepped into a ballroom, and my gaze slid to Dommiel. His powerful body led me forward, his confident gait assuring me he was in control. He’d be a beautiful lover, I imagined.
Why was I imagining such things?
Dragging my gaze from his body and my mind out of the gutter, I looked up at the gilt and oil-painted ceiling with Rococo filigree. Scenes of the saints of old carefully painted by an ancient master looked down. Beneath them, heathens danced. Whirling in a throng and semblance of those who may have danced here in the 1800s, they looked nothing like the finely dressed men and women of that age. Rather, they were attired as a vulgar horde of the surreal and unnatural.
“This way,” said Dommiel, pulling me behind him along the outer edge, his gaze fixed on the dais near the orchestra.
A red-lipped demon with crimson eyes, powdered face, and wig sat at a long dining table, laughing with his guests and watching the reeling dancers.
“That’s Valentino,” he whispered.
“Good God.”
“Exactly. This way.”
He tugged me toward the back where a reception area was laden with pastries and sugared delicacies. He nudged me behind the table so we could view the room with our backs to the wall. Filling a small plate with a puffed pastry and two chocolates, he handed it to me. I blinked down at it with confusion.
His mouth ticked up on one side. “I realize you are probably one of those self-denying angels who rarely partakes of pleasures of the flesh.”
“I have no need of human food.” I stared at the plate, ignoring his innuendo. Yes, I’d eaten at certain events over time to blend in as a human, but I had no need of earthly sustenance. My hesitance had nothing to do with that and more to do with my physical reaction to Dommiel’s nearness. The prickles of delicious heat tingling along my skin. The quickening beat of my heart.
I’d spent my life guarding and helping humans in need. He was right. I was one of those self-denying angels. It had given me the personal fulfillment I craved. And yet, my senses whispered of a new craving with this wayward, and darkly attractive, demon so near.
He edged closer, lifting the chocolate to my lips. “This is a place of indulgence. Since I doubt you want to dance with me or behave in other more lascivious ways to look as if we belong here, I suggest you partake of the fare so we don’t look as if we’re angel and demon spies.”
I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to protest. He took the opportunity to shove the chocolate past my lips. His index finger lingered, scraping along my bottom teeth and lip as he pulled out. His dark eye flared a deep mahogany color, edged with ruby. The decadent sweet melted in my mouth. I actually closed my eyes, for my senses had never tasted the like.
His voice was rough as he spoke so close his breath caressed my lips. “You’ve never tasted chocolate before.”
I opened my eyes, staring at the beast within him. While he bore no fangs—yet—I was captured by the beautiful monster penetrating me with such intensity I couldn’t speak.
“You’ve never tasted a lot of things before. Have you, angel?”
“I’m a warrior. I’ve had no time or inclination for lazy indulgence.” He swept the pad of his thumb across my lips, then dropped to the indentation below my full bottom lip, his gaze following the movement. “What I wouldn’t do to show you every first.”
Placing a hand upon his chest to push him away, I pressed with feeble resistance, noting the firm, hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. My wits scattered, but I managed to find my voice.
“Back up. You shouldn’t be so close to me.”
“I think I should be a hell of a lot closer.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. A small grimy hand and arm appeared from beneath the tablecloth, groping on the table. Landing on a pastry, the arm nearly disappeared, but a gruff-looking demon without a mask gripped it and dragged out the dirty child it was attached to.
“Get the fuck out of here, you miscreant,” bellowed the demon in Italian.
The wide-eyed child clutched the food to his chest and ran toward an exit in the back of the room. Without a word, I pushed Dommiel farther off and followed. I felt him at my back as we came out into an empty corridor, winding away from the ballroom until a gust of winter air pulled me to the left. A door stood ajar where the child must’ve gone.
Following my instincts, I slipped out into the night air again. Across the way, a group of small children huddled around an iron kettle in which they’d made a fire. Orphans. A pang of pain lashed at my heart at the thought of them out here, hungry and cold. Without protection. Or comfort. I’d spent the majority of my angelic life trying to help just such abandoned children. This apocalypse had created more than I could possibly care for. Especially now that my mission had changed. Nevertheless.
“Give me a drakuls.” I held up a hand, sensing Dommiel just behind me.
“Those are human children. What good will a drakuls do them?”
“They can buy goods from those damned demons indulging inside.” I pierced him with a look, knowing good and well it wasn’t his fault that his brethren lost themselves in decadence when there were starving children right outside their doors. Still, I had no place to direct the anger simmering under my skin.
Dommiel studied me carefully. “You do know that even if I gave them ten drakuls, they’d still be starving next week. Best to let nature take its course.”
I flinched. My heart aching that he spoke the truth and there was little I could do about it. “Every kindness and every abuse makes a mark upon the soul.” My voice trembled. “The soul remembers.”
Staring at me for an achingly long moment more, his gaze shifted to the children. Thin, gaunt figures sharing the one stolen pastry.
I remembered the dog. “You didn’t seem to think it was a waste to give food to the stray in the alley.”
He hmphed, his attention on the children.
“Actually, angel. You may be onto something here.”
“Onto what?”
“In my experience, street urchins have more information than anyone in the city.”
He strode toward them, lifting off his mask and tossing it onto the street. One scraggly girl spotted him first and scampered off down a dark alley. Dommiel raised his hands in a disarming manner and slowed his gait. Little good that would do. He looked as dangerous as any demon prince, the icy wind ruffling his black hair, his patched eye giving him a fierce appearance.
I followed behind him with soft steps, removing my mask as well. A second and third child vanished at our approach, but the tallest one who’d been caught at the party watched with wary eyes.
“Whoa. We mean no harm. We just have a question.”
The skinny boy, whose haggard face showed him to be probably eleven or twelve, though his body was more like that of an eight-year-old, watched with fierce intensity, waiting for a sign to bolt.
Dommiel stopped well outside arm’s reach but close enough he could speak more intimately so passersby in the piazza couldn’t hear.
“A question?” The boy asked in Italian. “And what’s in it for me?”
“Four drakuls. One for you and each of your friends.” Dommiel nodded toward the alleyway where we knew the others were not far off.
The boy straightened, watching as Dommiel pulled a pouch from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. The drakuls jingled as he opened the drawstring.
“What’s the question?” he finally asked, his gaze still on the pouch.
“We’re looking for Marko. Can you tell us where to find him?”
The boy’s eyes darted to Dommiel’s. And then to mine. Assessing.
“Don’t know no Marko.” But his tight expression said otherwise.
I stepped forward, opening my wings to bring attention to who and what I was. It worked, for his eyes widened, sketching the lines of my wings.
“We mean him no harm,” I assured him gently. “A mutual friend of ours said we could find him here in Venice.”
The boy tilted his head. “What’s an angel and a demon doing working together?”
“Now that’s a fine question,” said Dommiel with a sarcastic lilt. “I’ve been wondering the same myself.” He jingled out a handful of coins into his palm. “I’m doing a favor for a mutual friend of ours.” He nodded at me, then held out his hand with the drakuls. “Now will you tell us where Marko is?”
He eased forward, staring at his palm. “Eight drakuls.”
Dommiel scooped out more. “Deal.”
The boy took the coins and stuffed them in his pockets, glaring at us both. “Follow me.” Then he scampered down the dark alleyway where the other children had disappeared.
Dommiel turned to me with a satisfied grin. “After you.”