“So how do you explain what happened in Florence with Amato?”
“Like you said. You touched his jewels, and he registered your presence. He alerted The Brotherhood. Perhaps they can attune to your energy if you’re in close proximity? He clearly has a level of consciousness, which is why Jacobsen knew you were behind him in the church. And of course!” she said, rolling her eyes. “You said Amato was wearing his jewels that Shadow removed. He would have whispered to him as he did to Jacobsen, knowing you were watching him in Florence.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “That must be right! You’re the angel expert. What do you think? Logically! Let’s not get paranoid.”
He huffed, resigned to her suggestion. “Yes, that is the most likely scenario. When we carry his jewels, it’s like we’re wiring ourselves to him. An even better reason not to carry them. Now I’m even happier that they’re in the cellar, under levels of spell protection. Hopefully my brothers are now invisible to Belial again, although I’m sure they are searching for us. I’m sorry that you were dragged into this.”
“I was the one who dragged you into this! Anyway, it’s done now, and we have to deal with it.” She leaned forward, squeezing his hand. It was the first time she had touched him in days. Weeks, even. They had kept a wary distance, apart from an awkward hug in greeting. A hug that said, I’m pleased to see you, but we’re just friends. Her touch was electric, and they both felt it. To her credit, she didn’t pull back. “We’re in this together, and I don’t regret a thing. Not what happened between us, or our impending child. We’ll get through it.”
“Yes, we will. I promise.” He wrapped his fingers around hers, fighting back the urge to lean in and kiss her. To lose himself in her soft skin and warm embrace again. He didn’t want to think about how their daughter might not survive, or how he’d feel if the worst happened. How the loss would strike both of them like a blow. For now, their futures were entwined and ripe with possibilities and promise.
Silence stretched between them, their gazes locked, words bound behind their uncertainty, both unwilling to say more and risk everything. Then Nahum’s phone rang, shattering the silence, and he wasn’t sure whether to curse the interruption or welcome it.
Shadow studied their unexpected visitor, Romola Falco from The Orphic Guild, who Niel had just admitted to their apartment, hoping that they could trust her.
“We were expecting a phone call, not you in the flesh,” Niel said, eyeing her warily. “Is everything okay?”
She beamed at him, eyes roving over his impressive physique before resting on his face. “Everything is great, but I decided that what I had to share should be said in person, rather than over the phone. All of this is fascinating! Especially the Lambertis.” She tapped the leather briefcase she carried. “I have lots of information in here. Sorry if my arrival has upset your plans.” She cast a quizzical look at all of them gathered in the lounge, watching her with narrowed eyes.
Shadow exchanged an uneasy glance with Gabe and his brothers. It was midmorning, and they had risen late after a night spent exploring Venice and finding the palazzo. They had just finished breakfast and were actually debating whether to phone Romola when she had arrived, unannounced.
Despite her apology, she didn’t look sorry at all. Romola was a striking woman with long, dark hair and flashing, intense eyes that were almost black. She had a light tan, and wore an elegant black trouser suit, tailored to fit her good figure. She was the epitome of an Italian businesswoman. Her smile was broad as she took them all in, no doubt noting all the details about them, too.
Gabe folded his arms across his chest. “It’s just unexpected, that’s all, and we take our privacy—especially in business matters—very seriously. But I guess that’s why you just turned up. If you had asked to visit, I would probably have told you not to.”
To her credit, she just laughed. “You’ve found me out! What’s the expression?” she asked in her heavily accented English. “Sorry, but not sorry! And you’ll be glad I did. Can I sit? Get a coffee? I’d love to go through what I’ve found, but I had an early start.”
“Let me,” Ash said, gesturing for her to sit and giving Gabe a look of resignation. “Nice apartment, by the way. I gather we have you to partially thank for that?”
“Yes, this place is one of our assets. Venice is packed with history and intrigue, so it’s not surprising how often we have to come here to sort acquisitions of one type or another. Harlan,” she said, placing her paperwork on the coffee table, “is very complimentary about you. We were happy to help a colleague.” She sat on the sofa, at ease amongst strangers.
Shadow decided she didn’t like Romola. It didn’t mean they couldn’t trust her, but she had dismissed Shadow with a tight glance, focussing all her attention on the men. A deliberate attempt to undermine another woman as she flashed her beaming smile around. Shadow had come across women like her before. She never liked them. They saw other women as a threat. To what, she wasn’t sure. Their feminine power? Their ability to control the room? Their wish to have all men’s attention? They were especially dismissive of other very attractive woman. Less attractive women could be humoured, but Shadow was good looking with a killer figure, and that would rile Romola more than anything. That was fine. Shadow liked being a threat, and was more than happy to play on such insecurities. She would remind her of her presence when it was needed. For now, she would stand back and watch.
“Have you been travelling all night?” Gabe asked as he sat opposite her. “You are based in Rome, I believe.”
“Yes, but there’s a fast train to Venice. A few hours’ travel only, and very convenient. I caught the early train.” She tossed her hair, leaning forward and beaming. “Is it your first time in Venice?”
“First time in Italy.”
“And yours?” She turned to Niel, who had taken a seat, too.
“I came years ago. It has changed since I was last here.”
“Same for me,” Ash said, entering the room with a tray of cups and a pot of coffee. “I hardly recognise the place.”
Shadow suppressed a smile. Like several thousand years ago. He had told her that Rome had just been a tiny village on a hill then.
“Well, I’m happy to take you all on a tour.”
“Unfortunately,” Gabe said, “we’re not here for pleasure. We need to know more about the Lambertis. Then, we need to meet them.”
Suddenly, Romola was all business. She lifted half a dozen sheets of paper and passed them to Gabe. “An outline of the Lambertis who have owned the palazzo over the years. I can confirm that Harlan was correct. The reference in the book that he found refers to the same family who own it now. I have focussed on only those who have lived there. The family is large and spread across the area. They were very powerful at one point. Now, less so.” She wiggled her hand. “But still rich. They had connections to the Borgias once. Houses in Rome, the Amalfi coast, and Umbria. The palazzo here, though, was always considered the seat of the family.” She accepted a cup of coffee from Ash, inhaling appreciatively. “Arabic?”
“Yes. It’s how we prefer our coffee.”
“Excellent. No complaints from me.”
It was the one regular thing the Nephilim liked when they travelled, and they always packed a bag of ground coffee in their luggage. A quirk.
“Anyway,” Romola continued, while Gabe and Ash scanned the list, “they have had less success over recent decades, and over the years a series of family deaths. I know because, as I said to Harlan, we have had dealings with them in the past. We all have our own clients, and the Lambertis aren’t mine. Their contact within our branch retired years ago, and because we hadn’t received work from them for years, they were never assigned to a new collector. Past purchases include religious statues and relics, mainly Christian but not all, old volumes of occult knowledge, nothing overly significant.”
“And by that,” Niel said, smiling, “you mean vastly expensive.”
“Well, if you put it like that, yes. But over the years, it mounted up. Until twenty years ago. That’s the last time they contacted us for anything.”
“Any idea why?” Gabe asked.
“The son inherited the estate after his father died. The father, Enzo, was ancient. In his nineties. The eldest son, Tommaso, took over, and well, it seems he wasn’t the collector his father was. He is now in his late eighties himself.”
“You have been thorough,” Ash noted.
“It’s my job. Besides, we keep extensive records on our clients. The London office does, too. Anyway, I have decided to try to recruit them again. It will be a good excuse to visit them and get you inside.” She smiled again, pleased with her ruse.
Gabe leaned back, the list ignored now that Ash had it. “I don’t think so. We work alone. I’ll pay you for your effort, of course.”
Romola just smiled. “I know these types of families. You won’t get in without having some kind of connection. I’m it. Although I’m sure they speak English, speaking Italian will also be helpful. Being one of them.”
Gabe rattled off something in fluent Italian, and Romola gasped. There was a rapid exchange, during which Niel and Ash joined in, before Gabe switched to English again, for Shadow’s benefit, of course. “So, you see,” he said smugly, “communication will not be a problem.”
