“We alchemists like our secrets, and clearly Lamberti did, too. What intrigued me,” JD said, “was that the alchemist, Alfonso, said if the power could be tapped, it would be phenomenal, and may have several useful applications. He never said what they were.”
“We noticed,” Maggie said grimly. More bloody secrets.
Harlan had been studying the plan, but now he looked up. “Lamberti knew those jewels—specifically his ring—belonged to Belial. That’s why Beneventi formed The Consortium, after all. Why even request the alchemist’s help?”
“Maybe,” Jackson mused, scratching his head and making an even bigger mess of his unruly hair, “some of them were having doubts and wanted to get rid of the power, but keep the jewels. Or maybe they wanted to use the power for themselves without Belial’s influence. It could even be they just wanted to understand how it all worked. Unfortunately, nothing else we found could tell us. There were other hints about The Consortium, but it was frustratingly vague. There was no mention of Jiri.”
Something had been tickling Maggie’s brain for a couple of hours, and now it struck her. “What if the alchemist had been asked to help them use the jewels to find Jiri?”
All three men turned to her, eyes narrowed. Harlan said, “But he was an alchemist, not a witch or a magician, or whatever you want to call it.”
Jackson nodded at JD. “Our friend here used scrying glasses and talked to angels. What if Alfonso did, too? Maybe he was adept at summoning circles? Like you say, JD, you guys have vast and varied interests.”
“It’s very possible.” JD nodded, eyes distant as he considered the possibility. “He did have an interest in demons as I recall from his other manuscripts and treatises. Yes, that could well be the case. Perhaps he did summon Jiri. Maybe others. However, we’ll never know for sure, unless someone talks.” JD took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “There are things we cannot know, therefore we must focus on that which we can influence. A way to bind Belial for good.”
“In that case,” Maggie said, having had enough of chatting, “I’m going to find the others. If nothing else, I can take notes.”
She set off between the towering pillars to find the Nephilim and the WAGs, as she now liked to call Estelle and Olivia. Not that she’d tell them that. Yet.
Ash pulled onto the side of the road that ran past Amato’s country house, making sure it was far enough from the entrance not to rouse suspicion. The lane was deserted, and within moments, he shed his jacket and t-shirt, extended his wings, and rose majestically into the air.
It was a pleasure to be flying again. Venice was beautiful but cramped, and he’d missed the night breezes that ruffled his wings. He gave a wry smile as he studied them under starlight. He still wasn’t used to the fact that his wings were now golden, courtesy of Belial. He had wondered if the colour would fade, but so far it hadn’t. Fortunately, in darkness, there was little light to reflect, but by candle or firelight, they gleamed, much like his eyes.
Fortunately, there were no other repercussions from his use of Belial’s token. No lingering after-effects or power, or whispers in his head. His wings, and particularly his injured shoulder, had healed well. The phrase, ‘Broken Nephilim’ still rankled, even though no one except Belial had whispered it. He cast his annoyance aside to focus on the present. He flew high, circling the grounds to make sure no other cars were there. The entire place still looked deserted and abandoned, and no lights glimmered in any windows. However, as he aimed towards the woods, he saw a flash of light close to where the temple was.
Bollocks.
He carried his sword, as always, glad that they could now transport their weapons in the plane’s hold, and he withdrew it from the scabbard. He patted his pocket, checking that he still had JD’s weapon, and felt its sleek outline. He also carried a backpack over his shoulder with a crowbar in it. He circled wide of the light, gliding silently over the thick canopy. From this distance the light had vanished, and he wondered if he’d imagined it, until it winked into view again.
But where could he set down? The canopy was thick, the temple overgrown. He had been aiming to walk along the forest path, but that seemed like a bad idea now. Taking another few moments to get his bearings, he flew lower and partially alighted on an uppermost branch, his wings supporting his weight. He waited, trying to see the temple he knew was somewhere close, but there was no other light or sound. Fearing a trap, he considered his options.
The deaths of the six men in Venice were already all over the news. They hadn’t bothered to hide the bodies. Instead, they had piled them into the boat with a tarpaulin thrown over them, and pushed it out of Lamberti’s dock and into the Grand Canal. Ash had volunteered to swim under water, and had tugged it out in the middle of the waterway before abandoning it and swimming back to shore. They had hoped there would be no repercussions for Lamberti, but that was stupid. Of course there would be. But had Lamberti talked, if questioned? Was he already dead?
Wary of making loud noises, Ash flew to the start of the path through the woods that led to the temple. On foot, he progressed slowly and softly, wings folded away, sword close to his side. The place seemed as deserted as when they had left it the other day. Huge chunks of Belial’s statue lay on the ground, the paving cracked, and there, in the centre, was the plinth beneath which the paperwork should be.
Ash waited in the shadows, his eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness. The soaring columns could barely be distinguished from the trees, and there was no light or sound now, other than the nighttime chatter of animals and the sough of the wind through the branches. How long should he wait? Or was he just being paranoid? Checking that once again JD’s weapon was in his pocket, he stepped from the deep shadows by the nearest pillar and onto the top step, the central, sunken area beneath him. Most of the fallen leaves had been pushed around the edge, thanks to Niel and Shadow, and the large central plinth was bigger than he remembered.
After casting one more searching glance around the edge, he progressed down the broad steps to the centre, wading through leaves and stepping over chunks of the statue. Up close, he could see a large crack ran down the centre of the plinth, and a seam had opened where the base met the paving. He squatted to see it better. It was wide enough to get his hand inside, and he reached in, hoping to feel a box or a package. Unfortunately, the space within was empty. Frustrated, he adjusted his position, wondering if the paperwork could be accessed from the crack in the plinth, or if someone had beaten him to it. The movement saved his life. An arrow suddenly whizzed overhead, striking the steps behind him and clattering to the ground.
Ash sheltered behind the high base, eyes darting everywhere. A bare whisper of noise to his right made him dive for cover again, and another arrow whizzed past him. He scuttled to the side, still unsure of how many men were out there.
He hadn’t imagined it. Someone was here, waiting for him. Lamberti must be dead, and he must have talked before he died. That meant they might be waiting for Gabe and the others, too.
Gabe set Shadow down on the edge of Beneventi’s grounds. Lamberti had been right. It was a large place, surrounded by high walls and thick shrubbery.
In fact, on first impressions, Gabe was sure that it had once been a religious building. A nunnery perhaps, or monastery. The main residence was built of old, thick stone, and cloisters stood to the side, a large statue of an angel with outstretched wings dominating the central space.
Murano was an island, one of several on the Venetian Lagoon, the second largest after Venice itself, situated very close to the city, and barely one and a half kilometres in size. It had approximately 7,000 inhabitants, and compared to Burano, it was nowhere near as pretty, but it was famous for manufacturing Murano glass. Not that Gabe would be buying any anytime soon. Beneventi’s home was on the west side, bordering the lagoon. He wished he’d had more time to fly and explore. The lagoon was beautiful, serene, and he was able to take in the full scope of the area. It was also good to spend time with Shadow, alone, her curves pressed against him. He was determined that when this was all over, they would go away together, just the two of them.
Within moments, Niel landed next to them. “The roof is broad and shallow pitched. It will be a good place for one of us to hide.”
Gabe studied the building. Several chimneys were on the roof, but one to the far end, closest to the cloisters, was the biggest. There was also a single storey building that edged the rear of the cloisters. That could well be a good place to hide, too. He nodded in agreement. “Looks good. That’s presuming, of course, that they’ll meet outside under that damn statue. If they do, I’d like one of us to get closer. On the ground, perhaps.” He looked at Shadow, already almost invisible. “I couldn’t get as close as you could get, though.”
“But I won’t understand a word they say, if they talk in Italian,” she pointed out. “Let me enter the house, see if I can find the jewels in there. They will have stored them somewhere.”
Niel shrugged. “Great idea. I’ll circle overhead, and can drop down where I’m needed.”
Gabe nodded. “Okay, but you must be careful if you find any jewels, Shadow.”
“I’m not an idiot. Gabe, what exactly do we want to get out of this meeting?” Shadow asked him. “Names? Places?”
“I told you. I want to know where Jiri is, to get an idea of numbers involved, and to find their cache of jewels.”
“But you don’t want to kill them?”
“No.”
“Despite knowing the danger they pose? The fact that they sent six men to kill you?” She cast Niel a long, sideways glance of disbelief. “Why not? This is the perfect time to strike.” Shadow was beautiful and sexy, but she was also deadly. She had no compassion for those who had crossed her.
“They are enslaved by Belial. Not in their right mind. We might be able to save them.”
“That’s a big if, Gabe.”
He bit back his annoyance, knowing Niel thought the same thing. They had argued about it earlier, and now it seemed they would argue again. “I don’t care. If we’re attacked, then go ahead, kill. But try to escape first. It may count in our favour later.”
“And it may not. We should have killed Lamberti. He was weak and old, and whatever agreement he had with Beneventi before is gone now. They could torture him for information. They might know that we’re coming here!”
Death did not sit so easily with Gabe as it once had. “He helped us, and that deserves our compassion.”
“Beneventi will not agree. Six of his men are dead because of us.”
The purr of boat engines out on the water interrupted their conversation. Like Venice, there were no cars on the island, and a series of pedestrian bridges connected the seven small islands that made up Murano. They had arrived as soon as it was dark enough, and Gabe expected they would have to wait for hours, but maybe not.
“Then we must be wary of subterfuge.” Gabe nodded to the roof. “I‘ll find a spot to watch. Be careful, both of you.”
With a single flap of his enormous wings, he soared high, watching a couple of boats pull up to the small dock. They had made it only just in time. Gabe wondered if this meeting might move indoors after the deaths earlier that afternoon, or even be cancelled, perhaps out of fear for their safety, but a couple of men were already in the cloisters, and a few lights illuminated the area.
Then, suddenly, lights were everywhere. In the garden, lighting up the house, and illuminating paths. He hoped Shadow had found a way into the house.
Twenty-One
Estelle placed her pen and notepad down and rolled her shoulders to ease the kink in her neck.
“I don’t know about you, Olivia, but I feel useless.”
“You shouldn’t! At least you’re a witch and have magic. I have nothing, except some expertise with hunting occult treasures. That’s not exactly helping us now.”
“Care to appraise this place?”
