The stairs took up the bulk of the entrance hall, and he edged around them. The room to his right was empty, but ahead was another couple of doors. One door was shut, but the other was partially open, and the voices were beyond that. A rapid, almost whispered conversation was taking place in Italian—a man and a woman’s voice. Glancing uncertainly up the stairs, Niel reassured himself that Shadow would be investigating, and he crept closer until he was right outside the door.
He caught flashes of the conversation. Whispers of a ring. Betrayal. Weakness. Stupidity. The woman was furious. “I should have poisoned him while I had the chance. Old, decrepit fool.”
“We had our reasons for keeping him alive, but no matter. It will be done today. He will die with the others.”
“But we need to know who they are, and how they know!” The woman insisted. “He is not alone!”
“Don’t worry. We’ll find out. Although, we already suspect. We have had trouble lately.”
Niel gripped his knife, JD’s weapon in his other pocket. Much to his annoyance, strolling the streets of Venice with his axe was not okay. With the rapid conversation still continuing, Niel pushed the door open, revealing a virtually empty room. A narrow window allowed for a view of the lane to the side of the building, and a sliver of the canal. The man’s back was to him, but the woman was facing his direction. She glanced at the door and her eyes widened in shock. Niel threw his knife before she could speak. It plunged into her forehead, and she crumpled to the ground.
The man spun, a knife in his hand, too. He threw it with speed and accuracy, but Niel was already running to the side, and it hit the plaster behind him and embedded in the wall. Niel pulled it free. The man raced towards him, crunching into Niel, and they both hit the floor hard.
Niel, however, was bigger and stronger, and although his opponent was quick, he was no match for Niel’s paranormal strength. He rolled, smashing the man’s head down on the hard, tiled floor. He straddled him, pinning him into position, and covering his mouth with his hand so he couldn’t speak.
The man bucked under him, trying to move, but Niel smacked his head down again, and he fell back, dazed. Niel listened for signs of movement, but the house was ominously quiet. He needed to get moving and see what was happening upstairs, but the man could have valuable information. Killing him was not an option. Yet.
Unless Shadow kept one alive. He almost laughed out loud at that idea.
Idiot.
“It’s your lucky day, you shit-bag,” he said to the man. He punched him, hard, knocking the man out cold. He retrieved both knives, locked the door, and headed upstairs.
The tall double doors that opened onto the narrow balcony did not fit securely, and Shadow had eased one open and edged inside as soon as she accessed the balcony on the second floor.
The bedroom beyond was filled with dark, heavy furniture, and looked unused. She crossed to the door and explored the upper floor, hearing faint voices from downstairs where Gabe was talking with Romola. She assumed this floor was hardly utilised. It was clean, but dust sheets covered most of the furniture. She hunkered down behind the wooden balustrade, safe in the knowledge that the dark landing and her own fey magic would hide her. The woman who had let Gabe in hovered on the hall below. She was listening to their conversation. When she disappeared into another room and made a hurried phone call, Shadow wasn’t surprised when Niel texted ten minutes later. Six men incoming. I’ll tell Gabe.
She heard the entrance door open below and the faint carry of voices. After a few minutes, five men ascended the stairs, and she readied her blades. Who were they? What did they want? And why so many of them? They clearly did not mean for anyone to escape.
Shadow calculated her chances. She could take out a couple quickly, but not without alerting the others. They were too close to each other. But did she care if she made a noise? Yes. She needed to allow Niel time to enter. The main entrance was out of sight from her position. With luck, he was already inside. Four of the men progressed down the hall, leaving one positioned at the top of the stairs.
Shadow jumped down, vaulting over the balcony and landing directly behind him, as stealthy as a cat. The man was short and stocky. “Is there a problem?” she asked, blades already in her hands, back to the wall so she could see the room at the far end where Gabe was, and where the four men had already entered. She should give them a chance to explain themselves. Who knew? It could be another business proposition.
The man whirled around to face her. “Who the hell are you?” he asked in broken English, a slim blade appearing in his hands.
“Your worst nightmare. And you?”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Then tell me.”
“I’d rather kill you.”
She smirked. “You can try.” She released her fey glamour, her otherness flowing out of her as she spun her knives dexterously. He staggered back, eyes widening in shock, but he quickly recovered and lunged at her. He was far too slow. She cut his throat and he crashed to the floor, blood pooling around him.
Worrying what was happening with Gabe, she turned to run to the door, just as Niel rounded the turn in the stairs. “Gabe?” Niel asked, reaching her side.
“That way.”
They turned and ran together.
Ash decided not to act against the two men who had arrived in a small motorboat, killing the engine and drifting to the wide porch that led into the Lamberti house. Fortunately, there were stacks of mooring equipment and old crates outside, all damp and rotten, and Ash sheltered behind them and huddled down to listen.
The men disembarked quietly, watching the river in case anyone else approached, but they didn’t seem worried. They stood close, conversing quietly, and their conversation was revealing.
Ash and his brothers had thought there was only one family associated with Belial and The Brotherhood in Venice—the Lambertis. They were wrong. There were at least two other families involved, maybe more, and they were worried. The Nephilim and Shadow had created trouble, and the smooth running of their organisation was threatened.
Then Ash heard something else that made his blood run cold. There was a meeting that night on the neighbouring island of Murano to discuss the Nephilim issue. They were presuming one would be dead before the day was out. Gabe. Ash glanced up, trusting that Gabe could hold his own before the others arrived to help. In the meantime, Ash decided he would gather as many details as he could without being detected.
It seemed that Venice was a nest for The Brotherhood.
When Gabe read Niel’s text, he realised there were two possibilities here.
Either Lamberti was stalling and had sent for backup via his housekeeper, or Lamberti had no idea that half a dozen men had just silently entered his house, betrayed by the woman who looked after him. Then he added a third option—Romola was in on it, too. Either way, Gabe needed to move quickly. He had mere minutes to act, and Lamberti had barely shared anything useful.
“On your feet, Lamberti.” He grabbed the man’s thin arm and pulled him up. He was astonishingly frail, and Gabe flinched when he realised how thin he was.
Lamberti cried out, sinking back into his chair. “Stop. What are you doing?”
“We have company. Is this your doing?”
“W-what?” He stuttered, outraged, looking from Romola to Gabe. “What is going on?”
There was genuine confusion and pain on his face, and suddenly Gabe felt like a monster. “You don’t know.”
Romola looked equally shocked. “Gabe! What are you talking about?”
“The door in the wall behind you. Where does it go?”
