“It’s my bedroom.” Lamberti’s face drained of what little colour he had. “They have come for me. This is your doing!”
“They have come for all of us!” Gabe didn’t have time to argue. He weighed his options, and decided he had to protect Romola and Lamberti. Once he had hidden them, he’d face the intruders alone. “Romola, get in that room and find a place to hide. Signor Lamberti, I’m going to carry you.”
He scooped the man up like a child, aghast at how light he was, and ran into the bedroom, taking it in with one swift glance. Another door was on the other side of the room. Lamberti wheezed with pain.
“I’m sorry. Where does the other door go?”
“My bathroom. There’s nowhere to hide in there. Or here! It’s my bedroom!”
Romola had other ideas. “Gabe, the wardrobe. It’s huge.”
A monstrous, heavy wardrobe ran along one wall, deep enough to hide in. Romola had already pulled one of the doors open and started pushing clothes aside. Fearing the door to the other room would burst open in seconds, Gabe deposited Lamberti on the floor of the wardrobe. Romola clambered in next to him, pulling clothes over them, and Gabe shut the door, hoping he hadn’t just locked Lamberti in with a killer. He then placed a heavy chair under the other exit, and ran back to the main room.
Gabe was just in time. He took his jacket off, prepared to unfold his wings if necessary, and unsheathed his short blades that were strapped to his forearms. He stood in front of the fireplace, facing the door. Four men entered, looking calm and composed, but their expression darkened as they saw Gabe waiting. All carried daggers.
The oldest man of the four, who had silvered hair at his temples but nevertheless looked fit and dangerous, paused just inside the doorway, and the others fanned out on either side.
“Can I help you?” Gabe asked. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to join my meeting.”
The man ignored his question, eyes darting around the room before settling on Gabe again. “Where is Mr Lamberti and the woman?”
“Busy. No introductions? Who are you?”
“Who we are is of no concern to you. You will be dead in a few minutes, as will the others. We will find them. I presume they are in the next room.” He shrugged, his lips twisting into a grim smile. “It is just a matter of time.” He stepped forward, the other men advancing with him, one heading towards the door to the bedroom.
“Not so fast.” Gabe stepped across their path to block the door. “Ah, yes. Time. But you are running out of it, not me. I am on to you now. The Brotherhood. Or The Consortium, as you were once called. Your dirty little intrigues that are intent on spreading Belial’s darkness. His tokens that you have sprinkled around. I will find them all.”
If the man was surprised by Gabe’s knowledge, he hid it well. “You pretend you act alone, but you don’t. Is that how you knew that we were here? You have eyes on the building. No matter. We will find them, too.”
Without another word he threw his blade with a deft flick of his wrist. His movement was so subtle, so smooth, that Gabe barely saw it, but he had faster reflexes than most. He dived to the floor, rolling behind the huge armchair that Lamberti had sat in. He threw one blade while in motion, aiming for the closest man. He struck him in the throat, and he crumpled to the floor, hands clutching at the hilt.
A flurry of knives followed, pinning Gabe in position. He picked up the chair, using it as a shield and a battering ram, and ran at the man who had been doing all the talking. Gabe crunched into him, knocking him to the floor.
Simultaneously, the door flew open and Niel and Shadow burst in. A short but furious fight followed. The men were agile and swift, but were ultimately no match for two Nephilim and a fey. Within moments, all lay dead.
“Fuck it,” Gabe said, pulling his blades from the dead and wiping them on their clothes. “I had hoped to ask more questions. Where are the others?”
“I have one captive downstairs, Shadow killed another on the landing, but Ash is watching two more by the dock. The housekeeper is dead,” Niel told him. “Where are Lamberti and Romola?”
“Safe, I hope. I’ll check on them in a moment.”
Shadow crossed to the window and looked at the Grand Canal below. “There’s a boat down there. Must be owned by Ash’s men.”
“Go and check it out,” Gabe instructed. “Be careful. Do not compromise Ash.”
“You might need this,” Niel said, throwing her the key. “I locked one room.”
She nodded and vanished with her normal flash of fey glamour.
Gabe grimaced as he surveyed the dead. “I had hoped to avoid this. There must be others involved in Venice. Lamberti better start answering some questions.”
Shadow avoided the locked room, and instead headed into the one next to it.
Its plaster work was crumbling, and the paint was faded, but one tall window looked out onto the small dock beyond. Two huge doors took up the rest of the space. It was a place to unload supplies. She crossed the floor silently and edged to the window.
Two men stood talking quietly as they overlooked the river. If she could open the doors, she could kill them easily, but the locks looked clunky and rusted, and no doubt that would make a noise. Perhaps that wouldn’t matter, she reflected. But where was Ash?
Worried for his safety, she studied the shadows beyond the window. She doubted the men would have caught him off-guard, but where was he? The area was full of old crates, mouldering bits of rope, and other water-related paraphernalia. Fortunately, the men weren’t looking in her direction at all. Plus, the windows were grimy, and the room was dark behind her. She pressed her face to the glass, peering to either side, and finally spotted a figure coiled in the corner.
Ash.
There was no way she could attract his attention. Any minute now, the men would be asking questions about what was going on upstairs. As she watched, one reached for his phone, and she heard the ringtone in the room next door. Herne’s hairy bollocks! It belonged to the man Niel had knocked out. And it rang and rang and rang. The man turned, confused, and Shadow realised that he could hear it outside.
Not entirely sure what would happen, but fearing he might call for support, she acted quickly. She smashed the window with the butt of her dagger, and both men whirled around. She threw her knife at the man on the phone, and her blade plunged into his chest, killing him instantly. But before she could attack the second, Ash leapt from behind the crates and killed him after a very quick, muffled struggle.
Ash hauled the man behind the crates, and Shadow leapt through the broken window, helping him dispose of the other.
“I should have known it was you, Shadow. I was listening to them!”
“He could have been about to call for help!”
“You don’t know that!”
“Oh, come on, the odds are strong. We’ve killed everyone except a captive. We do not want more turning up.”
Ash paused, hands on hips as he surveyed the Grand Canal, but no one was paying any attention to their shadowed dock, deep under the overhang of the floor above. Shadow checked the dead man’s phone, but it had stopped dialling, and she shoved it in her pocket.
“I guess not,” Ash finally said. He lifted his chin, gesturing to the upper floors. “All dealt with?”