An Immortal Valentine's Day (7 page)

From the second row, a girl, a scrawny slip of a teenager were-puma who had grown in height before filling out her frame, approached the renegade and whispered to him. Marcus saw Peter, whose sense of hearing was as sensitive as Samuel’s, slightly relax in his stance. A moment later, after a few shakes of his head, the renegade groaned but nodded to the girl.

The girl stepped back and the were-puma pointed a finger at Marcus. “I’ll only talk to you.”

Marcus gave a side glance at Peter, who dropped his head slightly in assent, then faced the shifter. “Okay. Is Raphael here?”

The renegade hesitated a moment, then said, “Before I tell you what I know, you must promise you won’t hurt him. He’s not a bad person and he cares for Luisa.”

Marcus brought his right hand to his heart. “I can promise we’ll try everything in our power not to hurt him, but we can’t make the vampire blood dealing charges disappear.”

The young shifter stared at him for a moment, his eyes unblinking, then exhaled slowly. “Raphael’s not here. He’s planned a surprise for Luisa.”

Feeling restless, Marcus shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Where are they? Do you know?”

The young man’s gaze went over his shoulder at the girl standing behind him. She nodded and he returned the gesture, then he faced back Marcus. “He took her to the barge where he used to live, under Milvio Bridge.” He bit his lower lip. “Please find them. I’m worried about him. Raphael was recently beaten within an inch of his life.”

“Do you know who did that to him?”

The shifter shook his head. “Probably someone from the Reds, but I don’t know for sure. Raphael’s been very secretive about that part of his life. He hasn’t been living here for a while, and even while he was, he spent more time in the catacombs than with us. I don’t know why, but it’s like he doesn’t trust anyone. But anyway, last week he resurfaced, looking for a place to lie low. He had a broken rib and the scent of another werewolf was all over him, and he was wearing the Reds’ patch on his coat. When he realized I’d seen it, he immediately removed the jacket before passing out. He remained a few days with us and told me about his plans to clean the barge to take Luisa there. That’s all I know.”

Marcus thanked him, then turned to Peter and the rest of the group, but was surprised to hear steps behind him.

The renegade walked past him and approached Peter. “You are the one who used to leave supplies for us, right?” the shifter asked, an uncertainty in his voice that once again betrayed how young he was, despite his effort to look tough.

Marcus watched as the demon’s expression softened.

Peter seemed to think about the answer for a moment, then he folded his arms over his chest—copying the boy’s posture from a few minutes earlier. “Yes, it was me.”

“Thank you.”

The demon’s eyes changed from a dark brown to a warm hazel. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately and I couldn’t—”

The young man raised one hand to stop him. “You didn’t have to. We never expected you or anyone else to do anything for us. We’re self-sufficient and can take care of ourselves.”

“You’re doing a great job here,” Marcus said.

The young man turned toward Marcus, a frown on his face. “But?”

Marcus couldn’t help but smile at hearing the shifter’s tone. “No, but—” The boy reminded him of a younger and hotheaded himself. “Accept help when it’s freely given.” He wished he had followed his own words years ago, when Alexander had tried his best to help him out, only to receive scant retorts and insults as a thank you. “Is there anything you need?” He saw the young man’s expression change into stubbornness and wounded pride. “You’re not alone here. Think of the greater good you can achieve by letting us help your community.”

The shifter once again glanced behind him, his eyes traveling to the were-puma girl who had changed his mind and made him talk. His hands fisted at his side, but eventually, he lowered his head before saying, “We need medical supplies. Some items are hard to come by, and we need specialized doctors—”

Marcus waited for the boy to finish his sentence, but the silence protracted a moment too long for his taste. “What kind of doctors?”

He heard Peter shuffle beside him. “You need a gynecologist.”

The shifter nodded, then audibly gulped. “And an obstetrician.”

One good look at the girl and Marcus saw the small swell of her abdomen. He grew pale at the idea of those kids—barely out of diapers—having kids of their own. To his immortal’s way of measuring time, they were only slightly older than Daniel.

“That can be arranged,” Peter answered before Marcus could say anything. “And thank you for your help with Raphael.”

They left the den, but Marcus’s mind stayed there for a long time after. He didn’t notice when, once out of the den and the catacombs, Peter called Caelum back and they were escorted through the magik territory and out to the Promenade where Samuel had left the SUV. The entire ride, he thought of those kids who braved life without any help from their families or society at large and promised himself he would do something to help them.

Alexander couldn’t exit the car soon enough. Feeling caged, he needed to stretch his legs on the Milvio Bridge walkway. He breathed in the nippy air of the afternoon, and, closing his eyes, raised his face to the sky to be bathed in the bright light of the February sun. He heard his friends getting out of Samuel’s SUV but wanted to be alone if only for a moment.

The visit to the renegades had left him unsettled and morose. In truth, everyone in the car seemed to have suffered from the same spell, and no one uttered a single word to the others in the vehicle during the whole ride. Only Samuel had spoken, on the phone to Barnes, to ask for supplies and food to be sent to those kids. If anyone could do anything to help the Den of Rejects, it was Samuel’s boss and newly appointed archangel.

A sudden gust of wind had scattered the contents of an overflowing trash bin, and Alexander kicked a soda can that was underfoot. While Marcus had talked to the renegade kid, whose tough demeanor had cracked several times during their conversation, Alexander’s mind had brought back memories of his adoptive daughter. His Cherry.

Only his closest friends knew of her.

While traveling through China, he had met Samuel, who was roaming the world to heal his wounded heart. Alexander too was on the mend from the loss of his Eloisa, the English rose he had married a century earlier. Between the fallen angel and him, a friendship was soon born, fueled by heartbreak and their common passion for fine Asian art.

It was late spring in Peking, when, one afternoon, Samuel came to visit him and asked, “Have you heard there’s an estate for auction?

“How come?”

“The owner was a rich merchant. He committed suicide after the death of his young wife. The property is too large for the remaining family to manage and the heir prefers to sell everything and be done with it.”

Touched deeply by the tragic love story and still grieving for the loss of his own wife, Alexander proposed to go to the auction and see what they had to offer. At the end of that day, he returned home as the new owner of the entire estate. Samuel had tried to stop him, but he couldn’t help but think he was somehow preserving the couple’s love.

“You’re such a sentimental man,” Samuel commented when he caught Alexander looking at the golden keys in his hands, tears swelling in his eyes.

“You better keep your mouth shut.” Alexander swatted the man’s shoulder with his free hand. “First thing in the morning, we’ll go check my new house.”

The next day, Alexander found himself standing before the property at the crack of dawn—he had never made it back to his hotel suite that night, but entertained himself with a flute player who had skilled hands and an even more skilled mouth.

Samuel joined him a few minutes later. “Ready to take possession of your new toy?”

“I was born ready.” Alexander entered the master key into the estate’s main gate and walked straight into one of the most beautiful gardens he had ever seen. Cherry trees in bloom lined a long path paved with red tiles. The path led to the main house which was surrounded by water. The blue, terracotta tiles on the roof reflected in the body of water below, creating a peaceful image. Small birds flew from branch to branch, their melodious twitters breaking the silence.

“This must be heaven on earth.” Alexander looked around.

Samuel walked ahead and stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading into the house. “It turns out that you actually didn’t waste your money.”

Standing beside the door, a mature servant waited for them, her chin to her chest. The woman extended her arm to the side to indicate they should enter. Samuel kept a step behind and let Alexander in first.

“It’s even better than I expected.” Alexander’s eyes went to the delicate collection of Chinese art displayed on every surface. Samuel was right. Alexander was sentimental and would have spent his money on that property just to preserve an ideal, but the quality of the vases and plates he was looking at was worth several times what he had paid.

“I think she’s trying to tell you something.” Samuel indicated the servant whose chin remained lowered to her chest. Her arm again outstretched and pointed at a doorway into an internal courtyard.

Alexander decided to oblige the woman’s request and walked out onto the wooden porch bordering a central garden with a Koi pond. At first, he rejoiced at the calming picture, his mind projected to late afternoon teas in the company of his favorite musician and maybe her friends as well. Then he saw her. A small girl, big almond-shaped eyes staring up at him over a nose so little it almost disappeared in her round face. Her small hands had frozen in the act of releasing a paper crane into the still water of the pool. Behind her, two servants bowed deeply at Alexander.

“Whose child is this?” He turned to the servant who had remained at the screen door. If possible, the woman’s head had lowered even more. Alexander noticed the tremor shaking the servant’s hands. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. She can play here today.” He had spoken in her language, and the woman’s demeanor calmed.

“Alexander?” Samuel’s voice sounded worried.

“What is it?” Alexander turned to look at the girl who was still staring at him.

“The child doesn’t look like she belongs with the servants.” Samuel stepped down from the porch, walked to the Koi pond, and sat on the low granite bench.

“What do you mean?” But Alexander had seen the elegant fabric of the child’s clothes and how her posture indicated a higher upbringing and knew the answer already.

The small girl walked across the pebbled path, climbed the step to the porch—her short legs making her wobble—and offered the paper crane to Alexander, conquering his heart at once with the power of a smile.

When, later that day, Alexander summoned the auctioneer, he was told that with the estate he had also bought a small child with expressive eyes and a sweet disposition. The child’s uncle, her legal guardian, didn’t want to have anything to do with her and had listed her as an object. Alexander found that she was an item under “house miscellanea.” According to the paperwork, she was worth less than a tea set.

“If you are displeased with your purchase, we can sell it back for you. The girl promises to become a beautiful woman. You’ll fetch good money from her sale,”
the auctioneer said, misunderstanding Alexander’s horrified reaction after he had read the auction’s title.

Instead, Alexander put the whole estate minus the girl for sale. He couldn’t stand the sight of that place anymore. He left Peking soon after, accompanied by Samuel, the three servants, and the child he named Cherry Blossom.

Overnight, Alexander had become a father and realized love could come in many different forms. A widower for more than a century, he only had eyes for his daughter. Women were always present in Alexander’s life during that period, but never in the house. He learned to be discreet for Cherry, and never left her alone at night. A few lovers complained he didn’t have time for them anymore. He gifted them with a few shiny baubles and forgot they had even existed.

If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the first time Cherry had called him
Papa
. He had summoned Ophelia, Samuel, and Marcus, and they all stood transfixed before this little wonder with her big almond-shaped eyes. Samuel and Ophelia would spend hours playing with the child. Even Marcus, who, at the time, would never smile and could barely stay in the same place for two days in a row, occasionally visited Alexander’s house. Much to Alexander’s horror, Marcus took it upon himself to teach Cherry how to spar with a wooden sword.

Samuel adored her and told her stories of faraway lands and princesses with black eyes and straight black hair. When Cherry went through her feminine changes, Ophelia never left her side. They became a family for the orphaned child who had come into Alexander’s life for all the wrong reasons but stayed for all the good ones.

When, as an adult, Cherry contracted a malady that wasn’t curable and her final days arrived, she told Alexander,
“Father, don’t think about what you’ll lose when I’m gone. Think of what we’ve had. As long as you live, I’ll always be with you because love transcends time.”

Cherry was in her fifties when she died, and Alexander mourned her with an intensity he hadn’t thought possible. He’d lost a wife already, but it wasn’t the same.

And now, he had found love again and had kids, but, even as an immortal, the idea that everything was transient scared him. The sight of those kids in the Den of Rejects had awakened all those feelings. He had seen Cherry in all of them. Unwanted, and often times sold to the highest bidder. They should have been cherished by families who loved them, not been forced to fend for themselves. Marcus was right. Their society was rotten, and he couldn’t stand by and watch as renegade kids were left behind.

“I see the barge where I found him.” Peter’s voice startled Alexander back to the present.

Alexander blinked and noticed Peter indicating a point over the bridge’s parapet. “Sorry, what were you saying?” He noticed how the wrought iron on the parapet walls was crowded with lockets. It was a new fad among kids to make love promises by hanging lockets with their initials on bridges all over Europe.

A few steps from Alexander, two teenagers walked hand in hand toward the parapet. The boy leaned to brush the girl’s cheek, then rummaged in the pockets disseminated on his jacket, and pulled out a metal locket. The shiny surface caught a sun ray, and Alexander was momentarily blinded by its glare. When he reopened his eyes, the couple were in an embrace and kissing, and he looked away, his heart filled with tenderness and hope for the future of his children.

When Peter reclaimed Alexander’s attention once again, the two teenagers were fastening their token to the bridge. The boy’s hands shook.

“The barge looks exactly like the last time I saw it.” Peter leaned over the parapet and pointed down. “It’s kind of spooky.”

The rest of the group gathered close to him.

Alexander glanced at the barge and had to agree with Peter’s assessment. The place appeared haunted. A few meters from them, marble stairs led down to the Tiber bank, and they all walked toward the barge.

“Let’s hope we find those two kids,” Samuel said.

Alexander also wished for a fast resolution of their hunt because he wanted to get back to Ravenna and his kids knowing Raphael and Luisa were safe. “When this situation is taken care of, I need to talk to you and Peter about what we can do on a regular basis to help the renegades.”

Samuel nodded. “Absolutely. It’s about time we change a few of the laws regarding them.”

“I agree,” Peter called over his shoulder, a few steps ahead of them.

“Count me in,” chimed Marcus from the rear.

“Glad to help in any way I can,” Quintilius said.

Feeling lighter, Alexander hurried to reach the barge.

Samuel raised one hand and stopped them, then angled his head toward the canal boat. “I don’t hear any noise.”

Quintilius’s nostrils flared and his mouth closed in a tight line. “I can smell their scents though.”

“Okay. Let’s go inside and find out for sure.” Marcus marched ahead and walked over the short plank securing the barge to the bank.

Alexander let everyone pass, then closed the ranks. He entered the barge and held his breath. Inside, the space was dark and it took his eyes a moment to adjust, but when he could focus on the interiors, his heart melted at the sight of a domestic scene.

In a corner of the big, squandered space, smelling of dust and mold, was a clearing. Over a worn but clean rug, stood a coffee table made of a piece of wood balanced on a large terracotta vase. Alexander stepped closer and leaned over the table. On the smooth wooden surface, someone—most probably Raphael—had placed a chipped, glass pitcher filled with pink roses, and a bouquet of red balloons held down by a fluffy teddy bear hugging a heart. A box of chocolates lay open, a few of the gold plastic tray’s slots vacant.

Noticing the small package at the foot of the vase, he bent to get a better look. Recycled newspaper, with red hearts stenciled all over it, wrapped a solid object. Alexander took the wrapped gift in his hands and decided it might have been a frame from the rectangular shape. He stood and noticed all the canvases placed against the walls with paintings in several stages of completion. The one on his right commanded his attention. It was a girl’s portrait. A brief glance around the space confirmed his suspicion. The majority of the paintings were of the same girl. “He loves her,” he said with a shake of his head.

****

“He sure does. And that makes this whole situation a mess.” Peter had reached Alexander’s conclusion upon entering the barge and spotting the Valentine’s Day vignette.

Peter knew all about young love and the perils associated with it. He had become a demon after helping two teenagers achieve their dream to be free to love each other. Sometimes, when Ophelia slept by his side, sweet and yet sad emotions assailed Peter. Not memories. He would never remember his life as an angel. But lately, more frequently, he experienced feelings he didn’t recognize as his. As the demon’s. So they must have been residual sentiments from when he was an angel.

He reasoned the emotional flashbacks were due to the transfer he and Samuel had successfully attempted almost a year ago. During a manhunt that threatened his life and Ophelia’s, Peter and Samuel had used their combined power to read a living soul. Peter, the demon, could only read the dead and discover what had happened to them before dying. But Peter, the angel, had been able to communicate with the living souls. So, he used what was left of the fallen’s power to channel their united energies and read the thoughts of one of his angel enemies.

Thanks to that reading, he now knew he never renounced his holiness. He had been forced to become a demon by the ex-archangel, Arariel. His only fault, he helped two star-crossed lovers find peace. Lucilla and Valerio had been young and in love. He a vampire, and she a werewolf. In Roman times, their love was doomed. Shunned by both their families, and unable to bear an existence without the other, the two kids had decided to transmigrate their souls to their next lives. Peter had made that possible.