Inferno's Kiss (12 page)

Over the years, Dante had seen his mentor struggle to hide his feelings whenever someone mentioned the
Prima Consul.
But it wasn’t just his love for Atia the man had lost. Marcus had lost a son and the joy of watching his daughter grow up. In leading the
Absconditus
, Marcus had paid a dear price for his service to the guild.

Even Placido, despite his robust love for life, had lost a great deal when he’d been the reigning Sicari Lord. Placido’s determination to remain impartial during his leadership had cost the ancient warrior his wife when he’d unknowingly sent her on a mission that ended in her death. It was just one more reason why Dante believed committing himself to the
Absconditus
had been the right choice for him. He would never have to make the kind of choice Placido had or lose as much as Marcus had.

“I’m worried about you, Dante.” He met his
Praefect
’s troubled gaze in the glass reflection.

“Why?” he asked as he turned to face her. “Because I chose to lead a solitary life? It doesn’t mean I’m unhappy.”

“I wonder if you know what real happiness is,” Cornelia said as if she were musing out loud rather than talking directly to him.

“Real happiness?” He chuckled with amusement and a fair share of relief that she was no longer probing into his reasons behind his chosen state of celibacy. “What’s real happiness?”

“It’s when you come home to someone who’s there to welcome you with a hug. It’s that warm feeling you get when you go to sleep at night knowing you’re loved.”

Now he was certain Cornelia was just musing out loud. Her words sounded husky, as if she was on the verge of tears, and he cleared his throat. His second-in-command obviously missed her husband, and she’d been living a hellish existence since Beatrice’s kidnapping. It was understandable that after all these months she was close to reaching her breaking point. The kind of pressure she was under eventually wore a person down.

“I think we both need some sleep,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

As if suddenly aware that she’d been thinking out loud, she jerked her head up and met his gaze with a flash of embarrassment flickering in her eyes. He deliberately turned away to give her time to compose herself, and he tossed back the remainder of his drink.

“I think you’re right,” Cornelia said a short moment later. He turned to watch her uncurl her slender frame out of the couch in a fluidly graceful move. “It’s been a long day, and I’m teaching class in the morning.”

“Which level of the
Novem Conformavi
?” he asked as he remembered several of the classes she’d led when he’d been a student. Her gaze met his, and she arched her eyebrow.

“The fourth
Tabulati
,” she said.

“Temperance and awareness,” he murmured as they started walking toward the hallway that connected all the rooms facing the inner courtyard.

“Why don’t you stop by? I don’t think any of my students are ready for the rank of Tribune, but you might find a Patrician worthy of the line of succession.” Cornelia came to a halt, forcing him to do the same. She cocked her head to one side as she studied him. “That is, unless you already have someone in mind.”

“I’ve not thought about it.”

“It might be a good idea for you to start, because I think you’re going to need to make a decision sometime in the very near future.”

Dante didn’t answer her for a minute. Cornelia was right. Marcus was clearly thinking about retirement, which meant Dante, as the future reigning Sicari Lord, needed to select two fighters to succeed him.
Absconditus
law clearly stated that if the reigning Sicari Lord chose to abdicate the position, a Tribune and a Patrician had to be selected before the leadership reins were passed.

The royal houses of Europe had always referred to their leadership succession as an heir and a spare. The role of Tribune and Patrician served a similar purpose within the
Absconditus
, but the guild’s leadership wasn’t rooted in blood or name. The selection was based on the strength of the guild member’s telepathic and telekinetic abilities as well as temperament.

The ideal candidates were
Absconditus
warriors whose abilities and personalities were as close a match to the same qualities Maximus, the first Sicari Lord, had possessed. Generally, the Tribune chosen was a warrior who’d passed the sixth
Tabulati
. In Dante’s case, there had been no other guild members with powers as strong as his, which is why he’d become Tribune at so young an age.

“I never did understand why Marcus didn’t choose you to be Tribune, or at the very least, Patrician,” he said.

“Because when it comes to making decisions, I’m a better follower than a leader. I see only black and white. You see all the shades in between.”

“That doesn’t make me a leader.”

“But it does. If I were a true leader, I wouldn’t have simply accepted Beatrice’s fate. As the Sicari Lord, I would never have tried to find a way to rescue her,” she whispered. Her gaze shifted away from his to stare at the window that stood between them and the night. “I would have complacently accepted the inevitable. You were the one who saw possibilities where I believed they didn’t exist. And that’s what a leader does. They forge trails where others see only the wilderness.”

Almost as if she regretted letting him see her vulnerability, Cornelia jerked her head toward him and forced a smile to her lips.

“You’ll make a wonderful Sicari Lord, and I shall be as proud to serve under your leadership as I have been to serve under Marcus’s,” she said in a quiet voice. “Now, if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to have trouble controlling my class in the morning.”

“Let me guess. Giuseppe and Santino?”

“Yes,” his
Praefect
said with a sigh. “Those two would die for each other, but Santino knows precisely which one of Giuseppe’s buttons to push.”

“They’ll eventually settle down. Remember Tony and Alfredo? They used to fight like mad dogs when I was growing up.”

“I’d forgotten about their sibling rivalry,” Cornelia said with a nod. “Let’s hope that happens with Giuseppe and Santino, because both of them are demonstrating remarkable abilities. Not as powerful as you at that age, but close. In fact, either one of them would be an excellent choice for Patrician.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, she walked out of the room, leaving Dante to ponder her last statement. He’d put off even contemplating the selection of a Tribune or a Patrician. A part of him had been hoping Marcus wasn’t really ready to retire. But deep inside, he’d known his time to take on the role of Sicari Lord would come a lot sooner than he was prepared for.

Maybe he should stop by Cornelia’s classroom before his workout tomorrow morning. He’d need to make a decision quickly if Marcus were to suddenly announce his retirement. Slowly, he followed in his
Praefect
’s footsteps down the long, continuous hallway that wrapped its way around the inner courtyard of the house. The thought of selecting a Tribune and a Patrician as his heirs to the Sicari Lord title was a sobering one.

Both Marcus and Placido would offer counsel, but the ultimate decision was his. Whomever he chose would lead the
Absconditus
after he retired or in the event of his death. He sucked in a deep breath and quickly released it. This was something he’d trained for since he’d turned fifteen. It wasn’t unexpected, and yet for the first time he was beginning to understand how completely alone he was.

Chapter 6

“WHAT do you mean
he’s dead
?” Nicostratus snarled. Dead. One of his most lucrative financial resources had been disposed of as neatly as a deck of cards.

“Angotti’s body was found early this morning, along with his bodyguards and two men assigned by Dominus Russo to monitor Angotti’s activities.” Prior Draco Verdi’s voice was quiet, almost detached, as he made his report. “The man’s mistress described a sole female as the assassin. The executioner was trained in Sicari techniques.”

“You’ve identified this Sicari bitch?” he asked harshly as he absorbed the knowledge that his adopted son had placed Angotti under surveillance before his death at the hands of Marcus Vorenus. Had Gabriel been plotting against him? What did it matter, the boy was dead and any plot was dead with him. Still, the thought only added to his anger.

“Her name is Cleopatra Vorenus.”

The Prior’s statement shot a blast of fury through Nicostratus, and he expressed it with the back of his hand against Verdi’s cheek. The loud crack of the blow echoed sharply in the Patriarch’s library despite its high ceiling and massive size. For a split second, he acknowledged the fact that the Prior barely flinched under the vicious slap, even though Nicostratus’s ring had sliced into the man’s cheek.

“Do you mean to tell me that fucking whore is still in
my
city?” He spoke quietly as he sent the Prior a cold look.

“We didn’t know until this morning that she hadn’t left with the
Prima Consul
. We still wouldn’t have known if Angotti’s mistress hadn’t identified her,” the Prior replied.

“I want her found and executed.”

Nicostratus glanced down at his ring and saw blood on the Chi-Rho symbol carved into the gold crest. With a grunt of disgust, he quickly circled his desk and retrieved a tissue with which to rub the ring clean.

Rome was his. Even though the
Absconditus
had a strong presence here, Marcus Vorenus knew the Praetorians outnumbered them at least five to one, and possibly by more. But Vorenus had crossed the line when he’d led that motley group of Sicari into the Pantheon and taken the one thing Nicostratus wanted more than anything else. The
Tyet of Isis
.

It was a sign that God was making him pay a penance for past sins. What those sins were, he didn’t know. Everything he’d done throughout his life was for the good of the Collegium and the Church. Then there was Gabriel’s death. A small part of him would miss the boy. The poor Sicari
bastardo
had always been so eager to please him.

That kind of devotion was hard to come by and required a great deal of energy to cultivate. He pressed his palms against the dark mahogany wood of his desk and leaned forward to pin Prior Verdi under his gaze. Nicostratus didn’t like the man’s composed expression. It said he wasn’t intimidated being in the Patriarch’s presence.

Any other warrior for the Collegium would be showing fear now in the face of the Patriarch’s anger. And yet, a small part of him couldn’t help but admire the Prior for it. Surely underneath that calm, relaxed appearance, the man was feeling some trepidation. Even Gabriel, who could have easily killed Nicostratus, had been afraid of the Patriarch.

“What else is there?” he asked, his tone advising the man to take care.

“Our informant with the local police allowed us to question Angotti’s mistress. She saw the whole thing happen from her bedroom window. The mistress said Vorenus took out all four men in a matter of minutes.”

“Surely she had a partner,” Nicostratus said with disgust at the thought of a single woman killing five men. He slowly sank down into the chair behind his desk.

“No, sir, she was alone.”

“Then perhaps you’re mistaken. My sources tell me the Sicari are under strict orders to always travel in pairs while in Rome,” he snapped. “Not even Marcus Vorenus’s daughter would be so stupid as to defy the Order’s edict and venture out into the city on her own.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me either, Excellency. But it
was
Cleopatra Vorenus. One of my men pulled up pictures of possible Sicari assassins on his phone, and Angotti’s mistress picked Vorenus out of the lot.”

Faced with such irrefutable truth, his anger grew in strength. First Marcus Vorenus had stolen the
Tyet of Isis
from him, and now the
bastardo
had left his daughter here to assassinate Angotti. The crime lord had been an invaluable commodity to him. Angotti’s reputation for ferreting out information had made him exceptionally good at keeping Nicostratus up-to-date with Sicari movements.

The fat Italian’s informative reports had also circumvented several threats that would have exposed the Praetorian presence within the Church—something that hadn’t happened in almost two thousand years of the Church’s history. On top of all that, Angotti had offered Nicostratus multiple opportunities to expand and hide his personal finances as well as those of the Collegium’s.

Nicostratus steepled his fingers and rested them against his mouth as he contemplated what Angotti’s death would mean for him and the Collegium. Since the time of Octavian, the first Monsignor, during the reign of Constantine I, the Collegium had operated secretly inside the Church. Financial resources had never been a problem until recently. Thirty years ago, he could have easily shifted funds from one account to the other without detection.

These days it was becoming more and more difficult to siphon off monies from the Church’s coffers to fund the Praetorian cause. The technology that made it easier for him to invest monies he’d acquired for the Collegium and his personal use was a double-edged sword. Lately the internal audits from the Church’s accounting office were becoming more frequent and even more annoying.

It was almost as if someone were trying to expose the Collegium’s presence in the Church. He tightened his jaw at the thought. What if Gabriel had been trying to do that? No. Gabriel might have been difficult at times, but the boy had been fanatically loyal to the Collegium. He would never have done anything to harm his family. His reason for living. Nicostratus’s gaze focused on Prior Verdi again.

“What else does Angotti’s woman know?”

“About the assassination or Angotti’s connection to the Collegium . . . or you, Excellency?”

Verdi’s unflappable manner registered with the Patriarch again, and he narrowed his eyes at the Prior. Intelligent and shrewd. The man had figured out that Angotti was of immense importance not only to the Collegium, but to Nicostratus as well. For the first time since the man had told him about Angotti’s death, the Patriarch’s anger abated somewhat, and he allowed his mouth to curl slightly in approval.