The Immortal City Read online

  “Is it wrong that I don’t feel guilty that I lived while those men died? You killed them, and I’m still more afraid of them than you. That makes me a pretty horrible person, right?”

  Penelope didn’t meet his eye, so he lifted her chin with his finger so she would see how serious he was.

  “It isn’t wrong. You feel no guilt because you are innocent. They were not good men, Penelope. Good men don’t sell people, and they don’t profit from murder and death.” Her skin warmed beneath his touch, so he let her go. “Sleep, Penelope. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  ALEXIS WATCHED the rise and fall of Penelope’s chest. He could hear the rattle of water in her lungs with each inhale. He couldn’t heal her other wounds—there had been too many witnesses to them—but inside was another matter.

  Alexis rubbed his palms together and gently placed them on either side of her rib cage. Focusing his energy, he shut his eyes and started to evaporate the water inside of her to prevent infection. It took only a moment, but he left his hands there, feeling the warmth of her body and the steady beat of her heart to remind himself that she was alive.

  “She’s okay, Alexis,” Phaidros whispered beside him. Alexis removed his hands and stepped away from the bed. Phaidros inclined his head, and they left her room, Alexis shutting the door quietly behind them. “Leave her to sleep. The palazzo will look after her.”

  “She could’ve died protecting our secrets, Phaidros,” Alexis said. His body was starting to ache now that the adrenaline had gone, the price for using so much magic.

  “At least now we know we can trust her. She’s brave for a human,” replied Phaidros.

  “Someone called the Acolyte tried to buy her from the Serpente to use as a sacrifice like she was some beast at the markets.”

  “You saved her, Alexis. You killed all of those men tonight to make sure of it.” Phaidros watched him carefully. “I haven’t seen this side of you for a while, Defender. You’ve taken the sabotage approach for so long now, I’m surprised you went straight for the sword.”

  “She’s under our protection, whether you like it or not. I acted the same way with her as I would have for any of you,” said Alexis. “You saw the Bull. The Serpente sold her to that fate. To that death. I won’t apologize for taking their lives.”

  “We’ve seen a lot of death, Alexis. She has not. She might not look at you in that same wide-eyed, utterly charmed way, and you should be prepared for that.”

  “She saw, she knew exactly what she was coming home with,” Alexis argued, “and she doesn’t look at me like that. She’s just tolerating me at the moment because she wants to get her hands on the Archives.”

  “Everyone looks at you like that. You’re just too stupid to realize. Come on, you need to sleep. I can get her things from the hotel.” Phaidros steered him away from her door.

  “I don’t think…”

  “I will watch over her.” Lyca stepped from a shadow.

  Alexis narrowed his eyes. “Can I trust you to keep your blades to yourself?”

  “Of course. Nereus told me I must watch over her because she’s your friend. My blade will never touch her skin.”

  Lyca might not think being friends with curious humans was wise, but she would never disobey Nereus. Alexis nodded his consent and allowed Phaidros to gently push him toward the stairs of his tower.

  PENELOPE WOKE in a sea of vermillion sheets made of Egyptian cotton. Outside her window, stormy gray clouds had gathered over the sea. Her clothing, books, and laptop had been placed on a Louis XIV writing desk that hadn’t been there at dawn when Alexis had helped her to bed. Only magicians could have moved furniture so quietly.

  Magicians.

  A week ago, she struggled to believe in astral projection, let alone magic, but after seeing Alexis and what he could do in the last two days, she was now a true believer. He had killed those men with as much detached emotion as Penelope had when grocery shopping. They had fallen to his blade without so much as laying a single scratch on him. Only centuries of practice and killing could make someone so dispassionate in a fight. It should have frightened her, but being near Alexis seemed like the safest place in the world if the Acolyte and the Serpente were after her.

  You should come home, her father’s voice said, you would be safe here, teaching history at a university on the other side of the world.

  Living in a house of magicians hunting a crazy murderer was not safe, but Penelope had no intention of leaving.

  The bathroom adjoining her main chambers had marble floors, large antique mirrors, and a cast-iron tub that made her sigh with delight. Fresh white roses that hadn’t been there that morning sat in a vase on the long vanity with an array of shampoos, soaps, and lotions.

  Despite the shower at dawn, Penelope could still smell blood and oily saltwater on her skin and hair. It made her question the sanity of Lord Byron swimming the canals after visiting his mistress. She didn’t want to think how much worse the water quality would have been in 1817.

  After selecting a creamy soap that smelled of roses and honey, she climbed into the shower and let the hot water from the oversized head pulverize her bunched muscles. Her lungs ached less than she had expected them to, and her hands no longer throbbed in pain. She felt along her new scar, inspecting the purple and red line over her heart. Alexis had saved her then too.

  Another mystery.

  If Alexis hadn’t wanted her getting any closer to the truth, he could’ve watched her die. Maybe he wanted you to find them.

  Penelope thought of the Archives downstairs and trembled at the idea of visiting it again. There were so many secrets and so much history in the palazzo. She itched to know more about everything, including her rescuer.

  The magical Turkish corsair who fought crusaders to save books.

  Despite the terrifying night she had endured, Penelope couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. The part of her that tried so hard to deny the magical aspect of Atlantis history had been annihilated. As an undergraduate, she had shut away the wild, irrational belief and yearning for the strange and magical. That wasn’t the Atlantis she could prove to others. Stones, relics, temples, only physical proof became her obsession instead. Except now the proof she had found was in the form of magic. Maybe it’s time to forget everything you think you know and go and find out the truth.

  Wrapped in a thick robe, Penelope went to search her bag for a pair of clean black leggings and a knit sweater. Sitting on top of her bed was a card with elegant, masculine writing:

  Doctor Bryne,

  At your convenience, please join me in the courtyard for a late breakfast. The palazzo will show you the way.

  Alexis

  “Just as long as you have coffee, I’ll be there,” Penelope said, pulling on her clothes. It might have been vain, considering her busted lip and bruised cheek, but she still applied a little powder and eyeliner before leaving the room. Just because she felt like shit didn’t mean she was going to look like it.

  Penelope walked down a winding set of stairs and through empty hallways. She tried not to stop every two feet to look at art, sculptures, or bookcases. The breeze that blew through the house was too mild and summery for that time of year, and the speckled floors beneath her bare feet were warm.

  Penelope had been staring at the intricate patterns of a Persian rug when she felt the walls shift. At the end of the hallway was now an archway with sunlight and greenery beyond it.

  The palazzo will show you the way, the note had said. Penelope thought it was a joke. A house that moved around was going to make life even more confusing. She tried to keep an open mind as she stepped outside into a courtyard filled with leafy green trees and bright flowers. The walls of the house rose around her in an eclectic mix of Byzantine and Western architecture. The sun was warm overhead even though there had been wet clouds outside of her bedroom minutes ago.

  Penelope followed a path of terra-cotta tiles and found Alexis sitting at a glass and
wrought iron table, a large white umbrella shielding their breakfast from the sun. He was reading a copy of La Nazione, coffee steaming in front of him. He glanced up, and his blue eyes looked at her in a way that exploded her stomach with butterflies.

  “I hope you haven’t been out here too long,” she said, trying to sound relaxed.

  “Good afternoon,” he replied with a smile. “Did you sleep okay after your night of…adventures?”

  “Better than I thought I would.” She took a seat beside him. “This is the same table as the café you created in the meditation.”

  “It is. I’m surprised you remember it.” Alexis poured her coffee, black as sin. “I must apologize for my behavior that day. I laid hands on you, and it was uncalled for.”

  Penelope rubbed her arm, remembering the feeling of his hand on her skin. “You didn’t grab me hard. It frightened me more than anything.”

  “I apologize for it all the same. I was…unsettled by your presence.”

  “At least you knew I was a real person. I thought you were some imaginary guy I’d dug out of my subconscious.”

  “Does your subconscious frequently conjure strange men?” he asked, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth.

  “You are definitely the strangest.”

  Penelope sipped her coffee and almost groaned with happiness as the complex flavor hit her taste buds. She didn’t know where he got his beans from, but she vowed not to leave Venice without some.

  “Do you always pull that face when you drink coffee?” he chuckled.

  “Only when I drink your coffee. I swear you must put smack in it.”

  “A little cinnamon only.”

  Penelope helped herself to some fruit and tried to be as relaxed as he looked, dressed casually in tan pants and a white shirt rolled to his elbows, his long fingers heavy with silver rings. Alexis’s black hair was a tumble of long black curls around his bearded face, and she would’ve resented his easy Mediterranean style if she didn’t enjoy looking at him so much.

  “How come it’s raining in one part of the house, and perfectly sunny here?” she asked. “And please don’t mysteriously smile and say magic.”

  Alexis smiled mysteriously anyway and replied, “But what if it is magic? Do you want to see how it is done?”

  “If it’s magic, of course, I want to see!”

  “Come on, and I’ll show you something you won’t find in your universities.” Alexis got to his feet and stepped out from the shade of the umbrella, gesturing for her to join him. She put her coffee down and hurried over to his side.

  “Stand right here and look up,” Alexis said, moving her in front of him. Penelope watched the sky as he lifted his arms upward and the sun above them faded to reveal the cloudy Venetian sky, the rain falling on an invisible barrier. “I chose a particularly beautiful day I remembered from last spring. I thought you would prefer the sun after your ordeal.” The clouds were once again replaced by sunshine and Penelope stared at him, blinking in wonder.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  Alexis touched her cheek gently, and her skin hummed. “If Marco Dandolo wouldn’t become suspicious, I would heal all of your bruising too.”

  “I would’ve been a lot worse if you hadn’t have turned up. I would have only gotten so far with that oar,” Penelope said, her pulse jumping as he lightly touched her bruises. The sandalwood spice smell of him grew stronger. “And despite Marco’s suspicions, you’re doing healing magic anyway?”

  “Only to take the pain away, not the look of it,” he admitted. “I don’t know how I feel about you knowing when I’m using magic.”

  “It’s your fault for smelling so good.”

  The words were out before she could stop them. Before either of them replied, Phaidros appeared near the table, his golden skin and hair in the sunshine making him glow like Apollo.

  “She only thinks that because she hasn’t smelled me yet,” he said, helping himself to a croissant.

  Penelope took a step back from Alexis. “Hey! That’s my breakfast.”

  “Come and eat it and stop fucking about my weather.” Phaidros sat down in a chair. “Has Alexis given you a phone yet?”

  “A phone?”

  “I was going to give it to you after you ate.” Alexis reached into his pocket and handed her a new iPhone. “Phaidros doesn’t believe in patience.”

  “I don’t believe in you hogging the doctor, especially when Inspector Dandolo has been messaging her nonstop,” Phaidros replied.

  “And how would you know that?” Penelope asked, taking the phone.

  “Call it a hunch. If I had your number, I’d be messaging you too.” Phaidros smiled flirtatiously and Alexis smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

  “Cut it out.”

  “You want to ruin all of my fun,” Phaidros complained as he poured himself coffee.

  Penelope turned on the phone, and sure enough, there were ten messages, including two missed calls from Marco checking on her. They had finished at the site where Penelope had been held, and they had recovered phones that they could use to trace numbers.

  “I should give him a call back,” she groaned before putting the phone down on the table. “Alexis is right. It can wait until after breakfast. They kicked me off the case after all.”

  “They still want you consulting, but we are doing an investigation of our own,” Alexis said. “Believe me. We will get further and go faster without having to work with the polizia. The walls at the crime scene were covered in dark magic. Marco Dandolo is in over his head.”

  “I’ve just come from the Archives. Nereus has your photos and has reconstructed the crime scenes,” added Phaidros. “I haven’t seen her so pissed off in years. It almost makes me want to go back to Florence.”

  “Florence? Is that where you usually live?” Penelope asked.

  “At the moment it is. Alexis summoned me when he figured out you were in Venice.” Phaidros gave her a sly smile. “He was quite upset.”

  “Why?” Penelope turned to Alexis who looked like he was going to stab Phaidros with a fork.

  “Because I thought you were going to try and expose us,” Alexis said.

  “When we broke into your hotel room and saw the sacrifices on your walls, it really got him going,” laughed Phaidros. “It’s good you have come, Penelope. I haven’t been this amused in years.”

  “You are kind of a dick, aren’t you?” said Penelope. “Is he always like this, Alexis?”

  “Yes. Always.” Alexis smiled over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “I’m not a dick. I’m just happy to see Alexis stirred up for once. It’s good to know he isn’t perfect all the time,” Phaidros said as he stole a bunch of grapes from Alexis’s plate. “I feel all energized by his frustration and agitation.”

  “You are one weird guy.” Penelope shook her head.

  “No, I’m not. Alexis has probably neglected to tell you anything about us worth knowing, but we all have different magical abilities,” explained Phaidros. “Mine is the manipulation of energy.”

  “What do you mean? Like a vampire?” Penelope asked, intrigued to know more. Alexis burst out laughing at the look on Phaidros’s face.

  “No, my darling, not like a vampire,” the golden magician said. “Magic is energy. A magician finds different ways to manipulate that energy to achieve the desired outcome. Everything around us, including you, has an aura of energy running through it. I can manipulate that in all sorts of interesting ways.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I could change it to affect your emotions, making you happy or sad.” Phaidros’s eyes darkened. “Or I could heat every molecule up in your body, so you boil alive from the inside.”

  “That seems rather excessive,” Penelope murmured, her heart beating faster.

  “It can be useful.” Phaidros laughed easily. “Don’t worry, I would find far nicer ways to manipulate your energy.”

 
; Alexis smiled at him threateningly. “Not if you want to keep breathing, you won’t.”

  “He’s no fun at all, Penelope,” huffed Phaidros. “As amusing as this is, Nereus won’t wait patiently for us much longer. Are you coming?”

  AFTER BREAKFAST, they went back downstairs to the Archives. Even though Penelope knew what to expect, the sight of the cavern of books spread out beneath her still punched her in the chest. She could spend every day for the rest of her life reading and not get a quarter of the way through the collection. What secrets and lost mysteries do you hold?

  “If only I could find a woman who looked at me the same way you look at books, Penelope,” Phaidros lamented beside her.

  “It’s so overwhelming, it makes me want to cry,” she replied.

  “Mortals,” Phaidros chuckled as they stepped out of the glass elevator.

  “Maybe you are just old and jaded, Phaidros,” Alexis said from behind her.

  “Old and jaded I may be, but I’m still prettier than you.”

  Penelope thought it best if she kept her mouth shut, but she still shot a grin at Alexis from behind Phaidros’s back.

  Phaidros opened a door, and Penelope recoiled at the sight before her. The room was made entirely of shiny black hematite stone. She had never seen so much of it in one place. Inside, Nereus had recreated both crime scenes with perfect 3-D, life-size models.

  “Hello again, my dear, do they look about accurate?” Nereus asked Penelope in her no-nonsense way.

  “Yes,” she managed. “God, it’s creepy seeing them like this.” Penelope reached out to touch the driftwood of the horse, and her hand slid straight through. “It’s a projection?”

  “Think of it as magical imaging,” Phaidros offered.

  “Is that the reason for the hematite room?”

  “No, the hematite contains the dark energy generated from the spells,” Alexis explained.