Vampire - Deep Midnight Part 5

"Please, please, Rafael," Jordan told him. "Go ahead, and take good care of your friend.

I've taken up way too much of your time."

"Come for an espresso with Lynn and me," Anna Maria said. "Then come back and make your choices."

"Her choices are made," Raphael said flippantly. "But you must come back and admit that I am right. And the vinyl... you should take that now. It is such a zoo here, it may take time to get the costumes to your hotel." Raphael hurried down the stairs. "You'll come for an espresso, cappuccino?" Anna Maria said.

"I should go back. I rather ran out on my cousin-in-law this morning."

Anna Maria shrugged philosophically. "Cindy is a dear. I will call her; tell her you're here, getting costumes."

"Then I'll come. I'll just hurry out of this ..." She indicated the jester's costume she had thought a possibility.

Anna Maria nodded. "We'll be on the street-puffing away," she said.

Jordan changed back into her day clothes. When she came down the stairs, she saw that Raphael was talking to a moderately tall, dark-haired man. When the man turned around, she realized she had met him. He had been one of the cops at the station last night; he had come in with the contessa when she arrived with Jared and Cindy. He had done little talking to her, not being the officer who spoke such flawless English. He smiled now, somewhat gravely. "Buon giorno, Signorina Riley," he said pleasantly. His name was Capo, she remembered, Roberto Capo.

She felt her cheeks flood with color; all of the police had been aggravated with her by the end of last night. This man had watched her with deep, searing dark eyes throughout most of her babbling and the other man's questioning.

She saw him struggle for a moment; he had the kind of knowledge of English that she had of Italian-every word had to be recalled and thought out.

"Today ... you are fine?"

"Yes, thank you, grazie. But ..." She lifted her hands. "It was very real." She had said those words so many times.

He nodded. "It is ... understand."

"Understandable," Raphael corrected.

The handsome young officer flushed. "Understandable. Charades ... masquerades ...

they get..." His voice trailed off and he looked at Raphael.

"Carried away," Raphael supplied.

Capo nodded. "In Venice ... it is beautiful. We try not to-to throw up too much, you know? Not like your New Orleans."

Jordan wanted to defend New Orleans, a city she loved, but before she could do so, Capo was speaking quickly again. "New Orleans is a good city. Carnevale is-different.

Here ... the masks, the gowns ... it is a show. Sometimes, the show is too much. There is bad that happens. The contessa should not play at murder and blood."

Jordan smiled at him. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Sono-I am Roberto-"

"Roberto Capo, I remember."

"Roberto, please."

"Roberto. Thank you."

"Prego. Please. I am sorry for your trouble."

"Again, thank you, Roberto. Well. I'll let you get to your costuming."

She started out, but Roberto stopped her, calling to her, striding to touch her shoulder, then blushing slightly again. He was very good-looking, she noted, with his endlessly dark eyes, cla.s.sic features, and a taut build. "If you are ever afraid, please, come to me. I will not..." He gave up and spoke quickly to Raphael in Italian.

"He will not laugh at you, or be angry with you," Raphael said.

Roberto spoke again quickly, and Raphael translated.

"It's always better to investigate; please don't hesitate to go to him, and if he ever thinks that you might help him, he hopes he may come to you,"

She arched a brow to Raphael, surprised, then looked at Roberto. "I would gladly help him at any time. Except that the police did go to the palazzo. It was a charade. Right?"

Roberto Capo had understood her. "A charade, of course. And still ..."

She smiled, nodding at him. "Thank you. I'll remember to ask for you if I have any trouble at all while I'm in Venice. And if you wish to ask me anything, you know that I'm at the Danieli."

Roberto nodded gravely. "I would like to know more ... how you came to the stazione."

"Boat," Jordan reminded him with a shrug.

"You ran from the palazzo."

"A wolf-" she hesitated, realizing that there was a language barrier and she was to insist that a wolf had leaped with her from a balcony. "A guest, dressed like a wolf, brought me to the boat," she said.

"Who was the guest?" Roberto quizzed her. "You have not thought if you know him, he offered you no name?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

Last night, it seemed that those words had made them all stare at one another, certain that she had truly given way to madness or-too much champagne. But today, this particular officer seemed to believe her.

"If you see this man, if you find him, I'd like to speak with him. You must tell me."

"I'm afraid that if I saw him, I'd never know him. He was wearing a mask."

"But you knew his voice."

"If I hear his voice in the street, I will be delighted to let you know," Jordan a.s.sured him. She bid him and Raphael a quick good-bye, and slipped out on the street.

"Ah, you are here!" Anna Maria said.

"I'm sorry to have been so long-"

"Thank you for being so long!" Lynn protested "It's a longer break from that madness."

"This way, down the street, you'll get the best to drink and eat at the cheapest price."

Anna Maria led the way past the popular shops to an alleyway Jordan wouldn't have explored on her own. They pa.s.sed a few workers and a woman sweeping the tiles in front of her shop, and Anna Maria greeted them all.

For a moment, it seemed that a cloud swept over the sun. Jordan felt a chill; she pulled the collar of her wool coat closer around her throat. When the light faded, it was as if great black wings of shadow swept through the alleys, swallowing up the brightness like a great ravenous bird.

"Ah, here we are on break, and there goes the sun!" Lynn muttered, annoyed, and seeing nothing at all eerie in the natural conditions of the earth.

Jordan intended to shake off the chill immediately; instead, she found herself pausing. Listening.

Wondering if a strange sense of whispers hoa.r.s.ely spoken on the wind would descend upon her again.

No sound ...

"Jordan?"

Lynn had turned back.

"Sorry," she said, quickly stepping along, and feeling like a fool.

To her surprise, the tiny cafe deep in the alley was full. She was about to suggest some place else, thinking they'd never get what they wanted in the customary time for a break.

But the two girls behind the counter made espresso, cappuccino, poured wine and aperitif with a skill that would have left any American bartender in the dust. Anna Maria called over the crowd huddled at the bar; in a moment, three espressos had been pa.s.sed over to them.

They found s.p.a.ce at a counter against the wall, and stood, sipping their drinks.

"The city seems huge, eh, with all these people?" Anna Maria said, waving a hand. "But it is not so big really. We know one another, often. You mustn't worry about having offended the contessa, even if Jared is upset."

"Worry if you offend Anna Maria," Lynn said, grinning. Anna Maria made a face at her.

"Well, it's true," Lynn continued. "The contessa hasn't really been back all that long. And Carnevale, as it is now, was really brought back by some American businessmen twenty years ago or so, and from the beginning, Anna Maria was asked for help. And that's true.

The world hasn't really changed so much, especially in Europe. The contessa has money and a t.i.tle. Anna Maria has talent and cla.s.s."

Anna Maria shook her head with impatience and modesty. "You're going to confuse Jordan. Carnevale began here centuries ago. Years ago, American businessmen- European-Americans among them, certainly-became interested in Venice, invested not just to make money, but to make people aware of the world treasure that is Venice, in saving historical buildings. It is difficult here; the sea is our beauty, and it is also our destruction. I became friends with many of these people working so hard for Venice. I have always loved pageantry, costumes, parties . . . and so, I have been somewhat involved."

"Somewhat involved?" Lynn exclaimed. "Whenever big producers from the world over wish to film scenes in Venice, they come to Anna Maria."

"And to many other people," Anna Maria corrected.

"I can see why they would come to you," Jordan told Anna Maria, smiling, and finishing her espresso.

"Don't go thinking so much of me," Anna Maria said firmly. "What Lynn is trying to say is that you must not be worried at all about last night's party. The contessa may think she can damage your cousin's work in Venice, and she can be nasty as a cat, but most of the people who love the city and are involved are not t.i.tled, rich, or necessarily even Venetian."

"We like you, and so you are fine!" Lynn finished.

Jordan laughed. "Well, thank you both so very much. I admit to having been miserable, and now I feel welcome, and so much better."

"Allora, we must go back," Anna Maria said. "Watch as we leave; if you wish to come back to this cafe, you will find it easily. It is not a tourist cafe; they will not charge you an arm and a foot for an espresso or cappuccino." "An arm and a leg," Lynn corrected, laughing and indicating the door.

"Andiamo," Anna Maria said.

As they walked, Lynn pointed out street names. "There!" she said. "That building, where you see the restoration store? In the fifteenth century, it housed the infamous mistress of a scandalous doge. The doges were elected, you know, but usually from the n.o.bility, or most prestigious families. It is reputed to be haunted by her ghost; though it was not proven, supposedly he was stabbed in the midst of making love, for a dalliance with one of his ministers."

Jordan looked up at the building; almost every house and structure was old and unique, with incredible architecture. This one had charming balconies and the cornices were adorned with stone lions that seemed to stand as harsh sentinels, ready to protect those within.

Not looking where she was going, Jordan suddenly slammed into something.

Someone.

She was jostled and might have stumbled, but she was quickly righted by the hands of the person into whom she had crashed. Startled, she stared at a wall of black wool. A second later, she realized that she was looking at a man's chest, covered in a long, trim- fitting, excellently tailored Armani suit. She looked up. He was tall, a good six foot four, and very blond. Rock star? She thought at first. The feel of the hands straightening her and the size of the shoulders above his chest gave her cause for a second speculation. World Wrestling Federation contender?

His hair was past his shoulders, thick, neatly trimmed, not in the least unkempt or matted. His eyes were very blue; ice blue, a cool color that swept over her in a quick a.s.sessment.

"Are you all right?" he asked in English.

"Yes, fine-"

"You should look where you're going."

"Yes, of course, I am sorry-"

"Ragnor! Ciao!" Anna Maria said, interrupting.

"Anna Maria, ciao, bella," the man replied, his Italian sounding, to Jordan's untrained ear, as unaccented as his English. He broke into a rapid spate that left Jordan catching only a word or two as he kissed Anna Maria on both cheeks and she enthusiastically returned the greeting.

Lynn, in turn, greeted him, then indicated Jordan and suggested they switch to English.

"Ragnor, Miss Jordan Riley. Ragnor is a friend to all of us at the shop, and Venice.

Jordan is new to Carnevale."

"Welcome, then," the man said. He greeted her in like fashion, taking her shoulders, stooping slightly to kiss both her cheeks. She had the strange feeling that he wasn't really all that pleased to welcome her; the lips that touched her cheek seemed cold and brusque.

She was almost tempted to pull away. She didn't return the gesture.

She was American, after all; she wasn't expected to kiss in the European fashion.

"How do you do, and again, excuse me," she murmured.

Tall, very tall. As tall as the man with whom she had danced at the contessa's ball. The wolf who had been so courteous-and who had swept her from the b.l.o.o.d.y "performance"

to send her from the palace. But this man didn't seem to know her. Not so much as a flicker of recognition touched his eyes.

How many people in Venice were this tall? Come to think of it, how many people anywhere were this tall?

More than one, she reminded herself dryly. And though Italians were often stereotyped as being small and dark, she had met many tall people here, and many with light eyes and hair.

"Were you at the contessa's ball last night?" she asked, deciding that a straightforward question might be the way to find out.

"No," he replied.