Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

will take me there. Now.”
    She peered close, held out her hand. “If I’m going to take you there, I want to be compensated.”
    “How much?” he asked.
    She named an ungodly sum. He agreed to it, saying, “I’ll arrange for you to receive the money. You have my word.”
    “Molto bene,” she said, placated at last. “I know you angels are too self-righteous to break your promises. I will show you the palazzo. Once you have seen it, you will not forget it. We will have to wait until nighttime, to lessen the chance of being seen by her Gatekeepers. It will be easier in the darkness. But I warn you. If you do manage to track her down, you will never be able to conquer Luciana Rossetti. She is a scheming bitch, and she will find some way to destroy you or extinguish herself trying. She has survived in this world for centuries. If you think you’re going to find some way to best her, you have another think coming. You’d better pray for a miracle.”
    * * *
     
    Carlotta was right, Brandon thought as he looked at the house to which she had taken him.
    I need a miracle.
    The front of the house was only accessible by water, so she took him in a small motorboat that she drove herself. As they drifted slowly past, Carlotta’s mouth pinched into a flat line as they looked up at the house. She hid her face behind the hood she wore.
    “She will kill me if she finds out I have brought you here,” said Carlotta.
    The palazzo was fully lit, the lights reflected on the canal in front of it.
    There was no sign of Luciana herself in the large, imposing windows.
    But the air in front of Ca’ Rossetti had a dark, shimmering quality that he had never seen before. Meticulously maintained, the palace was a confection of carved stone, its arched windows delicate and accented with gilt and brilliant blue the color of lapis lazuli. Even in the darkness, its pristine facade contrasted against the elegant decay of its neighbors, the other buildings weathered and crumbling from centuries of exposure to the elements.
    As they advanced closer, Brandon noticed that the ornate entranceway was adorned with carvings of demons, their stony wings folded in repose. Half a dozen goblins, a small pack, perched on the corner of the concrete landing in front of the doorway, like water rats living beneath the palazzo. The creatures hissed at the passing boat, their red eyes glowing in the darkness.
    The canal rang with the reverberation of a voice, singing.
    “Did you hear that?” he said.
    They paused, listening. Carlotta narrowed her eyes at him.
    “You will go insane, angel. She keeps a nest of vipers as security guards,” the brothel keeper hissed. “Even if you manage to get past them and capture her, you’ll never pin her down. She will more likely destroy you before you destroy her.”
    Then she disappeared into the night, letting him off not far from Ca’ Rossetti, standing on a concrete walkway. And he knew he needed to find somewhere he could keep an eye on Luciana.
    * * *
     
    Brandon wandered the alleyways behind the palaces surrounding Ca’ Rossetti, looking for a place to set up surveillance. He found it in an abandoned palazzo across the canal from her, the windows boarded up.
    He pushed open the door and entered, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
    Skitterings of unseen vermin and the scent of urine. High walls and a narrow space.
    Am I dreaming? he thought. No.
    Not Detroit.
    Venice.
    Not an alley.
    But rather, the ground floor of a once-glorious noble house. There was a single long room stretching the depth of the palace, completely empty of furniture. The fixtures dated from another century, but which one, he could not even guess. The windows in the back looked very old, made of dusty, nearly opaque glass like round bottle ends fused together in the large frames.
    He climbed the stairs to the second floor, which opened into a room that might once have been a ballroom or a grand dining room. Moonlight flooded in through the huge windows. The peeling frescos, smudged images from a distant past, stood disfigured and unrecognizable now. Ornate doorways and ceilings, the plaster broken and chipped, were fallen away in sections in some parts.
    He found a spot in front of the window that was well hidden, unseen from the outside. From this vantage point, he could see Ca’ Rossetti across the street, as meticulously maintained as this palace had been neglected. Here, he had a view of not only Luciana’s front door, which