Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

More concerning, when she talked about Luciana there was a little spark in her eye that—if Brandon didn’t know better—he would have pegged as hate.
    But he did know better.
    Arielle is an angel, he told himself, and angels don’t hate.
    “We need to pin this demoness down,” Arielle continued. “To do that, we need to enlist the help of the local unit. I’ve contacted Israel Infusino, the Venetian supervisor. He and some of his team members will be arriving shortly. We’re primarily here to—”
    “Keep tabs on me,” Brandon said.
    She shook her head. “I only came because this assignment is so important to the Company. There’s too much at stake here. We need to accomplish what’s in everyone’s best interests.”
    My ass, he thought. What’s your agenda?
    “What was that?” Arielle said, turning her head sharply toward a noise from one of the other rooms.
    “I collected two of her Gatekeepers. I’ve interrogated them, but haven’t gotten anything useful out of them yet.”
    “Collected?” said Arielle, her eyes going wide. “You’re keeping Gatekeepers under arrest, without following Company protocol?” She shook her head. “This is completely unacceptable. We definitely need to call in backup.”
    “Fine,” was all he said. “You’re probably right about that.”
    She stood, looking around them in disbelief, as though she were trying to figure it all out.
    “What happened between you and I?” she said softly. “It could be good between us again, Brandon.”
    Good? Again? It had never been good. What he wanted to say was, Lady, you’re on crack.
    He bit his tongue.
    Out loud what he said was, “We’re just different people, Arielle.”
    “You’re a complex man, Brandon, with complex desires.”
    “Let it lie,” he said gruffly. “And by all means, call in the local unit. You and I will tear each other apart if we’re stuck working alone together.”
    A few hours later, Arielle returned with the Venetian unit, who moved in with their equipment.
    “This is Infusino, supervisor of the local unit,” Arielle said, gesturing toward the smiling gray-haired man whom Brandon recognized instantly. He was the concierge from the pensione. “He and his team will be helping us from now on.”
    “You didn’t mention you were a supervisor,” Brandon commented.
    “You didn’t ask,” Infusino said.
    The Venetian unit certainly did things differently.
    They spread picnic cloths on the bare floor. Unpacked food and wine. They lit candles around the room, dispelling the foreboding atmosphere of the abandoned building. They chatted to each other in quick quips of Italian, laughing freely.
    Luciana was the stuff of legends.
    By the glow of candlelight, the Venetians spoke of her in whispers. The stories they told of her were like ghost stories about a mythical woman who did not exist. Rather than a flesh-and-blood incarnation of a woman who was across the canal at this moment, plotting the downfall of the Company and everyone it stood to protect.
    “…she bathes in the blood of young girls....”
    “…she eats human flesh for breakfast....”
    “…she has seduced half the men in Venice....”
    There was so much whispered gossip about Luciana Rossetti that Brandon had no idea what was true.
    “One thing we know for certain is that for the past two and a half centuries, Luciana has managed to elude capture by our unit,” said Infusino. “The secrecy around her palazzo has been unbreakable. Until you came along, Brandon.”
    The angels around him raised their glasses to him, various shades of eyes shining in the candlelight.
    Might as well invite the whole neighborhood over for an open house, Brandon thought. And who cares if the folks across the way happen to be our sworn enemies?
    Brandon was grateful for the creature comforts they had brought. He was appreciative of the companionship. But he still had a job to do. He finished his glass of wine and went to sit apart from the group, taking his customary place by the front window.
    He shifted uncomfortably, watching.
    Waiting.
    “Why don’t you sleep, Brandon,” Infusino said, coming over to place a hand on Brandon’s shoulder.
    Brandon shook his head. “If I sleep, then the whole damn assignment goes to hell.”
    * * *
     
    Time is running out. Luciana could feel it slipping through her fingers. Before sunrise, Luciana rose and went to her worktable, took stock of what she had left. Not enough. Not strong enough. Not