Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

could very possibly have been Corbin.”
    “Even if it was, he would never have done this if you hadn’t appeared in the goddamned Redentore Church, you wingless sewer rat. If you had never come here, I would have completed my sacrifice for the year. I would be relaxing on my rooftop, enjoying a cocktail and my victory over your wretched kind.”
    “Perhaps,” he said. “But you might be in a worse situation.”
    “Worse,” she said, her voice flat. He knew what she meant. In her estimation, there was nothing worse than being captured by the Company of Angels. A moment later, she said, “Where are you taking me?”
    “Back to the States,” he answered.
    Back to America.
    * * *
     
    Luciana turned away, completely wrung out. Not an ounce of strength remained in her to run away. Not an iota of energy to resist capture. As Brandon steered the boat through the flat lagoon in the dark of night, the only thing she could do was glare at him in the darkness.
    If hate was tangible, she could feel it now, pulsing inside her.
    Huddled against the seat, she clung to that hate. Would never let go of it. The possibility of relenting, once so close, seemed completely impossible now. She had almost done so, and it had quite literally backfired.
    At least there was one consolation. In America, there would be plenty of time to get revenge.
    Brandon would pay.
    Julian would pay.
    The entire Company of Angels would pay.

Chapter Seventeen
     
    B randon drove Luciana’s boat through the dark lagoon, toward the airport.
    In the back of the boat, Luciana huddled in the silver-foil emergency blanket he had pulled out of the vessel’s first-aid kit. Beneath the blanket, her ruined silk dress clung to her magnificent body. Her dark hair streamed with water from the canal. She turned her face to stare at the flat sea, making no effort to escape, but refusing to look at him.
    He had finally captured her.
    Yet, he felt no satisfaction. Instead, an odd feeling of loss gnawed inside him.
    He pulled up to the dock at the Marco Polo Airport, removed her from the boat. And when he walked the demoness toward the Company plane that waited on a strip of runway, she made no attempt to resist, clutching the square of foil around her like a child huddling under a security blanket.
    “Are you all right?” he asked, guiding her up the retractable stairs to the small plane.
    She didn’t answer. And her silence was deeply disturbing.
    He expected a curse. A wordless accusation. A glare at the very least. Some form of resistance, not this blank acquiescence. Not this crumpling of her spirit that seemed at once fitting, yet unnerving. Instead, there was nothing. Just a flat expression, more frightening than the shrillest scream or the angriest evil eye. When her gaze passed over him, there was a look of absolute emptiness in her green eyes.
    They boarded the small private plane. Infusino and Arielle were already seated there, along with a few members of the Venetian unit as backup. Brandon took her to a seat and buckled her in. Still, she betrayed no sign of reaction, made no effort to resist.
    The plane taxied down the runway, and her gaze fixed on the dark window. Her face was blank, whiter and paler than he had ever seen it.
    Across the plane, Arielle leaned over to whisper something to Infusino, covering her mouth with her hand. Beneath the noise of the plane’s engine, he caught the name of Luciana’s home in that covert whisper.
    “…Ca’ Rossetti…”
    The demoness heard it, too.
    In one smooth motion, Luciana flipped open the buckle of her seat belt, lunged forward and leaped out of her seat. Brandon grabbed for her, and caught her just in time. But she came so close to raking Arielle across the face that her manicured fingernails grazed the edge of Arielle’s meticulous hair, swiping a fraction of an inch away from the angel’s unflinching face.
    Arielle didn’t even blink. She simply said two words as Brandon pinned the demoness back down in her seat. “Restrain her.”
    He wrestled Luciana into compliance, handcuffing each of her wrists to the arms of her seat. Then he left her staring out the window, down at the lights of Venice as they faded into the distance below. Finally, he sank into a seat across from Arielle, buckling his own seat belt.
    “You should have secured her the minute you brought her onto this plane,” Arielle noted.
    “Enough,” he said, closing his eyes and shutting her out.
    Exhaustion took hold of