The servant had a head start, the two pursuers almost half the street away. And he was fast.
But so was Alessandro. His body kicked his mind out, switching to instincts. It came easy to him, like hunting deer came to wolves.
Yet, he didn't gain a single foot on the servant.
You're Alessandro Steno, you always catch them. Always.
No one got away from him. Not when he had just started out as an officer, inexperienced and helplessly lost in a world of crime far harsher than the silk cushions of his parent's palace. Not when he had handcuffed his way through the city's darkest alleys. Not when he had battled his way through bribery and death threats. And certainly not now.
I catch them all.
You sure about that? The taunting little voice laughed quietly in the back of his mind. How about .. ?
Alessandro clenched his fists and ran faster.
Every now and then he would glance sideways, expecting the street next to him to be empty, Giacinto left behind. Every time he saw the Greek still next to him, never returning the glance, but always right next to him.
He knew he couldn't slow down should the smaller fall behind, he wouldn't risk loosing the servant. He didn't need to.
Giacinto had turned into a bodiless shadow whisking over the cobble stone with swift smoothness. He was light and agile, the movements flowing with ease. The Greek didn't look like he was exerting himself. His lips were pursed in concentration, but his features weren't strained in exhaustion. Like a panther, there was a casual ease to the sprint.
Alessandro realized with a clench of his jaw that this man could run far faster than that. He could outrun me any time.
At times like these, Alessandro hated the suspicion that had settled deep in his every muscle. Even now, running side by side, he couldn't stop observing the other. Giacinto was far too quick to change directions when the servant flew around a sharp corner, too fast at weaving around groups of people in their was.
All of this is working in my favour, Alessandro told himself. The suspicion crawled through his bones and nudged the voice back to life again. But all of it can be used against you!
He sped up.
They had raced down nearly empty streets, now the servant – who probably was no servant – neared a market square. More and more people poured into their way
They wove around chattering women, servants carrying boxes, two kids playing with a cat, young men laughing as they walked side by side and blocked the street.
Loosing the man was not an option – but far too likely now. Once lost, they'd never find him again.
When they reached he square it was as if they ran into a wall. Market day, the place was crammed with people. The crowd formed a stubborn barrier, squeezing all air away in a chaos of bodies.
They were too slow.
The bodies just wouldn't part, pushed against Alessandro, bumped into him, shoved him around. It was frustrating, pointless – like swimming against the current, running over sand or walking through a swamp.
There! A flash of treacherous colors. Yellow and blue. The boy's uniform betrayed him.
Alessandro turned his head to alarm Giacinto, but the man just nodded. He had seen the servant, too.
Children were running around between their feet, merchants were yelling and booths of spices filled the air with an exotic heaviness. The strange vibe was hectic, unorderly, tickling all senses with its curiosities. The atmosphere buzzed with life and a myriad of sounds all blending together -- voices, a dog barking, a clatter of metal, a jingle of coins, a rustle of cloth. Alessandro felt the drum of his rushing blood play the rhythm to their chase.
From the corner of his eyes he saw Giacinto. The man was grinning slightly, lips curling pleased.
He is enjoying this, the officer realized.
"Eyes on the road," commented Giacinto. He sounded amused.
Alessandro snapped his head back, twisting aside in the last moment. He had almost barreled into a merchant. He ignored the man's angry yells behind him, catching up with Giacinto.
The servant raced off the market again -- couldn't lose them even in this chaos. He disappeared behind a booth, gone the next moment in another street.
That is definitely no servant, Alessandro thought. He wasn't only fast, there was strategy behind every turn, Alessandro realized. And they shouldn't follow him where he led them next.
The sound of life faded slowly behind them. The smell of spices and fresh bread vanished in the foul smell of wet moss and stale water. Even the sunlight was expelled by houses flanking the streets, so close and narrow and high their roofs almost touched above their tunnel of dayless darkness.
They shouldn't follow him into this world of eternal twilight. But they did, never once hesitating.
The streets kept growing narrower. The houses seemed to move in from both sides to crush the two men. The canals' water beside them lay motionless and dark.
Alessandro felt a feeling of dread wash over him, invisible cold fingers sneaking beneath his skin and twisting his insides. Something was wrong ... he could feel it in his bones. This didn't feel like a chase anymore ... more like the servant was luring the racing men somewhere.
Don't follow him.
Soon, they couldn't run beside each other anymore. Alessandro stayed behind Giacinto, who had taken the lead with a swift nimbleness.
He really did remind the commissar of a cat. Confidently supple motions, powerful elegance lifting him above a drunk man passed out on the street with a smooth leap.
Where did he learn to run like that? No talent in the world could explain the precise flow of muscles.
There was no trust between them, Alessandro knew. There was no friendliness between golden lions and black panthers. But together, they could hunt these invisible monsters. They were strong alone, but powerful together.
An alliance, not a friendship.
Alessandro had seen the laugh sparkling in green eyes with Lorenzo and Laelia. And he had seen the blank polishedness when they had shaken hands. He had seen how his lips had stretched into an adoring smile around Laelia, the kind of smile you didn't realize you were smiling, the one that was just there, glowing softly. He had seen how they had curled into provoking smirks and spat sharply calculated remarks around him.
Hunters with the same prey, not friends.
He ran faster, forcing another explosion of raw power out of his muscles. They strained.
They ran fast. The servant ran fast. Suddenly they were faster.
It didn't matter. When they were close enough to catch the servant, he suddenly disappeared.
Gone. There one second, vanished the other.
The two stopped abruptly, as if barreling into an invisible wall.
Rather than evaporating into thin air, the servant had slipped into a gap between two houses, black and gloomy and narrow.
And dangerous. Alessandro had seen enough robbed corpses in narrow streets. This city ate her own children in the dark.
Giacinto pressed forward, Alessandro drew him back. In the obscurity of an alleyway a knife would end their chase too early. He could feel his heart pump rapidly – was it because of the run or the anticipation tensing his muscles?
The Greek rolled his eyes and stepped into the alley.
The officer supressed an angry shout. Of course, why had expected this man to not do the stupidest thing possible? Those green eyes whispered of how the man would look for trouble at every corner and if he for once didn't search for it, trouble would still come find him. Alessandro cursed – then he followed, slowly, into a different world.
No light reached here, where shadows were physical, where water was forming stinking puddles under their boots and little rat feet scratched over cold stone. The walls were so close. So close, so close, so close, closer ... they brushed against Alessandro's shoulders. He felt like he was being crushed by old smells and looming houses. Embraced by darkness and squeezed to death.
The darkness was nervous.
He could barely see Giacinto, his black clothes letting him blend with the dangerous dark. Alessandro realized that if someone came up behind him, he couldn't even turn to stop a knife from cutting his throat. His heart jumped into his mouth at that. He gulped it down.
"Giant, open that." Giacinto had turned, stepping aside to reveal a door in the darkness.
Alessandro didn't ask. The door flew open under his broad shoulder, the splintering wood no match. It felt ... good, the tension brimming underneath his skin rejoiced at the sudden outburst.
The room was small, the light inside was a golden warmth. It didn't fit the gloomy, narrow alleyway. The servant stared at them from the end of the room. He shot out another door.
Giacinto and Alessandro rushed inside, through the room, up a flight of stairs, down a corridor, into another room. Yet another open door awaited them. Another room to cross. And another room. And another room.
They were halfway through when Giacinto whirled around. They were halfway through when the door behind them slammed closed. They were halfway through when Alessandro realized Giacinto was not simply fast.
In a flash of black and silver, a knife was pressed against a bare throat.
Giacinto smiled.
There stood the servant, unmoving. He watched them steadily, not sparing the blade at his throat a glance. He looked only at them. "I believe we have to talk."
Giacinto glanced over to Alessandro.
Neither of them said anything. Only their breaths, heavy and quick from running counted the moments passing.
"I'm not the man you're looking for."
Giacinto pressed the blade harder against the boy's throat, metal digging into flesh warningly. The absolute control the man had over the knife was astounding, how fast, how secure, how accurate, how precise, how confident, how familiar he was with it. The attentive precision, the relaxed familiarity Giacinto held the knife with told Alessandro this man was capable of a lot more than just annoying the officer.
"Why did you run then?" Alessandro stepped closer, slowly, saw the effect it had on the boy. Giacinto's knife did nothing to the boy's smile, but Alessandro's height made it falter for a split second.
"I needed you here."
"Now, points for being mysterious." Giacinto pressed harder – a single red drop rand down the mans throat.
Alessandro realized he didn't like the thought of the Greek with such a sharp knife, even if now it was raised at their defense.
"That was not my intention, Giacinto." The servant bowed his head.
They looked at each other. Surprise flickered over Giacinto's face.
"I'm not the murderer –," a satisfied little smile tugged at the boy's lips when at the sharp intake of breath from the two men, "you're right, it was murder. They're all connected. Alvino and Iacobo aren't – weren't really artists. Don't look at me like that. They are part of an order, collecting information – "
"Spies." Alessandro narrowed his eyes.
"Call whatever." The boy shrugged. "They protect Venice, an old order, a secret branch of the church of San Marco. They operate in- and outside of the city, watching everything --"
"How do you know this?"
"I'm the sixth."
"You could be lying," said Alessandro, "Why would you tell us this if you're a secret order?"
"I'm dying."
"You're well and breathing."
"He's ... I don't think he is," Giacinto spoke up, lowering his knife.
The servant rubbed his throat, catching the drop of blood with his thumb. He smiled. "Told you."
"His heartbeat is far too slow and weak." Giacinto tilted his head, "Too irregular."
"I was poisoned – stupid mistake. Should've expected it.I knew they would come for me after all." He seemed strangely accepting, not upset about his death. "The poison is tasteless and takes hours to become noticeable," he explained.
Alessandro opened his mouth.
"No, Alessandro, there's no antidote." He knew this name, too.
"So you lead us here ... to leave a last clue, like the two others," said Alessandro, watching the man. "Six of you ... Iacobo and Alvino are dead. That leaves three, where are they? They have to leave the city immediately," he pressed. The tension was singing in him again, weaving through his muscles, clenching his jaw, shaking his heart with brimming anticipation. They needed to act, not talk. They were wasting time. The assassin would not stop, they needed to get out of here –
"And abandon their duty? No, they wouldn't, even if they could."
"Who's stopping them?"
The boy only smiled sadly.
"So they're dead. But there were no strange deaths before Alvino."
"They never made it here. The first died in Istanbul, the second 'went overboard in a stormy night' on his way from Croatia." The boy grimaced.
"So those annoying Turks really plan a war." Giacinto had been quiet, twirling his knife steadily.
"I don't know. Yes, most likely – but we never share what we find out. We work in pairs, in case one, erm ... dies, so no knowledge is lost. We report to the seventh. Like this, if one gets captured and tortured, he can't reveal everything, only his part. I worked with Alvino – you're right, Genoa is preparing for war. Iacobo was Luigi's partner – Luigi died in Istanbul. I assume they were investigating the Turks' involvement. Girolamo – the one dying at sea – and Marco are another pair. I have no idea what their mission was. Sorry."
"Where is Marco then," Alessandro felt himself tensing. Since when do I trust strange boys foretelling wars?
"Preparing his death, I assume," the spy sighed, "He knows as well as I did we wouldn't get out of here. Not when slowly but surely all those around us mysteriously died. It's il mietitore."
"The reaper?" Giacinto placed his knife on the table he was leaning against. He looked up slowly, eyes locking with the boy, eyebrows raised.
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The reaper ... our mysterious killer has a name ... well, at least something to call him.
New character! Exiting young boy ... with a lot of information, not a lot of time and a sad fate ...
Now, where did Giacinto learn to run like that, what's with him and knives ... We surely got some new information this chapter ...
Let's see where lion and panther go ...
No Laelia this chapter, sorry
Hit that star and make me smile! Or let me hear your thoughts and make me smile - and win that dedication!
Avis