Emily Shadowhunter 3 - a Vampire, Shapeshifter, Werewolf novel: Book 3: BITTEN by Craig Zerf

Author:Craig Zerf [Zerf, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anglo-American Press
Published: 2016-11-13T22:00:00+00:00

17

Once again the group was dropped off in an underground parking with direct access to the house above. The house was situated in the upmarket Parioli district of Rome.

They had flown to Italy via private airplane and then had been driven from the airfield in a darkened limousine.

‘Another one of your houses?’ asked Tag.

Sylvian shook his head. ‘A friend. I haven’t actually seen him for a while but I have an open invitation.’

The door at the top of the parking access was opened by an old woman. Her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun, small round spectacles and a black dress that buttoned to her neck and flowed to the floor.

Sylvian greeted her in Italian and she bowed low to him before turning her gaze onto the rest of the group. Her expression was one of unveiled contempt for both Troy and Tag. But when her eyes fell on Emily the look changed to barely controlled fear.

Sylvian said something to her, his voice sounded soothing. Comforting. Like an adult telling a child that the monsters under the bed weren’t real.

The woman mumbled in return and then left the room.

‘Is that your friend?’ asked Troy.

‘No,’ replied Sylvian. ‘She’s the caretaker. I’ve known her since she was a little girl.’

‘Not very friendly,’ noted Emily.

‘No,’ agreed the Bloodborn. ‘But she’s loyal and knows how to keep a secret. Dinner is almost ready, follow me.’

The group walked after Sylvian, following him to a large ornate dining room. Just before they got there, Tag frowned and checked the door next to the one they were heading for. Inside was a sitting room, the shutters were closed and a small fire burned in the fireplace.

‘I think that Em and I will just pop in here for a short while,’ he said, his face drawn.

Sylvian nodded and he and Tag went into the dining room and sat down. Seconds later they heard the sound of Tag grunting in pain. And then his body hitting the floor followed by a gasping death rattle.

The two men avoided looking at each other.

Ten minutes later the old lady wheeled a trolley into the dining room. She removed a steel cloche and banged down huge plates of pasta with clams in front of Troy and Sylvian. Then she placed another plateful at one of the empty seats. She pointedly did not have a fourth plate. Finally, she laid out garlic bread, green salad, cutlery, wine glasses and a couple of bottles of Chianti.

Bowing to Sylvian she left the room, pushing the squeaking trolley before her.

Moments after she left, Tag entered. His jacket was disheveled and there was a smear of blood on the collar of his shirt. His hands shook slightly as he sat down.

Emily wasn’t with him and no one asked after her whereabouts.

They ate and drank in silence.

Afterwards Troy took out a pack of cigarettes and gestured towards Sylvian. The Bloodborn nodded his permission and Troy lit up. Dragged. Stared at the ceiling.

In the background a clock ticked. Slicing away little increments of the now as it counted its way into the future.

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