The Broken Angel (8 page)

While Alexander seemed amused by Martina’s statement, but didn’t comment on it, Ophelia and Marcus exchanged a loaded look, then started laughing.

Samuel tsked, but couldn’t help a laugh as well. “Making fun of the cripple. Shame on you.”

“You are not a cripple.” Martina surprised him, and the rest of the table judging from the silence that ensued, by the vehemence of her tone.

Ophelia reached for Martina’s shoulder for a friendly pat. “No, he isn’t. You’re right. He’s a great guy.”

Another awkward moment passed in which the two women seemed to read each other’s mind, then Marcus made a scene to reach for one of the trays with the food.

“Rice croquettes. My favorite.” Marcus grabbed three of them as the room came alive once again with chatter and everyone attacked the food.

“So, how did you end up at Alexander’s gym?” Ophelia nibbled at her slice of pizza. An unusual behavior for her who normally devoured her food, which confirmed Samuel’s worries.

He would have asked Ophelia if she was feeling out of sorts, if he wasn’t more interested in Martina’s answer.

“Alexander frequents the same circles as my ex-husband’s family. I knew he had a gym, and one day, during one of those social gatherings, he asked me if I wanted to join.” Martina pushed her plate away, reaching for her glass, but it was empty.

“She is, hands down, my best athlete.” Alexander pointed at Martina and looked at the rest of the group. “She trains every other day with a dedication none of you lazy bums knows anything about.”

Marcus and Ophelia complained out loud.

Samuel took Martina’s glass and refilled it. He sensed she didn’t like being the center of attention and he knew his friends could be boisterous, so he changed subject by asking Marcus about his kid. Then, when they were moving to the poker table in the living room, he stood a step behind and stopped Marcus. “Remind me later to show you a list of names.”

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest, legs wide. “What for?”

“Renegades are turning up dead. I need to know if there are any connections between them.”

Marcus regarded him with a frown, then nodded. “I will. It’s close to my heart in any case.”

“Why?”

“My baby’s parents were renegades who died in a car accident.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Sometimes, when I look at him, I feel so torn. I’m happy to be his father, yet his parents are dead.”

Samuel was surprised by the centurion’s confession. In the little time they had known each other, this was the first time Marcus had shared something so personal. “It wasn’t your fault, and your baby is lucky for having you and Diana.”

Marcus’s lips turned up in a tentative smile, then he gave Samuel a pat on his shoulder and left him at the counter. “Prepare yourself. I’m going to rob you clean tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’d like that.” Samuel laughed. “Start dealing. Martina can play for me.” He removed the paper trays with the leftovers, divided the food into several containers, then stored them inside the fridge. When he turned back toward the living room, the sight before him made his heart ache. His friends were chatting with Martina, and she looked at ease, answering their jokes with witty retorts and laughing as if she were one of them. He wanted her to be part of his life. He wanted her to be the normalcy he could never have.

Martina said something to Marcus, who sneered, then she turned toward Samuel and scooted on the big chair to make space for him. “Samuel, why don’t you join us?”

He threw away the rag he was using to wipe the crumbs from the counter and ambled toward them, his intention to sit by Martina, as the doorbell rang. Halfway through the room, he turned toward his friends. “Did you invite someone?” He pointed a finger at Alexander.

The Greek had this running joke about inviting Ludwig Barnes one night without telling Samuel first. Of all nights, tonight would have been the worst night for this joke. But Alexander immediately denied it. Samuel looked at his wristwatch, wondering who could be knocking at his door this late. His neighbors were elderly and probably already asleep. He paused before the door. “Who is it?”

“Your worst nightmare, Broken Wings.” A voice too young to carry that kind of threat passed through the wooden surface.

Marcus and Alexander stood at once and joined him at the door. Samuel gave Ophelia a pointed look. She seemed to understand his request because she sat closer to Martina who looked at the door with a worried expression.

Loud banging made him turn toward the door. “Open up, coward.”

He opened the door, knowing he had to deal with whoever was out there, and braced himself for anything. The gang of six werewolf cubs who stormed inside his apartment wasn’t what he had expected though. Heading the cavalcade through his living room was the boy he and Martina had fought two days ago. The kid was barely standing, looking as if he hadn’t slept or eaten since then. He was still wearing the clothes Samuel had seen him in and he was clearly drunk. All of them were drunk. At least they weren’t on drugs this time.

“I don’t know what you guys thought of accomplishing by coming here, but you should go home now.” Samuel tried to herd the gang toward the door. He had the feeling not one of those kids was of age, either by human standards or by werewolf’s. His eyes went to Martina, who was staring at the boy, recognition on her face. “You really should leave.” He had lowered his voice to speak only to the boy.

“We’re here to teach you a lesson, fallen.” The boy acted without conviction. Then he moved, and the moment he saw Martina, his attention focused entirely on her. “You, bitch. You’ll pay too. It’s your fault Leandro is dead.”

The werewolf made to move toward the women, but Samuel stepped before him, grabbing the boy by his collar. The werewolf grunted and swung his arm trying to hit Samuel. At the same moment, his friends went into a fighting frenzy.

Samuel looked over the boy’s head and made eye contact with Marcus. “Try not to hurt them.”

“I’ll do my best.” Marcus easily halted two boys at once by locking them under his arms. “But they’re starting to annoy me already.”

Samuel sighed. “I know, but think, you’ll have a teenager underfoot someday.”

Marcus’s horrified expression was priceless.

Alexander got hold of two boys, but the sixth werewolf found a way to sneak away unnoticed in the middle of the melee, reaching for Martina and Ophelia. Pulling the young werewolf along by dragging him by his elbow, Samuel strode toward the women and kicked the attacker before he could touch them. Not that Ophelia couldn’t keep Martina safe, but Samuel’s protective instincts overrode any other thought.

With the attacker’s butt firmly under his reinforced boot, he looked at Ophelia. “Why don’t you girls go to the pub? We’ll meet you there in a few.”

“It’s a capital idea. Let’s go.” Ophelia patted Martina’s leg, then headed toward the door that had remained wide open.

Martina reluctantly followed Ophelia, but when she passed by Samuel, she paused. “You might need help with those kids.”

Samuel pressed his boot down to stop the boy from escaping as he kept the other in a headlock, belatedly remembering he wasn’t supposed to be that strong. And even though he was being quite gentle with the two kids in his hold, the frail human Martina knew wouldn’t have been able to corral both of them. Twice in a day, he had betrayed himself. What was done was done. “Nah. We got everything under control. Just let me deal with those idiots first.”

“Okay…” Martina’s eyes roamed around the room, then came back to him and the two boys struggling to get free, a puzzled frown formed on her face, but she reached for the door without saying anything else.

“We’ll be down in a minute.” Samuel waited for her to exit the apartment, then closed the door behind her before throwing the kid he was still holding in a lock to the floor along with his mate. He then shrugged off of his human form and summoned his wings back. “Now, you’ll give me a good explanation for this, then you’ll leave.”

The boy scooted on the floor, and for a moment, his drunken stare was replaced by fear.

Samuel stepped back so that he wasn’t looming too close to the werewolf. “I won’t do anything to you. Just talk.”

Sadness and misery replaced fear on the boy’s face. “You should’ve stopped us. My cousin wouldn’t be dead if you had stopped us.” He began sobbing.

Samuel knew he wasn’t at fault, but the werewolf’s words pained him. “Out.” He leaned to reach for the boy’s arm, but he shot to his feet and helped his friend up.

“Shouldn’t we call their families?” Marcus pushed forward the two boys whose heads he was still encasing under his arms in a secure lock.

Alexander echoed Marcus’s question. He had forced his two captives on the couch, one hand over their shoulders, pressing them down to the cushion. From the pained look on their faces, Alexander’s grip must have been quite tight.

Samuel let out a frustrated breath, then raised his chin toward Alexander. “Do you have Quintilius’s number handy?” He didn’t like the idea of ending his day the same way it had started, but those kids’ actions had to be reported to their elders.

“Please, don’t call my great uncle. He’s gonna kill me.” The boy was still sobbing and his words were difficult to understand, but the terror in his eyes was easy to interpret. He stepped forward, leaving his friend behind, and came closer to Samuel. “Uncle Lucius doesn’t have to know, please.”

Samuel wondered why the boy didn’t want Quintilius involved, but it made it all the more necessary to call him. “Alexander?”

“Just a sec.” Alexander temporarily freed one of the werewolves from his hold, reached for his cell phone in his jeans’ rear pocket, scrolled his finger across the screen, then tossed it toward Samuel, who grabbed it midair.

The boy launched himself at Samuel, alcohol, grief, and probably the remnants of the vampire blood still lingering in his system, making him act recklessly.

One-handedly, Samuel easily blocked the boy’s efforts by spinning him around, then pinned his hands to his back. “I’m sorry, but it’s for your own good.”

The boy’s will to fight left him all at once, and he slumped forward, sagging his shoulders. “No, you don’t understand. Uncle Lucius will shun me when he knows—”

“Shut up!” One of the two boys held by Marcus dropped down, trying to evade the noose made by the centurion’s elbow around his neck.

“What is he talking about?” Alexander’s hands tightened over his charges’ shoulders.

They both yelped, then answered at the same time. “Nothing.”

Samuel moved his finger away from the call tab on Alexander’s cell phone, then he took the shaking werewolf by his forearm and dragged him all the way to the hallway, away from his friends. “What’s your name?”

“Sandro Denari.”

Samuel acknowledged his name with a nod. “Sandro, spill it.”

The boy shook his head. “My uncle must not know.”

Samuel raised Alexander’s cell phone to show the werewolf that Quintilius’s number was still on the screen. He moved his finger over the number as the boy’s hand shot out, but Samuel only had to raise it over his head to make it impossible for the boy to reach it. “I’m that close to not only calling your uncle, but also the paranormal police. Whatever you did, your clan won’t be pleased you got yourself jailed on top of that.”

The boy looked up at him, his lower lip trembling. “He can’t know about the baby.”

Samuel was confused by the boy’s statement. According to what Ophelia had told him, Quintilius already knew about the baby. “What baby are you talking about?”

“The one Leandro, Miranda, and I were supposed to take to Florence.” A muffled sound echoed from the living room, and the boy looked over Samuel’s shoulder.

“Why were you taking a baby to Florence?” Samuel kept the cell phone at the boy’s eyes height.

“A vampire asked us.”

“Why?”

The boy tilted his head to look behind Samuel once again.

“Your friends don’t know about this, do they?”

The boy was now shaking as if in the throes of withdrawal. “No, they think this is only about the vampire blood. They don’t know about the baby.”

Samuel sighed.

“You have to promise you won’t involve the clan.” The boy dropped to his knees.

“Too late for that.” Samuel almost felt sorry for the boy. “You shouldn’t have barged inside a liaison’s house.” He had never been young and could barely grasp the many emotions surfacing on the werewolf’s face, but he knew sorrow and regret, and both sentiments were displayed on it. He finally pressed his finger over the call button on the phone. “Quintilius? It’s Samuel. I apologize for calling you at this hour, but I have here, at my house, several kids from your clan.”

A loaded silence was followed by a low expletive. “What are they doing there?”

“My guess is they drank one beer too many and were looking for a brawl.”

“Are they okay?”

“Of course they are okay. I don’t beat kids.”

“Thank you for calling me. I’ll send a car to your place and I’ll take care of them.”

“Thanks, but I called you for a different reason. Sandro Denari is among them and he has something to say to you.” Samuel put the call on speaker and pointed it toward the boy. “Start talking and you’ll spare both of us and your uncle a trip to my office.”

“Sandro? What are you doing there? I thought you were here at the wake.” Quintilius’s voice carried a hurt tinge.

The boy shivered. “I was there—”

“Tell your uncle about the baby.” At the other end of the line, Samuel heard Quintilius ordering people around.

“Should I leave your cousin’s wake to come pick you up personally?”

At his uncle’s words, Sandro shook so violently, Samuel feared he would wet himself. “Talk.” He tilted the phone to the boy’s mouth, then give him a nod.

“Uncle, I’m so sorry. We never thought…” Sandro sobbed, then gasped for breath, but after a moment resumed his speech. “We needed a fix, but we didn’t have the money. We called our pusher anyway, hoping to borrow from him. We only wanted a vial for that night’s party, but he told us we owed him money. It wasn’t true, Uncle. But he threatened to tell you. Then he promised us a vial if we did him a favor. We said yes. It was just a delivery job, he said. He gave us an address to a building near Trieste neighborhood, and we drove there. We found this big box waiting for us just inside the hallway with a piece of paper on it with a second address. We were surprised that we had to drive to Florence, but we figured it was worth a vial anyway. The box had a handle on top of it, and lots of holes along its walls, and I got curious. Leandro told me not to look inside, but as he grabbed the handle, crying came out of it and he dropped it. I opened it, and a baby was in there. He smelled like a were-puma, but he was so small. I didn’t know what to do with him. Leandro and Miranda told me to close the box and drive to Florence and forget all about it. I couldn’t. I took the baby from the box and ran away. My parents were out of town and I brought him home. I kept him with me the whole night and the day after. I fed him watered milk. I tried to keep him warm—”