Part 6 (1/2)

Exhilarating, though, to immerse himself in a city, the pulse of its occupants replacing his absent heartbeat with a rhythm all their own. Surprising, too, to discover that in such a varied place, a s.h.i.+pping port with a rowdy reputation, less true evil occurred than in Genoa. Most disturbances were what Vitale named to himself 'little evils' -- the result of quick tempers and free-flowing ale, rather than the insidious evil of desperate minds and ancient rivalries.

That was changing, though. Vitale sensed it in the flow and ebb of the citizens' energies. There was talk of a new ally -- one who would be instrumental in a plan to advance the Ghibellines to a victory over the Guelfs, and the talk had a dark cast.

Vitale smiled ruefully at the city that was his charge. For much longer than he'd been alive, the Ghibellines, allied with the Emperor, had struggled with the Guelfs, who supported the pope. It did not surprise Vitale that this slightly wicked city sided with the Emperor. It did worry him, however, to feel the first stirrings of that deeper darkness. And yet, a sharp feeling of antic.i.p.ation quivered in the coa.r.s.e interstices of his granite body. The darkness, his cousin, and Ysa. Somehow, they were all tied together, and this increasing awareness, this trickle of unrest, seemed a harbinger of their arrival.

And so it was.

On a bright sunny day filled with laughter and bustling energy, Pan and Ysa stepped carefully onto the dock at Messina, and Vitale felt their presence as a block of ice that s.h.i.+vered down his throat, to settle in an unmelting heap in his gut.

He located the two immediately, and followed them with his outflung senses to an inn called the Third Traveler. In his mind, Ysa fairly glowed, beautiful as ever, yet surrounded by that questing mire. Pan vibrated with a great excitement, an exhilaration echoed by the darkness that gripped his soul. Vitale shuddered within. No touch seemed more corrupt than that of gloating darkness. Diavolo, however, was not present. He was a vibration in the air, a whiff of corruption in the sea wind. Soon to come, no doubt, but not yet here.

Vitale withdrew his psychic web slightly, still close enough to sense the greater evil when it came, yet far enough that its taint would not leave him reeling as it had before. Then he settled in to wait. If there was one thing he had learned during the daylight hours since his transformation, it was patience.

Ysa collapsed back onto the feather-stuffed bed with a sigh. ”Oh, Pan. This is heavenly!”

He smiled indulgently. Before they left Genoa, 'Berto had repaid his younger half-brother in full for the loan which had purchased the inn and even thrown in a bit more to thank Pan for the well-placed whispers that sent wealthy travelers his way and established the inn as the foremost in the city. Lucky for Pan that 'Berto actually was as good as he'd advertised. He fondled the heavy pouch at his waist.Very lucky.

Ysa jumped up and walked to the door that opened onto a wide balcony. Stepping out, she took a deep breath and leaned against the rail, flas.h.i.+ng a bright smile at him over her shoulder. A stiff breeze, heavy with salt and sea, teased her dark curls. She reached up to tug free the silver cord confining her hair, and the thick strands danced like gypsies in the wind.

For some reason, his eyes felt moist, and he found himself trying to swallow a painful lump in his throat. He walked out onto the balcony and slipped his arms around Ysa's waist, holding her from behind as she turned back to stare out at the city.

Her mahogany hair fluttered, caressing his arms. A strand whipped around his neck, seeming to hug him. Pan closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the back of her head.

”Ysa.”

”Hmmm?” She was distracted, gaze darting here and there. He knew her well enough to know that the color, the movement, the strangeness, fascinated her.

”Marry me.”

She stiffened immediately, a nubile nymph suddenly gone stone cold. Shaking her head, she tugged his hands from around her waist and stepped back into the room.

Trembling with anger, Pan stormed after her. ”Why not?”

Ysa stood by the bed, twisting the coverlet with agitated fingers. ”I can't, Pan. Vitale --”

”Is either dead or has forgotten you,” Pan finished harshly. ”Where is he, Ysa? Where is your sweet, gentle, puling child of a man now?”

”Hewill come, Pan. I know he will.”

She looked up, and he stared into mola.s.ses eyes dark enough to suck a man in and hold him forever. And obviously so dark as to be blind! Abruptly, he reached out and grasped her shoulders, pulling her into him, molding her body to his. She gazed at him, eyes wide and startled, and yet he glimpsed an undercurrent of excitement. She liked it when he took charge, when he was a little rough.

But not too rough. He strained to keep his voice soft. ”If he is alive, and has forgiven you, why hasn't he come for you?”

Ysa glanced down, hiding her eyes from him. ”It may take time, but he loves me. He will forgive me.”

”How long? How long will you wait?” Pan slid his hands from her shoulders, tracing the curve of her back until he cupped her b.u.t.tocks, pressing her hard against his stiffened manhood. ”Do you think he will understand why you stay?” Reaching up, he cupped her chin, tilting her head so she would have to look at him. ”Why you still allow me to dothis ?”

He pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his hand around her neck as she made a small noise of protest and started to pull away. Gently, so gently, he caressed her lips with the tip of his tongue. For a long moment, she continued to lean away from him.

He cupped her right b.u.t.tock with his hand and began kneading. Ysa moaned, and Pan slipped his tongue into her mouth as her lips parted.

Her fingers stroked his neck, tangled in his hair. He caressed her hip, bringing his hand around to slide her skirt up and slip between her warm legs. Ysa sighed, her tongue darting inside his mouth, tasting him daintily as her thighs parted. For a moment, he thought he'd won.

Then his fingers slid inside her inviting warmth, and she stiffened again. ”No.” She fumbled for his arm, his wrist, tugging. ”No!” When he resisted, she grasped his shoulders and shoved.

Slightly unbalanced, he withdrew his hand while stepping back and his heel hit the leg of the bed. Ysa shoved again and he went down on his back, hitting the floor hard. ”Don't do that again, Pan. Ever.”

He glared at her, pus.h.i.+ng himself up on clenched knuckles. ”Do you think I'll play this game forever?” He sprang up, shaking with barely suppressed rage. Ysa edged away from him. ”My patience is not eternal, Ysa. Either you will marry me, or you will leave.” He smiled, feeling his lips twist with anger. Ysa backed even further. ”I'm sure you'd have no trouble earning a living. You should do well as a tavern wh.o.r.e.”

Her eyes widened and flashed with heat, a hand spinning out to slap his face, but he caught her forearm. ”I told you about this, Ysa. You don't fight the man that feeds you.” He turned her arm, twisting until she had to step closer or experience real pain. ”Eventually, my patience will wear thin, and I willmake you mine.” He grasped her head and pressed his lips to hers in a punis.h.i.+ng kiss, stopping only when she opened her mouth and he tasted blood.

He pushed her away, and she fell across the bed in a heap. Without another word, he took up his cloak and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 14: Promises in the Dark.

As the last ray of daylight flickered and winked out, Vitale stretched his wings, flexing his feet. His sharp, grasping claws sank into the stone upon which he perched. Looking out across the city, swarming with people walking home after their day's work, with men seeking the taverns and fleet children racing at the sound of their mother's call, he hesitated. Better to wait, and seek his childhood companions after curious eyes closed for the night.

Settling back, he tightened the delicate web of thought surrounding the Third Traveler. A moment's concentration allowed him to separate the many images he received. Ysa was lying on the bed in her room, exuding extraordinary sadness even in sleep. His arms ached to reach out and hold her, to comfort her. His cousin appeared to be gone.

Vitale flexed his senses. There. Pan sat drinking ale and gambling in a wharfside tavern. Vitale waited and watched as night drew its cloak tighter. As more and more of the city settled into slumber, he stretched his wings. He meant to find a structure near the tavern where Pan gambled and wait for him to depart, but in mid-flight, he felt a painful tug at his heart. A vision rose unbidden in his thoughts.

”Vitale, please!” Ysa stood on her balcony searching the sky, cheeks damp with tears.

He sent out a tendril of thought, brus.h.i.+ng her mind gently.

His chest tightened. She longed for him, ached to be held in his arms, the intensity so surprising, so strong, that he couldn't resist that call. Veering sharply, he angled toward the inn, toward Ysa, his heart in his throat.

Her eyes widened as his shadow crossed the moon. She stepped back, seeming afraid of him. Vitale faltered, hovering awkwardly, but a moment later she was smiling through her tears, holding her arms out to him.

Vitale landed carefully on the balcony, worried that it wouldn't support his weight.

”You came.” Ysa's words were breathy, choked.

Vitale could only stare, drowning in his love for her, yet at the same time fighting the pain of her betrayal.

She must have seen something in his eyes. ”We must talk. Please!”

He nodded, taking a step toward her. Ysa glanced back into the room, apprehensive. She turned to Vitale, shaking her head. ”Not here.”

He hesitated, then nodded again. Wordlessly, Ysa stepped forward and held her arms out to him. Vitale hugged her shoulders with one arm, sweeping the other behind her knees, and lifted her. Cradling Ysa carefully, he launched himself into the sky, depositing her gently only when he had landed on the roof of an abandoned villa outside of town.

He expected her to move away, but she clung to him. ”Hold me, Vitale.”

He started to wrap his arms around her, then drew back abruptly, frightened that he would hurt her with his strange body of stone. Ysa whimpered, grasping his wrists, guiding his hands to the small of her back. ”Please, Vitale. Hold me. I've missed you so much, and Pan...” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. ”Pan is frightening me.”

Vitale's grip tightened involuntarily, and Ysa drew in a sharp breath, but when he made as if to move away again, she pressed herself into him.