From The Empire
…all the earth shall perish, for a deluge shall come upon the whole
earth, and all things which are in it shall be destroyed.
- Book of Enoch 10:2
The streets of Venice were packed with masked revelers that night. Firecrackers and sparklers bright enough to outshine the two moons illuminated the basilica and palace.
"Barbaric Terran," Asthe spat out.
Festive sounds wafted along the breeze, carried into the alley where she waited.
Vampire travelogues gave Asthe a general idea of what the Venetian Carnival was, but upon actually seeing it, she thought it was a ridiculous event. Asthe couldn't understand the Terran; she didn't understand the appeal of drinking all day and night for ten straight days.
"The meeting had to be here—of all places—and the contact is late," she muttered.
In Asthe's homeland, daily business started when the sun set. Here, however, the day began with the dawn. In the distance, she could hear the sound of bells ringing out, signifying midnight. It was a beginning of a new day for the Terran.
Her contact was very late. Irritated, she raised her leather coat's collar and removed her sunglasses. She did her best to blend in.
Her contact was supposedly one of them.
Is he really an AX agent? Even with all the legends surrounding the elite group, Asthe -was convinced he would be a weakly Terran, hardly worthy of note. She could probably do this job alone, but it was in her best interests to work with the Terran, so she waited.
If he's not here in five minutes . . .
It had taken centuries to find religious fanatics who would listen to their side. Many people would be upset if she went back empty-handed.
"The sooner I leave this monkey mountain the better." She nodded to herself.
Asthe's ears perked up upon hearing voices in the dark canal. Two women were arguing with four gondoliers. After taking a few seconds to decipher their slang, it sounded to Asthe like the women didn't have enough money for the fare and were being asked to pay the difference with sexual favors.
Asthe didn't care about the problems of a few Terran street whores. But it did bother her that they were close. She thought seriously about killing the lot of them just to shut them up.
Then Asthe heard another voice join the conversation. "Urn, excuse me. Can you give me some directions? I'm looking for the road to the Saint Mark Plaza?" It was a tall young man with thick glasses and a poor priest's robe. He was a little young to be a traveling priest. "Venice is such a maze. Are you going to the festival, too?"
"Hey, Father, we're a little busy here," said a bearded oarsman. "Ask for directions from someone else, all right?"
"Well, but . . ." the priest stalled.
"Oh, Father! Please help us!" one of the girls yelled. Both women ran toward the priest. They pleaded with tearful eyes and clung to his worn-out robe. "Please help us! They want us to — " the other girl started.
"We want them to pay for their ride. Anything else they say is a lie!" one of the oarsmen shouted.
"Hm . . .Why don't you cut them a break, just this once?" Abel offered.
The oarsmen, riled up by liquor and the thought of sex, were not easily swayed. They stepped forward. Abel held up his hands in a gesture of peace. The girls grabbed each other and shook from fear.
"Violence isn't the answer, guys. Please turn the other cheek," Abel reasoned.
The oar swung around quickly, but Abel ducked it easily.
"Run, ladies," he commanded.
"Don't you go anywhere," the bearded oarsman said menacingly.
But now it was too late for the gondoliers. The ladies' colorful dresses fluttered in the wind as they rounded a corner and disappeared into the plaza.
"Problem solved," Abel said. "The ladies are gone. You guys have nothing to be mad about anymore. Let's just all go home."
The oarsmen slowly surrounded Abel like a pack of wild dogs.
"Guys, guys, guys. Let's talk this out," Abel said.
"Get him!" the bearded oarsman said.
"It's a sin to fight a priest," Abel whispered as they closed in. Oars thumped into flesh with a sickening smack.
Poor bastard. Asthe couldn't curb her curiosity any longer. Besides, she didn't want all that blood to go to waste. She looked around for other passersby, but it was safe. My contact is late, so I might as well have some fun.
Asthe ran silently, her legs inhumanly powerful. She was at least ten times as strong and agile as a Terran. Asthe kicked off the alley walls, picking up altitude, her body soaring through the air. She landed on the thugs.
The bearded gondolier was the first to notice, but it didn't do him much good.
She backhanded him before he could say anything to the others. Asthe intended the blow to be a light one. She just wanted to knock him down, but she must have misjudged her own strength, because his orbital bone shattered and his left eye popped out. He was probably dead, but she just shrugged. Oh well.
She paused and looked at the other drunken ruffians. They clearly couldn't believe their eyes.
Asthe was dazzlingly beautiful and she knew it. At least six feet tall, with a long black coat that hung down to her heels, she was an alabaster goddess. Her hair was ivory colored, except for a stripe of red that hung down over her face. She looked young, barely out of her teens.
"Who are you?" one of the gondoliers finally mustered the courage to inquire.
"Step aside," she commanded.
The oarsmen were too stunned to move.
"Too stupid to know when to run," Asthe muttered to herself.
Within a few seconds, the oarsmen were unconscious.
"Stupid Terran."
She'd seen it on their faces just before she beat them senseless. They knew what she was. The word on the tips of their tongues was vampire. Such an ugly word. How dare they slur at a mighty Methuselah?
She licked a drop of blood from her knuckles and groaned in pleasure. Diablerie was the perfect form of eating. It was an art. How dare they profane the majestic Methuselah with their animal grotesqueness?
"Um, excuse me," Abel said from the ground.
Asthe barely turned to regard the pathetic priest.
"If you don't mind, could you help me up?" he asked.
She didn't want to get involved in Terran matters; she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. She should have let the gondoliers kill the priest and rape those foolish whores.
Silently, Asthe reached her hand down. "Here, hang on," she said.
"Thank you."
He started to continue, but she waved him off. "Be gone, and be thankful for my mercy," she said.
"Of course," he said, his expression totally deadpan. He started to leave but turned around and asked one last question.
"Are you from the Methuselah Empire? You aren't, by any chance, Astharoshe Asran, Duchess of Odessa and Kiev, undercover agent of the New Human Empire?"
Asthe 's jaw dropped.
Only an AX agent could recognize her true identity in this part of the world. How does this schmuck know?
The realization made Asthe narrow her eyes with contempt. "Cardinal Caterina promised a skilled agent to aid in our bilateral operation," she said. "You're an idiot who can't handle four drunken rowers."
The priest smiled at her. "So it is you, Astharoshe. Wonderful. I was worried that you had already left. I am Father Abel Nightroad. Cardinal Sforza ordered me to assist Your Grace with the investigation in Venice. Pleased to meet you," Abel said.
Asthe seriously wondered if this wasn't some elaborate joke. Much to her chagrin, she soon discovered that he truly was her partner.