I
I
There had been a series of murders in Venice, all of which implicated a vampire as the killer. Two weeks ago, the tide gate manager at the Moses Dam, which separated the lagoon and the outer sea, went missing. His body, sans head, had been recovered—drained of blood.
The second incident was worse. The dam's entire night shift, twenty men in total, had been massacred. They were flayed from the tops of their heads to the soles of their feet. The company was rumored to have ties with organized crime, so it was initially believed to have been the result of underhanded business dealings gone badly. Some of the corpses still hadn't been identified. Autopsies concluded that exsanguination was the most common cause of death.
The third incident was the death of an assistant archeology professor at the Venetian College. He and his family were killed in their home five days ago. According to the police investigation, the assistant professor made counterfeit antiques on the side, but there were no other details.
In all three cases, the bite marks matched. It was believed that this was the work of one killer, or a group of killers working together. Vampire killings were rare, but not unheard of. One clue, however, pointed the investigation in an uncomfortable direction. The professor was wearing a ring bearing the emblem of a foreign, non-human country.
"So, this is it?" Asthe asked, perched on the edge of her gondola seat. She snatched the moonstone ring from Abel's open palm. It was easy for her to make out all its laser-etched intricacies. The base's design depicted two moons, one large and one small — the symbol of the New Human Empire. The top of the ring showed a dragon holding a sword and dagger. This was the symbol of Count Zagrev's family. Only nobles were allowed to have such a ring.
"This is, without a doubt, his ring. You humans don't have the technology to forge this sort of design," Asthe said. "Hey, are you okay?"
Asthe looked on with contempt as her companion threw up over the side of the gondola.
"Oh, sorry. I get sick on moving objects," Abel fibbed.
"Worthless," Asthe grumbled.
Their gondola reached a wealthy neighborhood. It was quiet, unlit; most of the residents had left for the carnival.
Venice was an ancient city, long under Vatican control. Below sea level, the city streets were filled with water and could only be navigated by small boats. Even the poorest house had a porch leading to a canal to board or disembark on watercrafts.
"This will be fine," Abel said to the gondolier. Then he turned to Asthe. "This is the site of the fourth incident."
They stood in front of a large mansion. Asthe looked up into the night sky. The moon above moved ever eastward. She didn't have much time before daybreak.
"Eight hours ago, a groundskeeper found the body. Cardinal Caterina pressured the Vatican, who in turn pressured the Venetian police. The locals have left the crime scene undisturbed for us," Abel said.
The priest fumbled with a bunch of keys, eventually opening the door. An unmistakable stench leaked out of the room.
"Marco Colleoni was Venice's top antique merchant and appraiser," Abel said.
The house brimmed with valuable antiques. The killer clearly wasn't a robber.
Seconds later, the motive became clear. On the ground next to Marco's body was a message written in blood; a large, red upside-down cross and Igne Natura Renovatur Integra, which meant "with our fire, we will renew the world," were scribbled on the floor.
The letters were big and bold. Colleoni's blood wasn't the only source of paint. The rest of his family, drained dry, lay beside the cross. Even the Colleoni baby.
"This is not surprising. If the count is the culprit, this is actually quite tame. It was much worse when he impaled three hundred Terran in our homeland," Asthe said dryly.
Abel could barely breathe at the sight of the murdered infant, but Asthe blankly assessed the situation.
There was the couple with their throats slashed, their son with his eyes and heart torn out and a spike rammed from his crotch up through his mouth, their younger son with his entrails strewn about, and their baby with its skull crushed.
No doubt, these were the methods of Endre, Count of Zagrev—the Empire's worst slaughterer.
Asthe knew this was potentially devastating. The Vatican would chalk this slaying up to whatever excuse she fed them, but eventually murders like this could lead to a full-scale war between the Empire and the Vatican. She had to stop Count Zagrev as quickly as possible.
"Domine me kquit kasas miseri insanctis atniqui. Amen," Abel whispered.
Twirling her bangs in frustration, she tried to dismiss her companion. "Okay, Father, thank you for guiding me here. I'll take care of the rest. You can take a break," she said.
"What?" The priest looked completely dumbfounded. "No, I'm going with you. It's easier that way."
"This is a Methuselah problem. You were only a guide. I don't want you getting mixed up in this mess," she countered.
"It's really no trouble," Abel insisted, batting his eyelashes with boyish exuberance. "It's okay to share the burden with me. After all, we're partners," he said.
"Partners?" she asked angrily. The salty taste of blood spread in Asthe's mouth. She couldn't keep her fangs retracted.
Calm down. She took a deep breath.
She knew that her companion's statement was innocent enough, but it stung. The ugly, dopey Terran couldn't possibly understand the hallowed meaning of "partner" to a member of Methuselah society. She knew she shouldn't get irritated over such a trivial faux pas; it was like getting mad at a child.
"Don't ever use that word again," she hissed.
"What word?" Abel asked honestly.
"Don't ever call me your partner, you putrid Terran!"
Abel tried to step back, but Asthe grabbed him by the collar. She forcibly drew him within an inch of her face. "You consider someone a partner only if you can trust them with your life! An imperial noble cannot have a lowly Terran like you for a partner!" she barked.
The squirming priest's face turned blue. Asthe released her grip.
"I-I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to offend you . . ." he whispered.
A wave of self-doubt crashed over Asthe, but she refused to acknowledge it or show signs of remorse. There was no more time to waste on this Terran dog.
"Enough. Step aside and be quiet," she commanded, kneeling near the corpses.
She ignored the bloody mess and carefully scanned each body. She looked for point of injury, torn clothing, vampire bites. They were all violently damaged, but there was nothing unique about the attacks.
When she touched the baby's body, she felt something hard. There was something inside its mouth.
"A medal? Or is it a coin?" she asked under her breath. Asthe didn't recognize what sort of currency it was. Unlike a Vatican dinar, it was cheaply made and very light. Carved on it was an image of Jesus, crucified, and the letters I.N.R.I which she knew stood for lesus Nazarenus Rex ludeomm or "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."
Among the Terran in her country, it was customary to place a coin in the mouth of the deceased, so the person's soul could pay the fare to cross the river Styx. But do these Terran also have the same custom?
"Hey, where does this—?" she asked Abel, but stopped in mid-sentence. Her eyes locked onto the wall behind Abel. She stared at a family portrait. "Wait a minute," she said.
There in the faded silver placard sat the Colleoni family, wearing their best clothes. Marco looked like a typically stern, middle-aged father. Sitting next to him was his sympathetic daughter. In the back row was the eldest, loyal son. Next to him were his faithful wife and the newborn infant.
Then there was the younger, rebellious second son.
"Is something wrong, Asthe?"
"The corpses don't add up," she said.
"What?" Abel asked in disbelief.
"There's a body missing. You didn't see the young girl, did you?"
The teenage girl in the portrait had adorably large eyes; she looked the very picture of innocence.
"Where's the girl? Why wasn't she here?" Asthe pointed to the blood-smeared floor.
"I'll check the case notes," Abel replied. The priest flipped through the thin file for a few seconds before stopping on a page near the back. "Her name is Foscarina Colleoni. She's seventeen. She ran away from home about a month ago," he read.
"Ran away?" Asthe repeated.
"Yes. It says she had an argument with her father over her new boyfriend."
"Why would they argue over that?" Asthe asked, becoming more and more exasperated with the priest.
"Well, uh . . . you must have different views on sex and marriage in your country. It's a long explanation, but, uh, if you must know . . ."Abel trailed off, looking like a deer in headlights.
There was no point in learning Terran customs, so Asthe just shook her head. "Don't bother. Where is the girl now?" she asked.
"Unknown. The parents did some investigating, but she hasn't been found yet. 'Last seen hanging out near her boyfriend's job ... at a casino called INRI,' " he read. The priest finally noticed that Asthe was leaving. "Wait! Where are you going?" he hollered after her.
"Back to my hotel. I've run out of time today." She frowned as she opened the front door. The sky was turning slightly blue, and farther along the canal, birds began to chirp. The cursed sun was slowly pushing away the merciful darkness.
"Tomorrow ... I guess for you that makes it tonight—we'll go to the casino. When the sun sets, meet me at my hotel," she said as she boarded the gondola.