Uprising

Chapter Fifty-Seven

The Metropole Hotel, Venice

10.08 p.m. local time

‘I can’t afford this place,’ Joel said under his breath as they walked through the luxurious hotel lobby. ‘You’re looking at a guy on half pay for the next six months.’

‘Who says you’re paying?’ Alex replied.

‘I can’t let you—’

‘Relax. My family’s rich. Money isn’t an issue.’ She smiled to herself, thinking about the expense account she’d persuaded Harry Rumble to set up for the trip to Venice. If they were going to be here for a while, searching for an ancient cross that might not even exist, they might as well do it in style. She led the way to the desk and tried to book two double rooms next to one another. The hotel manager shook his head and said all they had available was a suite with two separate bedrooms. He named an astronomical price for the night, and she booked it without hesitation.

They’d brought little luggage with them. A uniformed porter grabbed Joel’s holdall in his left hand. He was fairly well built and lifted it effortlessly but when he went to pick up the leather travelling bag Alex had been carrying just moments before, he could barely get it off the floor. He shot a look of amazement at her, heaved it up with a grunt and led the way towards the lift.

‘What have you got in that thing?’ Joel asked, watching the porter struggle and sweat.

‘We girls like to carry a lot of stuff around with us,’ she replied casually.

‘Tell me about it.’

The suite was lavish and seemed to ramble across at least half a floor of the hotel. Their separate bedrooms were on a palatial scale, a blue satin-draped four-poster in hers and a gold satin one in his, each with its own balcony looking out over the canal. Joel walked out onto his and leaned on the stone balustrade, transfixed by the view. The moon was full and bright on the rippling water. The city lights twinkled like stars. Feeling her presence, he turned suddenly and saw her standing close behind him.

‘Did I startle you?’ she smiled. ‘Sorry.’

‘I was miles away. Just looking.’

‘First time here?’

‘First time just about anywhere,’ he replied. ‘Unless you count rock climbing trips in the Lake District and weekends in Blackpool with my aunt and uncle. Sausage and chips on the pier. Not quite the same, is it?’

She walked up close to him and ran her eye along his shape as he leaned on the balcony. He was lithe but strong. She could smell his skin and his hair. It felt strange to want to touch him.

‘It’s amazing,’ he said, taking in the view. ‘I don’t suppose this city has changed much in centuries.’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘It hasn’t.’

They stood in silence for a while, him watching the water and the dark silhouettes of distant steeples and towers against the sky, her watching him. For all the troubles and sadness she could see in his eyes, it was clear to her that he was drinking in the serenity of the tranquil old city with real pleasure. With a jolt of alarm, she realised how natural and relaxed she felt in this human’s presence.

Be careful, Alex.

‘Feel like a bite?’ he said suddenly, turning to face her.

‘What?’

‘You must be hungry. You want to see if we can grab a bite somewhere?’

‘I might pick at something,’ she said. ‘I don’t eat that much.’

Joel had barely eaten in the last thirty-six hours, and his stomach was telling him so. ‘Maybe we could hang about here, order something up to the room.’

The selection of cold meats, salads, olives and cheese was delivered to the suite together with two bottles of expensive red wine, all courtesy of VIA. Joel attacked the food like a man who’d just been rescued from a desert island, piling a plate with cold chicken, smoked ham, a mound of olives and a huge wedge of cheese. Alex daintily helped herself to a couple of tiny morsels, and they settled in two comfortable armchairs facing each other in the suite’s vast living room. Joel didn’t seem to notice her lack of appetite. As he munched and drank he had his grandfather’s notebook spread open beside him on the arm of the chair, and the conversation quickly focused on the clues they needed to crack.

‘Salvation lies at the feet of the Virgin,’ Joel said, reading from the page and knocking back another glass of wine. He was outdrinking her three to one and getting progressively more bright-eyed as the level in the first bottle dropped rapidly.

Alex sipped from her glass. ‘Was your grandfather Catholic?’

‘He was raised C of E, as far as I know. I don’t recall him ever having talked about going to church, though.’

‘Because what if he wasn’t just talking metaphysics here? What if he was talking about his own literal salvation? As in, the only thing that he believed could save him?’

‘You’re saying he was referring to the location of the cross?’

She nodded. ‘X marks the spot.’

‘At the feet of the Virgin. How many Virgin Marys must there be here in Venice?’

‘A few thousand,’ she said. ‘Maybe more than a few. The Mother of Christ isn’t exactly a rarity in these parts.’

‘That’s a lot of possible Xs marking a lot of possible spots.’

They talked on, throwing ideas back and forth, getting nowhere fast. Joel shoved his empty plate to one side and concentrated harder on the wine. The first bottle was empty now, and he was making inroads into the second, slumping gradually down into his armchair and slurring his words a little.

‘What about this “Anchi 666”?’ he complained. ‘It’s driving me crazy. The Antichrist? Damien?’

‘My Bible knowledge is a little rusty,’ Alex said, ‘but what I think the Book of Revelation says is that the number six hundred threescore and six is “the number of a man” who’s also the biblical Beast — the Devil’s envoy, his representative on Earth. Does it mean vampires?’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t say for sure. In ancient times, a lot of people thought vampires were an incarnation of Satanic evil.’

‘Evil is the right word,’ Joel muttered, and slipped a little further down in his chair.

Alex didn’t reply.

‘But where does this get us?’ he groaned. He was really slurring now, and having trouble keeping his eyes open. Alex moved over to his chair and put her hand to his lips.

‘Shh. Tomorrow. You’re tired.’

He nodded sleepily, and closed his eyes. She kneeled by his chair and studied his face as he fell asleep.

Within minutes he’d drifted far away. It was as though she’d been left alone in the room. A strange emptiness came over her, and an impulse made her reach out suddenly and stroke his cheek.

‘William,’ she murmured softly.

He stirred and his eyelids gave a flicker, then he went still again. She ran her fingers through his hair. She wanted to kiss him…She didn’t know what she wanted. It felt strange and confusing to be here with this man.

After a few minutes, she stood up. Putting an arm gently under his shoulders and the other under his legs, she scooped him up out of the armchair without waking him and carried him easily through the door of his bedroom. She laid him down on the four-poster and covered him gently with a blanket.

She should have left him then, but instead she stayed with him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he slept. From time to time his brows twitched and he shook his head from side to side and muttered softly to himself as troubled dreams played in his mind. She stroked his hair and whispered soothingly to him, and the frown would melt away from his face so that he looked almost like a child.

What it was that made it so hard to leave his side, she didn’t understand. Time passed and in her own thoughts she was seeing herself as she’d been a long, long time ago. Happy, carefree, in love. She remembered the good times.

Then the bad memories returned, the way they always did. Cradling her dying lover in her arms as his blood soaked into her clothes and the life ebbed out of him drop by drop. Knowing there was nothing to be done but to hold him tight and count the precious moments that were going to be their last together.

‘Don’t go,’ she’d pleaded through her tears. He’d seemed to focus for a moment, and whispered his last promise to her.

‘I’ll come back to you, my love.’ Then the light in his eyes had faded to a glassy stare. And that was it. He was gone.

Sitting here now in this dark room after so many years had gone by and so very much had happened, Alex wanted to cry. But to cry was one thing she could not do.

Joel’s eyes opened in the darkness. ‘What time is it?’ he murmured, half unconscious.

‘It’s late,’ she whispered. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘I was dreaming.’

‘I know.’

‘I dreamed you carried me in here.’

She chuckled. ‘That’s crazy.’

‘It felt so real.’

‘Just dreams,’ she said. A strand of hair fell across his eye. She brushed it away.

‘How long have you been sitting here?’ he asked softly, with a smile.

‘I’ll go now.’

He put out his hand to catch her arm as she got up to leave. ‘Stay,’ he said. She could so easily have broken his grip, but didn’t.

What are you doing, Alex?

She let him pull her down towards him, slowly closer until she could feel his warm breath on her lips. His eyes were shining in the moonlight from the window.

Then, when the kiss came, there was no going back from it, for either of them.