20

The priest’s voice reverberated through the white stone walls of San Antonio’s Church, reaching from the altar to the rows of wooden benches flanked by colossal columns. Nestled between two such columns was a marble sculpture of the Virgin Mary, depicting her with her head bent and her hands brought together in prayer. The benches were filled with pious churchgoers who listened intently to the sermon. The crucified Jesus Christ statue towered over them, protected on either side by angels.

Constantine didn’t believe in religion, but sometimes he needed the church’s energy. Most people came to worship with pure hearts and open souls, and often above them soared the spirits of their deceased relatives. They gave him hope that selflessness still found its place in a world corrupted by materialism.

The priest’s endless words had a calming effect on him. Silent tears ran down the face of the woman to his right. Above her hovered the spirit of a young man who wished to move on, but was still tethered to this realm because she couldn’t find the strength to move on without him. Constantine closed his eyes and his mind soared with the church music.

When it was all over, and he was walking towards the exit of the church, the woman was once more in his periphery. Let him go and be free, he could have told her. Instead, he drifted away. Most people weren’t ready for freedom.

The walls of San Antonio loomed behind him when he headed down the narrow streets of Rione Monti. On either side above him were trulli – houses with conical roofs and symbols for evil protection, typical for the old town of Alberobello. At this time of the year, the chill was still pleasant, and the tourists were fewer than usual. His attire of shabby jeans, a T-shirt that read I ? Rome , a baseball cap, black sunglasses, and a backpack thrown across his shoulders was, therefore, fitting.

He feigned interest in the various magnets displayed on a metal spinning platform in front of a souvenir shop. After casually inspecting all of them, he moved to another display of cheap trinkets that were supposed to be precious jewels. A couple of girls to his left were also admiring them. One of them noticed him and smiled.

He continued towards the heart of the shop, inside a typical Italian trullo, strolled past an exhibition of Chinese products presented to the tourists as Italian goods, and halted in front of a shelf with rag dolls. He glanced out through the nearby window to the other side of the street. Five trulli with five separate conical rooftops merged into one big area, in the centre of which stood a visibly larger and taller trullo with white walls, an ordinary wooden door, and a few small windows. From this distance, Constantine could only spot the red curtains and some movement here and there. Big green letters above the front door read, The Witch – Bar and Diner – All creatures are welcome.

At that moment, the door to The Witch allowed a few tourists in. Over the last few days, witches had been coming in and out non-stop, and last night it had been a fucking witch congregation. At least a couple dozen of them had arrived at various times throughout the night, one by one or in small groups. To Constantine’s amazement, many humans had also joined the witch party.

He had been here yesterday as well, a few trulli down the street, seated at a wooden table in front of an ice cream shop. He had ordered coffee and ice cream as he had observed the slow and steady overflow of mortals and immortals in The Witch. When the waitress had informed him that the ice cream shop was closing up for the day, he had pointed to The Witch and asked if it was a nightclub.

“Yes. Friday night, they hold karaoke night. It’s the most famous bar in town,” she’d said. “You should visit. Where are you from?”

“Russia.”

“Have a good stay in Italy!”

He would. Irene hadn’t sent him chasing shadows, after all. The Witch was where she’d said it would be and was brimming with witches.

Last night, back at his hotel, Constantine had done a little googling. Karaoke, drinks, theme nights, belly dancing, crystal balls, Tarot cards – the Witch offered a lot of entertainment. The bar was described as ‘ interesting and impressive, ’ ‘ an excellent spot with exquisite service, ’ and ‘ the best place, ’ according to Tripadvisor. It was popular for its exotic atmosphere and attracted its fair share of varied clientele. Not that Constantine was surprised. Witches were resourceful creatures. They had their way of surviving among mortals and immortals alike, being open and secretive at the same time. With this place, they had established their own safe haven in Alberobello, where they could openly be themselves and pass their supernatural abilities as tourist attractions.

While he observed the witch club, Constantine knew the one he sought – the one able to create portals – was in there. The magic radiating out of that place was unmistakable, seductive, welcoming. For some reason, he thought that maybe she could sense him, too, and was expecting him. Or perhaps she was afraid of the necromancer hovering around…looking at rag dolls.

Maybe she was mocking him.

Constantine was old. Very old. Not many creatures survived over the years and carried the knowledge of the past into the present. And his experience was whispering…

This isn’t going as planned.

“You need help, sir?” A chubby woman with enormous glasses spoke to him in English from behind the counter. “These are traditional Italian dolls with traditional Italian clothes.”

The store had suddenly emptied.

“No English.” Constantine paced away from the woman and her dolls. He reached the ice cream shop from yesterday and took a seat, ordering an espresso and a chocolate and raspberry ice cream.

Ten minutes later, Mikhail Korovin and Viktor Volk made themselves comfortable on the seats around his table.

A waitress appeared to take their order. Mikhail asked for two coffees and waved her away. She hurried back inside the trullo, more than a little spooked, it seemed, by the authority dominating his tone. Constantine wouldn’t have been surprised if she didn’t show up again.

“Where’s the witch?” Korovin asked in his usual straight-to-the-point manner.

Constantine pointed to the nightclub. “In there. Her name is Mada.”

“ The Witch ? I never would have guessed,” Viktor said, right before being distracted by a group of tourists that had filled up the street with their enthusiasm and flashlights.

“We must be careful. The place is full of humans. And witches. I haven’t seen her, but she’s there.” Constantine failed to mention that gut feeling he’d had earlier, warning him she was also aware of their presence. “The club is famous. The witches offer numerous ways of entertainment to tourists and locals.”

“And you’re sure the witch with the portals is in there?” Mikhail asked.

“Undoubtedly. Here”—Constantine placed Irene’s medallion on the table—“it should serve as an entry ticket.”

They stared at the two-headed snake with deep interest. The silver glowed in the sunlight. Before any of them could say anything, a shadow covered the medallion’s glow.

“We need to talk.”

They all looked up at the voice that had spoken. Standing in front of them was a slender woman dressed in tight black leather pants and a jacket. Her braided dark hair covered the long blade held in a sheath on her back. The scent surrounding her had the typical blend of blood and black pepper, characteristic of vampires.

The men exchanged confused glances.

Constantine spoke first. “Do we know you?”

“I know who he is.” She pointed to Mikhail. “Mikhail Korovin. Founder of the Hospital.”

Mikhail narrowed his gaze on her. “That doesn’t tell us who you are and why you’re attracting everyone’s attention with that toy strapped to your back.”

“People think I’m an actress.” The woman dropped her weapon and seated herself at the table, her molten honey gaze flickering between the three of them. “My name is Diana. My brother hired a witch to open a portal at your Hospital and I’ve been searching for him ever since.”

The men exchanged another confused glance.

Mikhail recovered first, schooling his features into a blank expression. “Start at the beginning.”

“My brother, Luka, met a couple of guys who offered him something he’s been seeking for a long time, in exchange for a little favour. He was just supposed to deliver a box through a portal. It took a while before he realised that the box would be delivered to the Hospital. The moment he mentioned that the job involved a portal, I forbade him from doing it. He’s older than me, but he’s always got himself into trouble. I thought we had an understanding. Then…” She threw her arms out in despair. “Then, suddenly, he disappeared. No explanation, nothing.”

“Maybe he took whatever his reward was and got out of town,” Constantine said.

“No. No. ” Her voice was flat. “What he was seeking is with me. There’s no way he left without it. I only found out that he’d done the job – despite our conversation – because I discovered it in our safe.”

Viktor leaned forward on the table, steepling his fingers together. “Would you tell us what that thing is, darling?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. The point is, he wouldn’t have left without it.”

Constantine tilted his head to the side, observing her. She had an indentation above her upper lip, determination written all over her face, and noticeable inexperience. Was she aware that Mikhail intended to find her brother and make him regret his decision to ever approach the Hospital, be it through a portal? And her bringing this information to them on a silver platter only facilitated his task?

“Let’s go back to why you’re here,” said the manticore.

“Because we’re looking for the same thing – my brother. And clearly, we’ve all come to the conclusion that the only way to find him is through the witch that opened the portal.”

“Darling, if we find your brother, you’d have wished he’d stayed hidden. Believe me,” Viktor said in his sweetest voice.

“I disagree.” Her confidence made Constantine’s lips curl with amusement. “If you kill him, how will you know who hired him to mediate the job? And, by the way, what was it that he delivered that’s got you so riled up?”

Mikhail raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Why do you assume we’re here because of your brother?”

The vampire pointed to Constantine, her tone nonchalant. “I’ve been keeping a close watch on him.”

The necromancer smiled, but judging by his reflection in Mikhail’s sunglasses, there was nothing amiable in his expression. “Interesting…”

Mikhail glanced at the watch on his wrist.

As though aware she was losing their attention, Diana dropped the fa?ade and started talking fast. “My brother said he’d visited the bazaar in Istanbul to ask around about a witch that could open portals. I was so completely against all this that I didn’t really listen to him. I thought I had convinced him not to do it.” She tucked behind her ear a couple of stray locks that had escaped her neat hairdo. “And then he disappeared. He didn’t answer his phone. I couldn’t find him at his regular spots… I went to our home and in the safe was that thing … And I realised he’d taken the job. I was certain his disappearance was related to the stupid portal. I also knew that the only way to track him was through the witch who opened it. So I followed his trail, which is how I wound up in Istanbul, but none of the witches there could tell me if they’d seen him or who the one with the portal was. Then he showed up”—Diana nodded to Constantine again—“and as soon as I glanced at him, I knew he was the necromancer from the Council of the Twenty.”

“How did you know?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s no secret that the Council is one of the most influential gatherings in the world. They say that because their leader is determined, ambitious, bold and brave. But they also say he’s like that because he has an army of powerful creatures backing him up, including a necromancer, and—”

“And you figured that necromancer was me?”

“And I figured that since you’re so great, you’d be smart enough to listen when I tell you I can help.”

Mikhail’s face remained expressionless. “No, you don’t get off that easy. I’m equally curious – how did you know he was a necromancer? Vampires don’t have a strong enough sense of smell to recognise species by their scent.”

Diana shrugged. “I’ve practised. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together after Luka opened the portal at the Hospital. The necromancer’s from the Council of the Twenty, so it can’t be a coincidence he showed up in Istanbul. I listened to my instincts and followed him through the bazaar. Then, in the evening, when he was with the witch, I bugged his car. I was hiding in a small alley when he left her place.”

The muscle on Constantine’s jaw twitched. “So, it was your presence I felt at the bazaar and in the witch’s neighbourhood.”

Diana only stared back at him, no hint of remorse on her features.

“All right, that’s enough.” Mikhail glanced at his watch again, impatience marking his voice. “I’ll go talk to the witch. Let’s see what she says about your brother. Once we know more, we’ll figure out what to do with you.” He stood.

Diana reached for her blade. “I’m coming with you.”

“No.” Mikhail’s tone held such command, Diana froze mid-standing. “You’ll keep your distance, with Constantine. Viktor and I will talk to this Mada. You’ll come in later but are not to interfere.”

Before she could object further, Mikhail was already walking towards The Witch. Viktor tossed a warning look to Constantine, followed by a wave goodbye, then rushed after Mikhail.

Fantastic. Babysitting duty. Constantine was about to roll his eyes, but the waitress chose that moment to bring the two coffees Mikhail had ordered.

“Order?” she asked Diana, her focus dropping to the blade at her feet.

“No, thank you.” Following the woman’s gaze, the vampire flashed a five-star smile. “It’s a toy. I’m an actress.”

“Ah! Le attrice! Famous!” the waitress said.

Constantine pulled a few notes from his pocket and tossed them on the table. “Let’s go, before she asks you for autographs and pictures next.”