Chapter Eleven

The receptionist was looking at the screen when she heard a low gasping sound and looked up to see what was wrong. Peter, dressed in only his leather pants and was made up in his wig, makeup and jewelry, light coughed and sniffed and the stubble on his chin and cheeks made the goatee look fuller. The wig was sticking up to give him the look like he had just gotten up and a handkerchief was barely tucked in the top of the leather pants. He was also barefoot and he slightly smiled at some of the women looking at his bottom. He looked tired and pale as he stopped in front of the reception desk and leaned his lower arms on top of the desk.

"Do you have tonight's paper?" he asked in a sleepy voice and the receptionist nodded, leaning down then stood up and handed him the newspaper. "Thanks."

The receptionist watched him walk away as he covered his mouth to cough and made a loud sniffing sound. Peter nodded his head at some of the guests and staff as he headed for the hallway that led to the lift when Darcy walked closer and he slightly smiled at her. She had told the management that he had the flu and he decided to show the staff and guests that he wasn't just sleeping off a bender. Jane and Cassandra argued that he should be in bed, but he told them he would go straight to bed after he got back. The idea of crawling under the silk sheets and sleeping sounded good because he was feeling tired and he folded his arms over his bare chest, lightly coughing with his mouth closed.

"Hello," he grumbled as she stood in front of him and he coughed with his mouth closed.

"What the fuck are you doing down here? Are you trying to make everyone sick?" she asked a little too loud for his liking, but he knew she was just trying to go along with the whole "Peter is sick" thing and sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

"I wanted the paper," he said as he tapped the newspaper on the top of her head and she gently swatted his hand away.

"If you wanted the paper, why didn't you call down and have me bring it up to you? Now, come on. Let's get you back to bed," she said as she took his arm and led him toward the hallway. They stopped in front of the doors to the lift as he smiled at her and she rolled her eyes, pushing the button.

"That was a bit much, yeah?" he asked as she laughed and nodded her head. He walked into the lift after the doors opened and waved at her while the doors closed and he pushed the button. He smiled as he leaned against the wall then watched the lights moving and tapped the newspaper against his left hip.

London, England 1811

Roberto was reading a book when the French doors opened and he looked up, seeing Giacomo, Constance and Cross coming into the room and Giacomo closed and locked the French doors. Roberto watched as Giacomo moved to the other French doors then locked the French doors and Roberto placed the book on the small table near the high back chair then stood up.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded then looked at Constance and was slightly stunned to see her dressed in a long white gown with black, leather boots on her feet and a white, fur cape was draped over her shoulder. What worried him more was the wooden staff iron lantern hanging on the end of the wooden staff. "Constance, is that you?"

"Yes, Sir," she said with a nod of her head and he looked at Giacomo, who walked to Constance and slid her hand into his hand.

"Where is Mother?" Giacomo asked when his mother came into the room and closed the door when she saw Giacomo and Constance.

"What is going on in here?" she asked then looked at Constance. "How did you get here?"

"I walked," Constance said with a hint of a smile on her face and Roberto looked from her to Giacomo.

"What foolishness is this?" he demanded and Giacomo sighed, sliding Costance against him and Cross flew from her wrist to his shoulder and settled its head against the side of Giacomo's head.

"I think it's time you told them the truth," Constance whispered and Giacomo sighed, nodding his head.

"Mother, Father, Constance is a witch," he said as his mother's eyes went wide and Roberto glared at them.

"What madness is this? She is not a witch!" he said and Constance softly smiled.

"Yes, I am," she said and Roberto stormed over to her and pulled her away from Giacomo.

"Hell Spawn, I demand you release my son or I will kill you!" Roberto shouted when Giacomo balled his hands and stood between them with anger and rage in his eyes.

"I will not have you talk to her like that!" he shouted as Roberto growled and slapped Giacomo hard enough to make his head snap back. Blood rolled from his nose as Giacomo growled and punched his father in the face. Roberto hit the floor as his mother gasped and she ran to Roberto, knelt down on the floor and held him while looking up at Giacomo.

"How dare you strike your father?" she shouted as he softly laughed and used the handkerchief he removed from his pocket to wipe the blood from his nose.

"Yet it is alright for him to strike me?" Giacomo demanded when Constance slid her arm around his arm and looked down at them.

"Tell me this. If I was hell spawn as you say, why did I pick Giacomo over you, Sir? You are the patriarch of the family and have all the power. I could have easily enchanted you to fall in love with me and, once we were wed, I would get rid of you and your spawn. The truth is I was as stunned as you when Giacomo asked me if he could court me, even more so when he asked for my hand in marriage. If anyone should release someone, it is he," Constance said as she looked lovingly at Giacomo and his mother looked from her to Giacomo.

"She is right, Darling," she said as Roberto looked at Constance then sighed and Giacomo's mother helped him to his feet.

"Can you assure me that you are not a practitioner of the Black Arts?" he asked then walked to her and lifted Constance's chin until they locked eyes with each other.

"No, I have never practiced the Black Arts," she said with a calm tone in her voice and they watched Roberto as his eyes gazed into her eyes. Roberto gently smiled when he let go of her chin then looked at Giacomo and blinked.

"Now, what is this business of you locking the doors? What has happened?" Roberto asked as Giacomo started pacing back and forth and placed his hands behind his back.

"I was talking a walk in the garden," he finally said and looked at him with fear in his eyes while the image of Jean-Phillipe De'Avante appeared in his mind's eye, making him shiver. "I was surprised when Constance appeared from the darkness of the forest but it was the…person that appeared afterwards."

"There was someone else with her?" his mother asked and glared at Constance.

"I did not know he was there," she said but could tell that Giacomo's mother didn't believe her.

"What did this…person look like?" Roberto asked and Giacomo sighed, walked to the high back chair and held onto the top of the high back chair.

"He was as tall as I am and had long black hair that was tied back with a black cord. His face seemed to be carved from smooth marble and he was strikingly handsome." Giacomo said and his father frowned and blinked his eyes a few time.

"What was he wearing?"

"He was wearing a white, long sleeve shirt, black trousers, black socks and black, leather boots that ended at his top of his knees. His skin was tan but it was his eyes that made my blood run cold."

"What do you mean?" his mother asked and Giacomo sighed, puffing air out of his mouth.

"His eyes were dark enough to be black and I could sense the evil behind them," Giacomo said as his mother covered her mouth with her hand and Roberto walked closer, placing his hand on Giacomo's shoulder.

"Did he speak to you?" he asked and Giacomo nodded his head.

"He asked me my name and was surprised when I told him my last name. He then got this look in his eyes and said that he knew you."

"He called me by name?"

"Yes," Giacomo said, nodding his head.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Yes, he said we would see each other again," Giscomo said and Roberto's heart squeezed tightly in his chest, skipping a beat or two.

"Did he…" his father said then stopped for a second and Giacomo saw the color fading out of his father's face. "Did he have an accent?"

"Yes, I do believe so. He sounded…Well, he sounded French," Giacomo said and his father's face went deathly pale. "Father, are you alright?"

"Did he say his name?" his father said with concern in his voice and balled his hand into a fist.

"Yes, he said his name was Jean-Phillipe De'Avante," Giacomo said while Roberto's eyes went wide then Roberto collapsed to the floor and Giacomo's mother called his name but Giacomo stopped her before she went to comfort him.

"Constance, take my mother and go get some help," he said as Constance nodded and his mother glared at him. "Mother, go, let me handle this!"

"If he dies then so does she!" his mother growled as she pointed at Constance and stormed out of the room. Giacomo knelt on the floor when he slid his arms around Roberto and gently held him.

"Promise…me," Roberto barely whispered as Giacomo looked at him and frowned.

"Promise you what?" he asked and Roberto's ragged breathing filled his ear as he tried to grab onto Giacomo's sleeve.

"Promise…me…that you…will not…go after… Jean-Phillipe De'Avante," Roberto barely whispered and Giacomo gave him a confused look.

"I don't understand. Who is Jean-Phillipe De'Avante?"

"He is…the one…that turned…Marcus into…a monster," Roberto whispered and Giacomo's eyes widen. Roberto looked at Constance when he smiled weakly at her and she knelt down next to her. "Take care…of…him. He will…need you…now."

A low, guttering breath came from his throat as Roberto closed his eyes then his body went limp against Gaicomo and Giacomo placed his head back and screamed.