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Ex Multus Familia

Chapter 17

"Hmm, conspicuous… yet not. I think it's perfect for our dear Sandy." Robin glanced at Seth, and he laughed and wrapped his arms around her. She continued to gaze sourly at the house, wondering how nice Sandeman's life had been while the Manticore children were being tortured.

The house was a pale-colored muted Victorian, set into a neighborhood that seemed like people were living there because of old money or old age. The street was quiet and lined with stone walls and thick trees. There were a few people out walking, but in general the neighborhood didn't seem to be up yet. It was the perfect hideaway for an old man who had been part of a cult with a superiority complex.

"I'm glad you found that the home was for sale, I don't think we would have fit in as tourists," Robin whispered to Seth. They had decided to go with the cover that they were perspective home buyers.

"Unfortunately, it also means we probably won't find anything, even if he was here," Seth said, "I'm sure they would've cleaned it out thoroughly." They went through the wrought-iron gate then started up the steps. Supposedly a realtor would be there to meet them in five or ten minutes; they had called the realtor's office after splitting up with Syl and Krit. They had decided to come early so they could look around a bit without her.

"But if it's up for sale already, then he must have moved out before even coming to America. If he even lived here."

"It makes sense," Seth said. "If he had planned on staying in Seattle, why not put the house up for sale? Once it sold, it would have given him enough money to live and do whatever he wanted in Seattle for a while."

They sat down on the porch swing, and Robin caressed one of the flowers that came pushing over the porch railing. There was a huge bush of some sort of pink-red flowers that grew in the corner right next to the swing.

"The realtor's late," she commented.

Seth looked at his watch. "Well, lucky for us we have all day. Since the house is for sale, quizzing her is our best bet. We have to stay around and talk to her."

"I know." Robin leaned against Seth's shoulder and closed her eyes. It almost felt peaceful, if she didn't think about why she was sitting there on that beautiful porch. She felt Seth stiffen next to her, and she opened her eyes. Coming up the steps was a young brunette lady in a dark red sundress, all smiles for her potential customers.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kensington?" Seth and Robin stood up and shook her extended hand.

"Ms. Bavour." Seth smiled at her.

"Oh, do please call me Amelia. I don't like to be formal." She flashed a bright smile at Seth and then moved to the door to unlock it. Robin could feel all her muscles tensing; she did not like the way that woman had looked at Seth. She had no right to look at him that way.

"Can we find another realtor?" Robin hissed at Seth after the woman had entered into the house. Seth looked at her, surprised.

"Robin, there's no need to." He frowned and glanced at the door to the house, then back at Robin. "Do you think she's not trustworthy or something?"

Seth hadn't noticed Amelia's smile. And it would be petty to insist on a new realtor…it wasn't like they were ever going to see the woman again. Still, something about her set Robin on edge.

"No, never mind," she murmured, pulling the confused Seth toward the door. "Everything's perfectly fine." They stepped into the house and were greeted by the lovely Amelia, posed at the bottom of a polished wooden staircase. Robin set her teeth and hoped that the tour of the house wouldn't take too long.

Amelia lead them throughout the house, chattering on and on about the beautiful qualities of the home. Robin had to agree, it had a lot of potential. She would normally be excited if she and Seth were actually buying the home, and she had the chance to decorate it. But she found it annoying the way Amelia kept chatting only with Seth, and laughing at everything he said, and…grrr, was the woman that desperate? Really.

Robin was actually starting to find it amusing by the time they were on the third floor. The woman was beginning to get the idea that Seth was completely unaffected by her, and her irritation was becoming obvious. Robin decided to start asking the questions before the woman became too upset to still be friendly.

"So what did the previous owner of the house do?" Robin asked conversationally as they admired the view of the back yard.

Amelia gave Robin a strange look; piercing and nervous at the same time. "Oh, I think he was mostly retired," Amelia said, "He obviously liked gardening, as you can see." She was trying to draw their attention back to the yard.

"So perhaps a botanist?" Robin pressed.

Amelia frowned. "I really don't know."

"How long has the house been on the market?" Seth put in smoothly. A fairly typical buyer's question; they could expect lower prices if it had been a while.

"Oh, only a few weeks actually. We were contacted by the former owner's lawyers and informed that the widow wished to sell the house. You're very lucky to have caught it. I'm sure it'll be sold after a few more weeks," Amelia pressed.

Robin and Seth looked at each other. A few weeks? Perhaps Sandeman had sold it before going to America. But a widowed wife a few weeks ago? Was it an unhappy coincidence that she had portrayed herself as a widow before Sandeman died, or had this house just belonged to another person?

They headed back down stairs and the realtor turned toward the, waiting for their comments.

"We'll have to think about it," Robin said firmly, glancing at Seth. She smiled at Amelia. "But I'm sure you'll be hearing from us soon." It couldn't hurt to keep their contact with her open. If they didn't find anything else on Sandeman soon, the realtor's office might just be their next best bet.

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The flight from Philadelphia to Venice lasted seven smooth, turbulence-free hours, and Alec, Sidda, and Dalton slept the whole way. An airplane seat with a tiny pillow and a couple blankets seemed luxurious compared to the truck cab where some of the metal parts were exposed.

"Buon giorno!"The intercom system crackled as the pilot started talking. "Il nostro volo arriverà dentro l'ora ed è attualmente 8:30 nella mattina."

"It's too early for Italian," Dalton grumbled, burying his head into the pillow. He was sitting across the aisle from Alec and Sidda, stuffed in the seat beside a large man who enjoyed reading cook books and had bad flatulence problems. Dalton was already starting to understand the meaning of hazing.

Sidda, who was curled up in the seat with her back pressing against Alec's side, cracked open her eyes to glare at Dalton. "No more English, Dalton," she said, speaking in Italian, "I didn't spend those two days in the truck force feeding you Italian just so you could complain about how you don't want to use it."

"I didn't say I didn't want to," he replied in nearly perfect Italian, "I just don't wanna hear it this early in the morning."

Reaching over the space between the rows of seats, Sidda flicked him on the nose. "Quit complaining, grunt." He batted her hand away and pushed his face into the pillow, muttering about how all X5 females were patronizing and evil.

As Sidda settled back into her seat, Alec shifted and looked out the window. "Damn. Good view."

Sidda glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the turquoise lagoon and the ancient storybook city. Her fingers tightened over her armrest as she sat back in her seat. The last time she had seen the Adriatic had been when last year when she was flying back to Manticore.

"Air sick?" Alec asked, amused.

She rolled her eyes at him. He knew full well that Manticore creations never got motion sickness; one of the many benefits of being genetically-altered. "No, just…thinking about the last time I was here."

"I thought you said you lived in a convent," Alec said, turning to look at her.

"I did," Sidda replied with a half smile. Alec's Italian was almost impeccable already; she knew that within the day he would be speaking like a Venetian native. She thumped him on the arm. "But there aren't exactly airstrips out in the country."

"True," Alec said, smirking at her. He looked out the window again. "How come I never got any Italian missions?" he complained.

"They only gave those to the cool kids," Sidda said.

Alec snapped in fingers in mock-regret. "I knew the whole troublemaker act would backfire one day."

"Yeah, see, if you had just been an automaton like everyone else, then you would've gotten the really awesome missions."

Alec laughed. "And I'm supposed to believe that you were a perfect angel?"

Sidda lowered her head and smiled up at him, big hazel eyes wide with innocence as she peered out from underneath long eyelashes and wisps of blond hair. "Of course I was."

"Now that's just scary," Alec said, shaking his head at her. "I mean it. That is terrifying."

Tossing her hair, Sidda threaded her fingers through each other and cracked them. "They did a pretty good job with the innocence factor."

Alec grinned. "You know, if we'd ever gone a mission back then, we would have been unstoppable."

"What do you mean?" Sidda peered around to see if anyone was paying attention to their whispering. All of this talk about missions might catch someone's interest.

"With my boyish charm and your girlish innocence, no one would've stood a chance," Alec said. "People would've never been able to say no to us working together."

"Yeah, but business was different back then," Sidda said, "We have to do things another way now."

"I dunno, I think a few of the old tricks might still work," Alec said, lowering his voice, "And I can always teach you new ones."

"Are we still talking about business?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. She held still as he leaned over into her seat, his eyes holding hers.

"Are we?" he asked. She could feel his breath on her face, hot and spiced, just like she had that night back at the geneticist's house. Her panic reflex kicked in, and she shoved him back into his seat.

"Yes," she said, staring ahead at the seat in front of her, "We are."

"No," Alec said, trying to catch her eyes again and failing, "We weren't."

"Well, now we are," Sidda said, "So chill out, stud, and get ready to land."

-------------------------------------------

Luckily everything went smoothly; with no baggage to check they were able to just stroll off the plane and right out of the airport.

"So what now?" Dalton asked. They were standing on the curb outside of the airport, and it seemed liked Sidda and Alec were looking for something. "Are we going to meet anyone?"

"Nope," Alec said. He touched Sidda's arm lightly and nodded at something.

"Come on, Dalton," Sidda said. She and Alec started walking off in the direction Alec had been looking.

"What's going on?" Dalton asked, rushing a bit to keep up with them. "I know you guys are still annoyed with me, but it would at least be nice if you told me what we're doing."

Sidda grinned at Dalton as both she and Alec stopped. "Well, lowly grunt, we are on the mysterious mission of acquiring a taxi. Satisfied?" Dalton blushed as he watched Alec talk to the taxi driver, making sure that it was open.

"Yeah, I guess," Dalton muttered. "But where are we going?"

"This one's good," Alec said, coming around. He glanced at Dalton. "The kid has a point. Where do we want to go?"

"Well I looked up a few hotels while we were at the airport." Sidda opened one of the guide books she'd picked up before they had left. "Do we want an expensive place or cheap?"

"Cheap," Dalton said immediately. He was assuming they didn't have a whole lot of money with them.

"Expensive." Alec grinned at Sidda. "It's a vacation, we should enjoy ourselves. You know we can acquire funds as needed." Sidda narrowed her eyes at his easy conscience when it came to stealing, but she was smiling too. A really nice vacation would be good.

"And maybe we could find an empty house after a day or two," she said thoughtfully. "It could be fun."

"Yup." Alec moved so that he could peer over her shoulder at the guide book. "Mmm, our own private place…I like how you think. Let's leave Dalton at the hotel." Alec suggested quietly in her ear.

Sidda couldn't believe she was blushing. "Alec," she hissed. "We promised Gem to keep Dalton in our sights." She wasn't going to even talk about the suggestion behind that.

"You can't leave me at the hotel, you aren't going to lose me that way." Dalton said, looking at each of them suspiciously.

"We know," Sidda said, staring at Alec. She took a moment to give the taxi driver a charming smile; he was starting to look impatient.

Sidda pointed at the hotel at the top of the list. "The Gritti Palace is supposed to be one of the most famous, expensive hotels in Italy." She raised an eyebrow at Alec. "What do you think?"

Alec read the text over her shoulder. "Great for romantic couples…hmm, sounds perfect."

"Oh, you." Sidda said, moving away from him. She opened the back door of the taxi and pushed Dalton inside. "The Gritti Palace, please."

The taxi driver eyed Alec and Sidda doubtfully, as if he was positive they would not be able to afford the hotel. "It is very expensive," he tried to warn them.

"We've got it," Sidda sat back in the seat and did some mental calculations as the taxi pulled away from the curb. They did probably have enough to pay for one night; they'd stocked up in cash back in Philadelphia. But they would definitely have to get more.

She didn't spend all her time on calculations though. The view of Venice was just as beautiful as last time. Delicate modern glass structures interwove with marble and Old World buildings. When bringing their city up to modern times, the Venetians had crafted their city with the hands of artists. It was now one of the most beautiful cities in the world; its upper reaches glimmered in the sun and the buildings below were ripe for romance after sunset, when the lamps were lit and the musicians came out.

"I feel slightly inadequate," Sidda said after the taxi driver had dropped them off at the hotel. The way the taxi driver had looked at them and their lack of bags, he obviously had no confidence in them being able to get a room.

"As long as we pay, I'm sure they won't complain," Alec said.

"We only have enough money on that account Logan made for us to pay for one night." Sidda said. Logan had given them a credit card in their packet before they left but had told them not to use it yet. During the long phone conversation in Philadelphia he'd informed them that their temporary bank account was finally activated and holding a small amount of starter cash. It would be nice to use it now.

"We can pay night by night," Alec said to. "We'll tell them we're just roaming Europe and we're not sure how long we want to stay, so we can let them know at the beginning of each day.

"They might not like that," Sidda said. "And that's assuming they have rooms anyway."

"If they don't, we'll go to plan B—the house," Alec said. "But let's just wait and see. They'll probably have rooms since it is so expensive and not a huge tourist season, and I bet they'll be okay without an immediate payment method."

"I guess we'll find out."

"We're staying here?" Dalton's voice was awed. He'd never stayed anywhere really nice before. Sidda looked at him, wondering why Dalton sounded so impressed. The building was pretty, but not stunning from the outside. The owner of the hotel had tried to keep it looking like it had back when it was built.

Dalton was staring at the guidebook that Sidda had handed him. Oh, there were some stunning pictures of the rooms in there. Gorgeous antique beds and beautiful views. Sidda had to admit, it was going to be pretty amazing if they could get a room.

"We're not sure yet," Sidda answered Dalton. "But yes, we're hoping to at least stay a couple of nights here." She grinned and shoved Dalton lightly. "Just for kicks."

Dalton laughed, glad Sidda was being cheerful again. "'Cause staying in a luxury hotel is what normal people do for kicks."

"If you hadn't noticed," Alec said, "we're not exactly normal people."

-----------------------------------------

They walked through the old-fashioned, thick wooden doors of the hotel with their heads held high. Dalton's mouth fell open as he stared wide-eyed at the gorgeous lobby. Plush, rich velvet chairs that matched the ancient décor were spread around the room, interspersed with lounges and loveseats of the same thick materials. Posh and stylish tourists reclined back against pillows with golden tassels or sat in high-backed chairs that looked like they had been fashioned for royalty. Platters of fresh fruits were sitting out on antique, polished wood coffee tables and brightly-colored drinks were placed next to them as if everyone was expected to drink alcohol.

"Close your mouth," Alec hissed at Dalton, "Try to at least act like you belong here."

Dalton did what he was told and started to notice the suspicious glances that were being thrown their way from behind fans and gloved hands. People here dressed really weird, like they were out of some weird 1920s movie or something.

As the trio approached the beautifully-crafted reception desk, the two clerks in matching dark green jackets looked up, wearing hopeful expressions that quickly soured to disdain as they looked at the rumpled travelers. The female receptionist went back to taking down notes, leaving the dark-haired, squat man to deal with what she obviously thought as a few vagabonds who had somehow found their way into the hotel.

"Can I help you?" the little man asked, his knitted eyebrows saying that he would be happy to help them to the door.

Alec flashed him a debonair smile. "Yes, you may. My fiancé and I are looking to rent a room for the night, possibly for the next few nights." He grinned at Sidda and then looked back at the clerk knowingly. "We don't have reservations or anything. Spontaneous decision and everything."

Sidda grinned and playfully batted her eyelashes at the receptionist. "We borrowed my Daddy's jet!" A pale pink blush of shame colored her cheeks. "I hope he won't mine."

"Mine was having work done, or we would have taken it," Alec said to the receptionist with the unapologetic shrug of the elite.

Behind the desk, the man looked over at the woman who had glanced up from her notes. She peered at them through blue-tinted glasses that were sitting just below the bridge of her nose. "And what did you say your names were?"

"Oh, dear, oh, sorry," Sidda said, her hand flying to her mouth. She let out an endearing giggle and shook her head in embarrassment. "What a silly thing to let slip by."

"It's okay, lambkin," Alec said. He had to make a conscious effort not to wince when Sidda death-gripped his hand. She really didn't like the stupid nicknames. "It's not your fault for forgetting. They should've recognized us." He frowned at the two receptionists as if they had committed a serious social faux pas.

The male clerk had the decency to blush as he looked at the other receptionist, hoping she would know who they were. When she shook her head, he turned back to them, red-faced. "I beg your forgiveness, but we're not quite sure…"

Alec glared ferociously at them and sighed at Sidda. "This place gets worse every year," he said, "But if I must explain myself, I'm Lexington Byrestaff and this is my fiancé, Malorie Lewiston."

"Oh!" The woman receptionist's eyes grew wide, and she jumped to her feet. "You're Ms. Lewiston? Of the Lewiston family?"

Sidda nodded and smiled, all the while wanting to punch Alec in the gut. Who the hell were the Lewistons?

"But you're father never lets you go anywhere," the woman said, staring at Sidda like she was going to ask for her autograph. "And you're supposed to be dating Prince Edward!"

"Rumors just spread like wildfire, don't they," Sidda said simply. Wearing a bashful smile, she looked up at Alec as she stepped on his foot. The illegitimate British Prince Edward? Who exactly was she?

Alec pulled Sidda off of his foot by wrapping an arm around her waist and moving her to his other side. "We're trying to stay low-key this weekend, so if you don't mind, we'll just take a canal suite and no paparazzi." He looked at the two receptionists meaningfully and put down a wad of bills onto the counter as a down payment on his two requests. Luckily these upscale hotels were reluctant to let any photographers in the building or near the premises anyway.

"Of course," the woman receptionist said as she swept up the money, "We have just the room. And your serving boy will have his own room."

"He'll enjoy that," Sidda said, tossing a grin back at Dalton. The kid raised an eyebrow and then let out a muffled squawk as he realized he had been reduced to servitude. He did a good job of trying to look cheerful, but anyone could see the irritation in his eyes.

"We'll pay in cash when we come back from dinner," Alec said, smirking at the female receptionist. "One of my aunt's banks is nearby."

"Your aunt?" the male receptionist asked even as his fingers tapped across the keyboard, looking up a room for them.

"Rita MacKantire," Alec said, citing the name of one of the biggest bank owners in Europe. Yet again, Sidda was impressed by Alec's ability to lie on the spot and to come up with the stupidest lies ever. The male receptionist nodded passively as he continued typing. Dealing with the rich or soon-to-be rich was obviously a skill that had been written into his contract.

After a few moments, the arrangements had been made. The female receptionist smiled broadly at them as she handed over an old-fashioned key. "I'm sure you know, but just wave the key over the scanner by the door and it'll let you into your room." She smiled at the two of them. "We hope you enjoy however long of a stay you decide to take with us."

Acting as shy as any reclusive rich man's daughter in love, Sidda pressed her cheek against Alec's shoulder and smiled back at the woman. "Thank you so very much for being so understanding and discreet."

"It's not a problem at all," said the male receptionist, "We just want to accommodate you in whatever way possible."

Alec and Sidda smiled at them again before walking off, arms locked together like the sappy couple they were supposed to be. Alec snapped his fingers at Dalton and pointed toward their bags. "Ferdinand, don't be a dolt. Get the bags."

"Yes…sir," Dalton growled through his teeth as he picked up their bags and trailed after them as they headed toward the elevators.