Chapter Seventeen
Beneath the city of Florence lay a labyrinth of tunnels, secret passages, and catacombs. The tunnels were used by the citizens of the underworld, especially in daylight when they could not travel aboveground.
The focal point of the tunnels was the great hall below the Palazzo Riccardi, which was used for Consilium meetings and other formal events of state. Its stone walls were hung with tapestries and panels illustrating the history of the city. Several suits of armor along with various swords and weapons were also displayed.
The room was dark. The underworld wasn’t wired with electricity and so torches burned in wall sconces, while elaborate iron candelabras illuminated the cavernous space. Shadows flickered across the faces of the beings who’d assembled.
Interestingly enough, the tunnels were noticeably absent of rats.
“This meeting of the Consilium will come to order.” Lorenzo thumped a tall staff, which boasted a carved gold lily on its top.
At his announcement, the other five Consilium members came forward and sat in tall wooden chairs that were upholstered with red velvet. The seats were arranged in sets of three, facing the front on either side of a central aisle that featured a long, red velvet runner.
Moments later, the Prince entered the hall through its large double doors, his black velvet robe billowing behind him. He strode up the aisle to a large gold throne that stood on a raised platform.
He did not look pleased.
While the Consilium members wore formal clothes in the style of the Renaissance, capped with red velvet cloaks, the Prince was dressed in modern clothing, with the exception of his robe. As always, he wore black.
The council members stood as soon as he entered and, when he’d taken his place, they bowed. He acknowledged them impatiently, waving at them to be seated before turning to his lieutenant.
“Clear the gallery. Offer my apologies to the citizens and see that they are fed.”
Lorenzo bowed again, trying to hide his displeasure. He quickly directed the sentries to escort the citizens from the hall. Then he whispered instructions to Gregor, the Prince’s assistant, with respect to the feeding.
It was customary to have humans held in reserve during council meetings, in case someone grew hungry.
(It appeared the Consilium members would have to forgo their catering on this occasion.)
The Prince regarded the council members with a look of cold detachment, his piercing gray eyes moving from face to face.
The members were seated in order of rank. Lorenzo sat in the place of honor at his right. Niccolò, a famous Florentine who’d been a chancellor of the city when he was human, sat next to Lorenzo. Aoibhe was seated to Niccolò’s right.
Across the aisle and to the Prince’s left, sat Maximilian, Pierre, and Ibarra.
“There are a number of important matters that must be addressed.” The Prince’s tone was brisk. “Regular business will be tabled until our next meeting.
“Aoibhe.” The Prince’s eyes met hers and she stood.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Tell me about the feral.”
Aoibhe’s brown eyes slid to Ibarra’s and a look passed between them.
“Last night Ibarra and I happened upon a feral in Santo Spirito.”
Her colleagues remained quiet, despite her troubling announcement, for the news had already reached their ears.
“For the benefit of the council members, please tell us what you saw.” The Prince focused his gaze on Ibarra, his expression harsh.
“The feral killed a human in the piazza. When we approached, it attacked. I beheaded it and we took the body and that of the human outside the city to be burned.”
“Pierre.” The Prince turned his gaze to the Consilium member in charge of human intelligence.
The Frenchman stood and bowed. “Yes, my prince.”
“What of the police?”
“The dead human was an Interpol agent who was doing surveillance on a woman in Santo Spirito. I’m told the woman is being watched in connection with a theft at the Uffizi.”
At this the Consilium members murmured among themselves.
“And?” the Prince prompted.
“The investigation is now focusing on organized crime, following our suggestion that the policeman was knifed in the piazza and his body taken. The police are planning to interview the woman to see if she has any information in connection with the agent’s disappearance.”
The Prince carefully controlled his reaction. “Remove the woman from the police records and implicate the Russians. They’ve grown arrogant and fat in recent years. It will be amusing to see them scrambling. A war between the Mafia and the Russians will distract the police from these concerns.
“What of the human witnesses?”
“All have been attended to, my lord. The record consistently reflects reports of a knife attack. Those who resisted mind control have been dealt with.”
“Are you sure?”
Pierre looked confused. “Of course, my lord.”
“There’s no room for error,” he warned.
“Certainly not, my lord.”
“It’s clear this trouble could have been prevented had the feral not entered the city.” The Prince glared at Ibarra before returning his attention to Pierre.
“Am I to understand that the feral Aoibhe disposed of is the same one you saw the other night?”
“I cannot say, my lord. Certainly there haven’t been any other reports of ferals in the area and no other unexplained killings.”
The Prince lifted his eyebrows. “None? The newspaper is reporting that several bodies were found by the river. What of that?”
Pierre’s blue eyes went wide.
“Several bodies?” he repeated.
The Prince nodded curtly.