Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
The sun is just starting to peek over the buildings now and though the streets are sleepy, the canals are alive with motors, boats heading every which way. Every now and then I get a glimpse of the Grand Canal between the buildings and see boats loaded with fish or vegetables, bringing their wares to the shops, markets and restaurants, and of course the ever-present vaporettos coasting through the water.
I’d never been to Venice before, so I’m still getting used to the fact that I’m in such an infamous city. It feels a little like a dream and if I wasn’t so worried about my glamor or the mission, I’d be able to enjoy it a lot more. As far as I know, I’ll be masquerading as a student at the Benedetto Marcello Conservatory of Music until my job is done, so I might not even have enough time to properly enjoy being here before I have to go. Get in and get out is the essence of the job.
The coffee shop is tiny, with a few tables and chairs crammed between the shop and a canal. I spot Livia sitting down outside with a macchiato and she waves me over.
“I hardly recognized you,” she says as she gets up, grabbing me lightly by the shoulders and giving me a kiss on each cheek.
“So it works?” I ask, feeling anxious.
She looks me over again and nods.
“It works,” she says, sounding impressed. “Sit, have a coffee. I can get you an espresso? What would you like?”
“The biggest coffee they have,” I tell her, taking a seat.
She gives me a wry look, her brow quirking up. “You Americans never learn, do you.”
“Hey, at least I know I can’t take it to go.”
That’s something that will take some getting used to. I drink coffee like a fish and I’m so used to grabbing a Starbucks and nursing it for a good hour. To-go coffee is relatively unheard of in Italy, and most drinks, even lattes, fit in a teacup. You slam back your coffee and then you go on with your day, which is insane to me.
Livia comes back with the coffee, carrying the cup and saucer with ease.
“Grazie,” I tell her, carefully taking it from her.
“Prego,” she says, sitting down. Livia’s background is Lebanese but she’s part of the Italian guild of witches having lived in Italy for most of her life, and though I’ve only met her once, I really like her—and that’s coming from someone who starts off disliking people as a default. She’s probably in her late thirties, with long dark hair and lush eyelashes and has this graceful way about her that I know comes from a deep understanding of witchcraft. When you really become immersed in it, wizened like a mage, you start to become one with the earth and all the realms above and below—or so they say. My craft has primarily been about killing. I’m good with a blade, I know how to attack, but any of that etherealness and grace I seem to sorely lack.
I take a sip of my espresso, eyes widening at the strength of it. I quickly plop in a sugar cube to mellow it.
Livia chuckles at my reaction, then her expression turns serious. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit jet-lagged still,” I tell her. “But I’ll be okay.”
“And with the magic? How are you feeling with the glamor on?”
I think about that for a moment, taking stock of my body. “It feels a little effervescent. Like I have tiny champagne bubbles dancing on my skin.”
“But this isn’t the first time you’ve used glamor to hide yourself, is it?”
I shake my head and have another sip, the espresso already cooled and slightly sweet. “No. It just feels different this time.”
I don’t want to tell her about the last time I used glamor to disguise the fact that I was a witch from a vampire. To talk about that would be to talk about the very reason I was kicked out of the guild for two years. Why this is my one and only shot to make my way back in.
“Well, it’s working,” she says. Her dark eyes narrow, looking over me with scrutiny now. “You seem like a normal human, a student. And your power is strong, I’ll give you that.” She pauses. “But I do worry a little. How long will you be able to keep it up without it waning?”
“Long enough to do the job.”
“But your job is going to take you a lot longer than you originally thought.”
I sit up straighter and frown. “How do you know? I’m to get close enough to Dracula to kill him somewhere private. That shouldn’t take more than a few days, a week? Maybe a couple of weeks if it’s hard to get him alone.”