make it so. Until then, we sleep!”
“I don’t believe sleep to be possible. So much has happened in one short night! I feel I wish to stay awake!”
“You will find The Sun gives you no such choice, mon ami. She rules the day, and we the night.”
Tomorrow they would rise again. Tomorrow they would continue his lesson. Tomorrow they would face Wolfl, together. Tomorrow…
7
21 May 1812
Great Marylebone Street in London
“ B urgundy ?” Ludovico held the bottle above an empty glass intended for The Doomed. Another glass waited to be filled and held…but never drunk from.
Joseph Wolfl leaned back on the couch of his upper floor sitting room, like a smug, lazy cat. “Of course.” Ludovico smiled and poured, then thought a moment, and chose not fill his own. Wolfl was too full of himself to notice, he ascertained correctly. The two were alone, vampire and human. The servants had gone off to bed long ago, with the last remaining tending to his master’s return before being sent away. “What an honor to make your acquaintance, di Breme. I’m exceedingly glad I went to Almack’s after all, now. Usually such a horrific bore, you know. Mostly tedious old hags scheming to marry off their homely daughters to the highest bidder. Can’t bear it above half.”
Ludovico smiled serenely, “Sounds dreadful,” and strolled to hand off the aperitif.
“An understatement, I assure you,” Wolfl purred as he reached out to receive the glass. He took a less than dainty sip and watched Ludovico sit across from him in a chair so high-backed it reminded one of a throne. “I’ve heard your name before this night. You have the distinction of being Italy’s Minister of Interior… do I have that right?”
Ludovico laughed a cocky laugh and waved languidly his hand. “It’s nothing. Er…might we speak in French? I’d feel more comfortable.”
“Oui, ce que vous voulez.”
“Merci.” Ludovico smiled and continued in French, “I retired my post in pursuit of more entertaining ventures.”
Wolfl raised a solitary eyebrow. “What could be more entertaining than to mold a changing country alongside other brilliant minds?”
Ludovico laughed and threw ankle over knee as he so loved to do. “Thank you for the compliment, my good man. But I find few minds truly brilliant! Plus I prefer more pleasurable diversions–less serious ones, you know! Such as now, for example. What a treat! To happen upon the great composer Joseph Wolfl! A happy surprise I might never have had, had I been shackled to the dusty rooms of politics.”
Wolfl smiled, but inwardly he’d begun to feel on edge. There was something odd about the way the Italian looked at him. He’d not been aware of it in the busy, social halls of Almack’s. Nor even when they’d ridden together in the hackney and pair. Conversation between them then had been light and easy, as though he’d found a friend, and of the variety he most treasured–one of the upper class. But something had changed and just a moment ago. Suddenly he felt something odd about his new friend, though he could not be sure of the cause of it. Still–though he tried very hard to ignore it–a small instinct deep down inside his soul had tipped on edge. He found himself repressing a shudder. With a keenly observing eye, he muttered, “You flatter me sir. I am merely a musician who has had a minor amount of luck, that is all.”
Ludovico’s mouth turned up on one corner, but the rest of him remained as still as glass. No longer attempting to hide his aptitude for stillness, he could see that Wolfl was becoming frightened, and he loved it. “Quite golden, your luck. Is it not?” he toyed.
The human’s eyes twitched and his weight shifted in his seat. “Oh? What makes you say it?”
Ludovico then stood and crossed to the window. “Your sonata was all the rage in France.” He slid open the thick green curtains to reveal a door. Feigning surprise, he exclaimed, “A balcony! How
“I don’t believe sleep to be possible. So much has happened in one short night! I feel I wish to stay awake!”
“You will find The Sun gives you no such choice, mon ami. She rules the day, and we the night.”
Tomorrow they would rise again. Tomorrow they would continue his lesson. Tomorrow they would face Wolfl, together. Tomorrow…
7
21 May 1812
Great Marylebone Street in London
“ B urgundy ?” Ludovico held the bottle above an empty glass intended for The Doomed. Another glass waited to be filled and held…but never drunk from.
Joseph Wolfl leaned back on the couch of his upper floor sitting room, like a smug, lazy cat. “Of course.” Ludovico smiled and poured, then thought a moment, and chose not fill his own. Wolfl was too full of himself to notice, he ascertained correctly. The two were alone, vampire and human. The servants had gone off to bed long ago, with the last remaining tending to his master’s return before being sent away. “What an honor to make your acquaintance, di Breme. I’m exceedingly glad I went to Almack’s after all, now. Usually such a horrific bore, you know. Mostly tedious old hags scheming to marry off their homely daughters to the highest bidder. Can’t bear it above half.”
Ludovico smiled serenely, “Sounds dreadful,” and strolled to hand off the aperitif.
“An understatement, I assure you,” Wolfl purred as he reached out to receive the glass. He took a less than dainty sip and watched Ludovico sit across from him in a chair so high-backed it reminded one of a throne. “I’ve heard your name before this night. You have the distinction of being Italy’s Minister of Interior… do I have that right?”
Ludovico laughed a cocky laugh and waved languidly his hand. “It’s nothing. Er…might we speak in French? I’d feel more comfortable.”
“Oui, ce que vous voulez.”
“Merci.” Ludovico smiled and continued in French, “I retired my post in pursuit of more entertaining ventures.”
Wolfl raised a solitary eyebrow. “What could be more entertaining than to mold a changing country alongside other brilliant minds?”
Ludovico laughed and threw ankle over knee as he so loved to do. “Thank you for the compliment, my good man. But I find few minds truly brilliant! Plus I prefer more pleasurable diversions–less serious ones, you know! Such as now, for example. What a treat! To happen upon the great composer Joseph Wolfl! A happy surprise I might never have had, had I been shackled to the dusty rooms of politics.”
Wolfl smiled, but inwardly he’d begun to feel on edge. There was something odd about the way the Italian looked at him. He’d not been aware of it in the busy, social halls of Almack’s. Nor even when they’d ridden together in the hackney and pair. Conversation between them then had been light and easy, as though he’d found a friend, and of the variety he most treasured–one of the upper class. But something had changed and just a moment ago. Suddenly he felt something odd about his new friend, though he could not be sure of the cause of it. Still–though he tried very hard to ignore it–a small instinct deep down inside his soul had tipped on edge. He found himself repressing a shudder. With a keenly observing eye, he muttered, “You flatter me sir. I am merely a musician who has had a minor amount of luck, that is all.”
Ludovico’s mouth turned up on one corner, but the rest of him remained as still as glass. No longer attempting to hide his aptitude for stillness, he could see that Wolfl was becoming frightened, and he loved it. “Quite golden, your luck. Is it not?” he toyed.
The human’s eyes twitched and his weight shifted in his seat. “Oh? What makes you say it?”
Ludovico then stood and crossed to the window. “Your sonata was all the rage in France.” He slid open the thick green curtains to reveal a door. Feigning surprise, he exclaimed, “A balcony! How
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