The Immortal Greek by Monica La Porta

weren’t a perfect depiction of Eloisa and Cherry, but they were the best his memory could muster. At least, for Cherry he still had a daguerreotype he kept in his safe. Eloisa’s oil portrait, a piece she had commissioned to give him as a gift, had been destroyed in a fire. He would have given away all his considerable fortune to have that painting back.
    The phone on his desk rang. Alexander saw it was Samuel’s private line calling, then automatically checked the time. He had seen the angel not even an hour ago. “Yes?”
    “I called your colleague, but she isn’t answering her phone. I have a few leads you might be interested in pursuing. They are upper echelon and members of several clubs you belong to.” Samuel paused. “It will be easier for Alexander Drako to persuade them to share any info they might have."
    The fallen angel was persona-non-grata in several Roman paranormal establishments. His broken wings were a sight people wanted to avoid, and he could only glamour his appearance before humans who saw a cripple when interacting with him.
    “Anything to help.” Alexander opened the hidden drawer under the top of the desk and removed a piece of paper and a pen. Samuel told him the names of the people he needed to meet. “I know all the clubs they belong to, but it will be several hours before any of those people show their ugly faces outside of their houses.”
    “I figured that out, that’s why I called you ahead of time so you could plan your outings today accordingly.”
    “At least there is enough time for a shower.” Alexander opened his laptop to search for the best route between clubs.
    “And please, you must include Ravenna in this.”
    “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll call her as soon as I hang up. I’ll start from the clubs farther away from my house in an hour. Sometimes, I have breakfast at the one on the Appian Way, so it won’t look strange if I arrive unfashionably early.” Rich and affluent paranormals were stuck in the times when royalty was proud of being societal parasites. For the rest of the world, it was two thousand fourteen, but for the upper echelon—as Samuel liked to call those paranormals who unfortunately led them—it was still the era of kings, nobles, and plebeians.
    “Ravenna lives nearby. I’ll give you her address as well.”
    Turning on his cell phone, Alexander memorized both her phone number and her address as Samuel gave them to him. Then he headed toward the shower to soothe his muscles. The lack of sleep from the night before wasn’t a problem. He was used to functioning solely on power naps, espresso, tea, and a few meals when he remembered to eat. Like any immortal, half an hour under the sun and he was good to go. He didn’t need much more to be alert and operative, but he felt tense at the idea of having to face a bunch of people he didn’t like in the company of a woman who clearly detested him. Maybe he could go out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable too. He could always mention what he would like to do with her. Silk ties had made an appearance in the detailed scenes he had been creating in his mind since the moment he met her.
    He let the water run until it scorched his skin, then sat on the built-in reclining bench and breathed in and out the hot vapors mixed with the eucalyptus oils being sprayed into the shower stall. He took his time to relax, mentally preparing to spend the day in unpleasant business. He conjured the enforcer inside the shower, languidly lying on the tiled bench, her long, black hair trailing down toward the floor, her dark eyes semi-closed, her pink lips parted in a moan, the strand of pearls between her breasts, and her arms, one over her head, the other resting just under her belly button, her legs united and following the contour of the bench as a modern-day siren. The tension in his body increased and he sighed, but he didn’t let go of the image.
    Several minutes later, he stepped back into his master bedroom