Venezia Immortale {Domenico Michele}

la città galleggiante

Georgina sat in the sweltering heat of a Venice summer, savoring an iced espresso that was minutes away from becoming bitter water. She was seated outside of a café facing one of the iconic canals that gave the city its world-wide renown. A slight breeze passed over her face bringing with it the brackish scent of the water. If she had been in England, overlooking the Thames, it would have been a welcome respite to the heat. Venice was a subtropical climate, however, so the air only felt heavy and hot. 

Despite the weather, August was one of the busiest months for the tourist industry and the narrow streets were teeming with people. There was a continuous stream of Gondolas moving up and down the channel, ferrying excited couples and tired families to their next destination.

Georgina paused, pen to her lips, and considered the smells that surrounded her. There were no cars in Venice which meant the air quality was surprisingly good. Her keen senses detected a wealth of information: warm bread from the café at her back, damp ivy growing along the brick walls to her left, hydrangea blossoms in bloom at the florist down the lane, and cigarette smoke drifting above the crowds.

None of this helped her much in the way of imagining what Venice used to smell like approximately five hundred years ago. There certainly wouldn't have been a pervading odor of sunblock on skin or petrol from the errant scooter. She focused on the canal, wondering if the mixture of salt and freshwater that was the lifeblood of the city had changed all that much over the years.

"I suspect it smells far better now, though," she muttered.

She brushed a few crumbs of Burtanelli, Venetian butter cookies, from the page of her journal and continued to record her observations. 

Minutes later, a shadow fell over Georgina and she glanced up in surprise.

"Good morning," came a smooth voice, "may I join you?"

The man took a seat across from her without waiting for a reply.

Somewhat annoyed with the stranger, Georgina said nothing and took a moment to assess his appearance. Like most daemons, she was intrigued by fashion and prided herself in being up to date on the latest trends in the industry. While most humans would go to extreme lengths for the sake of pulling off a look, there wasn't a single person in their right mind who would dress as this man was on a day when the temperature was well in excess of thirty degrees.

His brown skin was offset by a vermilion turtleneck beneath a black blazer that paired wonderfully with his dark features. Georgina couldn't help but notice that he was entirely unbothered by the heat, there wasn't a single drop of sweat on his stupidly handsome face. Meanwhile, she could feel the perspiration pooling at the back of her own neck. 

If she hadn't known better, Georgina might have been able to pass him off for an eccentric local who had grown numb to the climate of his homeland. It was his gaze, however, that alerted her to his true nature. It set her skin ablaze, stinging and prickling, the way only a creature of the night could. 

He offered a charming smile, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your line of thought,"

"No, it's quite alright," she replied as she closed her journal, "I was just wondering what I could have done to provoke the attention of a vampire,"

His smile fell short into a smirk, "Your perception makes my attempt at etiquette unnecessary,"

"I suppose formalities are still in order, Mister--erm what was your name?"

"Detective," he produced a badge, "Detective Michele of the Venice Police,"

"Right, and do you interrogate all tourists who come here on holiday or am I just exceedingly lucky?"

He scoffed, "Venice is my city, no one takes a breath within its limits without my knowledge,"

Georgina frowned, "That is--thoroughly disturbing,"

"So tell me, why does a daemon on holiday spend their days taking extensive notes on the details of Venetian geography?" He asked, ignoring her discomfort.

She fumbled in her bag and slid something to him, "I have a passport, you know, in case you're looking to deport me,"

Domenico glanced at the card, "You're from Scotland, it must be lovely this time of year,"

"Oh, yes, I especially miss the smell of sheep dung in the morning," Gina snapped, "Did you have anything of actual importance to ask me?"

"No need to be so defensive, Ms. Kelly. I'm simply inquiring as to the purpose of your visit. These are strange times, as you know, creatures are co-mingling. Daemons seem to be especially vocal lately, gathering in large numbers--"

"With respect, Detective Michele, we Daemons have always shared our ideas with anyone willing to listen. Why should there be anything wrong with creatures coming together?"

Georgina's voice grew heated as she continued, "We are not afraid of change, in fact, we are the ones who actualize it. Although, I don't suppose an antique such as yourself would know anything about that,"

Her tirade seemed to amuse him, and she was unnerved by the look in his eyes. It was as if he had only been waiting for the precise moment to reveal his entire hand, and there was one ace yet left to play.

"It may interest you to know that I was in favor of electing Agatha Wilson as head of the congregation," he said in a measured tone.

Her face paled as the vampire's words settled over her, heavy as lead.

"You--you're a member of the congregation?" 

Suddenly, his spontaneous interest in her was far more distressing. Georgina bit her lip, forcing herself to remain calm. 

Domenico waited, certain she would divulge the information that he wanted. 

"If you must know, I'm doing research for my next book," she said with an air of exasperation.

"You're an author?"

"Yes, and a damn good one I'll have you know,"

With a flurry of movement, she swept up her belongings that were scattered on the table into her bag and stood to leave. 

"You can look me up yourself, if you even know how to access the internet,"

A chuckle passed his lips, genuine or not, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she wanted to put as much distance between her and this vampire as possible.

"Addio per ora, bella," he called after her, implying they would meet again.

She quickened her pace.