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When you can't trust in angels, you turn to the devil for a pact.
Alessandro Steno is Venice's living legend. Trying to wash old blood off his hands, he hunts the city's...
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"Stop," Alessandro hissed, drawing Giacinto back before he could saunter around the last corner. They'd be in plain sight for the two guards at the foot of a staircase.
Giacinto turned back, shot Alessandro a look that clearly spelled 'duh' and shrugged. "And?"
"They'll call for reinforcement. If they don't kill us first. Not sure if you noticed but," Alessandro gestured between them,"we're unarmed."
"You are unarmed."
Seriously? That thin dagger might pick a lock, but against the guard's swords it was a toothpick. Apart from the fact that the guards wore amor -- that thing wouldn't survive one impact with a breastplate.
The Greek sighed. Suddenly, the dagger was gone. Two knives glinted in the torchlight. The orange flicker breathed a diabolic life into the polished metal. "I have more knives on me than Lorenzo girls in a week."
"I did not want to know that."
"Prude," Giacinto cackled silently, patting Alessandro's back. "Shut up and wait. I'll be back in a second, no time to miss me." The man slipped away into the shadows, a black ripple in the dark - unseen, unheard, unexpected.
As if I'd miss someone you. Alessandro waited. He didn't dare breathe. Someone would hear them. Getting out just like that? He scoffed. When had he ever been that lucky? A loud clatter of metal made him start. Something heavy hit the ground. The first guard.
"Guards-" The second guards shout for help was cut off abruptly. Another thump.
Moments later, Giacinto reappeared from the shadows. No hair out of place, only his grin had faded. The sudden seriousness didn't suit him, the blank expression was unsettling. "Here," he held out a sword, "let's see if you're still as good as you were a few years ago."
Alessandro hesitated. He had reached out, but stopped mid air, fingers curling indecisively. If he took the sword, he'd seal his fate. There would be no turning back to the life that - no. That decision had never been his. His fate had been sealed when he had been declared a murderer and conspirator in the middle of the street. This choice had been made when someone had sold a lie that got him into this prison.
His fist closed around the handle. This was the only path he could take.
He weighed the sword in his hand, contemplating the balance and mustering the way the steel shimmered in the torchlight. He snapped a finger against the blade.
"Ready?" Giacinto twirled his knifes, rolling his shoulders like a sprinter moments before takeoff.
Alessandro observed him for a moment, silently praying following this walking riddle wouldn't cost his life. "Ready."
They stepped out into the corridor. The tension in Alessandro peaked. He expected to be met with a dozen swords pointed at them. But only the flickering light of the flames awaited them.
