The Mosaic

Chapter 49 | Secrets Slumbering

Dedicated to the fantastic weirdoherelol for their continuous support and sharing their amazing theories — Alessandro would be impressed. Thank you for being so awesome!

Giacinto was fast asleep. Bastard.

Alessandro sighed, flipping a page of the small leather volume in his lap, a fire crackling in the background. He rolled his shoulders, stiff muscles protesting.

His gaze wandered out the window -- the sun had just begun to rise, pale pinks seeping across the midnight blue sky, the river starting to turn from oil to gold. He let his head fall back against the soft velvet of the armchair. He had barely slept -- and wished he hadn't at all. His joints felt like they had aged fifty years.

Sleeping, Giacinto looked harmless, innocent even. Curled up tightly under two layers of thin linen and heavy, dark velvet, only his head poked out, a mess of black curls. Someone tell him what a comb was. He had a sea of pillows, his small form looking almost lost between them and the giant bed. He'd scrunch up his nose every now and then -- even asleep, he was easily irritated.

Why did he always sleep like that? He didn't even move. Everyone moved when they slept. Except Giacinto of course, because why skip a chance to confuse Alessandro.

It was more than odd habits, he was certain -- some, if not most of them, would follow a red thread, or have the same origin. But he didn't know which of these were truly random, which were more. And by interpreting all of these, he was bound to end up with misleading information, stumbling from dead end to dead end.

Alessandro shook his head, narrowing his eyes at his book, as if it was the poems' fault he wasn't interested enough in them.

He had heard those last when Daniele had still rested his head in his lap, Alessandro's hand in his hair, his voice drowsy but happy as he read to Alessandro. His heart grew heavy, anger and regret sinking their claws into him, piercing through the usual numbness. His vision danced.

Warm embers suddenly cooled to silver stars, the whisper of the fire dying down to a warm summer breeze under the midnight sky, laughter ringing in his ears.

He expected to turn and find his Daniele standing there, near the canals, rivers of stars, with the sleek black gondolas gliding through them like heavenly barks. Alessandro blinked. They had been young gods. He flipped a page, the old parchment rustling.

Giacinto stirred. Alessandro looked up, but the Greek had stilled again, breaths calm and deep. His hand now peeked out, clutching the blanket like a child. An amused smile tugged at Alessandro's lip, almost feeling bad for being so suspicious of him.

A knife whirled right at him.

Alessandro threw himself forward. Just in time. Just as the floor knocked the air out of his lungs, he could hear the blade tearing the velvet behind him. Three years of hunting monsters of the night had sharpened his instincts. The knife had been perfectly aimed. Lorenzo or Laelia would be dead.

After one painful breath, he pushed himself up again -- the bed was empty, covers tossed back. Where was--?

His face was shoved back into the ground. Someone pounced on him, a knee pressing harshly into his lower back. A hand grabbed his shoulder, manhandling him onto his back. A groan escaped him when his head knocked back against the marble. Alessandro didn't have time to shake the sudden dizziness. His assailant was over him in an instant, straddling his waist, weight used to keep him down. Rough fingers wrapped around his throat, closing without hesitation.

Alessandro gasped for breath, eyes widening. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't breathe. He thrashed -- but Giacinto was strong and Alessandro's vision was still blurry from hitting his head.