Read Online The Venice Conspiracy by Jon Trace - Free Book Online
Authors: Jon Trace
Tags: Fiction:Suspense
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reaches its climax. Great orange tongues of flame lick skywards. On one side of the blaze, Teucer acts like a man possessed. On the other, Tetia lies still. She has collapsed. The pain in her stomach is unbearable, the violence of the child within her feels almost demonic.
Demonic .
She can think of no other word for it. The more pain the child inflicts upon her, the more the clouds darken and the thunder booms.
Teucer shouts and stabs the ground in a frenzy, slashing and digging with his ceremonial knife as if he’s trying to kill something.
She looks at the thick red clay at his feet, expecting to find a random, gouged mess. Instead she sees a precise, deeply carved symbol. An oblong, sharply divided into three, covered with hundreds of stab marks that look like slithering snakes.
Tetia pulls herself to her knees. She knows her husband is in danger. Something deep within tells her that when he has finished whatever he’s doing, his life will end.
The child.
The thought terrifies her. But the child does seem to be the only explanation. It wants him dead.
Through the flames she sees the flash of Teucer’s knife. His face is twisted with pain as if every nerve in his being is burning. The god that chased the demons away is revealing himself, showing Teucer his will.
And Teucer can take no more.
The baby kicks hard. So hard Tetia screams. So violently she can’t breathe. She sees Teucer stand. He staggers to his feet, puts his hands to his head and bangs his temples, as if to stop the awful visions in his head. But still the pain will not cease.
He looks down at the evil signs he has made, walks a step and pounds again at his face.
Tetia’s heart goes out to him, she wants to hold him, love him, protect him.
Another kick. So vicious, she vomits. All she can do now is watch as Teucer falls to his knees. The child’s movements seem almost in sync with her husband’s, as though one is passing pain to the other, through Tetia.
Summoning the last of his own free will, Teucer gets to his feet. He moves towards the sacred fire like a drowning man grasping for a rope.
Sudden pressure erupts in the centre of Tetia’s back, a pain she’s never felt before.
Teucer staggers, as though being pulled away from the flames.
Tetia heaves for breath. The child is hurting everything now - her ribs - her stomach - even her spine.
Teucer lets out a roar.
Hands stretched to the sky and eyes wide open, he hurls himself forward into the white-hot centre of the sacred fire.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 14
Present Day
Luna Hotel Baglioni, Venice
Sleeping with a woman for the first time is strange. Waking beside her in the morning is even stranger.
Tom Shaman is coming to terms with this strangeness as he lies on his back staring at the ceiling in Tina Ricci’s king-sized bed.
His head’s a mess. A real mess.
He urgently needs fresh air and some time to work out what the hell is going on.
While Tina sleeps snugly, Tom carries his clothes to the bathroom and dresses in the light of the shaving mirror.
He takes the room key, quietly shuts the bedroom door and walks the streets for the first time since discovering Monica Vidic’s body.
It’s already 9 a.m. and he can’t remember the last time he’d gone to bed so early and woken so late.
The morning light is as rich as honeycomb. The temperature a comfortable eighteen degrees. Everywhere he looks, couples are sharing coffee, croissants and newspapers at pavement cafés. It certainly seems as though the world was built for two.
He walks along the front of the Bacino di San Marco and doubts there is a better view of the canal in all of Venice. Crafts of every shape and size jockey for position in the waterway - gondolas, ferries, trade boats, a Carabinieri cruiser and vaporetti.
As he prepares to turn left at the Ponte dei Sospiri a funeral boat passes, slowly ploughing its way to the historic cemetery on Isola di San Michele. The flower-laden vessel jolts memories of Monica
Demonic .
She can think of no other word for it. The more pain the child inflicts upon her, the more the clouds darken and the thunder booms.
Teucer shouts and stabs the ground in a frenzy, slashing and digging with his ceremonial knife as if he’s trying to kill something.
She looks at the thick red clay at his feet, expecting to find a random, gouged mess. Instead she sees a precise, deeply carved symbol. An oblong, sharply divided into three, covered with hundreds of stab marks that look like slithering snakes.
Tetia pulls herself to her knees. She knows her husband is in danger. Something deep within tells her that when he has finished whatever he’s doing, his life will end.
The child.
The thought terrifies her. But the child does seem to be the only explanation. It wants him dead.
Through the flames she sees the flash of Teucer’s knife. His face is twisted with pain as if every nerve in his being is burning. The god that chased the demons away is revealing himself, showing Teucer his will.
And Teucer can take no more.
The baby kicks hard. So hard Tetia screams. So violently she can’t breathe. She sees Teucer stand. He staggers to his feet, puts his hands to his head and bangs his temples, as if to stop the awful visions in his head. But still the pain will not cease.
He looks down at the evil signs he has made, walks a step and pounds again at his face.
Tetia’s heart goes out to him, she wants to hold him, love him, protect him.
Another kick. So vicious, she vomits. All she can do now is watch as Teucer falls to his knees. The child’s movements seem almost in sync with her husband’s, as though one is passing pain to the other, through Tetia.
Summoning the last of his own free will, Teucer gets to his feet. He moves towards the sacred fire like a drowning man grasping for a rope.
Sudden pressure erupts in the centre of Tetia’s back, a pain she’s never felt before.
Teucer staggers, as though being pulled away from the flames.
Tetia heaves for breath. The child is hurting everything now - her ribs - her stomach - even her spine.
Teucer lets out a roar.
Hands stretched to the sky and eyes wide open, he hurls himself forward into the white-hot centre of the sacred fire.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 14
Present Day
Luna Hotel Baglioni, Venice
Sleeping with a woman for the first time is strange. Waking beside her in the morning is even stranger.
Tom Shaman is coming to terms with this strangeness as he lies on his back staring at the ceiling in Tina Ricci’s king-sized bed.
His head’s a mess. A real mess.
He urgently needs fresh air and some time to work out what the hell is going on.
While Tina sleeps snugly, Tom carries his clothes to the bathroom and dresses in the light of the shaving mirror.
He takes the room key, quietly shuts the bedroom door and walks the streets for the first time since discovering Monica Vidic’s body.
It’s already 9 a.m. and he can’t remember the last time he’d gone to bed so early and woken so late.
The morning light is as rich as honeycomb. The temperature a comfortable eighteen degrees. Everywhere he looks, couples are sharing coffee, croissants and newspapers at pavement cafés. It certainly seems as though the world was built for two.
He walks along the front of the Bacino di San Marco and doubts there is a better view of the canal in all of Venice. Crafts of every shape and size jockey for position in the waterway - gondolas, ferries, trade boats, a Carabinieri cruiser and vaporetti.
As he prepares to turn left at the Ponte dei Sospiri a funeral boat passes, slowly ploughing its way to the historic cemetery on Isola di San Michele. The flower-laden vessel jolts memories of Monica
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