Read Online Angelopolis by Danielle Trussoni - Free Book Online

tongue appeared at the side of her mouth, thick and wet as an eel.
    “I’m in the middle of something,” Armigus said.
    Eno met his eye and smiled, a sadistic look suffusing her face. “Armigus—do you have a human here?”
    Armigus looked away, refusing to answer. Axicore didn’t approve of his appetite for human men, but Eno understood his preferences all too well.
    “You know, Armigus, your brother needs you now. You haven’t the time for playing games. I would be happy to take care of the creature for you,” she said, stepping toward him. “More than happy.”
    Armigus took the key to his bedroom from his pocket and placed it in Eno’s hand. She was doing him a favor—he hated finishing them off, hated the stink of the blood and human flesh—and yet he couldn’t help but feel as though he had been cheated. “Don’t leave a mess behind,” he whispered.
    “You know me better than that,” Eno said, smiling.
    Bracing himself, Armigus grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door, closing it before he could hear the sounds of Eno’s work.

Angelology Research Center, State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg
    A t that hour, with the sun rising at the edge of the city and the sky oozing a diaphanous mist, the oak tables were completely empty of scholars. Verlaine always found such places comforting, a reminder of who he had once been when he spent his days in quiet research, preparing classes and organizing notes for his next lecture. Indeed, the moment he and Bruno had set foot in the research center, and he heard the sound of their shoes on the polished floors, he felt his entire being relax, as if, after wandering in inhospitable territory, he had at last come to a place of safety.
    A commotion in the hallway drew his attention as Vera Varvara walked briskly into the room, an air of crisp efficiency about her. He leaned down and kissed her twice, Parisian style, noting that her blue eyes didn’t settle on his but stared through him, as if they had never met before. He felt his cheeks go warm, and he wondered if it had been a good idea to have called her at all.
    While she was the perfect agent to consult—her extensive knowledge of St. Petersburg and access to the angelological collection at the Hermitage was invaluable—he wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing him again. They’d met the year before at a conference in Paris, and spent the night together after having drinks at a bar in the fourteenth arrondissement, near the academy. The next morning they agreed that it had been a mistake, that they would simply pretend that the night hadn’t happened. They hadn’t spoken much since then. While he’d suspected that one day her professional savvy would be useful, he’d never imagined that he would be coming to Vera about Evangeline.
    Verlaine stared at Vera, watching her move. She was as beautiful and brutally elegant as he remembered, but to his surprise he could not recall what it had been like to be with her in bed, what her body had felt like next to his. He could only summon forth the sensation of holding Evangeline, her presence like a vortex of white-blue snow, swirling and dancing around him as he tried to catch it.
    Vera, however, hadn’t forgotten a thing: She suddenly turned to Verlaine, giving him a hard look, one that conveyed curiosity and complicity at once, and then glanced from Verlaine to Bruno. Registering that she and Verlaine weren’t alone, she assumed the expression of a disinterested colleague.
    “Thanks for agreeing to meet us on such short notice,” Bruno said.
    “It was quite a surprise to get your call.” Vera shook Bruno’s hand and gestured for them to sit at one of the tables. “Please, tell me what I can do to help you.”
    “I’m not entirely sure if you can help,” Bruno said.
    “Actually,” Verlaine said, cutting in, “we’re hoping you can give us some information.”
    “With pleasure.” Vera moved her eyes over Verlaine until he felt his stomach