The biggest thing that so many just don't 'get' about the Family is our loyalty to each other. It goes beyond blood, capicé, but try explaining that to others who think that there can be good causes for betrayal of that loyalty.

Betrayal for a good cause? I'd rather navigate a field filled with CS 42/2's and TC24's.

See, the trouble is, what some one thinks might be a good cause for the family may not be what the Family thinks is a good cause, and to pursue it without permission is only going to rush you to a fate you would never dream of for your worst enemies, never mind yourself. And the family always keeps reminders around to remind everyone of this.

Case-in-point: Paolo Sardenzo. He had it all, even as a ghoul, but more so after he was Embraced. World War I gave him his chance to shine and Paolo was one of the most aggressive harvesters of shades for the family. All of a sudden, it look that achieving the Endless Night was going to be possible in the very near future. Until... there's always an until, no?

Valentina della Passiglia returned from beyond the Shroud with the news that the Endless Night would be the ultimate loss for the family and not the triumph it has been envisioned to be. Her theory was debated and eventually set aside, but any great enthusiasm for completing the ceremony right at that moment was severely blunted. Paolo fell out of favour with the family after this and skulked around until World War II. He insisted that this war would be the perfect chance to usher in the Endless Night. Only the family was having none of it. Sardenzo decided to betray the family's order for this good cause.

Things ended badly. He was caught, staked, and dragged back to Venezia. He was lucky. His followers were slaughtered. Every now and again, when his expertise in the realms of the dead is needed, the family pulls the stake out until he's no longer needed, back in goes the stake, and he's left to gather dust once more.

Yes, given that reality, I'd rather trust my chances with the land mines.

The entry originally posted at http://roberto-giovanni.dreamwidth.org/6977.html. Please feel free to comment there. OpenID is enabled.

I lost my oldest siblings in the Great War. My sister, Cosima, starved herself to feed us after our mother caught the tuberculosis. Who knows, maybe in better times Mamma wouldn't have been so weak and would have survived; but she is with God and in a better place. After Mamma got too sick, we went to live with Cosmina. Her husband, God rest his soul, was killed up north on the Isonzo, and I guess she just gradually lost the will to live and trusted the Americans would take care of us as orphans until Beppe returned home. That would be my brother, Guiseppe, but everyone called him Beppe. He died during the Eleventh Battle of the Isonzo in 1917, but we didn't get word of his death until later when we were living with Mamma's brother, Benito.

That left me Bettina. We went to America with Don Andreas Giovanni in 1921. We were the lucky ones... more or less. Bettina was able to live a good life and married a good man. They had a daughter and a son. After I got more involved with the Family business, Bettina decided that she wanted no part of that life. I can't blame her. There were things we saw in Uncle Benito's house that terrified us. When she and her family moved to Nevada, I visited when business allowed; until it became too close to obvious that I wasn't ageing as my sister was. It pained me to say that final goodbye to her, but to protect her and her family, I did what I had to do. Every now and then, I'd watch my niece and nephew from a distance. Christ, but they looked like spitting images of my sisters and brother. Now they're old, too, and I just don't have the heart to watch their children grow up and grow old.

But, Donna Isabel, she's true to her word. No one in the Family bothers them and I only have to give my word and she will bring them into the Family as ghouls. I appreciate the offer, but she's going to be waiting for a long time. I owe that to my sister.

Maybe I should start from the beginning...

The entry originally posted at http://roberto-giovanni.dreamwidth.org/7298.html. Please feel free to comment there. OpenID is enabled.

Roberto ignored the canoodling going on behind him. The lift smoothly descended into the inner world of the villa staff and opened onto Miriette's sanctuary.

He gave a whistle as he stepped back in time. There was no door to obscure the view of her lounge; instead finely wrought iron moulded into graceful geometric shapes favoured by architects during the height of the Art Deco phase acted as barrier between the lift and the lounge. The walls were a warm amber honey shade accentuated by wall lamps and and backlit cast bronze sculptures on the wall. Warm coral throw rugs relieved the amber wall-to-wall carpeting, matching the warm weave of the chairs arranged around a wrought iron gated fireplace.

Capping it all off, and really making him feel as if he stepped back in time, was Miriette. She was dressed in a cream gown and lounging against the mahogany bar at the far end of the room. For the first time, he could see her reflection in the large mirror behind the bar, and he gave an inaudible whistle of appreciation.

"Mes amis! Isabel, you look lovely as always, and Roberto..." she gave him a pleased smirk and a wink before looking over to George. "Oh, this must be dishy George," she gushed. "Bienvenue, gorgeous."

He had paused briefly to call down to the reception desk and get his room number... mercifully it was across from Donna Isabel and George's room and not next to it. After setting his bag on the bed for the staff to unpack, he went down to the lobby to wait.

It seemed the same, he thought walking through the opulent corridors. All the tiles with their gilded decoration and murals on the walls painted by the finest Torreador artists that had fallen under the spell of Ancona hadn't changed but the timeless atmosphere was subtly different. While the place was still a masterpiece of the ancient world, the sands in the hourglass had begun to fall slowly and inexorably. Pulling out his cigarette case, he sat in an overly plush chair covered with deep pile silk velvet that was softer than a rose petal, lit up and pulled over a cut crystal ash tray. "It's not fashionable to smoke indoors any longer," a woman's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Roberto looked up to see Miriette stepping out of the shadows. At least a few of the older faces he knew were still around. "It's not fair when you sneak up on people like that either," he answered blowing out a puff of smoke for her benefit. "I'll stop when you do."

"Never, then?" she sat next to him and glanced at the cigarette case before smiling.

Roberto gave her the lit cigarette and took out a fresh one. "Never's gotten a bit shorter," he gave a chuff of wry humour.

"Isn't that the truth," Miriette agreed soberly. "But," she seemed to cheer up as a new thought occurred to her, "not every one is spending it alone. I heard that Isabel brought a dishy new beau with her this time. Spill it, Roberto, I want all the details."

"You have to buy me dinner first," he laughed and shook his head, "and I'm not a cheap date."

Miriette pretended to pout and then grinned. "Fine. Where are we going?"

Roberto shook his head again. "I've already got plans for L'India with Donna Isabel and the dish... George," he corrected himself. It was too easy to fall back into slang with the old jazz baby. There were already enough ghosts of the past coming back to visit them, and he didn't need to try and recreate a time long gone by, "Another night."

"Tomorrow, then, but you have to promise to bring Isabel and dishy George up for after dinner drinks. We have a lot to catch up on." Miriette stood and blew Roberto a kiss before sashaying over to the lift.

"Sure, okay," he said absently watching her crossing the room, especially the way her hips swayed under the fabric of her dress... he never could figure out how women got their clothing to cling to them like wet-fabric kissing rain wet skin...but it was a mystery he never tired of trying to puzzle out. "Tomorrow."

Roberto left Aldo's after making it known that Signore Daniels was a friend of the Giovanni, at least their faction, sure that the word would quickly spread through the networks. Whether or not Tom would make use of such a thing was going to be his choice. Roberto shrugged and wandered into one of the smaller tourist shops and bought a bottle of Coca-Cola. As always, the plastic bottle felt weird to him, lacking the reassuring weight of the glass bottles from his youth. He even missed having to pry off the metal cap. This plastic just wasn't the same; and neither was the taste. Roberto frowned after the first drink, screwed the plastic cap halfway on, and looked out over the water.

He'd promised to tell George that Tom had been round to check after his welfare, and he would... and he'd promised that he'd tell Donna Isabel that Tom had been round to check after George's welfare, and he would... "Madre mia," he muttered again. This, unlike the photoshop of Don Ambrogino's image, was not really something to deliver by text message. His phone beeped as if in sympathy with his thoughts. This in-coming text had all the publicly available information about Tom Daniels contained in it and he quickly hit 'save'. Weighing his options, he could wait until tomorrow and drive down to Ancona as planned, or, he squinted at the sun in the sky, he could grab a few things and head down now by boat.

Remembering the expressions on Tom's face hearing about George, he decided to go by boat. He'd tell Donna Isabel about this and Gareth St John snooping for Don Ambrogino, but he thought that George should be told first... so he had time to sort out his own thoughts and feelings. It felt a bit strange to put friendship ahead of family matters, but he also felt oddly at ease with his decision... only now, he was stuck with a half-drunk bottle of Coke.

"Primo, shut up and listen," he ordered after the boy answered his phone. "You stay at the house and take care of things. Tell Nonna that I've gone down to Ancona to deliver some news. What? Yes, she'll know what I mean. Oh, and grab my travel bag from my office closet and meet me at the marina in five minutes. It's the only travel bag in my office closet." He sighed and closed his phone.
~*~
"You're sure you don't need me to go with you?" Primo asked for the umpteenth time. Roberto sighed and handed him the bottle of Coke as he prepared to cast off. "No. You're needed at the house. Keep an eye on things and keep your ears open. Any trouble, you call Giancarlo, then myself, capice. Good."

Once out on the sea, he let his thoughts roam to the practical. Looking at the sky, it was getting closer to twilight and the time for Donna Isabel to rouse, but he still had time to... well, there was time for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine at the cafe on the hill below the villa where they were staying, and knowing Geroge, he was probably already wandering about looking for a place to eat before night fell.

Opening his phone, he sent a text. George, cafe halfway down the hill. Take eastern gate in garden and follow path. Can't miss it. Meet you there in 15 min. Roberto.

In his many decades of working for Donna Isabel, Roberto knew that when she was cheerful it was for two reasons. The first was that she was truly happy and all was well, and the second was that she was feeling quite pleased that some mischief was about to befall some unsuspecting soul. He shuddered as the car door slammed shut. Roberto did not like the sound of her words... 'a reward for work that will hard but well done.' Some mischief was about to befall some poor soul, and that poor soul was him.

The envelope burnt in his pocket. The more he tried to ignore it, the heavier it felt, pressing down upon him. He wondered if Donna Isabel had bound a messenger spirit to it to ensure that he read it and then report the knowledge to her.

He took some comfort knowing that Aldo's Ristoranti would be open and have a near endless supply of wine for him in a nice comfortable booth. As he took comfort in those thoughts, his feet led him across the bridge, down the fondamenta and set of stairs leading to Aldo's.

"Buona sera, Signore Roberto!" Aldo's cheerful voice cut through the low rumble of the crowd. "Your usual?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head. "Open the reserve for me." Roberto slid into his booth.

"Special occasion?" Aldo asked jovially?

"No." Roberto pulled the envelope out of his pocket. "I'm about to scare the life out of myself."

'Don't get caught,' he chuckled to himself as Donna Isabel and George disembarked from the runabout. He was pleased to see that the car-park had sent a valet to grab their bags and stow them away in the Jaguar. He tried not to think overly long how easily the miniscule bags fit into the small boot with generous room to spare. It was a good thing they were going to holiday in a spot still dedicated to Venus and all her worship.

"Un momento," he heard Donna Isabel speak as the valet opened the car door for her. Turning round, Roberto wondered what it was that caused Donna Isabel to walk back toward him.

"Do not open this until after we have left and you are back at the house," she said and passed an envelope to Roberto. She smiled seeing the questioning look in his eye. "Not a moment before."

Roberto had no doubt that she would know if he did not follow her instructions to the letter,but he was mightily curious about what these could be. "Might I ask what this is about?"

"You may," she smiled cheerfully and turned back to the car. Isabel thought George looked almost as confused as Roberto and laughed in the evening air. "It is a reward for work that will be hard but well done," she added cryptically and refused to say anymore, instead letting the valet help her into the car and shut the door.

Roberto scratched his head and looked at George for a moment. He didn't look as if he had any advice... which worried him slightly, but... he tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket determined to forget about it for an hour or so.

"Drive safely," he waved to them.

I do not scream as I run down the hallway.

When the doors to the great house closed, Roberto only faced them for a moment before turning and quickly walking down the fondamenta to hop into one of the family's runabouts. If past experience was to be believed, it was going to get very loud in the house very quickly, because Donna Isabel was going to be either very amused by George's condition or very angry. If she was amused... well, best they have their privacy. And if she was angry, then he was going to have an alibi no matter how shaky and transparent.

He grinned and knew where he'd go for that. The added beauty to his idea was that nurse's could be charmed or bribed, and Stewart was a raving lunatic who wouldn't be able to contradict him even if he wanted to. It was perfect, or almost perfect, he thought as he guided the small motorboat toward the hospital, considering he'd have to spend some time with Stewart. Unless, of course, there was a pretty nurse on duty that he could chat with for a few hours.

Roberto pretended to listen to the matron who insisted on giving him a thoroughly detailed account of Stewart's treatment at the hospital. For some odd reason, the tranquillity of the ward and the scintillò on the walls was keeping him calm and amenable. That only meant one thing to Roberto. The little bastardo was going to be well enough soon enough that he would have to find a place to take care of the slime bucket. Roberto sighed at the thought and cut the matron off in mid-sentence. "Can I just go see him now and form my own opinions?"

Startled, the matron ceased her prattle and nodded, offering to show Roberto to the private room. Wonderful, he thought and repressed a frown. And then his eyes spotted a stapler. He smiled warmly at the nurse and politely thanked her for the consideration, and quickly pocketed the stapler as she smiled, preened, and began to walk down the hallway. This wasn't going to be such a dull visit after all.

Institutional beige walls were never a good idea, although the hospital did try to mitigate the worst of the offending walls with cheerfully tiled chequered floors and specimens of patient art on the walls. He glanced at a few of them... safe, predictable views of the city's landmarks that were either copied or remembered. What would really liven the ward up, he thought, would be those more disturbing visions some of the patients had. He wondered what Stewart might paint and absently clicked the stapler.

"Pardon me?"

Roberto thought quickly, not about to have his fun ruined before it could even begin, and pretended to suck something from between his teeth. "Scusie... just a bit of breakfast lingering when it shouldn't." He smiled charmingly, winked, and then thanked God for all those hours of playing Primero when Donna Isabel was asleep and perfecting his gambler's masque.

Satisfied, the matron led the way to Stewart's room and closed the door behind her after Roberto nodded for privacy.

"Ciao, stronzo." Roberto gave a wicked smile to the pathetic wreck curled up in a ball before him. "I heard that you're not getting many visitors. What a pity."

There was no answer from the ball on the bed. "No wonder. Your conversational skills are even worse than before. What's the matter? Cat have your tongue?" Roberto clicked the stapler once watching idly as the folder metal staple flew toward the window before falling to the floor.

He grinned as Stewart twitched at the sound. Time to see if he could unlock some of the secrets the stupid boy had squirrelled away in his mind. He clicked the stapler again, ignoring the flying staple this time as he bent down to Stewart's ear. "We're going to have a nice chat this morning, aren't we?"

Mi chiamo Roberto Giovanni. I was born outside of Napoli and raised there until the Great War uprooted my family. Rather than starve on the streets, my younger sister and I set off to find others in the family that my parents had spoken of in hushed voices.

Eventually, I found them, or rather was found by them. Donna Isabel put me in her employ after the Great Depression struck, and I've never regretted a day, or night, of serving. Some want to be Embraced; me, I've got a lot to live for, if you catch my drift, and I'm best pleased to remain capo for the lady.

If you don't like it, there's a canal with your name on the bottom of it.

My writer has scoured the interwebs to find a suitable photo to say thank you to the dear lady that has gifted me with a permanantly insane account. Now I match the mental state of my writer *grin*

This is the best she could do, unless she really falls off the deep end and becomes a stalker paparazzo.

Roberto is very grateful for the gift of paid time. He promises to keep all cheeky comments about sequins to a minimum with the help and grace of God. He also promises to get out more and bump into a certain Venetian lady of mystery. If he's going to die, he says it should be with a smile on his face.

He wasn't hiding. Not really. Hiding assumed a bit of guilt, of sneaking about with the intent to not be caught. He had been ordered by Donna Isabel to keep an eye on George... more specifically, to keep an eye out for others who might actually be hiding and skulking about in the shadows.

And should he be caught out even after all the precautions he was taking to stick to the shadows... after all, lurk where the lurkers would be; it was only common sense... he had a panino and thermos of coffee to offer as his excuse. It was a fine day and he was out to stroll through the city. So far it was quiet and he pulled out his telefonino and decided to bite the bullet while George was coaching a herd of tiny terrors on the football pitch. He heard Giancarlo's "pronto" and swallowed his coffee quickly. "Carlo. Good morning? Not too bad here. Oh, just watching calcio," he answered cheerfully. After all he had nothing, really, to hide. "So, how's Primo?"