Page 35 of Licence To Howl
In return, Moretti bowed, throwing his arm out in an unnecessary flourish. ‘Ciao, Signorina Cook.’
‘Ciao.’ She tapped her watch. ‘Shall we get started?’
‘Va bene.’
Chapter Fourteen
If Devereau had possessedany questions about what Nicolo Moretti was planning as a punishment for his ignorant transgressions, they were answered when they walked through to the Colosseum’s interior. There was a large crowd of people above them, watching from an elevated vantage point where once upon a time no doubt ancient Roman citizens did the same. Tall, flickering candles had been placed around the various audience areas, lighting up the crowd and providing something of an eerie atmosphere, although the low-pitched murmur of conversation changed pitch when Moretti and Devereau appeared, altering from muted chatter to excited buzz. Devereau couldn’t fail to notice that they were all dressed for a night out with smart suits and glowing evening dresses. This was an event for the well-heeled. He wondered if he should be irritated that Moretti and clan Lupo were going to make money out of him in this way but he decided he was actually impressed. It was certainly one method of paying the bills and keeping the locals on side. Perhaps he’d suggest something similar to the clans in London. He smiled to himself at the idea. Those sour-faced supes would turn their noses up at anything he put forward, no matter how clever or lucrative it might potentially be.
‘Do the authorities know you’re using the Colosseum for your own ends?’
Moretti laughed. ‘They expect it. Half the city politicians are up there waiting to see what you do. They like to think that offering up such a venerated structure helps to keep us in our place. We put on a show for them and they stay off our backs for that little bit longer. Tonight, you’re that show.’
‘Great,’ Devereau muttered.
Moretti clapped him on the back. ‘Think of it as public service as well as punishment. You’re following ancient footsteps here, Signore Webb. In a few years’ time, there will be a retractable floor that will make this ampitheatre even better. When it’s built, it will be much easier to gain a greater understanding of what the original gladiatorial experience would have been like. Until then, we have to do make do with this much smaller space.’
Devereau peered around the elevated wooden floor which stretched out in front of them. He could see the labyrinthine walls beneath and beyond that had no doubt been the underground area where the gladiators and animals had been cloistered before and after their fights.
‘It’s not as big as I thought it would be. The floor, I mean. Not the amphitheatre.’
‘I think you’ll find it will provide ample space.’
Devereau gave Moretti a long look. ‘So I’m to fight? That’s what this is about?’
‘Seven bouts. One for each of the famous seven hills of our wonderful city.’ Moretti paused. ‘Well,’ he amended, ‘there will only be seven bouts if you manage to last that long. You can halt the proceedings at any time. If you do, however, I will demand that you swear fealty to clan Lupo instead. The same will happen if you are knocked unconscious.’ The Italian shrugged expressively. ‘If you die, I’ll let you off the swearing part.’
Devereau folded his arms. ‘Ha. Ha.’
Moretti deliberately ignored his sarcasm. ‘I’m glad you are amused. Each bout will last for seven minutes.’
They were a bit too enamoured of the number seven around here. That was actually quite a long time for a fight.
Moretti seemed to know what he was thinking. ‘If you incapacitate your opponents early on,’ he said cheerfully, ‘it’ll be a very easy seven minutes.’
Yeah, yeah. Devereau grunted. This was going to be a long evening and, even with his enhanced strength and power, he suspected it would be a miracle if he made it out of the Colosseum without some broken bones and at least minor blood loss. ‘Let’s get started then,’ he said. ‘I can hardly wait.’
* * *
‘You have gotto be fucking kidding me.’ Devereau stared down at himself. He’d been led to a small alcove out of sight of the crowd and given a new set of clothes to put on. Although calling this ridiculous costume ‘clothes’ was an insult to fashion.
‘I think you look sexy.’ Scarlett looked him up and down with mocking amusement.
‘You’re enjoying this far too much,’ he growled. He tugged in irritation at the white tunic which only barely scraped his mid-thighs.
‘You’re a werewolf, Devereau. Last night you were hanging off the side of a building stark naked. You can’t worry about modesty.’
‘I’d rather be naked than wear this.’ He glared at her. It wasn’t the tunic on its own which bothered him, or the fact that he was baring a considerable amount of skin. It was the theatrics of the flimsy red cloak, the plastic moulded breastplate which he supposed was meant to look like armour but which wouldn’t stop an enthusiastic mosquito, and the calf high sandals. ‘I don’t do fancy dress.’
Scarlett laughed. ‘You do now.’
‘The second I shift, the outfit will be ruined anyway. There’s no point in wearing it.’
‘I’m beginning to think the gentleman doth protest too much.’ Her eyes danced. ‘Besides, that’s the very reason why it’s not very good quality. It’s designed to be ruined.’
‘It’s designed for fools.’
She was still smiling widely. ‘Nicolo Moretti has an aptitude for punishment.’
