The Book of Nuccio

By M.G. Ridolfi

This is a world where the Angels fly, where Satan wars and protectors fight. With wings to soar and bend the wind, they must seek to find a golden ring, within it holds the memories of the soul of a once great angel, Raziel.

This is a world where who is, is who is not. Where Angels strife. Where Demons fought. All over the world does the searching ensue, waging battles together, and in the mind too. Alongside the Centurions, Vampires, Giants and Ghosts, he fights among Angels for humanitys home.

This is a world of backwards desire, where he may love a man, but find hearts elsewhere brighter. For what he thought what was may not simply be that, for what we know about love is one cant decide where its at.

This is a world about finding oneself, while submerged in a world as somebody else. A story so bold one cant blame this young man, for doubting existence while seeking it out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469164489

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Roman

MY LEFT HAND was pulsating to the rhythm of my heartbeat, as my right held steady on the trigger of the gun in my hand, ready within the second of any minute to pull back with as much force as my sweating finger could apply to the little piece of metal. I wasn’t quite sure where I was. It smelled mostly like dust, with a hint of iron. From outside of the thin walls of this tiny windowless room, I heard the repetition of gunshots and screams in another language, which I somehow understood. It took everything in my existence to hold back the amount of pain I had built up from behind my watering eyes. I stole a quick glance away from my target to the tiny droplike stains on the wooden floor. They seemed to dance around the room as if they were the recorded footsteps of the world’s most talented ballroom dancer. It was my blood, slipping through the tightly clenched fist in my left hand. At the sight of it, my agony doubled, and the tears began flowing down my face to my chin, dripping onto the floor. Partner steps to the unforgettable dancer.

When I brought my focus back to the end of the barrel of my handgun, I could see more clearly exactly what, or better who, my target was. When my eyes rested on his infamous face, the hatred began boiling from deep within me. As I carefully caressed his presence with my sight, the tears started to disappear, and every inch of me wished, and promised, that he would now die. His brows were low over his eyes as his forehead creased with equal hatred toward me. His hair, though attempting not to, was hanging loose over the front right side of his head. His brown eyes roared with fire above his strangely shaped nose, leading me to his moustache—easily one of a kind. The only one like it I had ever seen. One that I knew would make him the most recognizable person of these times someday. He was in a suit and holding a gun similar to mine, with one less bullet. Pointing it straight, oppositely, he rotated around the room across from me, as I did to him, carelessly stepping in the bloody path I left behind.

He opened his mouth. Give it to me, he said in perfect English, or die.

I couldn’t respond. I just glared at him with all the hatred of heaven and hell, clenching my ever-painful fist.

When I didn’t respond, he stopped walking. He smiled lightly and, quicker than the blink of an eye, placed a bullet through the wrist of my right hand. The gun fell to the floor with a thud, erupting a bullet into the wall through the red Nazi flag.

He pushed me down, defenseless, onto my back. He leaned over, pointing the gun directly to the middle of my chest, my heart. And with another small smile of satisfaction, Adolf Hitler pulled the trigger.

I woke up as suddenly as it had happened. I looked at the clock, 9:43 a.m., two minutes before my alarm would go off. I kicked my one blanket to the floor so the ceiling fan could cool my sweaty and heavily breathing body. It had to be the tenth time I’ve had that dream, the last five times in the last five nights. It was becoming frustrating. It started when I was around twelve, just once. I don’t think at the time I even knew who Hitler was. I suppose I had just brushed it off as a bad dream back then because I had forgotten all about it until I was seventeen. When it reoccurred, I recalled the last time just as vividly. From there it kept coming back, each time more intense and less hazy than the last. I couldn’t shake it, and now it was pretty much every night. I always believed in dream representation, every color as well as every person holds some meaning, so I haven’t been having a hard time forgetting it once my days got going.

The alarm went off loudly and annoyingly in my ear, breaking me of my morning trance. I leaned over and unplugged it, not wanting to deal with any switches. Normal routine. I sat up in my bed, dressed only in a pair of stylish zebra-print boxers and looked out my second-story apartment window. I could only afford the apartment because the view from the window was absolutely nothing. Not even an exciting brick wall like most of the apartments in New York City. Just nothing. Not the beautiful San Francisco Bay, nor the gray and blustery skies. The back of a billboard. Wood. And not enough to make patterns or to look past when I was bored. I was literally right behind it. The owner of the building told me when I got the place it was once one of the highest rented apartments in town, until the neighbor took to the advertising business. I tried not to complain though, the apartment itself was enough to demonstrate how much it was once worth. It had a separate bedroom and bathroom down a small hallway to the east of the living room, which had a window of its own that framed the amazing woodwork of the very same billboard. I had a regular-sized television, a sofa, and an extensive DVD collection. To the west of the living room was another bathroom, of which I put very little effort to decorate, it didn’t even have hand soap. To the south was a small kitchen, very normal, and another small hallway leading to the front door. All the place was very clean. One thing I took seriously.

I dragged my body to the bathroom, stripping off what clothes I had on. After a groggy morning shave, I swayed myself into the shower. I never was very particular about a lot of things; however, I liked to use a harmonious mixture of Dove body soap and Pantene Pro-V shampoo and conditioner. I guess the scent helped me stress less later in the day. It was my only slipup. No one I had ever met would have guessed, or probably even believed, that I was gay. Well, more or less bisexual. I had a girlfriend from time to time, or the occasional boyfriend. There was an unspoken ancient way of this life that I had no problem with. Such as that of the ancient Greeks or Romans. Love who you fall in love with, man or woman. One doesn’t have to be constantly horny and carry a purse like so many people perceive that one needs to. I was still a virgin, in both sexual ideals. Although I had never been a nymphomaniac in nature, so to speak. I just always found I could enjoy the energy between myself and another with whoever—race, sex, religion, etc., completely disregarded.

I never ate breakfast, mostly because it took away from me more time to sleep. So after I was dressed in my black slacks and long-sleeved black button-up shirt, I grabbed my bike and locked up my place.

When I got down to the street, I realized I had forgotten a jacket; I never really got that cold, even in the San Francisco winters, but my mother always made me wear one growing up. Old habits die hard I suppose, but it was July. So with a shrug of my shoulders, intended purely for my own nostalgia, I slid onto the bike and started off down the hill.

There are a lot of reasons I chose to stay in the city. The cloudy skies that I absolutely loved, the many sites and ways of travel, but mostly the hills. I loved, without a doubt beyond anything, riding my bike through the slim and steep city streets. I went faster there than any other place on Earth I had been to in my life. I was all about speed. When I felt the wind racing through my hair and sweeping fiercely around my face, it was as if nothing else mattered. So often when I was flying through the city, it felt as if it would be effortless to leap on top of the breeze and take to the clouds. It was an escape. It was a time when I was no longer a part of any world besides my own. No worries, no job, no family, just peace.

I worked in the Italian district, at a Roman restaurant called Renzino’s. I was easily the most liked and was considered the best waiter in the district, if not the city. Mr. Renzino loved the fact that I was a full-blooded Italian and especially that my heritage was Roman, but it’s not the reason I declare myself to have been such a great waiter. The average server at our restaurant could handle one section on a busy night. One section was five tables. Two four-seaters, two eight-seaters, and a deuce for the young couples in love. I, on the other hand, could handle about two and a half sections on a busy night. The reason, I was quick. I was fast, and I knew the kitchen well enough to gain a forecast as to when food would come up. Pasta, easy—ten minutes. Steak, easy—depending who was the sous chef for the evening—fifteen to thirty. Giovanni on appetizers was the fastest; I would know approximately when to return for each individual tables’ food. Rosetta was the slowest at the bar; however, I could usually count on that for a chance to take another order while she worked. I could move with three plates to an arm through a sea of chattering mealtime Italians as swiftly as a gentle wind rift through the Alps. Never phased. A terrific ability, a talent that made my name known all over Little Italy. But it was a useless one. Where would that take me in life? Ten cents above minimum wage probably.

Today I worked the lunch shift at Renzino’s. It was a Wednesday, so I knew it wouldn’t be so busy that he absolutely needed me that night. Besides, I covered more than one person’s shift at night, which meant some people didn’t get to work as often. It felt right giving them all a chance to make some money.

I walked in the back door after locking my bike to the dumpster. Eva, Mr. Renzino’s niece, was there at the bar going through some paperwork. This usually meant Mr. Renzino wouldn’t be in until the night shift. Eva was a beautiful young woman, twenty-one, a year older than me. She was in school at the University of San Francisco, studying to be an accountant, I believe. She had long, dark brown hair and lightly tanned skin. Her mother was English, so the Roman in her was less present than in myself. Her body was slender and dipped toward her midsection, complimenting her full breasts. We got along well, that is we didn’t hate each other. Actually, it was quite the opposite. Mr. Renzino had set us up on a date when she first started helping out here. I tried very hard to place her beauty with a hint of fondness. But I just couldn’t make her appeal to me in the way I’d hoped the one person that was meant for me would. Unfortunately, it was the opposite for her. She fell head over heels for me from the minute we met. It was unnatural. Only because I am what she craves, physically. I’d always had a small problem with this in the past. I rode my bike so much it was hard for me to not keep a very fit appearance. My hair was dark brown, almost black, and it fit perfectly with my rich olive skin tone. I liked my attractiveness as much as I hated it. And the only thing Eva wanted from me happened to be the one thing I had never given to anyone. Recently she had grown less persistent, but every time she looked at me, I could almost read the dirty thoughts she couldn’t help but think toward me.

Eva Renzino, I said, sitting down at the table across from her. I haven’t worked with you in almost a week.

You’re always working nights, Superman, she replied with her eyes up but her head low. You think it hasn’t been killing me inside too, my love? she said through a smile.

We had our own unique way of talking.

Bittersweet ecstasy of the job.

You’re irresistible when you talk like that, Brian. Her head was completely up, looking at me fully.

Excuse me? When I talk like what?

She grinned.

Like you’re from the nineteenth century.

It’s an expression, lady, relax, I said with a small laugh.

"Oh, the nineteenth century would NEVER consider me a lady, Mr. Nuccio. With a flirtatious wink, she said, I popped the lady rule a long time ago, well, technically I didn’t pop it—"

All right let’s keep it family friendly, my love, I interrupted, suddenly aware of the family of four sitting at the opposite end of the restaurant. She liked to occasionally address me by my full name, Brian Nuccio.

Eva always talked about things in a way too personal and revealing manner. You’d think Mr. Renzino would put an end to it, at least at the restaurant, but I doubted he was even aware she talked like that period. I mean, they never really worked together; Eva always covered the shift he didn’t want.

Again you manage to stop a train from rolling, she said after a moment, then seemingly uninterested, returned to her paperwork. Under her breath, I heard her whisper to herself, Such a waste.

That was her favorite thing to say about me. Not just because I wasn’t interested in her, but because I never really ever had a girlfriend while I was working there. She used to find every chance to remind me I was a waste—if I spilled something on my shirt, if I came into work soaking wet from the rain, and a few times when she walked in on me changing after work.

I sighed.

What? she asked.

I looked around the place, scanning the nearly empty room simply to know what I’d be up against during that slow lunch shift.

Who is on the floor right now, shift leader? I asked.

Just Lucio, she answered without looking up.

The new guy?!

Yup, it’s just you two.

No wonder I’m working the lunch shift. Ugh…

Chill out, you’ll get most of the tables. He’s having a hard enough time with one.

I didn’t respond, I just watched as Lucio came in from the back bringing the family’s drinks. It looked as if he was actually sweating! Never show fear, the customer will walk all over you.

I think Uncle Carlo would like it if you helped him out a little bit. Show him some of your tricks, oh, guru of food service. Uncle Carlo for her, Mr. Renzino for me.

I kept watching Lucio as he nearly spilled a drink on one of the customers. He was easily worse than all the waiters I had trained before.

Well, I suppose there is a pupil for all trades. She looked up and smiled at me.

Right, I thought, gotta cut back on the old people talk. I got up from the table and went to wait for Lucio in the kitchen. Eva went back to her paperwork, after a quick up-and-down glance of my backside. I thought I heard an mmm of delight from behind me, but to be honest, I was trying to tune it out.

I waited in the kitchen for Lucio, giving Jose, the saucier—or what would be his title if we made more than two sauces—a few tips on which spices could be traded for truly Roman dishes. It was strange that I could retain so much information. I did it in high school too. I always felt smarter than most kids, and I took a lot of advanced placement classes. When college time came around, I couldn’t decide on a major, so I ended up at the junior college. After a year of that, a year of straight As, I decided it wasn’t for me. No doubt I would find my way in the world without the cheat of a piece of paper, a certificate, I would earn it. Whatever it was for me in the world, I would get myself there the old-fashioned way. Through wit. Nonetheless, I did find that I was curious about the information I could have retained if I had stuck with it.

When Lucio finally entered, he greeted me with wide eyes. He looked slightly frightened. What could I say? I was a legend in this part of town.

Good day to you, Lucio, I said calmly and with a smile. How has your first week been so far?

He looked almost embarrassed.

Um, good, uh, Brian. I was right, his voice was meager.

Listen, Mr. Renzino would like me to help you out a bit today. Show you some of the ropes.

Ya? His voice was almost eager now. That’d be awesome!

I talked to him a little while his table’s food was cooking, telling him of my system—the time the food takes and the people and such. He seemed to understand most of the information I was giving him, though he could’ve been simply listening. It’s a lot to retain, especially for a high school student like Lucio. When the food finally came, I simply observed him for the rest of his time with his table. I reminded him time and time again to relax. Sweating is bad, I repeated over and over. Always talk. Never stutter. Don’t seem shy. Don’t seem worrisome. Look as though you know the menu inside and out. Hold eye contact, but don’t stare. Everything I said I had said so many times before it had almost become second nature. By the time his table was finished, he was doing slightly better. He still only got a 10 percent tip. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten under twenty.

After his table left, he rejoined me in the kitchen.

I’ll take the next table that comes in, I said to him. And you can shadow me.

Okay. He smiled. I heard you’re the shit.

I realized then that he must have heard quite a bit about me in the week that he was working there. It’s true I was good, but I was only that well known to the other employees and the Renzino’s regulars. There was no chance he had come here knowing the name Brian Nuccio.

I think I need about twelve more tables for action. I laughed. Just observe the smooth verbal transaction and the attention to their orders.

Lucio nodded.

We hung around in the back for a while as we waited for more customers. We talked meaninglessly for a while then he instigated something.

Can I ask you a question?

Sure, Lucio, what’s up? I said.

Okay, I gotta ask, it’s been killing me. How is Eva in bed?

Talk about throwing me back.

What?!

Well she’s really hot, I gotta envy you for tapping that, he said.

How the hell would I know how she is in bed? I spat.

He looked at me confused.

I thought she was your girlfriend?

God, no, who on Earth told you that? I said in a flurry of anger.

She did. When she hired me.

I wasn’t surprised, to be honest. It was no different than any of the other crap Eva had pulled.

Well, she’s a liar.

Okay, sorry, I was just curious. I mean she does have a hella smokin’ body. Who wouldn’t want that?

I thought about my answer a moment then chose the best way to explain it to him.

Lucio, no man should ever date Eva, and I’ll tell you why. She is the definition of evil. She lies, she manipulates, and worst of all, she writes the work schedule so I recommend you stay away too.

Lucio laughed.

You wouldn’t even recommend her for a one-nighter?

I can tell you with 200 percent confidence, if you spent a night with that thing, you would regret it, I said

He laughed.

Wow, you really hate her, huh?

No, I don’t hate her, in fact I love bantering with her, but mark my words, no good would come out of anyone hitting that.

We both smiled.

The bell chimed out front, letting us know the door had been opened.

Customers, I said.

Ready?

Let them get seated and settle in for a second. We can bring them their water when we take their orders. That is a very handy trick when it gets busy around here.

Lucio just nodded to me and started pouring two glasses of water. As we walked casually to the table with the two new strangers, I was speaking to Lucio about key things to look for.

Notice the lack of sweat, I teased with a smile. Hello, my friends, my name is Brian, and I will be your server today, I said to the lady on my left with a full smile while Lucio placed their drinks on the table. I continued my spiel while my attention began turning to the gentleman on my right, Our lunch specials today are riga—

That’s when my world stopped. The day my life forever changed. When my eyes rested on the man to my right, I couldn’t pull them away. I could feel every heartbeat keep time going while my body stood frozen staring at him sitting in front of me, contradicting everything I had just told Lucio. He was perfect. He was wearing sensually tight blue jeans and a small plain black shirt that melded onto his thin, toned body. His eyes were a deep-emerald green, and they stared back into mine. He had short brown hair, not as dark as mine but more lush in every sense. His face contoured to a thin, frail, oval look. It was stunning. He had his right ear pierced with a small golden hoop. His nose was perfect, and his smile was gorgeous. His perfectly white teeth sang as the light hit them, only furthering the unquenchable urge to press myself into his small, yet delicious-looking lips.

There was nothing in this world that mattered to me anymore. The feeling was like gaining a limb you never knew you’d lost. I stood there a long time staring, sweating, in front of Lucio. I was surprised that the man continued to stare back at me, and even more surprised that the woman with him didn’t seem at all offended or concerned by my, or his, mannerless stare. My eyes stood wide regardless, at the same time continuing my rude stare into the soul of the man in front of me.

I could swear the world stopped turning, that the wind no longer blew. That I would never make it through another hour of my life without this man in my arms.

Chapter 2

The Angel of Hell

A HARSH NUDGE in the ribs was barely enough to break my fixation. I wasn’t sure how I looked in Lucio’s eyes, but it must have been enough for him to see I wasn’t returning from the stare upon my own free will.

Brian, snap out of it! he hissed from behind me. Sorry, folks, I’m not sure what’s come over him, he began explaining to the customers. He’s usually…

I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but I was beginning to come to. I realized the lady was smiling at Lucio, barely concerning herself with my stare any more. As if it was completely natural. The beautiful stranger continued to return my glance. As my surroundings became less blurred, I could begin to feel my body again. My fingertips warmed, then my arm, and so on. I hadn’t even realized I’d gone numb.

I’m sorry, I blurted out, afraid my voice would be forever held in stone.

The lady looked at me, still smiling, while he started blushing and turning his attention down to his menu. Underneath her dark mascara, her eyes were a matching green to his. Not deep