2003 Donatello Novels & Stories

I walk into the Cathedral and was once again amazed. The marble flooring leaves me breathless. The artwork of both Donatello and Michelangelo litter the walls. Each piece is unique in its own right. I continue on to the next building, making my way around the walkway. Next up is the Duomo Crypt. It has scenes of the new testament. I was told that they have completely forgotten about it and only rediscovered in 1999. Nest up is the Baptistery of St. John. It was built in a more gothic style. On the outside, it looks like the marble is unfinished. I walk in and see the baptistry is sculpted bronze, marble, and gold.

I smiled. *** Donatello was a genius and a serial killer, a deadly combination. Standing at nearly seven feet tall, and weighing over three hundred pounds, he was someone who always stood out in any crowd. For such a big man, he had the face of a seventeen-year-old teenager. No one would ever suspect the large friendly man with a child's face who worked as a security man at the University of Los Angeles was the most notorious killer in the state.

Sofia wasn't alone. Donato Vallocchi stood by the balcony doors, his silhouette framed by the rain-lashed glass of the city skyline. He looked like a statue of refined greed, his suit immaculate even in the gloom. He held a glass of dark liquid, swirling it with the casual arrogance of a man who already owned the room. "Dante," Donato said, his voice smooth as oil. "You’ve spent so much time building walls that you forgot the most dangerous enemy is the one who knows how to open the gate."

The man was furious and vowed never to date any witches. Terah scanned his place. There was nothing ordinary in his humble abode. Everything screamed elegance. There were displays of D's favorite artist sculptures like that of Michelangelo and Donatello. There were statues with missing heads and wings due to their age. But it wasn't his fault. When he discovered them, that was already the statue's state.

“Did someone inform Chen Li of our arrival?” “No, but he has been receiving some visitors for his auction since this morning.” Came Donatello’s voice as he exited one of the black Sedan’s with bulletproof windows. “The auction will start very soon. I hope you are all armed and prepared.” Mattia Donatello seemed to have aged since the last time I saw him but he was dressed to perfection in an elegant black suit with a white shirt underneath. His once dark brown hair was now mostly grey and his face was covered with wrinkles, and yet, you could tell that the man had once been charming and handsome enough to attract the attention of one of the biggest opera singers during his time and she had l

While they were waiting, one of them stared at Donatello and began to interrogate him on his travels. Donatello tried to lie to the officer, saying that Joan, his “wife”, and he were travelling with two other companions and one of them got sick. They asked them where they were, and he told them that they were camped outside the town. When asked why they can’t just use one of the lodgings in the town, Donatello got stumped and Joan saved him saying, “We can’t possibly afford that.”

I couldn’t help but remember Donatello telling me that he believed that he saw him somewhere, and hearing what Sienna was telling me, I couldn’t help but believe that he was indeed using magic. Donatello was not the type to forget who a person was. If anything, he was almost always very accurate when it came to his memory of faces. It was one of the reasons why he was dangerous when angered. He was not a man to be messed with nor was he the type to allow random mistakes to just slide. If anything, he would be sure to make those who hurt him or his loved ones pay if he simply caught their scent.

“I see. Is that why you’re here? When you were stranded last time with your buddies you rubbed the boar’s snout?” He beamed. “I sure as hell did. And for luck, I tossed a coin into the grate between its feet.” Swiveling towards him, she pulled his phone from his pocket. “Let me see that.” It took only a few seconds to look up the statue. “Fontana del Porcellino is a bronze fountain made in 1612 by Pietro Tacca. It was based on a Roman replica of a Hellenistic statue that presently resides in the Uffizi Gallery. Hmm. Interesting,” she mused.

Vibo Valentia – Donatello’s Estate On the outskirts of Vibo Valentia was Donatello’s estate, surrounded by high stone walls and heavily armed guards. Inside, in the dim glow of an elaborate chandelier, Donatello paced up and down. A glass of vodka sat untouched on his desk. He had just received word from the airstrip. Many of his men were killed in action. Some of the girls they used also died in the battle, and not all of the shipment was sent across.

Antonio Pietro, Adriano's father and Donatello were friends so, Donatello had a different kind of status, he was like a part of Pietro family. " Donatello is handle so many jobs. So many eyes are on him. If he disappeared people will curious and we don't want any attention on us. When I am trying to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle." Adriano explained, his voice calm and collected but a hint of anger bleed in it at the end. " Has he said something?" Adriano quiered, eyeing the squirming person strapped to the rolling chair in front of him. " Not yet.. Just gotten his name though, It's Cathal." Daniel informed with a light shrug of his shoulder. Adriano nodded rolling up his sle