Inferno (Blood for Blood #2)

by Catherine Doyle

  EVELINA FALCONE

  ‘Who’s this?’ I asked.

  Luca came to stand beside me. His arm brushed against mine. I could feel the static on my skin. ‘This is Felice’s wall.’

  Between the plaques, a ruby encased in silver had been inset into the stone. Protruding from the silver in swirling calligraphy were the letters F on one side, and E on the other. Beneath the ruby it said Sempre.

  Luca brushed his fingers along the words, translating. ‘Always.’ And then in a quiet voice, he added, ‘Felice wanted to be interred next to his wife.’ He traced the ruby, reverentially, softly. ‘He engraved her tomb the day he engraved her ring. Every dime he ever earned went into those two rubies and then one of them went with her and it broke his heart.’

  ‘Where?’ I asked, looking for dates and failing to find them. She wasn’t dead. Yet.

  ‘She disappeared. She was eight months pregnant with their daughter, and one day she went out and never came back.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked, though in truth it was not hard to imagine. Felice was, after all, a terrible human being.

  ‘He’s never said.’ Luca shrugged. ‘He still believes she’ll come back to him some day.’

  ‘Do you?’

  His mouth hardened into a thin line. It sharpened his cheekbones and the clean cut of his jaw. ‘He’s a fool.’

  ‘A romantic, maybe,’ I tempered, wondering at how bad things must have gotten for an eight-month-pregnant woman to walk out on her husband. Still, being married to a sociopath is no easy feat.

  ‘No,’ said Luca. ‘A fool.’

  I got the sense the topic was closed. I let it be, thinking on Felice with fractionally more empathy than before. Emphasis on fractionally. I guess no one can be painted with just one brush. There is light and shade in all of us, pain and hardship, and some of us rise from it while others are darkened by it. Evelina, I thought, wherever you are, you are probably better off.

  Luca sat down on the bench again, his legs stretched out and crossing at the ankles. He was watching me. ‘You’re pale.’

  ‘I’m always pale.’

  ‘You’re translucent.’

  ‘It’s the lighting.’

  ‘You can go now,’ he offered in what I assumed was his attempt at politeness. It needed work. ‘Millie will probably combust if you leave her out there any longer.’

  ‘How do you know Millie’s out there?’

  His laugh was low and breathy. ‘You’re kidding, right? I could hear you coming from a mile off. You bring a whole new dimension to the word “unsubtle”.’

  Why was I still stalling? I backed into the doorway, studying him the way he was studying me – unashamedly. But what was he looking for exactly? I watched the way he slumped his shoulders, the way his elbows balanced on his knees, how his dark brows cast shadows over his bright eyes. In that moment he looked exactly the way I had been feeling. Tired, defeated. Alone. Troubled. ‘Do you … spend a lot of time in here?’

  He cocked his head. ‘Why? Are you worried about me?’

  ‘No!’ I practically shrieked.

  ‘Good. I’d hate to think you were going soft.’

  ‘Never.’ Well, that’s where giving a crap gets you. With as much haughtiness as I could muster I marched through the doorway, but something stopped me and I dug my heels in. I couldn’t help it; I had to know. I peeked around the doorway, curiosity bubbling up inside me.

  He was still staring in my direction.

  ‘Why didn’t you ask me about my uncle?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You didn’t ask me if I knew where Jack was. But you must be wondering. Especially, you know, after what happened.’

  Without so much as blinking, he said, ‘I already know where he is.’

  My jaw dropped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask?’

  I came back into the room, my energy spiking. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Well, we don’t know exactly where he is yet. But we have a pretty good idea of who he’s with.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You better not go looking for him.’

  ‘Of course not,’ I lied.

  ‘You’re lying. It’s written all over your face.’

  ‘I’m not lying, I’m just stressed!’

  Luca thought about it for a moment. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he asked, his voice half-sigh, half-frustration. ‘Where is the one place that Jack would go, the one place he would seek refuge from us?’

  Oh. Oh. Well that explained the little history lesson earlier.

  Luca watched the realization dawn. He pulled his lips back, revealing the feral tips of his canines. ‘And if he is there,’ he said, ‘if they are truly aiding and abetting a known Falcone enemy, then, once again, the truce is broken.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘The question is,’ Luca said, leaning back on his palms and hunching his shoulders, ‘if we’re right about where Jack is hiding, what exactly is Donata Marino getting out of the arrangement?’

  ‘So you really haven’t been following me, then,’ I muttered. I didn’t mention Purple Hair. If she was his enemy, the news would just unsettle him. I already had enough to worry about now, without confirming the Marinos had gone ahead and danced all over whatever truce they had had with the Falcones.

  Luca’s eyes widened. ‘What?’ He stood up. ‘Why would you say that?’

  I backed up a little. Now was not the right time to be pouring fuel on the fire – breaking open that old wound before I knew what it even meant. Besides, I could be wrong … I could be. Purple Hair could be anyone. ‘It’s just … with Nic showing up in my garden the other night, I was wondering if there was a plan or something …’ I trailed off.

  Yup. That ought to smooth things over.

  Rage flashed across Luca’s face as he took a step towards me. ‘Nic did what?’

  Or not.

  ‘Um, never mind,’ I said, turning into the main passageway. ‘I have to find Millie.’

  Luca cut in front of me. ‘You need to tell me about this.’

  ‘Why?’

  He blinked at me. ‘What do you mean “Why”?’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘I care about the movements of my brother when they go against explicit family orders and when they endanger someone else. Don’t be so smug about it, Sophie. This is serious.’

  ‘Oh, I’m smug because I won’t tell you my personal business? Well, excuse me.’

  ‘Sophie, this isn’t a game,’ Luca warned. I could tell he was fighting to keep his voice level. ‘Don’t be so stupid.’

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why the hell was he always calling me stupid?

  ‘Oh, this isn’t a game?’ I repeated, seeing red. ‘You think I don’t know that? Did you forget who else was in that warehouse with you? I remember every damn second of that night!’

  ‘Then take this seriously!’

  ‘I couldn’t be taking it more seriously if I tried,’ I hissed, raising my palm so he could see the jagged cut. ‘I haven’t slept in weeks. My mother is a zombie. Don’t you dare preach to me about the seriousness of all this. You have no idea what your family has done to me. And I don’t care who you are, you have no right to demand to know my business!’

  He came closer, tension rippling from him. ‘I have a right when it involves my family.’

  I had to tip my head back to look at him. ‘You’re not my underboss, Luca. I don’t owe you a thing.’

  I pivoted around him, expecting resistance, but he let me go, his expression crumpling with something I couldn’t place.

  ‘Oh, so you yell at me about everything that happened!’ he shouted after me. ‘But you meet him in your garden like some pathetic reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet!’

  I swatted his words over my head as I marched away from him.

  ‘In case you didn’t realize, Sophie, that play was a satire! You’re not meant to aspire to it!’

  ‘The way you’re talking right now
, you’re aspiring to my fist in your face!’ I yelled over my shoulder. I reached the door but he was there in a flash, sliding in front of me. He was so tall. So broad. So immovable. ‘Move,’ I hissed. ‘Or I swear to every god and planetary system I will hit you in your smug face.’

  ‘Sophie,’ he said. His voice was deceptively controlled, but his blazing eyes told a different story. ‘You saved my life. You threw your body on top of mine to stop Jack from killing me. So don’t think I’m not grateful or appreciative of what you did when I tell you that you are acting like a complete moron.’

  He caught my wrist before my hand connected with his cheek.

  ‘Don’t,’ he growled.

  ‘Let go of me,’ I huffed.

  He released me, and my arm fell to my side with a dull thud. I took a gasping breath.

  Luca’s gaze was hard and shining. I felt like it was crushing me. Whatever he was about to say, I sure as hell didn’t want to hear it. I pushed past him and heaved the door open, bounding down the steps.

  Millie was lying on the grass by the lake, taking a selfie. ‘Well, finally,’ she groaned, clambering to her feet. ‘What the hell took you so— Holy crap, Soph. Watch out! Luca Falcone is behind you!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Oh.’ She started circling us. ‘Wait a second … What’s going on here? What were you two doing in there for so long?’

  I led the way through the trees. Millie trailed after me.

  Luca followed us. ‘I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you before you get it through your skull!’ he pressed. ‘He’s not good for you, Sophie!’

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ Millie jumped in front of me. I halted, and behind me Luca skidded to a stop. ‘Is there some kind of … jealousy going on here?’

  Luca rolled his eyes. ‘Per l’amor di Dio. Don’t be ridiculous.’

  I started marching again. ‘Maybe it’s OK to care about someone and to have them care about you,’ I snapped. ‘Maybe the world won’t end. Not that you’d know, of course, because you don’t need anyone when you have your precious, arrogant self!’

  ‘Yeah, that must be it. I’m bitter and alone and I don’t know what love is. And you’re living in your little world of denial and it’s going to end up putting you in the ground because I guarantee no matter how long you hang around him, when the chips are down, he’ll choose his family over you.’

  ‘Holy Moses.’ Millie was huffing beside me. ‘What the hell happened between you two?’

  Luca’s string of Italian curses filtered into hurried English. ‘My brother’s idiocy has, once again, rubbed off on your best friend.’ He wasn’t even panting, unlike me and Millie, who were marching so fast I was fighting the urge to clutch my ribs and double over. ‘Or maybe it’s the other way around.’

  ‘OK, that’s it!’ I skidded to a halt and closed the distance between us. I prodded him in the chest. ‘Luca Falcone, if you say another word about me—’

  ‘What?’ He swatted my finger away. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  All the anger bubbling inside me collided. I squashed it, speaking calculatedly and slowly as I stared at the shards of turquoise in his eyes. So I was stupid, naïve, moronic – he had told me a thousand times already – but at least my conscience was clear, and he had no right to judge me when his wasn’t. ‘I’m not a fool, Luca,’ I said, my lip curling. ‘Don’t treat me like one. If you had let me finish instead of flying off the handle, you would know that I sent your brother away when he came to see me. No matter what I feel about him or ever felt, he looks at the world and sees murder and bloodshed, and I deserve a life with love and peace. I’ve been through enough. I’ve seen enough.’ I could feel my voice cracking, so I pushed harder, so he wouldn’t hear it. ‘The truth is, he’s broken,’ I said. ‘You all are.’

  Luca faltered backwards. It reminded me, for one horrifying instant, of the moment he had been shot in the warehouse. His shoulders slumped, his arms went slack and he just stared at me. I had wiped the sneer off his face, and still my throat was wobbling. Water was pooling in the backs of my eyes.

  Millie tiptoed into the space between us. ‘Oookay,’ she said. ‘For reasons unclear to me, that got a bit heated. Let’s just take it down a notch, and discuss this like adults.’

  I didn’t notice how hard I was panting until I tried to catch my breath.

  ‘Forget it,’ said Luca, turning from us. ‘I’m done. You’re on your own, Gracewell.’

  ‘Fine. Good.’

  He disappeared through the break in the trees.

  ‘Sophie.’ Millie dropped her voice. ‘I think you have a problem.’

  I swallowed another offending quiver and mashed my words together. ‘I know. I’m pretty sure the Marino Mafia family have been following me.’

  ‘I’m talking about a different kind of problem.’

  A single tear slid fast and hard down my cheek. I wiped it away. ‘The switchblade is gone,’ I said. ‘So it’s done.’

  She was still staring at the trees. ‘This is not what I meant by closure.’

  PART II

  ‘The enemy is within the gates;

  it is with our own luxury, our own folly,

  our own criminality that we have to contend.’

  Marcus Tullius Cicero

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE BLACK HAND

  I spent the rest of the afternoon at Millie’s, purposely not talking about what had happened in the cemetery. The switchblade was gone and I was trying to ignore the emptiness it had left behind. We made cookies and watched Harry Potter movies back to back until guilt at leaving my mother in the general gloominess of our house began to eat away at me. Real life was waiting at home – the shadows on the wall, the screams in the night, the gaping hole where my father should be. I left as evening was falling, dragging myself out of Millie’s distraction bubble. I was experiencing a sudden urge to stretch my legs and work off at least some of the sugar I had packed into my body, so I could at least try and sleep tonight.

  The sun was beginning to dip, tingeing the sky with streaks of pink and orange. It wasn’t until I was passing the diner that I became aware of the black Mercedes trailing behind me. The traffic on Main Street had declined and now cars passed by in dregs.

  I turned into the lot and stopped walking. The Mercedes parked several spaces away. The engine shut off and the girl with purple hair emerged. She flicked her hair from her face but the bangs held steady, drooping over her eyes. There was a forced casualness about her stance – her arms hung limply by her sides, but her hands were clenched in fists.

  She rounded the car and came towards me. I squared my shoulders to appear bigger than I was. We were almost the same height and she was slight, too. She stopped too close to me and I stepped backwards, away from her citrus perfume. It took a moment to find her eyes underneath the bangs and the black kohl powder she had over-rimmed them with.

  ‘Sophie Gracewell,’ she said, appraising me with unashamed forwardness. Her voice was a lot softer than I expected it to be. It struck me again how young she was – she couldn’t be much older than me. She twirled her hands in front of her as though she was pointing me out to an invisible audience. ‘God, I feel like I’ve been trying to get you on your own for, like, my whole life.’ She smiled broadly, revealing two dimples so pronounced that it suddenly seemed impossible to be intimidated by her. Which was irritatingly misleading.

  ‘That’s funny,’ I said, not laughing. ‘I feel like I’ve been avoiding you for about that long, too.’

  She nodded, her smile faltering as she heaved a sigh. ‘I’ve been freaking you out, I know. I’m sorry.’

  Her contrition disarmed me, and, softer than I intended to, I said, ‘There’s a right way and a wrong way to approach someone, you know.’

  She started chewing on the corner of her lip, smearing her fuchsia lipstick across her teeth. She was wringing her hands and I realized she was as jittery as I was.

  ‘I take it you’r
e a Marino,’ I said.

  Her eyes went wide. ‘So you’ve heard of us?’

  ‘Somewhat.’

  ‘All good, I’m sure.’ She offered me a bashful smile, all doe-eyed, with those dimples again. There was a small gap between her two front teeth.

  ‘So my uncle sent you?’

  I crunched my palms into fists, feeling the sweat on my fingertips.

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t think you’d have figured it out.’

  Poof! There goes the truce.

  Thank God I hadn’t mentioned anything about this to Luca.

  The girl’s grin betrayed a sense of lightness that was buried beneath the dramatic make-up and severe hair. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘I guessed,’ I lied.

  She broke off into a chesty laugh. ‘He said you were clever, but I think you had me figured out at the movie theatre. I’m sorry if I scared you. I was trying to get a minute to talk to you by yourself. No one else is supposed to know.’

  It was hard to dislike her – as far as Mafia types went, she was surprisingly normal. I might have let my guard drop if I hadn’t known her surname. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked her. ‘Can I know that, at least?’ Anything to distract from the pulsing Marino in my head.

  ‘Sara.’ She feigned a curtsy and I found myself laughing before clamping my mouth shut. God, she was weird, too. What the hell was she doing running errands for my uncle? She should be out being a teenager.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, seeing the bewildered curiosity on my face. ‘I’m kind of new at this messenger thing.’ Her expression turned sheepish. ‘I’m supposed to just give you something,’ she continued. ‘I’m not really even supposed to talk to you.’

  ‘Why?’ My pulse kicked into high gear.

  ‘Oh I don’t know.’ She smiled. ‘In case I tip over and all the family’s secrets come out.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, understanding perfectly.

  ‘Anyways, your uncle wants to see you.’

  ‘Not to be rude,’ I said, ‘but he could have called me and saved you all this running around …’ And creepy-ass stalking.