by Venom (mobi)
Falco had promised to tell her what he was doing with Angelo. Maybe that was the missing piece of information she needed. She struggled to remember the snatches of conversation she'd overheard between Falco and the physician at the small chapel by the statue of San Giuda. Angelo had said something about tonight, but Cass hadn't heard enough of the man's words to know if he was referring to the body in the canal or the chapel or something else.
The little church bothered her. She felt like she knew it from somewhere. Cass closed her eyes. She saw the fallen sculpture, the broken-down chapel, the tiny graveyard attached. She had never been there before; she was certain of it. She'd never even walked that area of Venice before. She opened her eyes and blinked hard; the library looked slightly hazy. The wine must have been stronger than she thought; she noticed that she had drained the majority of her glass. At least it wasn't as bad as the muddy wine from Tommaso's studio.
That was it! When the boys had interrupted Cass and Falco's kiss in the studio, she'd overheard one of his friends say something about San Giuda. Something about a pickup. Something about the smell of death. Could it be just a coincidence? Or was something going on at the crumbling chapel?
Narissa had noticed that Cass's glass needed refilling, and had returned to the library with a whole bottle of red wine. Cass was about to decline when she noticed the hungry way the older maid looked at it as she refilled her glass. An idea began to form in Cass's mind.
"Would you like a glass?" Cass tried her best to sound innocent.
Narissa's eyes went as bright as the fire for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. "I shouldn't, Signorina. But thank you."
Cass winked. "Go on. No one will ever know. I'm sure my aunt is asleep by now. What harm is there in having a sip or two?" Or three or four or five.
"Well, if you're certain." Narissa glanced quickly around the library as if she thought spies might be hiding behind the bookcases or in the fireplace. Then she poured herself a small glass of the wine and continued her needlework. Her fingers worked the thread quickly.
When the maid's glass was empty, Cass refilled it without saying anything. Narissa didn't even seem to notice, and finished her glass before Cass had had more than three sips of her own. Again Cass refilled it; again Narissa quaffed it down.
After one final glass, Narissa's head began to nod against her chest. Cass felt a rush of triumph. She knew she was taking a huge chance sneaking out of the villa. If she got caught, there would likely be a padlock applied to her bedchamber door. Or worse, Agnese would send for Luca and arrange an immediate betrothal ceremony.
Cass ripped a page out of her journal and scrawled a quick note to Falco.
Dear Falco,
I cannot meet you by the Pillars of Justice. My aunt has been keeping me close to home. I can try to sneak out after everyone is asleep, if you want to meet me in the garden again. Please know that if I do not show up, it's because I'm being watched, and not because I don't want to see you.
She signed it simply with a C. There was so much more she could have written, so much more that wanted to pour out of her—love and fear and hope—but she figured these things were best said in person. Especially since Cass had no idea where the servants kept the wax and would have to leave the note unsealed. She would look for Falco in the taverna. If he or his friends weren't there, she'd leave the message with the barkeep and simply hope for the best.
Then, she'd find a way back to the chapel with the fallen San Giuda.
Cass glanced over at Narissa again. The maid was snoring loudly, chin resting on her chest, half-completed needlework in her lap.
Cass stood up soundlessly and moved into the hall. Should she risk heading upstairs for her cloak? She decided to borrow Siena's again. Fastening the woolen garment around her shoulders, Cass tucked her journal into one of the pockets. Grabbing a lantern and tinderbox from one of the long wooden counters, she unlocked the servants' door and opened it slowly, trying her best not to make any noise. If Agnese caught her this time, she was as good as dead. Cass slipped out of the villa, and into the night.
22
Cass made it to the island's tiny village in record time. She had to look for Falco at the taverna and then escape San Domenico before anyone realized she was missing. When she left the villa, she was reasonably certain everyone was asleep, but who knew when a servant might awaken and find Narissa snoozing in the library. Cass felt a little guilty. Narissa was in for a good scolding—and possibly worse—if Cass got caught. Especially if Cass got caught stealing a boat and going all the way to the Rialto by herself. But she wouldn't get caught.
She had spent the walk to town trying to convince herself that she was strong enough to row across the lagoon and then back again. It was doubtful, but she had to try.
The whole mystery was a tangled web, and Cass was hoping that the chapel tucked away in the back streets of the Rialto held the answers that she sought.
Cass ducked into Il Mar e la Spada. She quickly scanned the clusters of men hunched over the battered wooden tables. No Falco. She made her way up to the bar. The barkeep had a silver hoop in his left ear and a black star inked on each of his fingers. "Help you?" he asked.
Cass tried not to stare at the ring in his ear. "I was wondering if I might leave a message here for Falco. Do you know him?"
He grunted. "Falco da Padova? Tommaso's boy? I know him."
Cass slipped the man the letter she had hurriedly written in the library, and pulled out a silver coin as well, sliding it toward the bar-keep. "Is this enough?"
The man smiled a reply as he pocketed the coin and tucked the letter underneath the bar. Cass noticed he was missing several teeth. He turned away from her as a gray-haired man with a patch over one eye hollered for a refill.
"Goodbye, then," she said, making her way back through the crowded taverna and out into the night.
The air felt thick. The moon above was an almost invisible sliver of light. She was filled with fear and exhilaration, both emotions running through her like blades. The lantern swayed in her trembling fingers. Cass tightened her grip. Having it comforted her, not only because it provided light, but also because it would make a decent weapon, if needed. She remembered the lepers from the Rialto, how she had been ready to swing the lantern if they attacked her.
Behind the bakery, a small fishing vessel and a long wooden gondola bobbed in the brackish water. Cass was surprised to see the gondolier nestled in the bottom of his boat beneath a ratty gray blanket. Maybe she wouldn't have to row herself all the way to the Rialto and back.
She bent down and tapped softly on the edge of the gondola. The boat bobbled back and forth in the water. "Scusa," Cass said. The breeze whipped her braids around her face, tendrils of wild hair
stinging her cheeks and eyes.
The gondolier muttered something in his sleep. He turned on his side, pulling the threadbare cover up over his head.
Cass leaned over, gripping the edge of the gondola with one hand to keep her from tumbling into the murk. Tiny waves lapped against the dock, sending fine sprays of icy water in her direction. She reached out with one hand and nudged the gondolier gently.
Something silver cut through the inky darkness as the man sat up with a start. Cass fell back onto the dock, wincing as the rough wood bit into the flesh of her palm. Her eyes widened. The gondolier was clutching a dagger in his right hand. He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion.
"Signorina! Caspita. You scared me halfway to the grave."
"Mi dispiace." Cass couldn't pull her eyes away from the blade still clenched in the man's fist. "Please. I—I require safe passage to the Rialto. Will you take me?"
The gondolier slipped the dagger into the pocket of his breeches and narrowed his eyes at her. "At this hour? What for?"
Cass thought quickly. "I need to return home," she said. "My aunt will disown me if she discovers I snuck out of her palazzo." She tried to look desperate. It didn't take much effort on her p
art. "Please. I will pay you double. You won't find as good of an offer in the morning."
The man smiled knowingly. "Let me guess. You were meeting somebody. Amore. Say no more." He accepted Cass's fare and assisted her into the gondola.
Cass settled in as far back in the felze as possible, wrapping her arms around her middle to conserve heat. The gondolier handed her his wooly gray blanket. The fabric was scratchy against her skin, but Cass was grateful for the extra warmth.
As the boat bobbed and rolled across the vast lagoon, Cass tried once again to untangle the snarl of suspects and clues regarding the pair of grisly murders and Liviana's missing body. But she kept coming back to Falco. Falco in the graveyard. Falco burning the mysterious threatening note. Falco, who knew of the brothel where Mariabella worked. Falco, who was friends with Angelo, and possibly Dubois as well. Falco, who had twice refused to go to the town guard with information about the murders. Cass wanted—no, needed—to believe he was innocent, but how could she ignore so much evidence?
Cass indicated that the gondolier should drop her by the Rialto Bridge.
"Which one is your palazzo?" he asked. "The streets are unsafe. I will take you directly to your dock."
"It's fine," Cass said. "It'll be quieter if I go around to the back on foot. I wouldn't want any of the servants to awaken when you moor your boat." The falsehood rolled off her tongue with almost no thought. Cass couldn't believe how easy lying had become.
The gondolier shrugged and tied his boat beneath the Rialto Bridge. After alighting from the gondola, Cass slipped into the darkened alley between the large palazzos. The buildings were so close together that their overhanging roofs completely obscured the sky above her. She could have reached out and touched both exterior walls if she had wished. Instead, she moved slowly, her lantern clasped tightly in her right hand.
Despite the darkness and the tangled streets, Cass felt certain she'd have no trouble finding the chapel again. Her body seemed to be moving independently from her brain, as if a higher power were guiding her toward her destination. Sure enough, a few minutes later she emerged into the campo where the crumbling statue of San Giuda lay on its side, and the chapel and monastery sidled up against each other. The night was damp and chilly, the air layered with mist. Now what? She decided to explore the chapel first.
She headed around the side of the building, figuring it was safer to sneak in through one of the smaller entrances in case the chapel wasn't as deserted as it looked. Just as she put her hand on the wooden door, Cass froze. Behind the chapel, beyond the wrought-iron gate, a small sphere of light winked on and off" in the tiny graveyard, almost as if signaling to someone.
Ducking down, Cass made her way along the stone wall of the church, toward the gate and the graveyard waiting behind it.
The gate was propped open, as if a funeral party had recently brought in a body. But that was madness. No one interred bodies in the dead of night.
As Cass made her way beyond the iron fence, the temperature seemed to drop. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. She stole through the graveyard, holding her lantern close to her body for warmth. She tracked the sphere of light as it moved along the row of crypts. As she approached it, she saw a second, dimmer lantern, propped next to the first.
The pair of lights swirled and wavered in the pitch night. Cass felt herself being pulled forward, like a moth to a flame. Perhaps Falco was here, sketching, as he had been that night on San Domenico. Perhaps she had been magically drawn to him. Not magically, divinely. Perhaps God had brought the two of them together. Just because Falco didn't believe didn't mean it wasn't real.
Fate.
Cass was so certain Falco waited for her at the end of the row of crypts that she opened her mouth to call out to him.
And then a horrible scratching sound rent the air. The noise seemed to tunnel deep inside of her. The lantern slipped from her fingers and fell to the wet grass. The flame went out. Instinct gripped Cass, telling her to get as far away from the graveyard as possible. The scraping noise pierced the quiet night again. It sounded like the claws of demons forcing their way inside a crypt to feed on innocent souls.
Go back. Go back. Go back. Cass heard her own voice screaming in her head. But she couldn't move. She was terrified, transfixed. Then she heard other voices. Whispering. Muffled cursing. Falco's voice.
For a moment, the graveyard, the cold, the mist—all of it disappeared. Cass felt as if she were hovering outside of her body: she was walking forward, moving mechanically, without thinking. She could no longer feel anything. She didn't even know that she was breathing.
And then she saw him.
The lanterns illuminated Falco's face. His hair was hanging in his eyes, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. He was standing next to a tomb, dragging a heavy, white-wrapped shape across the ground, toward a wooden cart where Paolo and Etienne were waiting. Nicolas was watching, holding a metal hammer, muttering instructions Cass couldn't make out.
Falco stopped, straightened up, and said something indecipherable. Paolo came forward to help him. Nicolas abandoned his hammer and swooped up one of the lanterns.
Suddenly the cart and Falco's wrapped bundle moved into the faint light.
An arm broke through a fold in the burial shrouds.
White, bloated, its fingers swollen in death. A human arm, connected to a corpse. Falco cradled the dead body against his chest as he wrestled it over to the cart.
A horrible wailing noise pierced the air.
It took Cass a minute to realize the sound was coming from her.
23
She clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Falco dropped the body he was holding, whipping around to face her. His eyes went wild. "Cass!" Her name echoed through the open space. She reeled backward, terror drumming through her. She had fallen into hell, into a nightmare. She ran, sobbing, choking back more screams. Her foot landed in a soft patch of dirt and her ankle twisted. She stumbled but didn't fall. As she passed through the open gate, she hitched up her dress with both hands and pushed herself to run faster than she ever had before. The wet grass tugged at her ankles. Cass could sense the boys behind her; she could feel them pursuing her.
Twice she tripped and went sprawling across the campo. The cracked marble cut into her hands. She climbed to her feet without looking back, not thinking of anything but home, and light, and safety, and the heavy locks on her doors, which she would bolt now and forever against the man—the madman—she had fallen in love with.
Racing through the dark alley, Cass cursed herself for lying to the gondolier. If she had been truthful—well, more truthful—he might have agreed to ferry her back to San Domenico. Instead, Cass raced along the side of the canal until she found the same fisherman who had taken her home the night she and Falco had discovered Sophia's body in the canal.
Her footsteps had awakened the boy, and he sat up sleepily in his sandolo. A slow smile spread across his face as he recognized her.
"Go, go, go." Cass hopped into the boat, emptying her purse in the boy's direction. Silver coins spilled out onto the damp baseboards. Way too much for the fare, but Cass was not worried about the money.
The boy laughed, not understanding the urgency, but he freed his little fishing skiff with a sharp tug on the rope. Grabbing the oar, he turned the boat out into the center of the canal. Cass looked back as they pulled away from the bridge. Falco stood at the water's edge, watching her leave. His hair snapped and twisted in the wind; the faint moonlight distorted his features so that he looked more monstrous than human.
Or maybe he had always looked like that, and Cass had been too blind to see it.
She turned her back on him, sliding down in the boat. She wished she could die, that the bottom of the sandolo would just split open and let the frigid water of the lagoon suck her down to its muddy depths.
Cass barely registered the ride back to San Domenico. When the sandolo pulled close to Agnese's dock, Cass hurled herself over the edg
e, not even waiting for the boy to anchor the boat. She no longer cared about the cold or water or being caught. She just wanted to get inside and begin forgetting everything she had seen.
Shivering, she slipped through the back door and into the darkened kitchen. The house was quiet. No one else had woken.
Cass made her way upstairs to her room. She pulled her shutters closed with a bang, triple checking the latch to make sure it was secure. Then she went from candle to candle, lighting them all, as though she could burn away the horrible images in her head. She had had enough of the dark.
She writhed inside her torn and soggy dress, yanking at laces and buttons until the garment fell from her body to the floor of her bedroom. Cass stared at the shredded fabric. Destroyed. Like her life. Like everything. She sank into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. She couldn't stop shaking. Cass fought the urge to vomit. She had fallen in love with a monster. He could have killed her.
She glanced up at the portrait of the Virgin Mary. The woman looked back from her frame without judgment, but also without answers. Tears came, hot and fast. Cass curled onto her side, pressing her chin to her knees. She began to sob. Her insides felt like they were being crushed from all directions. Bones breaking. Her heart, squeezed to dust.
24
In the morning, thin beams of light filtered through cracks in the shutters. The candles had long ago burned to useless nubs.
