Starling

by Fiona Paul

  But she might get only one chance to escape. As much as she wanted to leap from the ground and press her hands to the guard’s neck until he collapsed, now was not the time. She needed to wait until the circumstances favored her.

  The voices grew louder, and Cass thought she heard the sounds of a scuffle. With one hand on his club, the guard ducked low and hurried out of the room. He returned a moment later, dragging a man behind him.

  The man’s hair hung low to obscure his face, but even in the dwindling candlelight Cass recognized him immediately.

  “A broken spirit will proceed calmly to its own demise.”

  —THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

  sixteen

  Falco,” Cass whispered. She pushed the tray of bread and ale away and crawled toward the front of her cell.

  He looked up, and Cass could see he’d been beaten. His left eye was swelling, and his lips were leaking blood. Her heart wrenched open.

  “Hello, starling,” he said. “Nice to see you again.”

  The guard tossed Falco into the cell on the other side of hers. He teetered dangerously and then flailed at the cell bars, attempting to hold on to them for balance. His hand barely brushed the steel before he collapsed onto the floor in a heap. Groaning, he rolled onto his side so that he was facing Cass.

  She turned away to look at Piero and the guard. “What did you do to him?”

  “We gave him a proper beating,” Piero said. “I would have killed him, but I suspect Bella will want to do that herself.”

  Piero watched with pleasure as Cass reached her hands through the bars, trying to wipe away the blood leaking from Falco’s mouth.

  “I love a happy reunion.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “Bella’s going to be devastated. Now who will paint her pictures?”

  “I’ll paint pictures of both of your corpses,” Falco muttered.

  “Bold words for a man who can’t even stand.” Piero ducked out of the room with the guard trailing behind him.

  “Cass.” Falco reached out for her hand. “Will you ever forgive me? All this time you were right—about everything.”

  He was still lying on his side. His shirt was torn and his left forearm had a long scratch down the front of it. His fingernails were cracked and bloody. If only he had believed her sooner.

  “It’s all right,” Cass said. “There’s nothing to forgive.” She folded Falco’s fingers in her own, trying not to notice the smears of his blood rubbing off onto her skin. “How did you end up here?”

  “After you sent me away from your room at the brothel, I went to a taverna, where I overheard that a man called Giovanni de Fiore had accused Joseph Dubois of conspiracy, heresy, and murder. I talked to a few people and realized his daughter had been executed for consorting with vampires and that he thought Dubois was behind the arrest.”

  Giovanni de Fiore was a bit of a recluse, but he was also a very wealthy nobleman. If he was brave enough to accuse Dubois, the Senate and Doge might listen. Cass could only pray that he had proof to back up his suspicions. It was the first piece of hopeful news she’d heard in days.

  “It seemed very close to the executions in Florence,” Falco said. “A bit of a coincidence that the vampire-mania arrived in Venice at the same time Belladonna did. I went back to Palazzo Dolce to find you and inform you of what I’d learned, but I found your room in ruins and realized you must have been attacked. I tore the entire city apart searching for you, Cass, but no one had seen you. So then I started checking all of the places that were connected to the Order of the Eternal Rose.” He shook his head. “I didn’t really expect you to be here. Where’s my old friend de Gradi? Still in Florence?”

  “He’s dead,” Cass said, frowning. Falco’s story sounded good, but she was still carrying Luca’s words around in her head. Are you really so naïve . . . What if Falco was involved? What if his being beaten and imprisoned was just a ruse? Maybe Piero had believed her when she said she had the book and lied about it being recovered. Maybe they had paid Falco handily to beat him, to place him in a cell next to her to find out where she supposedly had hidden it.

  “How long have you been here? How did they find you?” Falco asked.

  “You led Piero right to me,” Cass said. “After you left my room, he showed up. He tried to drug me. I ran away, spent the night in the Ghetto. The next day I arranged to meet Feliciana. She was going to help me sneak into Palazzo Dubois, but our gondola was ambushed. I woke up here. I don’t even know if she’s all right. She might have drowned.”

  “Mi dispiace, Cass,” Falco said. “I didn’t realize I was being followed. You know I would never put you in harm’s way, right?”

  “Of course,” Cass said. But inside she still wasn’t sure.

  Falco rolled over onto his back. “You don’t sound very convinced. Can’t you see I just got pummeled trying to save you? Santo cielo, Cassandra. I asked you to marry me! Would I have done that if I was secretly plotting against you?”

  Cass had almost forgotten about Falco’s impulsive proposal. “About that,” she started.

  He chuckled, and then clutched at his ribs again. “Put it out of your mind. It was wrong of me to pressure you.” He paused. “But my feelings for you are—they always have been—sincere, and I insist that you recognize that.”

  Cass sighed. “I’m having a bit of trouble trusting anyone these days,” she said. “I want to believe you, but you always seem to be around whenever the Order is. How do you explain that?”

  Falco gingerly palpated his jaw. “Bad luck?” he offered.

  “And perhaps it would help if you weren’t always lying to everyone about everything,” she said. “Have you ever thought about telling the truth?”

  “I did that some when I was younger. It always seemed to get me in trouble, though.”

  Cass felt her lips curve upward, despite the situation. “You’re impossible,” she said. She broke her loaf of bread into two pieces and passed half of it through the bars to Falco. “Here. Eat something.”

  “And you’re mad,” Falco groaned, accepting the bread. “You should have run when you had the chance. Both you and your fiancé.”

  Cass couldn’t bring herself to tell Falco that Luca had broken off their engagement. She sipped her ale and looked down at the damp floor.

  “I’ve made you sad again.” Falco swallowed a chunk of bread and then curled back on his side, wincing as his ribs came in contact with the hard floor. His hair fell in front of one eye. “What is it, starling?”

  “Nothing you can fix, unfortunately.” Cass was seized by the urge to brush Falco’s hair back from his face, and then immediately consumed by guilt at the realization that even broken and bleeding, and perhaps having betrayed her, something about Falco was still enticing.

  But perhaps that was just how things were supposed to be. She had always believed that pledging herself to someone meant that other men would cease to exist—that love was a wall that would keep out the rest of the world. Maybe that was naïve. Maybe there would be no wall unless she built it. Or maybe love wasn’t about barriers at all, but rather about choices people made, giving up one thing to secure another.

  “It’s difficult to believe,” Falco murmured.

  “What is?” Cass asked.

  “That even damp, torn, and tangled you could still be so beautiful.”

  Another smile played at her lips. “You and your sweet words,” she said. “I’m sure I look dreadful.”

  “Who’s there?” Minerva mumbled. “Who are you talking to?”

  Falco recoiled slightly. Clearly he hadn’t realized that he and Cass were not alone.

  “She’s a courtesan,” Cass explained. “They’ve been stealing her blood.”

  Minerva grasped one of the bars and pulled herself to a sitting position. Her dark hair was matted down on one side from where she’d slept on it. />
  “Are you all right?” Cass asked. “I thought he’d taken too much . . .”

  “I’m so tired . . . but I heard voices,” Minerva said. “Or perhaps I was dreaming . . .”

  “No. You’re awake, but you should rest more,” Cass told her. “We all should. I’ll tell you all about my friend here in the morning. The three of us, together, can figure out a way to escape.”

  Minerva smiled faintly. “Escape,” she murmured, to no one in particular.

  Cass lay back on the floor of the cell and wrapped her blanket around herself. They hadn’t even given Falco a blanket. “Do you want my cloak?” she offered.

  “You keep it,” he said. “I doubt I’ll be able to get much sleep anyway.”

  “Tomorrow we escape,” Minerva said. Her voice sounded dreamy and hopeful.

  Cass thought once again of breaking Luca out of his watery prison in the Palazzo Ducale. She would figure out a way to escape Belladonna. She just had to remain calm and wait for the right opportunity. She envisioned herself with the guard’s keys, freeing Falco and Minerva. She saw the three of them running for the front door of the workshop, escaping out into the warm summer air. The image comforted her. She held fast to it as she went to sleep.

  ~

  She awoke to heavy footsteps and loud voices. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she saw Belladonna standing outside the cells, her arms folded across her chest, her face a mask of pain.

  Piero stood next to her, his dark hair tucked back behind his ears. He looked almost gleeful as he began detailing Falco’s betrayal. “When I first heard the noise, I figured it was a rat or a leper pawing through a trash heap in the alley.” He gave Falco an appraising look as if to indicate his assessment had been mostly correct.

  Belladonna’s eyes narrowed almost to slits as Piero continued. “I heard the sound again, coming from one of the rooms at the front of the workshop. When I went to investigate, I saw Falco had pulled the boards away from the window and broken the glass. I watched him slither inside like a snake,” Piero said, pausing to let Belladonna’s anger build. “And then I ambushed him.”

  Belladonna shook her head slowly. “I cannot believe after all I have done for you that you would dare to interfere in my business,” she said. “And for what?” She gestured at Cass. “This criminal? Please tell me she is not the reason you have so coyly spurned my advances. Do you know what she will look like when she is my age?”

  “At least I won’t be a monster,” Cass said.

  “Do not be so certain,” Belladonna shot back.

  Falco blinked his eyes sleepily as if the commotion had only just awakened him. He struggled to clear his throat. “There’s been some sort of confusion, I fear,” he said a bit breathlessly. “Although it’s true that I know Signorina Caravello, I came here looking for you, Signorina Briani. When no one answered the door, I feared you might be in danger, so I tried to break in.” He gripped one side of his rib cage as if the mere act of speaking put him in great pain.

  Belladonna’s lips tightened into a hard line. “And why would you fear I was in danger, Signore?”

  “I’d heard rumors of vampires in this area,” Falco said. “Vampires that prey on beautiful women.”

  “He lies,” Piero exclaimed. “Every word that spills from his lips is a falsehood.”

  But Cass was impressed. Falco managed to speak of vampires with a straight face. He sounded wounded and confused. He sounded utterly convincing.

  But Belladonna wasn’t convinced. “And how did you know you could find me here?” she asked. Her fingers toyed with a chain around her neck.

  Falco faltered for a moment. “I—I’m sure someone must have told me. One of your servants, perhaps.”

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t bring any servants to Venice with me, unless you count Dottor Basso.” Her eyes narrowed. Next to her, Piero stiffened slightly at being referred to as a servant. “And something tells me he wasn’t the one who informed you of my location,” she finished.

  “Perhaps I overheard you speaking at Donna Domacetti’s,” Falco said.

  Belladonna shook her head. She was finished listening to his lies. Any spell he had once had over her was broken. “I saw possibilities in you that obviously were never there. That surprises me, as I am not wrong about many.”

  Falco opened his mouth to speak again, but Piero cut him off.

  “What should I do with him, Bella?” Piero asked.

  “Drain him,” Belladonna said. “Make her watch.”

  Minerva whimpered from the next cell. Belladonna stopped suddenly. Her feline eyes settled on the cowering girl. “Even better. Drain her, and make both of them watch. Let them witness how their actions have brought about another’s demise.” She turned back to Falco, who had given up all pretense of being loyal to her. His face twisted into a mask of disgust. “Let’s keep him,” Belladonna continued. “My father thought only female blood could be recombined to create pure samples of the fifth humor, but we’ve never tested male Venetian blood. Who knows what sort of humors lurk beneath his skin?” She gave Falco a long look before spinning on her heel. She paused at the doorway. “Don’t forget to document what you extract,” she told Piero. “And insert your notes into the book.”

  The book! Cass’s heart quickened. So Piero was telling the truth. It was back in Belladonna’s possession.

  Piero unlocked the door to Minerva’s cage and slipped inside. He grabbed her forcefully and yanked her from the cage. Minerva didn’t even struggle.

  Piero sat her in the chair and began to fasten the straps around her wrists. Minerva’s eyes blinked open. She stared straight ahead at Cass. No, through Cass. It was like her soul had abandoned her, like she wasn’t human anymore. Like she was just a vessel filled with blood to be harvested.

  “You will hang for this,” Falco promised, his eyes hard as steel.

  Piero ignored him. He turned to the small table and arranged his supplies neatly. Strips of cloth. The porcelain bowl. The glass syringe with the silver needle. A quill, some ink, a piece of parchment.

  “Minerva,” Cass shouted. She clapped her hands, but Minerva didn’t even flinch. “Fight. Kick him. Do something.” Desperately Cass rooted around her dark cell, her fingers prying up pieces of broken stone and flinging them through the bars.

  The small slivers of rock bounced harmlessly off Piero’s legs and midsection.

  “Signorina Cassandra,” he said. “I do appreciate your spirit.” Piero removed an amber vial from his pocket and held it beneath Minerva’s nose. Her head slumped as she fell into unconsciousness. Piero curled his palm around the glass syringe and pushed Minerva’s hair back over her shoulders.

  Cass bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood. She couldn’t bear it. Why was God allowing Minerva to suffer like this?

  Falco reached through the bars and touched her arm. “Starling, turn away,” he said. “We don’t have to watch this.”

  But Cass needed to watch it. She needed to witness the true horror of the Order of the Eternal Rose.

  Slowly and methodically, Piero began to pull the blood from Minerva’s neck. The porcelain bowl became full. Cass could only stare at it in despair as Piero left the room and returned with a silvery chalice. He emptied the bowl into the chalice and continued to draw blood. Cass could almost feel Minerva dying, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

  She prayed Minerva would not awaken, but she stared straight at the girl’s closed eyes in case she did. Cass didn’t want her to die alone.

  It took less than half an hour for Piero to remove an entire chalice of Minerva’s blood. By then, her skin had taken on a pallor, and her body was starting to slide from the chair.

  Her body.

  Piero swished a small amount of blood around in the bottom of the porcelain bowl. He dipped one finger in, held it close to the candle’s flame, and
then brought his hand to his lips to taste the blood. Dipping his quill into the pot of ink, he scribbled a few lines on the piece of parchment.

  He carried the chalice out of the room, and when he returned, it was empty. Picking up his syringe, he turned back to Minerva’s neck.

  Great choking sobs emanated from deep inside Cass. She didn’t try to swallow them back. She didn’t care if Piero saw, if Belladonna heard. Watching a girl die, slowly, at the hands of a madman. This was a despair unlike any she had ever known. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she thought of the fallen ones. Mariabella. Sophia. All the girls in Florence accused of consorting with vampires. Siena. The courtesan called Tessa. And now Minerva. So many senseless deaths because of the Order.

  Belladonna glided back into the room, her lips curling up into a smile when she saw the chalice of blood grow full again.

  Piero laid his syringe down on top of his notes. “It’s done,” he said.

  Minerva was ghost-gray now, her chin resting against her chest so that Cass could see the pale part running through her dark hair. Her fingers were gently curled, her body completely still.

  “I will make you pay,” Cass said between her sobs. “Both of you. All of you.”

  Belladonna rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Signorina Cassandra. So a few undesirable women have to die so that the most powerful and learned people across the land can live forever. So what? If you could control that overeager sense of right and wrong, you would see that science requires sacrifice. You could work with us and live forever too.”

  Piero undid the straps, and Minerva’s lifeless body tumbled to the damp ground. “A little help?” he called. The guard appeared through the doorway, bent down, and grabbed Minerva’s legs. Piero wrapped his arms around her torso, and the two men carried her flaccid form out of the room.

  “Undesirable?” Cass asked. “She was someone’s daughter. She was—”