by Fiona Paul
“Signorina? Are you all right?”
Cass looked up. The silhouette of a man stood in the doorway. Undoubtedly, the handsome house physician. He didn’t sound young, though. Maybe the gossiping hags from tea had been exaggerating.
“It’s my head,” she said. “It’s pounding. Is there something I can take for it?”
As the man came closer, his features began to sharpen. Cass dug her fingernails into the armrest of her chair. Her stomach plummeted, and for a second she thought she might faint.
It was the man from the terrible workshop in Venice, the place where she and Falco had discovered the tin basins filled with dismembered body parts. It was Angelo de Gradi.
He had followed her to Florence.
“Nature works in circles. Trees lure prey and hide predators. Predators leave behind carcasses so that they might be absorbed into the soil and feed the trees.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
eighteen
She recoiled in her chair. “What do you want?” she asked. De Gradi was blocking the doorway entirely. She looked around for an alternate escape route.
He stared at Cass. Deep lines formed in his tall forehead. “I was told a woman had taken ill. I’m a doctor.” He took a step toward her, narrowing his eyes. “Have we met before, Signorina… ?”
“I’m better now, thanks,” Cass said quickly, without giving her name. She jumped up and pushed roughly past de Gradi and out into the corridor. She needed to find Madalena.
Halfway down the corridor, Cass glanced over her shoulder. De Gradi wasn’t following her. She had never been officially introduced to the man who collected body parts and also served as Signor Dubois’s physician, but she had thought certainly that he knew of her and the trouble she had tried to cause for Dubois at Madalena’s wedding. Could it possibly be a coincidence that he was here, now, in Florence?
Cass fled back to the portego, which had grown even more crowded now that the sun had set and several guests had come inside from the garden. She didn’t see Madalena anywhere. Ribbons of smoke billowing from the tall red candles in the windowsill stung her eyes. She blinked hard.
Even in the dim lighting, the dresses and doublets of those in attendance glimmered like precious stones—bright sapphires and rubies spinning around the room. Cass’s headache hadn’t gone away, and the jumping flames and whirling colors weren’t helping. Worse, the candle smoke was melding with the scent of sweat and perfume, almost making her gag. She needed fresh air. She had to get out of the villa.
She’d just step outside onto the lawn. She knew she should find Siena and ask for company, but it wasn’t as if she were going to wander far.
Descending the spiral staircase to the first floor, Cass saw a pair of lanterns and a box of tinder on a table just inside the door. She lit one of the lanterns and slipped out into the night, following the walkway of stepping-stones that led across Belladonna’s lawn. The sky was full of stars, and she could just barely see the outline of another villa off to the west. It was late, and there was no candlelight glowing from its windows. Whoever lived there was likely tucked safely into bed.
There were other villas across the main road: tall houses of marble and stone that flanked the little church, which sat nestled back from the street. Still, they looked plain in comparison to Villa Briani’s splendor.
Cass stood in the grass, inhaling deeply. She was grateful for the occasional wisp of wind that blew through the damp curls at the nape of her neck. The pounding in her head was fading away.
She was surprisingly unafraid, all alone, wrapped in the starry darkness. The trees, the flowers, even the elaborately manicured hedges cast soft shadows in the light of her flickering lantern. Cass realized she hadn’t had the nightmare about Cristian since leaving Venice. She didn’t know if it was the change of scenery or the reappearance of Falco that had driven away those terrible nightly visions. Either way, she was grateful.
She glanced back at the front door of the villa. Was it possible Angelo de Gradi honestly didn’t know who she was?
Cass shook her head at her own stupidity. She had panicked for nothing. There was no reason for de Gradi to recognize her on sight. She had never given him her name at Dubois’s masquerade ball, and it wasn’t as if he could have identified her beneath the starling mask. He had no idea she knew so much about his activities in Venice, that he was paying peasant boys to steal bodies from graves and then dismembering the corpses in his Castello workshop.
But what was the corpse collector doing in Florence if he hadn’t followed her here? Dubois was still in Venice—as far as Cass knew. Had de Gradi come here on business for the Frenchman? Or was he working for Belladonna now?
Maybe Venice had run out of dead. Between the scourge of “vampires” in Florence and the persistence of the plague, there was certainly no shortage of fresh corpses here.
An idea occurred to her: Falco had undoubtedly crossed paths with de Gradi during Belladonna’s birthday party since the two were former business associates. He had to know why the physician was in Florence. Cass resolved to ask him.
Then she thought of the paintings he had made for Belladonna, and her headache came pounding back.
Something rustled in a grove of trees that ran along the northern edge of the property. Cass turned toward the noise, nearly dropping her lantern as a deer materialized from the inky blackness. It ambled to the edge of the lawn and bent down to nibble at the base of a freshly clipped hedge. Cass stifled a laugh. Belladonna seemed so protective of her plants. Eating them was probably not permitted.
“I won’t tell,” Cass said out loud. She had never seen a deer before, and she was spellbound, mesmerized by the graceful creature.
The deer raised its head and looked at her. Just for a moment. Then it turned, shaking its white tail as it loped back toward the wooded area.
“Wait!” Cass cried out. She took a small step forward. She wanted to admire the deer some more, to rest a hand on its flanks.
There! The deer paused at the edge of the trees, watching her from one deep brown eye. As she drew near, it turned and fled into the patch of darkness. Cass raised her lantern and stepped into the trees, careful to stick to the small path that had been cut amidst them.
Feathery branches brushed against her dress. The blackness fell around her like a curtain. Her lantern sliced away only the tiniest sliver of night, but Cass sensed that the deer was gone. She turned around to head back to the party.
And then she saw the eyes.
Yellow ones. Shining like copper pieces in the dark. Not one pair. Three. They were moving. Circling between her and the safety of Villa Briani.
Something growled, a deep throaty noise. She backed away slowly, farther into the darkness. The yellow eyes followed her. A snarl. The sound of snapping teeth. Cass resisted the urge to run. She didn’t know what the eyes belonged to—dogs or something much worse—but anything on four feet would easily outrun her if she tried to flee.
She continued backing slowly away from the animals, clutching her lantern as if it were a weapon. The trees thinned out, and Cass could see by the moonlight what was hunting her.
Wild dogs. The leader, deep gray, had its hackles raised and its sharp white teeth bared. Two lighter dogs, more brown in color, crouched low behind it.
Her heart beat painfully in her throat. The dogs were blocking her path back to the party. The closest neighboring villa was dark. Would anyone even answer if Cass made it to the front door without being attacked? Quickly, she considered other options. The chapel was across the road, just beyond a short stretch of meadow, and church doors were always unlocked. She inched her way backward, careful not to move too quickly. She must not let them know she was scared; she must not let them think she was prey.
The leader of the pack snarled again. The other dogs advanced. Cass knew she was running out of time. The animals were flanking her on both sides now. Any second they would attack. If she surprised them, could she possibly make
it across the meadow to the church before one of them closed its jaws around the back of her neck? Three more steps, then four. The little chapel was so close…
Just then, she noticed a change in the gray dog’s posture. It was crouched lower, as if it were getting ready to—
The dog propelled its muscular body into the air. For a second, its dark underbelly obscured the moon. Cass’s breath turned to glass. She flung her lantern at the dog. The metal bounced harmlessly off its hindquarters and the candle inside went out. But the dog, distracted by the fire, landed clumsily several feet from its target.
Cass was already running for the church doors. Damp grass tugged at her ankles. Without realizing it, she had started to scream. She heard snarling behind her. Panting. She could almost feel jagged white teeth nipping at her ankles. She launched herself at the arched wooden door, slamming into it with full force. It didn’t open.
No. Impossible. She banged violently on the door, but no one answered. The skin on her knuckles split. Where was the priest? Who had locked the door? Why couldn’t anyone hear her?
The gray dog lunged at her again. This time, all Cass could do was shield her face with her arm.
Sharp teeth gouged her flesh. She cried out in pain, balling her other hand into a fist and lashing out at the dog. Her hand connected with the side of its head and it released her with a yelp. Hot blood soaked the sleeve of her dress. Spots floated before her eyes, and then all she saw was the bristled underbelly of another dog. Jaws snapped shut around the biceps of her left arm. The first dog lunged again. Cass screamed as loudly as she could, the kind of scream that would have drawn fathers and soldiers and maybe God himself if any of them had been in attendance.
No one came.
The blood continued to darken her dress, and the summer air turned to ice.
The night went gray. Cass thought she saw Luca’s face floating above her head. His soft brown eyes considered her gently. No, it wasn’t Luca. It was Falco who looked down at her. The faces merged and mingled. Luca. Falco. Luca. Falco. And then the face became someone else’s entirely.
Someone else’s eyes. Someone else’s lips telling Cass to stay awake, stay awake, stay awake.
Cass reached toward the face, but her hand closed around air, as if it were only a mirage looking down at her. Her breath caught in her throat. The face, the night sky, and the world slowly faded into nothingness.
“The bite of a dog has been known to cause fevers, madness, and death.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
nineteen
Reality returned in fragments. Cass’s vision was hazy. She tried to rub her eyes, but couldn’t. Both wrists were bound at her sides, and her left arm was throbbing. She thrashed, trying to free herself. White-hot pain surged through her, stealing away her breath.
She lay still, panting, trying to piece together what had happened, where she was. Memories teased at her consciousness: the dogs, their teeth sinking into her flesh, the warm blood soaking through her gown.
Bulky bandages now covered her left shoulder to her wrist. She tugged at her hands again, more gently, trying to work her right one through the circle of twisted cloth that tethered her to the bed.
“Help.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Help!”
A figure moved toward her, blurry in the dark. “Grazie a Dio, you’re awake,” a man said. “I feared you had lost too much blood.”
His voice sounded familiar but Cass couldn’t place it. “Why have you tied me up like an animal?” She wrestled against her bonds again. “I demand that you free me this instant.”
“Calm down, Signorina,” the man said. He bent closer, leaning into the light.
Cass’s muscles went rigid. It was the doctor she had met at Palazzo della Notte. Her eyes flicked down to his hand. His fingers were currently bare, but he had worn the ring of the Eternal Rose the night she met him, hadn’t he? Her head was full of jagged thoughts, her whole life up to that moment a shattered mirror. Suddenly, Cass didn’t feel certain of anything.
“I am Piero Basso, Belladonna’s house physician.” He nimbly undid the knots holding Cass’s wrists down at her sides. If he recognized her, he made no sign of it. “You were delirious, screaming about the Devil, clawing at your own face. That is why I bound your hands.”
He massaged each of her wrists, and her skin stung as blood surged back into them. Leaning over, he lit an additional taper, and as he did, his features came even more into focus. It had been dark at that wicked party and Cass hadn’t seen much of him, except to notice the little things—his hair, his smile, his catlike movement—that reminded her of Falco. As he hovered just above her face for a moment, she saw that his skin was even darker than Falco’s—a deep bronze color that she had seen only on people from the southernmost islands of the Venetian Republic. Perhaps he was from Crete, or one of the tiny islets in the Aegean Sea. His hair was dark, almost black. And he had eyes to match—like two pieces of shining obsidian, so dark that Cass couldn’t tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began.
She raised her head, ignoring the pain that throbbed just behind her eyes as she did. The room was small and dark. Thick curtains obscured the windows, so Cass had no idea what time it was. The bed was soft, though, and the blankets were comfortable. A velvet canopy was stretched above her, with flaps tied back on the corners that could be loosened for privacy.
Piero had crossed the room to the washing table just inside the door. He was stirring something in a metal cup. At Palazzo della Notte, he had mentioned working for a woman who demanded a physician day and night. Cass had assumed it was someone chronically ill, like her aunt. But if Signorina Briani was sick, she certainly didn’t show it. Where had Piero been when Cass had her headache in the library? Why had de Gradi been the one to tend to her?
“How are you feeling now, Signorina?” Piero asked. “Are you still having visions?”
Cass didn’t remember any visions. She just remembered retreating down the wooded path, running from the dogs. She remembered the church, the locked door, and the teeth ripping into her arm. And then the blood.
“You found me outside the church?” she asked.
Piero nodded.
“How?”
“I had come into the garden to take a break from the dancing.” Piero handed the metal cup to her. Cass looked dubiously at the cloudy gray liquid. It looked like something the servants used to clean the silver. “For pain,” he explained. Piero took her left hand in his. “I heard you screaming,” he said. “Like the Devil himself was chasing you.” He bent her arm just slightly to examine her bandage. Pain shot through her, stabbing, racing from her fingertips to her breastbone.
Cass bit her lip to keep from crying out. She downed the medicine in one gulp. “Is my arm all right?”
“I had to repair one of the vessels,” he said. “But I couldn’t close the wound entirely. It will need to stay bandaged for a while.”
“What do you mean, couldn’t close it?” she asked. She couldn’t help but imagine the mangled flesh that lay beneath the dressing. Torn skin, exposed bone.
“Wild dogs carry all kinds of sickness,” Piero said. “To sew closed your wound would mean locking that sickness deep inside your flesh. Once the sickness drains out, the wound will heal on its own.” He tossed his hair back from his face.
Caspita. He looked like Falco when he did that. Or maybe she was just delirious. Cass closed her eyes.
“It could take some time, I’m afraid,” Piero continued. “A week or more.”
Cass opened her eyes again, startled. “What?” She couldn’t lie in bed for a week. Luca was depending on her.
Piero nodded. His dark eyes cut straight through her like steel spikes. “Was it only dogs that attacked you?” he asked gently.
“What do you mean, only dogs?”
“Some people believe that vampires can take many different forms.”
“They were dogs,” she said curtly. Why was
all of Florence so eager to accuse women of consorting with vampires?
Piero nodded. “I believe this is yours.” He held up a dusty silver necklace. Her lily. “Lovely flower. How fitting.”
Cass’s hand went to her throat. “It must have fallen off,” she said.
Piero polished the necklace on one of his cuffs. Wordlessly, he reached behind her and fastened the pendant around her neck. “Rest now. I need to attend to my mistress, but I’ll be back soon to check on you.”
“Is the party still going on?” Cass settled back against the pillows.
Piero smiled. “It is afternoon. You have been asleep for fifteen hours.”
Fifteen hours! Madalena and Siena must be frantic. “I came to the party with my friend, Signora Madalena Cavazza,” Cass said. “Does she know where I am?”
“She was informed of your injury last night. She and your handmaid wanted to stay with you, but Signorina Briani persuaded them to return home. They could have done no good here, weeping and trembling at your bedside. But I’ll have Signor Mafei send word to them that you’ve awakened.”
“She’s staying with her aunt. Palazzo Alioni, just off the Piazza del Mercato Vecchio.”
Piero smiled again. “Yes. She made certain that I knew. Can I have the staff bring you anything? Some food? Something to drink, perhaps?”
Cass hadn’t realized how dry her mouth was. Her whole throat felt like it was coated with dust. “I’m very thirsty,” she admitted. “It’s quite warm in here, isn’t it?”
Piero shook his head. “You’re suffering from fevers. I’ll have someone bring you something to drink.”
* * *
Several minutes later, a tiny blonde girl, who might have been Siena’s younger sister, brought Cass a goblet of ale. “I’ll just leave the pitcher here on the table,” the servant said, curtsying quickly. She scurried out of the room like she was afraid that whatever affliction Cass had was contagious.
