“We don’t want the job,” Nico said. “We just want to be done with this. I want my body back.”
Volpe did not reply, and yet again Nico had the impression the magician was shielding his thoughts, hiding something.
He went through the door that led down to the Chamber of Ten. The light from Petrarch’s library reached half a dozen steps into his descent and, below, electric lantern light shone through the place where there had been a stone door engraved with the Roman numeral X, but there was a stretch of darkness in between and he put his fingers on the cold, damp walls to guide him as he continued downward.
Whispers drifted up to him. He could not make out the words.
Volpe did.
The idiot. What is she doing? Turn around, damn you! Go back up!
“Who? I thought you said they weren’t here yet?”
It’s not the Doges. It’s your damned woman, meddling with dark rites she hasn’t the power to—
“Geena?” Nico called, continuing toward the light at the bottom of the stairs.
Turn around! Volpe shouted in his mind.
Nico felt the magician surging forward within him, taking control of his limbs. His arms were tugged, his body twisted, and the puppeteer inside of him began to turn on the stairs.
No! Nico fought him, thinking only of Geena, trusting her, knowing that whatever she had planned it meant he had to bring Volpe to the Chamber of Ten as she’d asked.
For just a second, he wrested control of his body back. Then Volpe shunted him out again, but now he was off balance. His foot slipped on a step and he fell in a tangle of arms and legs, spilling down the stone stairs and then sprawling through the vacant doorway into the inch or so of water that covered the floor.
He’d struck his head. Disoriented, Volpe tried to get Nico’s body off the ground, drawing his knees up beneath him. The whispers had risen to a determined incantation and Volpe looked over to see Geena kneeling nearby, using a chunk of the broken wall as a table. A lantern stood upon it, illuminating the sigils she had scrawled on the rock, and other things as well. Nico saw them now and understood—the hand of a soldier, the seal of the master of the city, The Book of the Nameless, and a long knife.
Her eyes were wide, her hair wild, beads of sweat on her forehead. She launched herself toward him like a madwoman, the blade glittering in the lantern light. Fear crashed over Nico, but it was not his own.
“No, you stupid bitch, you—”
Geena kicked him onto his side. He tried to raise his hands to defend himself, tried to scramble away, but she was too fast, too savage. The blade hacked into the meat of his forearm, blood spattering the thin layer of water.
Instantly she retreated, racing to the book and lantern and the ritual symbols she had drawn on the broken stone. She looked at the open pages and started in with the incantation again. Nico struggled within Volpe—he had wrested control once and knew he must be able to do it again—but the bastard was too strong.
You fool! Volpe thought. You let her see the entire ritual through your eyes.
You’d never have given me back my body. You’d never have left us alone.
That remains to be seen, Volpe replied.
Trapped within his own body, Nico could not even cry out as Geena used the knife on her own palm. Seconds later she began to flick her wrist, spattering blood off of the knife in a complex pattern around the Chamber. The lantern light flickered.
Volpe began to laugh, rising slowly to his feet.
Geena looked up in panic.
What are you going to do? Nico thought.
Volpe let the pain of the knife wound through and Nico groaned, but the bastard did not give up control of the flesh.
“Dear Geena,” Volpe said. “You’re adorable, really. You had me worried for a moment. I thought you might actually know what you’re doing.”
Geena glared at him, fearless and full of venom. “You think I don’t know what you’re talking about? The Repulsion and Expulsion ritual only works if the banished is already outside the city. You’ve got to be out before I can keep you out. But guess what, Zanco? You are outside the city. Last night, I had my friend Domenic scrape what was left of your black heart—all that’s left of your dead husk—off the floor. He’s removed it from Venice.”
Defiantly she stood and flicked the knife three times more, thrice repeating the last words of the incantation.
Volpe let his shoulders slump, let his eyelids flutter.
“Nico?” Geena asked, and the hope in her voice broke his heart. She dropped the knife and rushed toward him.
No. No, stop! Nico shouted. He raged against Volpe, clawed at the magician’s very soul, forced himself upward, and took control just long enough to work his own lips, his own tongue.
“… didn’t … work … still here …” he slurred.
Geena staggered to a halt, confusion in her eyes. Volpe dropped the act and reached out to grab her by the throat. He slapped her hard enough that the sound echoed off the walls of the Chamber of Ten, off the three stone columns in the center of the room, off those ten obelisks that housed the remains of the men who had been loyal to Volpe and who had murdered him at his own behest.
“My heart may no longer be in Venice, but I am still here,” Volpe snarled. “I’m right here in front of you. If you understood the first thing about spellcraft, you might have managed to bind my soul to my heart and then your foolish gambit would have worked. Why the Spirit of Venezia chose the two of you to be its next Oracles is baffling to me.”
Oracles. The two of us?
Geena tried to speak, tried to claw at the fingers cutting off her air, but she couldn’t get the words out.
Nico was the one who answered: Volpe thinks the city has chosen us both, that we’re both Oracles.
You will be one day, but only if you live, Volpe replied. Now listen to me, young fools. You were never in any danger from me. He shoved Geena away and she splashed to the floor, gasping.
“I hope you have a better plan for dealing with Foscari and Aretino, Dr. Hodge, because they’re nearly here.”
A soft, chuffing laughter filled the Chamber and the lantern light flickered in time with it. Volpe and Geena both spun around and Nico saw the Doges and their hired killers stepping into the Chamber.
“‘Nearly’?” Aretino asked. “You’re slipping, Volpe.”
Foscari licked his lips, glancing from Geena to Nico and back. “A lovers’ quarrel. And we’re just in time. Please don’t let us interrupt. We’ll happily watch you murder each other.”
Wearing Nico’s body, Volpe glanced at Geena. Something passed between them—among them, all three.
Geena smiled. “It can wait until the two of you are as dead as Caravello.”
“You’d betray us?” Foscari asked, feigning insult.
“I kept my part of the bargain,” she said. “I brought you Volpe.”
“Yes, thank you,” Aretino said, nodding to her in gratitude. Then he glanced at his hired killers—the slim man in his gray suit and the blond woman were in front—and gestured at her with a flourish of his hand.
“My friends, if you’d be so kind. Kill her.”
XVIII
I HAD TO try, Geena thought.
Nico’s reply did not come in words but in an outpouring of anguished love. As she stared at the two mad Doges and their hired killers, at cold eyes and gun barrels, she knew that she was about to die. Aretino and the depraved Foscari had not waited for dawn. Her only regret was that Nico would die with her, and that he would die with Volpe still inside of him. She’d tried to drive the magician out, thinking it was her only chance to free the man she loved, the only opportunity to prevent Volpe from claiming his body forever.
The Doges had to be stopped, but she’d told herself that she and Nico could do it. They’d already killed one of the ancient lunatics. It could be done. She’d been taking huge risks, flying by the seat of her pants, relying on hope and the way fate seemed to have been runni
ng her way … as if the city itself was on their side. And if Volpe was right, and she and Nico were meant to become the new Oracles of Venice, maybe it had been. But now her luck had run out.
She hadn’t expected so many guns.
“My friends, if you’d be so kind,” Aretino said. “Kill her.”
Nico moved to block the killers’ aim—or was it Volpe, wearing Nico’s body? Would the magician do that for her? Surely not, and yet …
He stood straighter, his head slightly cocked, and she knew that if she could have seen his face his features would have changed in that subtle way that told her who looked out from those eyes at any given moment. He had fooled her once, but this was no performance. This was Zanco Volpe.
The Doges knew it, too. Geena could see it in their eyes.
“You were fools to come back,” Volpe said, speaking with Nico’s lips, protecting her. “I will never allow you to uncap the well. Akylis’ evil has caused enough strife in my city. Venice will be tainted no further.”
Foscari laughed. “We’ve been waiting for this moment, Volpe. Now it has finally come, do you think there is anything that would have kept us away?”
The killers paused a moment, glancing back and forth between Aretino and Volpe, unsure.
Geena cast a glance at the granite disk set into the floor perhaps twenty feet away from her. She had risked so much. If her risk led to the release of that evil, to the fate that the Doges had in store for Venice and the world, she would never forgive herself.
But once exposed to the full power of Akylis’ evil, would she even care? The thought made her sick.
Aretino shook his head almost sadly. “Honestly, Zanco. You’ve been out of the world for centuries. You’re nothing but a ghost.”
“I am far more than a ghost,” Volpe snapped.
Geena glanced around quickly and spotted the bloodstained knife on the stone floor. She measured the distance in her mind, wondering if she could reach it and make it to cover behind an obelisk before bullets cut her down. But there was no way. It would be suicide.
“Venice is ours,” Foscari said, preening. “The fullness of Akylis’ power will be ours. Whatever power you had is nothing to us now. If you still had a shred of your true power, you would not have allowed me to wound that shell you’re wearing.”
“You shot me because I had no experience with guns,” Volpe said. “I did not understand them. I do now.”
“You bled. This time I’ll cut you into pieces.”
“Then do it. Until you do, I am still the Oracle of Venice. Her soul is under my protection.”
Aretino blinked slowly, a predator just coming awake. He glanced at the man in the gray suit, then down at his gun. His left eye twitched with anger.
“Didn’t I tell you to kill the woman?”
The man in the gray suit nodded toward Volpe. “He’s in the way.”
Aretino glared at him in disgust and the gray suit got the message. He and the blond woman started forward again, eyeing Volpe warily. Geena’s breath quickened, pulse racing as she cursed. The knife lay perhaps ten feet to her left. She had no choice.
No, Nico said in her mind. Volpe, you keep her alive.
She just tried to kill me.
“You’re already dead, you son of a bitch,” Geena whispered to his back. You had your friends cut out your heart.
Gray suit and the blond aimed their guns at Volpe’s skull as they began to edge around him. Four other thugs stood with the Doges, awaiting the opportunity to kill someone.
Tears began to well in her eyes and she grew furious with herself for letting these monsters see her cry.
I love you, Nico. You were the best thing about living.
Volpe flinched as he overheard this thought. He turned his head just enough so that she could see the thin smile on his face. He lifted his left hand, clutched into a fist, and whispered a single word—it might have been “araignées,” French for spiders—and popped open his hand as though releasing something from his grasp.
Gray suit and the blond cried out in unison, dropping their guns as they reached up to claw at their faces.
“No!” Aretino barked, and raised both hands, beginning a guttural chant.
Volpe took a step toward the Doges and brought both hands together in a single clap that echoed off the stone walls. As if struck by a sudden gale, the Doges and their lackeys were blown backward, limbs flailing as they hit the floor with a splash.
Find cover! Nico shouted in her thoughts.
Geena had already started running. The blond and the man in the gray suit had collapsed to the ground and were having some kind of seizures, still tearing at their faces.
“They’re in here!” the man in the gray suit screamed. “The spiders are inside my head!”
Geena bent to snatch up the knife as she ran by, then sprinted for the three columns at the center of the Chamber of Ten. Any of the obelisks would have hidden her, but from in there she might be able to defend herself, to survive precious seconds or minutes—long enough for Volpe to kill the Doges and their hired help. Until now, casting spells had drained him. The lack of a body of his own had weakened his magic. But something had obviously happened, because now the Doges seemed outmatched.
She darted between two of the stone columns, took cover, and peered back out at the magicians.
Just in time to see Volpe fall to his knees in the inch of water, too weak to raise a hand in his own defense, or in hers.
“Is that the best you can do these days?” Foscari said, wiping at a bloody scrape on his face as he stood.
Aretino rose stiffly, hatred burning in his eyes. “You know, Francesco, I think that might have exhausted our old friend. I think that might well be the last spell he will ever cast.”
Get up! Geena thought. Goddamn you, get up!
As if in reply, Volpe snapped his head back and grinned wildly at the Doges. “Just waiting for you to catch your breath,” he said. “I want to make this last.”
Brave words. Cruel words. But only a ruse. From the darkness of the three columns, Geena saw his face in the flickering lantern light and the features had changed again. Volpe had burned himself out and retreated back into Nico’s mind, leaving Nico himself to face the Doges, pretending to be Volpe.
“Come, then,” Nico said, trying his best to mimic Volpe’s arrogant sneer. “Do your worst.”
“Oh, we will,” Foscari promised, licking his lips.
What are you doing? Geena cried in her mind.
Venice chose us as her Oracles—
We’re not the Oracles yet!
And maybe we never will be, Nico replied. But we were chosen. We can’t let them win.
Geena felt the weight of the knife in her hand. She tightened her grip on the handle and looked down at the blade, dark with her blood and with Nico’s. They only had Volpe’s word on it, and she did not trust the old magician at all, but somehow she knew that much was true.
Grim-faced, she narrowed her eyes and peered out into the Chamber of Ten, raising the knife.
Nico held his hands in front of him, fingers hooked into claws as though any second he might sketch a spell on the air. He had experienced Volpe’s casting of such enchantments before and prayed he looked convincing enough to make the Doges wary. Aretino’s eyes gleamed with hatred and ambition, but Foscari seemed excited only by the prospect of causing pain.
No time to lie down on the job, he thought, trying to jostle Volpe. If they kill me, we’ll both be dead! Come on, do something!
But the magician had diminished somehow, fallen down deep inside of him like a light at the bottom of a well. He had managed the appearance of strength, but those two spells had drained him. Nico felt him stirring, but only weakly.
I can’t fight them, Volpe said. The Chamber is filled with residue from my magic, but I can barely draw on it. Without physical form—
You’ve got physical form! Me!
It isn’t the same. I need a foundation to provide leverage.
Volpe did not explain further, but an image flashed through Nico’s mind and he understood at last what the magician meant. Without his own body, casting spells was like trying to lift something heavy while swimming in deep water.
Foscari began to chant in a language Nico did not even recognize—something ancient and ugly—and the Doge’s grin widened. Aretino gestured for their hired killers to hang back. Nico felt his mask of courage begin to slip and Aretino must have noticed something amiss, for he narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.
Then he laughed softly, holding up a hand.
“Wait, Francesco. It’s over.”
Foscari pulled up and glared at him liked a dog rounding on his master. “What do you mean, ‘over’?”
“That’s not Volpe talking to us. It’s the boy, Lombardi. Volpe’s blown out his own candle already,” Aretino said, smiling at Nico. “Isn’t that right, Nico?”
Nico wanted to smash the old bastard’s skull against the stone floor until his brains leaked out. Boy? He tried not to change his expression, tried to hold on to Volpe’s sneer.
Are you hearing this? Volpe, fucking do something!
You’ve got to surrender.
They’re not here for prisoners!
To me, Volpe said, his inner voice stronger. It’s the only way. Give yourself over to me willingly, let us merge completely. It may be confusing, it may only make it more difficult to fight, but it’s possible it will truly join us and I will be able to use your body fully as my own, and wield the most powerful spells without collapsing.
Nico stared in horror at Aretino’s fading smile and the growing delight on Foscari’s face.
“Get the girl,” Aretino said.
“Allow me,” Foscari said, giving their lackeys a savage glance that made even those hardened killers fall back.
How can I trust you? How do I know I’ll get my body back?
Even I don’t know if you’ll get your body back. This merging could be permanent. But choose quickly, or the choice will be taken from you.
It was no choice at all. He saw Foscari striding toward the three columns at the center of the Chamber, caught a glimpse of Geena huddled there, knife glinting in her hand, and he knew.
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