Read Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) Online
Authors: Catherine Doyle
Inferno (Blood for Blood #2)
Praise for
INFERNO
‘It’s bloody brilliant, even better than
Vendetta
if that’s possible …
It’s exciting and violent and sexy and heartbreaking. Loved it!
’
LOUISE O’NEILL, author of ONLY EVER YOURS
‘Darker, sexier and more dangerous than ever before …
’
MELINDA SALISBURY, author of THE SIN EATER’S DAUGHTER
‘It’s the best, best, best YA romance-slash-Mafia action film that
you could ever HOPE FOR … IT WAS SO GOOD. SO GOOD
.’
LAUREN JAMES, author of THE NEXT TOGETHER
Praise for
VENDETTA
‘A grimy, tense, crime/gang thriller with a dynamic cast of
characters;
Vendetta
brings drama and realism to a dark story
of grudges, revenge and passion.’
ALICE OSEMAN, author of SOLITAIRE
‘
I stayed up until Late o’clock finishing
Vendetta
…
It’s AWESOME. Great fighting. Great kissing.’
C.J. DAUGHERTY, author of NIGHT SCHOOL
‘A vibrant new twist on
Romeo and Juliet.
Full of energy and intrigue!’
LUCY CHRISTOPHER, author of STOLEN
‘Fan-freaking-tastic … I honestly can’t say enough
good things about it! I would read anything Cat Doyle
writes after flying through
Vendetta!’
VICTORIA SCOTT, author of FIRE & FLOOD
A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE
V
endetta
was one of the most thrilling debuts I’ve ever read, and I knew that, like in the very best series, it was destined to get even better! The stakes are twice as high in
Inferno
– and it’s twice as exhilarating, twice as romantic and twice as ‘I’ll just read
one more
chapter’-y. Catherine Doyle has created a world so incredibly real, it’s like you’re watching it on a TV screen. It’s a world where the villains are bad, but some of the heroes are even worse … and you’re never really sure who’s on which side. Just prepare yourself – you’ll need the third one right away …
BARRY CUNNINGHAM
Publisher
Chicken House
CONTENTS
Chapter Five: The Dolphin Philosophy
Chapter Six: The Girl with Purple Hair
Chapter Seven: The Shadow in The Garden
Chapter Eleven: The Black Hand
Chapter Twelve: The Interception
Chapter Twenty: The Conversation
Chapter Twenty-Three: Blue Violets
Chapter Twenty-Four: Allegiance
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Fight
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Look
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Interruption
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Safe
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Explosion
Chapter Forty-One: The Unwelcome
Chapter Forty-Two: The Breakdown
Chapter Forty-Three: The Blood Moon
Chapter Forty-Four: The Escape
Chapter Forty-Five: The Beginning
For my mom
PART I
‘I shall know you, secrets
by the litter you have left
and by your bloody footprints.’
Lola Ridge, ‘Secrets’
CHAPTER ONE
THE POLICE
T
he detectives hitched themselves shoulder to shoulder at the end of my bed. I could feel them studying the bruises that were pooling under my eyes.
‘Miss Gracewell, can you tell us how you sustained your injuries?’
I side-glanced at my mother, making my most subtle
oh-crap
face. What was I supposed to say? Point into the hallway in the direction of the Falcones and shout, ‘The murderers are thatta way!’?
Gently she laid a hand on my shoulder. The game was
omertà
and the objective was not to get killed for snitching. The word flashed in my head like a neon sign:
omertà, omertà, omertà
. The vow of silence, and we were all bound up in it.
Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die
.
‘A fall,’ I lied. ‘Unfortunate, really.’
‘A fall,’ repeated the first cop, Detective Comisky. His moustache was twitching like a big grey caterpillar. His partner, Medina, had dark beady eyes. They were bulging, hoping. I could almost taste it – their need to prove themselves, to catch a Mafia assassin – or two, or ten. They were close, in a way. Between the endless fleet of mafiosi milling freely in the hospital corridors, Jack’s dead henchmen at the warehouse, and my admission into hospital alongside the bullet-wounded Falcone underboss, things were already pretty suspect.
‘Are you certain about that?’ Comisky pressed.
I clamped my mouth shut and nodded, trying to ignore the distant well of panic inside me. Maybe speaking to the police would have been the right thing to do, but we knew that having Nic watching over me in my hospital bed was not enough to keep the others at bay if we tried to compromise their freedom. Sure, I had saved Luca, but Valentino could hardly let it pass if I broke the sacred rule of
omertà
.
‘Very well, Miss Gracewell,’ said Comisky, his tone decidedly icier. ‘Can you, instead, tell us how you came to be brought into this hospital with Gianluca Falcone?’
I feigned a frown. ‘Was I?’
His frown was much more convincing. ‘Miss Gracewell, do you have any information about the warehouse shoot-out in Old Hegewisch two nights ago?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Miss Gracewell, can you explain your relationship with the Falcone family?’
‘The who?’
‘Miss Gracewell, can you tell us what you know about your father’s relationship with the Falcone family?’
‘Excuse me?’ That one got me right in the throat. My words went all wobbly and I struggled for the right level of nonchalance. Beside me, my mother bristled. Why would they bring that up? They were trying to rattle me, and it was working.
‘Detectives, if you could leave Sophie’s father out of this, I’d appreciate it,’ she interjected, buying me some time to compose my thoughts. For a moment, she seemed completely unruffled. Sometimes I forget she has dealt with the police before. She had watched them take her husband away.
Unpleasantness twanged in my chest. I wished my father were with us. I wished we weren’t so marooned without him. He had left us to face everything alone, and it had almost killed us. Still, I was determined not to let the detectives see how much it bothered me. I was determined not to let them know my weakness.
The cops flicked their attention briefly to my mother, and then ploughed on, undaunted by her request. ‘Miss Gracewell, did your father have something to do with this?’
I didn’t miss a beat that time. ‘My father’s in jail, detectives.’
A patronizing smile lifted the caterpillar moustache from Comisky’s face. ‘That’s not what I asked.’
I felt very cold all of a sudden, and my mother, so unwavering just moments ago, had gone deathly quiet. If I looked at her too long, I could see the ashen skin beneath her sparing make-up. Her fingernails were chewed so close to her skin they were bleeding. Secrets. Lies. They had nearly
destroyed us. I lifted my chin and levelled the detectives with my gaze. ‘Well, that’s your answer.’
Detective Comisky puffed up his chest and released a deep grating sound. Medina stifled a yawn. He was obviously the smarter of the two, since he looked like he wanted to go home and take a nap rather than continuing to beat a dead horse. Already I was finding their visit exhausting. Talking is difficult enough when injured, but lying is infinitely harder. Maybe it was the tail end of a morphine crest, but my mind was wandering and I was starting to think Detective Comisky looked disconcertingly like Maurice from
Beauty and the Beast
.
He withdrew a small black notepad from his shirt pocket and flicked it open. He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and tapped it against the paper. ‘Why don’t we try the truth this time, Miss Gracewell?’ he said, looking up at me again. ‘Perhaps I should explain exactly why your cooperation with the law will be in your best interests …’