Starling (100 page)

“I think it will,” Cristian said. He tossed the broken paintbrush
to the floor and selected a new one, dabbing gently at his palette.
“Now be quiet. No more distractions. I want this to be perfect.” He
looked back and forth from Cass to the canvas, muttering under his
breath as he alternated between furious bursts of brushstrokes and
frowning at the portrait.
She squeezed her eyes shut and then open. Rubbing her temples,
she inhaled a long, slow breath. The rush of air aggravated her raw
throat, and a spasm of coughing erupted from her lips. She clutched
her chest with one hand and covered her mouth with the other.
Cristian’s lips tightened as he set his brush down on the easel. “It’s
very difficult for me to work when you keep moving about like that.”
Cass hid a smile behind her palm. Cristian had just given her the
idea she needed. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely, squeezing out a couple more coughs. “My throat. It burns.” One more cough. “Is there
any way I can have something to drink?”
“As soon as I’m finished with—”
Cass sucked in another breath, deep enough so that she didn’t
have to fake the rasping, gagging sounds. “I’m sorry,” she choked out,
after her coughing dissipated. “I can’t help it.”
“Fine.” Cristian backed away from his easel. “I’ll fetch some ale.
But keep in mind how you’re dressed and how weak you are. If you
try to run away, I’ll catch you. And when I do, I’ll make your death
as slow and painful as possible. And I’ll hunt down my brother and
deliver your mutilated corpse straight into his arms, a piece at a
time.” Cristian’s eyes reflected the candlelight. “Would you enjoy
that, inflicting pain upon him for months, even after your death?”
Cass answered with another barrage of coughing, but inside she
continued to channel her anger. She would kill Cristian before she
let him hurt Luca.
“I’ll be back,” Cristian muttered. He crossed the room, stepped
through the opening, and pushed the bookcase in front of the passageway.
Cass got gently to her feet as soon as Cristian was safely out of
sight. She held out a hand for balance as she stepped away from the
divan. All of the candles on the candelabra were lit. By their light,
she could see that Cristian was finishing the painting of her that had
previously hung on the wall.
Glancing wistfully at the bookshelf that blocked her path to freedom, Cass knew Cristian was right about one thing—she wasn’t fast
enough to outrun him. Could she use the same neck-squeezing move
on him that she had used on the guard at Angelo de Gradi’s workshop? Perhaps, but her muscles still felt weak and quivery beneath
her skin. Cristian might break her hold before she succeeded in rendering him unconscious. She needed a weapon. Her eyes skimmed
across the chamber, everywhere but where the bundle of bones and
rotting flesh that had once been Mariabella lay. The room looked
mostly the same as she remembered, aside from the addition of the
art supplies and a strange wide bowl sitting on top of Mariabella’s
shrine. Cass peeked down into the bowl. It had the skull from Rosa’s
shrine and the lock of hair from Sophia’s shrine. An ancient book
was folded open before it.
It was the book Cass had stopped to read the last time she was
here. The book about mixing stone, hair, and blood to create new
life. Her stomach churned. Against her will, her eyes flicked over to
the white-wrapped corpse. She wasn’t going to stay around long