Starling (47 page)

the lower floor. She would have had a hard time explaining why she
was trolling the damp storage areas if anyone caught her. Instead,
they wandered into a small salon full of Greek sculptures across the
hall. Cass loitered just outside the doorway, her ear pressed to the
marble as she struggled to hear.
“I know you have it, Joseph,” Belladonna said. “My patience
wears thin.”
“Bella, I already told you. I have my best men seeking out the
criminal who stole your book. After all, my name is on certain pages
of that book that I should not like to see spread around the Republic.” Dubois’s words were calm, slick, as always. Cass had never
heard him raise his voice.
“I know you sent your mangy old physician to Florence to steal it
from me. It’s the only thing that makes sense, though how he contrived admittance to my chambers I shall never know.”
Cass’s hands started to shake. The book was still missing, but Belladonna seemed to think Angelo de Gradi had stolen it. Luca had
gone to Angelo’s workshop the previous day. Perhaps he had seen
something. Or perhaps Angelo had passed the book on to his employer and Dubois was lying to Belladonna.
“Certainly not, since you felt the need to kill him,” Dubois murmured.
“How was I to know a person could bleed to death from a few
severed fingers?” Belladonna said. “I’m really impressed by how
long the old man held out. Clearly, he was more loyal than I ever
imagined.”
Cass’s stomach churned. Belladonna had tortured and murdered
Dubois’s physician in an attempt to regain possession of the book.
Clearly, there was no end to her wickedness.
“Or perhaps he didn’t have your book after all.” Dubois didn’t
sound too bothered by Angelo’s death.
Cass risked a quick peek around the door frame into the room.
Belladonna stood with her arms crossed, scowling so hard that
her eyes had turned to slits. “Either he had it, or
you
have it.” She
tightened her lips into a hard line. “If he had it, I shall find it eventually. But if you have it . . .” She sighed. “Those pages are very dear to
me, Joseph. If you return it, I might be persuaded to give you a batch
of elixir.”
Dubois stood in front of a statue of Nike, the Greek goddess of
victory. Her wings seemed to sprout from his back. He raised an eyebrow. “You have working elixir?”
“We believe so, but our supply is almost depleted.”
“I assume you plan to make more?” Dubois asked.
“Of course. We’re just waiting on one ingredient.”
Cass ducked back out of view. Belladonna had working elixir?
She couldn’t have been in Venice more than a week or so. How had
she managed so quickly?
Dubois answered the question. “I see you made quick work of
utilizing Angelo’s workshop to your advantage,” he said. “Really,
Bella, the dottore was quite fond of you. If you’re going to work for
me, you need to be a bit less reckless.”
Belladonna’s voice went shrill. “You mean work
with
you.”
Cass couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Belladonna and Dubois were working together. And Belladonna or one of her minions
had apparently killed Angelo de Gradi to take over his workshop.
But neither of those facts was as scary as the Order of the Eternal