Starling (15 page)

thin that a stiff breeze might snap her right in two. She pushed forward, striding toward the Conjurer’s Bridge with determination.

The street was bare except for bits of trash twisting across the
cobblestones. A handbill posted on the adjacent building made a
scratching sound as it rippled and curled in the breeze. Thunder
rumbled again.

Gargoyles looked down at her from Palazzo Viaro’s rooftop.
Blackness peeked out from behind a pair of broken shutters high
above her head. Cass crept around the side of the palazzo, her hood
low, her heart pounding. The shutters here were all tightly closed,
making it impossible to see or hear if anyone was moving around
inside the building.

She continued to the back of the house. The tiny courtyard was
empty except for a single stone bench and a small statue of Jesus. The
whole area was overrun with weeds and liana. Another set of broken
shutters offered Cass her first glimpse inside the palazzo. She cleared
a spot on the dusty glass with the sleeve of her cloak and peered into
the darkness.

She could barely distinguish the outline of a table and counter—it
was Palazzo Viaro’s kitchen. The back door was secured with a
heavy padlock.

Sighing, Cass turned away. What were she and Luca thinking?
What could be accomplished by watching buildings or wandering
through yards? She needed to get inside to discover anything meaningful, but the window glass was thick. It would be almost impossible
to break, and even if she could manage it, she would leave behind
evidence of her trespassing. The Order members would see the broken window and probably move their operations elsewhere.

But if multiple Order members were using the palazzo, they
couldn’t all have a key, could they? Perhaps there was a spare hidden
somewhere nearby. Luca had once hidden a key for her behind a
brick in his fireplace.

It was worth a try.
Staying close to the palazzo walls and safely below the windows,
Cass walked the periphery of the house, feeling for loose bricks. The
mortar had chipped away in several places, but there was no key.
Returning to the courtyard, she peeked underneath the bench and
examined the ivy-covered statue of Jesus, glancing up at Palazzo
Viaro’s back windows every second or two to make sure she wasn’t
being watched. At the first sight of movement she would run.
She stumbled as she knelt to examine the base of the Jesus figure,
her fingers instinctively gripping the statue’s outstretched marble
arm to maintain her balance. No key. As she rose to her feet, she
glanced in the direction the statue seemed to be pointing and noticed
a particularly thick spot of weeds abutting the courtyard fence.
Could it be?
Cass went to the weeds and reached her hand into the tangled
branches, wincing as nettles scratched at her skin. But her fingers
closed around cold metal, and her heart started to race. She pulled
out a tarnished key.
Ducking low, she crossed the courtyard to the back door of the
palazzo and slipped the key into the lock. A perfect fit.
Gathering her skirts and her courage, she pushed open the door
just wide enough to admit her body. With a single deep breath to
quell her trembling, she stepped over the threshold and into Palazzo
Viaro.

“We have witnessed those awakening
after burial, but whether from deep slumber
or death, no clear evidence yet prevails.”