Starling (7 page)

Siena would be alive too. And my aunt.”
“So you know, then.” Narissa lowered her head. “I don’t know
what I shall do. Attending to Signora Querini has been my whole life
for almost twenty years now. I can’t imagine starting over elsewhere.”
“
Mi dispiace.
” Cass hated how inadequate the words sounded
even to her own ears. “I never thought my actions would—”
“Oh, Signorina. Heavens, no.” Narissa raised one hand to her
chest. “You musn’t blame yourself. Your aunt’s condition deteriorated while you were away in Florence. The Lord took her back to
heaven. It was simply her time.”
Cass wanted desperately to believe Narissa, but she couldn’t.
Agnese had been weak and under a lot of stress. The thought of Cass
and Luca dead could easily have been too much for her aunt’s heart.
Plus, it was easier to blame herself than to wonder why God had stolen away her aunt when she needed her the most.
“We are all saddened,” Narissa continued, “but joyful that Signora Querini has found respite from her suffering. I hope her
nephew sees fit to keep us employed here, in some capacity.”
“As do I.” Cass didn’t want to be responsible for any servants being thrown out into the street. She would figure out a way to
persuade Agnese’s heir, Matteo, to keep the staff in his employ . . .
somehow. “We will speak more of this,” she promised. “And of what
is to become of the villa. But right now Luca and I need your help.”
Narissa looked over at Luca, who appeared to have fallen asleep
beneath the wool blanket Cass had snatched from Agnese’s room.
“Whatever I can do.”
“He’s been feverish,” Cass explained. “Are we safe spending the
night here?”
Narissa nodded. “I’d say the two of you ought to go upstairs to
your own chambers, but all of the servants are still here, awaiting
Signor Querini’s arrival, and unfortunately some of them are quite
chatty. They wouldn’t turn you in for money, but they might accidentally let word of your whereabouts slip.”
Cass nodded. She thought longingly of her room—the soft bed,
the gauzy canopy.
“I took some money from Agnese’s armoire,” she confessed.
“Luca and I plan to return to Florence.” She paused. “When we first
approached the villa, I thought perhaps the black draperies were for
me. Do you know if the Doge’s guards are still searching for us?”
“If they were, they would have found you before you made it back
to the villa,” Narissa said. “There were boats patrolling the shoreline
last week, both belonging to the Doge and private watercraft. Citizens, I suppose, looking for a way to make some gold. But they all
disappeared a couple of days ago.” Narissa shook her head. “Perhaps they’re afraid to be out after sunset because of the vampires.”
“Vampires?”
“You haven’t heard?” Narissa’s gray eyebrows arched in surprise.
“The whole town’s gone mad about vampire sightings. Yesterday at
the market I heard women gossiping about girls waking up bearing
the mark of the undead.”
The mark of the undead.
Cass stroked the side of her neck where
she had once borne her own “bite mark.” It had turned out to be
needle punctures from where Belladonna’s physician, Piero Basso,
had been stealing her blood while she slept. If what Narissa was saying was true, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Venice was suddenly
overrun with vampire sightings. Either Angelo de Gradi had re