The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) (36 page)

“Italy has a heritage of superstition,” Falcone continued. “The ancient Romans were intensely superstitious, and I think most Italians still are. And we’re Catholics of course and accept that there is life after death. Many Italians would tell you they believe in ghosts. And how could you not, in this fantastical country, where history whispers to us from the cobbles, the stone walls, and the vaulted ceilings of our churches and palazzi? No, to me, it’s not surprising at all.”

“Do
you
believe in ghosts?” I asked.

“There may be little concrete evidence that ghosts share this world with us,” he said. “But there is also no proof that they don’t. And so we should suspend judgement, I think.”

I gazed at him in surprise. There was a great deal about Falcone that I found unexpected.

“And you began to observe these auras after this encounter with your mother?” he asked.

“Yes. Not long after that, I met a nun. Sister Chiara was her name. A wonderful lady, not like the battle-axe Renata. Chiara told me to accept my ability to see auras as a gift. I saw her too, after she died. But I haven’t seen any spirits since then, only this aura rippling over someone who’s in imminent danger.”

“Your Sister Chiara sounds like a wise woman,” Falcone said. “I agree with her. You should consider your ability a blessing, Kate. I am confident you will always use it for good— and I consider myself an able judge of character.”

“Thank you.”

Falcone glanced at Claire, who was managing to sleep upright, without snoring or drooling. I’d probably do both if I tried to sleep in a car. “Is Claire’s aura still in place?” he asked.

“Yes, which really bothers me. Santini’s dead, Dante must be on the run, and the doctor just checked her out, so her general health isn’t the risk. I’m sure that her fate is linked to that of her brother. We need to find Ethan, and then… I don’t know.”

After that, we rode in silence until I saw the turn-off for Arezzo. The lights of an Autogrill service station gleamed brightly under the rain a little further on.

“We come off at the next exit,” I told the driver. “Take the road that leads to the Ponte Buriano and then we turn right. There should be a road that winds up to the top of the hill.”

After a couple of wrong turns that led to dead ends, we began weaving our way upward, my stomach clenching with nerves as I thought of the grim nun. I was sure she’d be there, armed and waiting.

“You need to know about Renata,” I said to Falcone. “Santini’s accomplice. Once she hears of Santini’s death, she may try to move that stuff. She has a gun and she’s not afraid to use it.”

“Thank you. We will be prepared to face a warlike nun.”

“I’m not joking. She’s terrifying.”

We’d reached the top of the hill. Ahead was a long, low stone wall punctuated by a set of wrought iron gates. “Turn there,” I said. “This must be it.”

The driver jumped out and did something that made the gates open. A useful skill, I thought. Claire stirred as we slowed down on the gravel driveway, the tires crunching over the small stones. The Carabinieri van followed us in and we parked just inside the gates, out of sight of the house.

Falcone opened his door, letting in a blast of cold air. It was still raining and the wind moaned through the trees. I tried to pull my scarf closer around my neck before remembering that I’d misplaced it somewhere in my various travels.

“Thank you for your assistance in locating the villa,” Falcone said. “Wait here. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

“I’d like to come,” I said. “I’ll stay out of the way, but I might be able to help.”

“No, Kate. I have endangered you more than enough already. Let my men do their job. I’ll contact the driver as soon as the house is secured. He will stay with you. And keep an eye on Claire.”

From the back of the car, we watched Falcone and Oberto lead their officers up to the villa. Claire flung herself back against the seat and closed her eyes. I sympathized. It was hard to sit still and do nothing, but I also appreciated Falcone’s desire to keep us out of harm’s way. Our chauffeur, Massimo, sat motionless, staring out through the rain-washed windscreen. Rivulets of water made it hard to see much. A roll of thunder swelled and a flash of lightning briefly lit up the sky. From the corner of my eye, I saw something move through the shrubs that lined the driveway. Apparently Massimo noticed something too because he swung his head around to stare out of his side window.

“Did you see it?” I asked. “We saw a boar last time we were here. Perhaps he’s come back.” I remembered the feral smell, the sheer force of the creature as it trampled shrubs as though they were matchsticks.

“Quiet please,” Massimo said. Lightning flashed again. All I saw now were bushes and trees swaying in the wind. But, over the tapping of rain on the car roof, I heard something else. A shout coming from the woodland to our right. I was sure of it.

“
Santo cielo
,” Massimo exclaimed, unclicking his seat belt. He reached for his radio just as the sky discharged another bolt of electricity, illuminating the area with bright, white incandescence. A figure moved along the edge of the drive. A man, not a boar. Then there were two figures, and I was sure one of them was Ethan, his blond hair bleached in the achromatic light. Massimo took a gun from his inside pocket, weighed it in his hand and then turned to look at us. “Lock the doors after I get out.”

“We’ll come with you,” Claire said.

“No.”

“But—” Claire began to argue. I put my hand on her arm. With her aura still present, I was determined to keep her away from danger.

“We’ll stay here,” I said to Massimo.

He eased out of the car, crouching down by the front wheel. Another flash revealed emptiness where the two figures had been standing. They must have gone deeper into the forest that surrounded the villa. Massimo stood and jogged towards the tree line, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Claire grabbed at my arm. “What did you see?”

“I’m not sure. Two men. They ran off into the woods.”

“Was one of them Ethan?”

I hesitated. I was sure it was, but I didn’t want to distress Claire.

“It was, wasn’t it?” she said. Her hand was on the door handle, but I’d already popped the locks shut. “I’m going to look for him.”

“No way. We wait here.”

She launched herself between the two front seats and hit a button on the driver’s side. The noise of the locks releasing, usually so banal, sounded like the gates of hell rumbling open.

Claire opened the back door and stepped out. I scrambled out on my side and ran around the back of the car to join her. “Get back in the car right now.”

“I have to find Ethan.”

“Let the police do it. We have to be patient.”

“Do I still have my aura?”

My words seemed stuck in my throat. “Yes,” I croaked. “So you’re still at risk. Please, be sensible.”

Claire ignored me and rushed towards the trees just as someone yelled, “Stop right there.” A gunshot split the night, sending a flock of birds chattering into the air over my head. I sprinted towards Claire, grabbed her and pulled her with me down to the ground, something sharp and pointy digging into my thigh. For a moment, I couldn’t hear anything above the thump of my heart against my ribs. And then came a man’s voice, a whisper dampened by the hiss of the rain.

“Keep moving,” he said. “
Fai presto
, hurry!”

“I have to stop,” came another voice. I knew at once it was Ethan’s. “My knee’s not working too well.”

“Oh my God,” Claire murmured.

Someone else spoke. It sounded like a woman. I peered in the direction of the voice, but it was too dark and the trees were too densely planted for me to see anything.

There was another shot, followed by a thud as someone fell to the ground. Where was Massimo? Was he the one doing the shooting?

Claire pushed me away and clambered to her feet. She sprinted into the trees, in the direction of the voices and out of my sight. I had no choice. I stood up and ran to the point where she’d disappeared.

Squeezing between two tree trunks, with leaves spilling water down my neck, I realized there are degrees of darkness. Compared to the blackness in here, the driveway was lit up like the London Eye on New Year’s Eve. The only good news was that Claire wasn’t being subtle in her headlong progress. Snapping twigs and waving branches made it easy for me to follow her.

I quickly caught up and grabbed her arm. “What the hell, Claire? We have to go find Falcone.”

“We need to find Ethan,” she said, shaking my hand loose and pressing on through the thick brushwood. Ahead of us, the trees thinned out sufficiently for me to glimpse a clearing, which was more an absence of darkness than anything else. When we reached the edge of it, we hunkered down in the undergrowth. Seconds later, three people moved into view. One of them was Ethan. The tall slender figure next to him could only be Dante, but the third, the woman whose voice we’d heard, was hard to identify. She was too thin to be the nun, and too tall to be the petite nurse. How did Ethan get here? Why was Dante at his brother’s place? And where the heck was Massimo?

“That’s it. I can’t go any further,” Ethan said. The words came to us, clear above the patter of rain on leaves.

“Then you give me no choice.”

A bolt of lightning illuminated the clearing, casting light on a tableau of Dante holding a gun in two hands, pointing it at Ethan. His assistant, Patrizia, stood beside him. Blinded by the flash and ensuing gloom, I blinked until everything came back into focus and my eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

Beside me, Claire jumped to her feet and ran into the open space.

Dante glanced at her, but kept the gun on Ethan.

“Stay away, Claire. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“Run, Claire,” Ethan shouted. “Get help.”

Ethan was right. We needed help. I turned back, ready to sprint to the house to raise the alarm. Thunder burst over our heads like a cannon shot. Then, like an echo, a gunshot rang out. I swung back, terrified that Dante had shot Ethan. But Ethan still stood upright. Now Patrizia was pointing a weapon at Dante.

“Let Ethan go,” she said. “I aimed that shot high, but the next one will hit you. Drop the gun and run away. I won’t shoot you. I won’t come after you. But if you kill him, I will kill you.”

While I tried to process why Patrizia was threatening Dante, Claire took another couple of steps forward.

“Stay back,” Dante said. This time, he moved the weapon so that it was aimed at Claire.

“Final warning, Dante,” Patrizia said. “Drop the gun.”

Dante moved so fast, I hardly saw it happen. He whirled around and sprinted to the far side of the clearing. Within seconds, he was swallowed up by the blackness among the thickets of trees.

Claire ran to Ethan, arms outstretched. Wary, I watched the place where Dante had disappeared. He still had a weapon and could turn back to use it at any moment.

“Get away from open ground,” I shouted. “All of you, come back to the trees, right now.”

Claire pulled Ethan towards me, with Patrizia following behind. Her heels, which sank into the soft bed of dead leaves, slowed her down.

Another gunshot flayed the air. Claire screamed. Had she been hit? I ran out to drag her and Ethan into the shelter of a massive oak tree.

“Are you hurt?” I asked. Her response, if she made one, was drowned out by another shot. I peered past the tree just as Patrizia staggered and fell to her knees.

“Patrizia,” I called. “Keep moving.”

She didn’t respond, so I shuffled over at a low crouch and knelt beside her. “Can you walk?” I asked. In the darkness, a black stain crept across her shoulder, and she whimpered when I tried to ease her to a sitting position. She screamed when another shot kicked up the soil a few meters away.

“We have to move, Patrizia,” I said. “Can you make it?”

“I’ll try. Bring the gun.”

It lay on the ground next to her. Gingerly, I held it, while we scrambled on hands and knees to the big oak where Claire and Ethan were sitting, propped up against the wet bark. I lifted Claire’s chin to look at her face. “Were you shot?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, sorry, just scared to death.” I gave her a quick hug and moved over to help Ethan settle Patrizia as he took off his sweater to create a makeshift compress for her shoulder. “She’s bleeding badly,” he whispered.

“We need help. I’ll go to the house,” I said. “Here, keep the gun in case Dante comes back.”

Another clap of thunder made us all flinch. Seconds later, a loud cracking sound and a muffled yell echoed across the grassy glade. I jumped to my feet. “I’ll be right back with reinforcements,” I said. “And listen out for Massimo. God knows where he is.”

Then I stopped. Dante was shouting. “Help me, for God’s sake. I’m hurt.”

I looked at Ethan, unsure what to do. Dante might be playing a trick on us; I had no intention of getting anywhere near him while he was armed.

“We’re not coming any closer,” Ethan called.

“Dammit.” Dante’s voice seemed to be fading. “I won’t shoot you. Help me please.”

“Wait here,” I told Ethan. “I’m going to circle around to get close enough to find out what’s going on.”

In spite of his objections, I crept away through the undergrowth, staying out of the clearing and, I hoped, out of Dante’s sight. Barbed shrubs tore at my hands and face. Water tipped from leaves, soaking my clothes and boots. What was I doing? I didn’t owe Dante anything. But I kept going, scrabbling through the brushwood until I reached the opposite side of the clearing. I heard Dante again. “Help me, for God’s sake.”

I sheltered behind a tree trunk and peered through the gloom to see him spread-eagled on the mulchy soil under an ancient oak. A hefty branch pinned his legs to the ground. His gun lay in his open palm.

“Dante, I’m going to try to move the branch, but first you have to throw that gun as far as away from you as you can.”

He muttered an expletive, and flipped the gun away, just out of his own reach. My knees were shaking as I moved towards it, but I picked it up and tucked it into my jacket pocket. Then I looked at the branch on Dante’s legs. “I’m not sure I can move this,” I said. “But let’s give it a try.”