Venom (48 page)

Cristian breathed in deeply, seeming to regain his composure. “Because they were filthy, like my mother, and needed to be marked as such.”

“And Madalena?” Cass prompted, her mind cycling frantically, clutching for escape routes, tactics, miracles. “How could you want to harm someone who has been so kind to you?”

Cristian raised an eyebrow. “I have not done anything to Madalena.”

“But the painting,” Cass protested. “It looked just like
The Fallen Ones…
”

“Ah.” Cristian smiled, and somehow it made him look more gruesome. “You have a fine eye for detail. A wedding gift, no more and no less. Partial repayment for the Rambaldo generosity.”

Cass felt a flicker of relief. At least Mada was okay. She took in her surroundings. The room was long and dark; the door on the opposite side seemed impossibly far away. She didn’t think there was any way she could outmaneuver him. Even if she could somehow get past him, he’d tackle her before she made it halfway to the door. A servant would come down for more wine eventually. Or someone would notice she was missing.

Wouldn’t they?

No. She had spent her whole life depending on others. Maybe now was the time for her to start depending on herself.

“Why did you put Mariabella’s body in the contessa’s crypt?”
Cass forced herself to stare directly at Cristian. He seemed startled by her sudden willingness to meet his gaze, and he withdrew the blade a half inch back from her skin. Cass worked her feet back behind her, trying to regain her footing beneath her heavy skirts so that she could run if the opportunity presented itself. Every tiny movement caused more of the murky water to splash up on her stockings. They were saturated up to her knees now, her skin going clammy beneath the heavy fabric of her dress.

A flash of uncertainty darkened Cristian’s features. “I don’t know anything about any contessa,” he said.

Of course he didn’t know about Livi. Cristian had come across the tomb after Falco and his friends had stolen Liviana’s body. Cass couldn’t believe how narrowly she, Cristian, and the artists had missed each other. If any of them had been just a few minutes earlier or later, they might have all crossed paths in the tiny graveyard that adjoined Agnese’s estate.

“Mariabella and I used to meet out on San Domenico quite often,” Cristian continued. “Joseph would not have understood our love.” His eyes turned to slits. “How do
you
know so much? I hid my Mariabella away so well, I thought no one would ever find her. Except for me. Now I can be with her anytime I want.”

Cass wondered if the mysterious lanterns she had seen roaming the graveyard belonged to Cristian. How often did he visit the dead Mariabella? Cass was just about to ask when a more important question came to mind.

“Feliciana,” she blurted out. “Did you kill her as well?”

Cristian grinned meanly. He advanced toward Cass until the blade was touching her throat again. Their lips were just inches apart. “Jealous,
bella
?” he asked. “You give me far too much credit. I have
not touched Joseph’s new little pet, though I have no doubt she needs to be marked like the others.” He made an X shape across her bodice with one of his fingers. “Like you.”

The dagger was ice against Cass’s throat. One wrong move and the tip might pierce her skin and pass all the way through her neck. “You won’t get away with this,” she gasped, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “Whatever you think you can do to me. Luca will find you, and hunt you down. He’ll know that it was you.”

“Oh, I think not,” Cristian said, a smile playing at his lips. He clumsily pulled a folded parchment from his tunic pocket with his trembling right hand. He frowned as he held the shaking paper up to his face. “
I was wrong about who you are,
” he recited. “
I cannot possibly love a man such as you, nor can I see you again. It is not fair to either of us. Please do not try to see me or communicate with me in any way.
”

Cristian tucked the parchment back into his pocket. “My poor brother. You’ve seemed so distracted ever since he returned to Venice. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince him that you’ve run off with another man,” he said, his tone smug with satisfaction.

“Where did you get that?” Cass demanded. It was the letter she had started to Falco. Cass had tucked it away in her journal just a day ago.

“You really shouldn’t leave your personal journal just lying around,” Cristian said. “I found it by the entrance to the Frari.” He pressed the tip of the blade into her skin. “Illuminating reading. You’re lucky it wasn’t my brother who found it first.”

She must have dropped the journal when she fled from the crowd of wedding guests, just before she fainted by the water’s edge. Cass
felt the room break apart into darkness…Any second now, he would plunge the blade into her neck…

“My poor brother,” Cristian repeated. “How he bragged about you when our father arranged your engagement. Such betrayal. It will destroy him. You really are a fallen woman, just like the rest, aren’t you?”

His body tensed up. The dagger’s tip broke through Cass’s skin.

A rivulet of blood began to trickle down her neck. The pain was slight, like a pinch or a bee sting, but Cass gasped, half expecting her breath to bubble out through the tiny cut.

“I didn’t betray him,” Cass squeezed out. She pressed herself back against the stone wall, trying hard not to swallow, not to breathe too hard. She felt a surge of nausea.

“Didn’t you?” Cristian withdrew his dagger momentarily and Cass couldn’t stop herself from collapsing to the ground. Her legs simply wouldn’t hold her. “I seem to recall a second letter tucked inside your journal,” he continued. “A rather intimate confessional.”

Cass knew it was insane to lament the loss of Falco’s note while a madman was brandishing a dagger in front of her. Still, her heart bled a little at the thought of losing the last piece of him she’d ever have.

“Get up,” Cristian demanded, yanking her arm.

“I can’t,” Cass lied. “My ankle. I hurt it when I fell.” She bit her lip. The dull pain served to focus her, calm her nerves.

“You have stalled long enough,” Cristian said, his silky voice turning rough. “I will have what I rightfully deserve.” Grabbing her by her hair, he dragged her across the dank room to the marble table in the corner.

The lace wrapped around her bun came loose and fluttered to the wet floor. She stared at it as it sank below the surface of the mire, as her hair tumbled down around her shoulders in thick waves. Sinking. Dying. Cristian pressed her up against the edge of the table. Marble pressed into her back. He traced the dagger along her neck and collarbone. Silver. Dazzling. Deadly. Cristian’s other hand reached up to stroke the soft curls that framed her face.

“So beautiful,” he said, burying his face in her auburn mane. He inhaled deeply. “So fragrant. I wish we had more time.”

“Luca!” Cass screamed. But her voice was raw, her throat hoarse from terror.

“He’ll never hear you,” Cristian said, forcing her down, pinning her against the cold marble with his body.

Falco.
Cass called out again, this time in her head.

Cristian pulled her hair hard, tilting her chin forward to expose her neck. Cass struggled underneath him. His mouth landed hard on top of hers, his teeth biting into her lower lip.

Blood flowed across her tongue. Cass struck out with her knees and elbows. Her heart battered itself against her rib cage. She screamed, even though she knew no one could hear her. It was no longer the knife she was afraid of.

“You will stop.” Cristian pressed a hand hard over her mouth.

Cass clawed at Cristian’s face. His dark eyes glowed in the muted light.

She screamed again. She tried to push the dagger away from her neck, but her hands and arms felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. Her legs. Her head. A numbness moved through her. “No,” she begged.

Cristian reached around her back with his left hand and fumbled with the top button of her dress. His fingers were too unsteady to pull
the button through its loop. He yanked at the fabric, and Cass felt the stiff brocade start to come apart. She wasn’t sure if she was even breathing—it felt like her brain was slowing down. It was blocking all but a few sensations. The marble tabletop, which felt like ice against her shoulder blades. The pearl buttons that made little splashing noises as they landed on the wet floor.

Cristian’s body crushed down on her chest. “Whore,” he repeated. “I only wish my brother could be here to see this.” His right hand spasmed and shook as it explored the curves of her body. Cass shuddered with revulsion. She tasted blood again.
Not real.
Please let this be a nightmare.
Please, please wake up.

Cristian’s knife once again traced its way down the tendons of her neck, threatening to slice through her bodice, her skin, her bones.

“It’s your turn, Cassandra,” he said, with a fiendish gleam in his eyes. “It’s our turn.” He let the dagger fall to the table as his mouth found hers, this time gently, then harder. His hands wrapped around her throat. “Good night, bella…”

Not like this. I don’t want to die like this. Not here. Not now.
Cass twisted her head to the side, gasping for air, finding none.

The room started to disappear, the shadows dissolving into mist, the light fading. Cristian looked down at her almost tenderly. For a brief instant, he looked like Luca. Cass hated herself for the thought. Tears welled up in her eyes. Suddenly, inexplicably, Aunt Agnese’s face appeared in her mind. What would the old woman think of Cass’s death? Would she know how hard Cass had fought?

Cass refused to disappoint her aunt. With a scream, she lunged forward, ramming her forehead into Cristian’s face. Luca’s half brother recoiled in surprise, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on her. Hot liquid spurted from his nose. The smell of blood, coppery and
salty, stained the air. He grabbed the dagger. “I’ll kill you!” His left arm reared back. The blade headed for her heart. Cass was pinned to the table. She could do nothing but await the impact.

It wasn’t the white-hot pain she imagined. The blow felt blunt, more like being punched than stabbed. Cass looked down at her chest. The tip of the dagger had embedded itself in the whalebone ribbing of her stays. She made a sharp sound, almost a laugh, as the dagger fell to its side, the blade bent and useless.

Footsteps sloshed across the wet floor.

Luca? It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Her fiancé grabbed Cristian by the shoulders.

“Get off of her!” Luca was shouting as he wrenched Cristian away from Cass. The men went spinning across the dark chamber, arms and legs flailing. Cristian’s body slammed into one of the marble pedestals. Luca grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to his knees.

Cass sat up painfully, still dizzy. “Luca,” she tried to say, but no noise came out. She gagged. Her throat was burning.

Cristian broke free of Luca’s grasp. His face twisted into a look of pure hatred. “Brother,” he said, leaping back to his feet. “I was just starting to enjoy myself. We always did have the same taste, didn’t we?”

Cristian advanced on Luca, his fists twisting and slashing. Luca lunged at Cristian, throwing his half brother against the brick wall.

Cristian’s head snapped forward. He swore, kicking at Luca with the heel of his boot. Luca doubled over in pain, grunting. Cristian tackled him. The two men rolled across the wet floor, slamming hard into the opposite wall. Crystal pitchers fell from pedestals. One of the big casks of wine wobbled dangerously. Cristian managed to pin
Luca to the wet ground. He raised his hand high in the air, a jagged shard of glass pointed down at Luca’s throat.

“Cass. Run,” Luca said hoarsely.

In an instant, Cass had scrambled from the table.

She grabbed the lantern and flung it at Cristian. It bounced off his back, the flame igniting the hem of his doublet. Luca scrambled to his feet as Cristian beat at the fabric, hopping up and down and cursing loudly. The flames extinguished, Cristian lunged for Luca again, pushing him toward one of the giant casks of wine. Luca’s body hit the wooden barrel so hard that it teetered on its edge and came crashing to the ground. It split open, and blood-red wine began pouring into the blackened water.

And then, there were voices. Distant but clear.

Someone had heard them. People were coming.

Cristian must have had the same realization. He shoved Luca out of the way and sprinted for the door.

He stopped, heaving, just before disappearing through the archway. “
A la prochaine,
” he spat out. “This isn’t over, brother.” Then he disappeared through the dark mouth of the doorway, and was gone in an instant.