Venom (49 page)

F
inally, at last, a flurry of wedding-goers poured into the cellar, some with daggers drawn. Madalena’s father was in the lead, and her two uncles followed close behind. Joseph Dubois was part of the crowd; he carried a torch.

“What happened?” Signor Rambaldo’s face was pale. “It sounded as if the whole palazzo was crashing down into the canal.”

“Did you stop him?” Cass burst out.

“Are you all right, Signorina Caravello?” Madalena’s uncle Pietro held out his arms to keep the throng of onlookers from surging forward and surrounding her.

“Please.” Cass fought back tears. All she could think was that Cristian was escaping. “He probably went right past you.”

“Who?” Signor Dubois smoothed his dark hair. He looked at Cass with a neutral expression, as if he thought she was merely a girl making a fuss to get attention.

“The killer! Cris—”

Luca cut her off. “Cass surprised a thief down here. He snuck in with the guests and was trying to steal wine.”

Cass turned to Luca, her mouth falling open. Why was he lying? “No,” she said. “No. That’s not what happened. I—”

“She thought the thief was going to kill her,” Luca continued, wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders. “I think she fell and hit her head. I’ll take care of her.”

Signor Dubois nodded. His face was stony. A look passed between him and Luca that Cass didn’t understand. “I believe the good Dottor de Gradi is in attendance,” he said, “should she need to be tended to.”

Cass clung to Luca protectively, her fingernails digging crescent moon impressions into the skin of his arm. She glared at Dubois. The man returned her gaze, evenly, as though daring her to accuse him of something. Did Madalena’s family know what he was capable of? Did the people of Venice? Dubois knew of the killings, there was no doubt. He had ordered the murder of his pregnant maid Sophia, if Cristian could be believed.

“A thief within these walls. It’s unthinkable. And today of all days…” Signor Rambaldo shook his head. “Signor da Peraga, if you are certain you don’t need our help, I’m going to go check on my daughter. Perhaps Signor Dubois can alert the doctor to Signorina Caravello’s condition.”

“We’ll search the palazzo,” Pietro said. “If there is a criminal in our midst, we’ll draw him out like the vermin that he is.”

Joseph Dubois and Mada’s uncles followed Signor Rambaldo up the stone steps. Cass turned to Luca. “Luca, you don’t understand. Dubois is working with your brother. Cristian killed one of his maids—”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Luca said forcefully. “You cannot just go around accusing powerful men of murder.”

“But we can’t just let them get away with it.”

“Cass,” Luca said, cupping her face in his hands. “This is larger than just a dead servant. Please. Trust me. There are things, even now, that you do not understand.”

“But—”

“Look what almost happened to you. Don’t give anyone a reason to try again.” His eyes were urgent.

Cass instinctively raised a hand to her throat. She knew, deep down, that Luca was right. She could almost still feel Cristian’s hands wrapped around her neck, the burning sensation of her windpipe being crushed beneath his fierce grip.

“Are you all right?” she asked Luca. “You’re not injured?”

Luca rubbed at his right side. “A cracked rib, perhaps.” He winced. “But I always expected that being your fiancé would come with an element of risk.”

Amazingly, Cass managed to smile. “Thank you,” she said, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “For saving me. I don’t know what would have happened if—if you hadn’t…”

Luca looked down at her, his light brown eyes soft with emotion. “That was quick thinking with the lantern. I think you saved me too.” He removed her hand from her neck, entwining his fingers in hers. “We make a good team.”

Cass felt a rush of warmth. She rested her head against his chest for a moment. His heart thudded quickly beneath the fabric of his tunic. Cass stretched up on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered again.

Luca reddened. “Come,” he said. “We should see that you’re attended to.”

He escorted Cass up the stairs to the main level of the palazzo.
The portego, abuzz with whispering and murmuring, went dead silent as the two of them appeared on the landing. Cass caught a glimpse of her reflection in a large mirror hanging just inside the door. Her dress was tattered and soiled, the bloodstained collar hanging at a weird angle. Her thick hair was tangled, her lower lip swollen from where Cristian had bitten her. An angry red welt burned on her skin where she’d been cut.

Someone let out a strangled cry; various people made the sign of the cross. A woman Cass didn’t know approached her. “Is she all right?” she asked, bending low to examine the blood on Cass’s throat.

Other wedding guests came forward, pressing around her, a storm of hands and voices. The room began to spin. Cass’s knees buckled.

“Please, everyone.” Luca held up one hand, supporting Cass with his other arm. “Come on, Cass,” he said in a low voice. He led her up a second set of stairs. Cass had never seen the palazzo alive with so many people. And yet, she had never felt so alone. A gray-clad servant slipped past her, dark hair knotted on top of her head in a sleek bun.

“
Scusi,
” Luca said. “Please—get us a glass of wine.”

“Of course, Signore.” The servant curtsied and then returned to the main floor.

Luca pushed Cass toward an open door. “Rest there while I fetch the doctor,” he said. “Don’t say anything to anyone. Tell them you don’t remember what happened.”

“No. Not Dottor de Gradi—” Cass tried to protest, but Luca had already disappeared. Maybe it would be all right. Falco seemed to trust him.

Cass wandered dizzily into the plain room and practically
collapsed on a divan situated next to a thick glass window. She raised a hand to her chest, to the area where the dagger had embedded itself in a thin ridge of whalebone. Her heart still raced, just beneath her fingers.
Saved by undergarments,
Cass thought. Suddenly all those days of struggling to breathe beneath the oppressive stays didn’t seem so bad.

She inhaled deeply, willing down the desire to cry, or scream. From here, she could see the small courtyard garden. A couple of guests had found their way to the Venus fountain and were now perched on the circle of stones that ringed it. The brilliant sunny day had turned overcast; threads of gray mist hung in the air.

“Your wine, Signorina?”

That voice.

Cass spun around and struggled to her feet. Falco stood in the doorway of the study, dressed in a green and gold servant’s uniform. Cass took in the lopsided smile, the hair that curled slightly away from his face. Tears pricked up in her eyes, and Falco began to blur. But he didn’t disappear.

She had to restrain herself from running into his arms. Instead, she stood pressed against the window. “How—how did you get in?”

Falco crossed the room to her, pausing just long enough to set a glass of wine down on the desk. “Doors are quite useful, I’ve found,” he said, his eyes sparkling. Then his expression softened into one of concern. When he reached her, his hands skimmed her neck softly. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cass said. “Now.”

“When I heard someone had been attacked, I didn’t want to believe it was you.” He pushed her tangled hair back from her face.
“Then I heard she had fought the attacker off and sent the poor bastard fleeing into the streets.” Falco cracked a smile. “I knew it was my starling.”

Cass leaned into Falco, allowing him to wrap her in an embrace. She breathed in deeply. As always, Falco smelled like a mixture of paint and minty soap. “How did you find me?”

Falco pulled away and smiled at her. “The whole city’s been buzzing about this wedding for weeks,” he said. “I paid a servant to let me in. Had to trade away a perfectly good pair of breeches for this outfit, I’ll have you know.”

Cass had to restrain herself from embracing him again. She wanted to pull him against her. She imagined his soft lips on hers, the way he would weave his fingers in her hair.

But then she thought of Luca, of the way he had looked at her in the wine room, like his whole world would have gone dark if he hadn’t gotten to her in time. He had saved her. She stepped back, just slightly, letting a thin cushion of space between herself and Falco.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Cass said. “I came to find you at Signor Loredan’s exhibition…”

“You were there?” Falco said. “Did you see the—”

“
The Fallen Ones.
” Cass would never forget the trio of pictures. Mariabella and Sophia, both dead. But who was the third woman? Who was
R
?

And how many others had Cristian killed?

“The man who attacked you. Was he the one responsible?” Falco asked. He rubbed at the scar under his right eye.

Cass nodded. “His name is Cristian,” she said. “He’s deranged, but I don’t think he was working alone.” She paused, remembering
Luca’s warning to keep the real story to herself, and his insistence that there were larger forces at play. But Cass couldn’t lie to Falco. “I believe he was working with Signor Joseph Dubois,” she said. “They killed the courtesan Mariabella and the maid Sophia.” Cass didn’t want to think about who else they might have killed. She was desperate to believe Cristian, that he had nothing to do with Feliciana’s disappearance. “They tried to kill me,” she continued, deciding not to mention that Cristian and her fiancé were related.

“If you’re right, you’re lucky to be alive,” Falco said soberly. “Didn’t you say he had ties all the way to the Council of Ten?”

Cass nodded. No wonder Dubois thought he could get away with murder. Again Cass marveled at how naïve she’d been; there was darkness roiling underneath the republic everyone called
La Serenissima,
the most serene.

Falco took both of her hands in his. He lifted her fingers to his lips. “How did you feel after reading my letter?” he asked.

The question was simple, but Cass sensed a thousand others hiding in the subtext. “I—” She glanced toward the doorway and fumbled for a response but could find a hundred, and none. She settled for a question of her own. “Did all the bodies go to Angelo de Gradi? Did Liviana—” Cass couldn’t finish.

Falco ran his fingertips down the sides of Cass’s face, repeatedly stroking her temples, her cheekbones, her chin. Cass’s pain began to fade, as if his mere touch were healing her wounds. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I think he kept some and sold others. Maybe she was used for…artistic purposes,” he faltered. He leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“I forgive you,” she said, fighting the urge to press her lips to his.
She meant it. She couldn’t stay mad at him. And even though she didn’t understand, she would do her best not to judge. She was far from perfect herself.

Falco exhaled deeply. “That is the best news I have gotten all day,” he said. He leaned back, and his face broke out into a wide smile. “And the second-best news is that my paintings did well at the exhibition. A wealthy artisan from the mainland has offered me work. A lot of work.”

“Falco, that’s amazing!” Cass couldn’t resist reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“Life-changing,” he said, in a low voice. “Like you. Like us.”

Cass opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Falco was right. She wouldn’t deny that he had reached deep inside of her and unlocked secret places she had never even known existed.

“But the position will mean a lot of travel. Perhaps relocation,” he said.

She looked away from him, biting her lip. “You’ll be far away.”

Falco nodded. “But I might get to see my family again.”

“Your family?” Cass had never even thought to ask Falco about his family, whether he had brothers and sisters.

“My mother is a washerwoman and my father a cobbler. My brothers all work at the shop. I have a pair of little sisters in a convent in Verona,” he said. “It’s been years since I’ve seen them.”

Cass couldn’t imagine what it would be like to grow up in such a large family, with so many built-in companions.

“Come away with me, Cassandra,” Falco said, his hands coming to rest lightly on her waist. “I can give you a life now. It may not be quite what you’re used to, but it will be filled with love.”

Before Cass could answer, a servant appeared in the doorway to the study, a glass of wine in her slender hands. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she saw Falco.

“
Scusi,
Signorina,” she said. “Your wine…?”

“Just set it down,” Cass said sharply, relieved that it was a servant and not Luca who had found them together.

Falco stood. “Think about it,” he said to Cass. He pressed his lips to her hand once more and then headed for the hallway. Cass watched him leave. The room seemed to go dim and cold at his exit. The bleak surroundings melded with the hopelessness Cass felt in her heart, which was torn in two opposing directions.