Venom_ARC448_FM8.indd

by Venom (mobi)

  Cass whirled around. Falco. How had he managed to sneak up on her again? Dressed in all black, he was invisible except for his tanned face, barely lit up by the stars.

  "You shouldn't have run off," he said seriously. She saw no hint of his usual grin. "I was worried. I tried to follow you; I wanted to make sure you got home safely. But I lost you in the alleyways."

  "I—I was afraid," Cass said.

  Falco moved closer to her and Cass did not pull back. "Afraid? Or angry?"

  "Confused," Cass said. Falco's body was just inches away from her own.

  Falco sighed. "I know what you must think of me," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. "If you can just give me two more days, I promise then I can explain everything."

  Cass yanked the circle of amethyst stones from beneath the collar of her dress. "And can you explain this as well?" she asked. Her heart thrummed in her chest. "This belongs around the neck of my dead friend, whose body is conveniently missing."

  "You must be mistaken." Falco looked away. "That's costume jewelry. It was in with the rest of Tommaso's junk. He probably bought it from a Gypsy."

  "Mistaken. Of course." Her skin felt too tight, like she might burst at any moment. Of course he couldn't explain it. Once again, she had given him a chance to make things right, and once again, he had failed. Cass ripped the necklace from her throat, watching as the chain broke and the stones scattered on the wet ground. She gestured toward Liviana's tomb. "There's a dead girl in there who's not supposed to be, and another girl murdered, and you don't care. You don't care about them, or me." She turned and walked away from him, blinking back tears. "I refuse to be lied to any longer." What an idiot she was.

  "Cassandra, wait." Falco ran after her, grabbing her arm just before she reached the edge of Agnese's garden. "I do care. Give me two days. That's all I need. And then I will tell you anything you want to know." He stared at her. "Please. I'm asking you to trust me."

  "Why should I?" Cass asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The breeze rustled through the ivy. Cass watched one leaf whip back and forth. "Last night you told me not to trust you, and tonight you tell me I should. What's changed?"

  "What's changed is that I . . ." Falco reached for her face, his fingertips caressing her cheekbones. "I'm falling in love with you," he said, brushing a strand of hair back from her eyes. "For the longest time I couldn't see it. I didn't want to see it. So impossible. But I can't deny my feelings any longer. You're more than a muse, Cass. I want you to be more. I want you to be mine."

  "But you know—" Cass could barely stutter out a sentence; Falco's words were so unexpected, she could hardly breathe. "But I'm engaged . . ."

  "Forget the engagement. Forget what you're supposed to do. What do you want to do, Cass? What do you need?"

  Cass felt her resolve melting away. His fingertips were ten individual spots of heat on her cool skin. She was tired of being cold. All she had to do was lean in and let the warmth engulf her. She thought of their bodies pressed together in the old batéla, her hands caressing his bare skin as their mouths met over and over.

  She realized she was crying. Falco kissed away her tears one at a time. Each time his lips touched her skin, she felt a brightness, like he was making flowers bloom inside of her. "I want to believe you, but it's not that simple. I—"

  "It is that simple." Falco tilted her face upward and pressed his mouth to hers, gently, then harder. Cass didn't even try to resist. The wind whipped his hair around, and hers, tickling her skin as Falco pressed her against the framework of the trellis that lined the back of her aunt's garden. Falco leaned into her and Cass could feel their hearts beating against each other. This was what a kiss should feel like. This was real.

  When Cass broke away from the embrace, she was breathless. "All right," she said, exhaling hard into the darkness. "I'll give you your two days. But from then on I want everything explained. No more lies."

  "Thirty-six hours," Falco said solemnly. "That's all I need."

  Light flickered in the distance. Cass raised a hand to cut him off. "Did you see that?" She pointed to the graveyard. "It looked like a lantern."

  Falco turned to look. "It may have been one of the servants lighting a candle?"

  "No, look." Cass stared as the flickering light moved between the shadows. "I have to go. My aunt is already furious with me. No one can find me out of bed at this hour." With you.

  Falco leaned in to give her one last kiss. "Meet me at the Pillars of Justice. Day after tomorrow, at noon. I promise I'll explain everything then."

  "I'll be there." Cass fled from the gardens, to the servants' entrance that would take her safely into the kitchen. Her hands trembled as she fidgeted with the knob. The door was locked fast. Someone must have come along behind her and discovered the door unbolted.

  Cass swore under her breath. Why did everything have to be as difficult as possible? She felt her way along the rough stone walls of the villa as she headed around to the front entrance. The lantern light still moved along the graveyard fence where she and Falco had met. Had someone been spying on them? Spies, secrets—they were everywhere now. Cass almost couldn't fathom the strange turns her life had taken over the past few days.

  She didn't even make it back inside the villa before she realized something was terribly wrong. When she turned the corner onto the main lawn, she saw that the whole front of the house was ablaze with light. Through one of the arched windows, she could see into the portego. Nestled on the divan facing directly toward Cass was Aunt Agnese. She had never looked so furious.

  Even the graveyard, with its possible vampires and murderers, seemed like a safer choice than going inside to face her aunt. But then Cass saw Agnese start up from the divan and totter over to the portego window, her gray hair peeping out from her white nightcap. The old woman pointed one swollen hand at the glass. Then she disappeared from view, as if she had collapsed.

  Cass raced up the stairs and into the portego. Her aunt had fallen into a chair. She was hunched over, trembling slightly. Her cap had fallen to the floor, exposing the coarse gray braid that fell just past her shoulders. "Aunt Agnese," Cass said, kneeling down to retrieve the cap. "Are you all right?"

  The commotion brought Narissa and the cook running from the kitchen. They were both wearing cloaks. Cook had a lantern, as if he had been preparing to go outside. Slipper trailed along behind Cook as if he thought the portly man might leak scraps of meat from his pockets. Cass stared at them. What on earth was the whole house doing awake?

  "Cassandra," Agnese rasped, one hand clutched over her heart. She seemed on the verge of tears. "Where have you been?" Slipping her nightcap back onto her head, she shooed away a hovering Narissa.

  Cass was frightened by Agnese's outburst. Agnese was always very stern, but in a sarcastic sort of way. It was not like her to raise her voice. It was even less like her to cry.

  "I went for a walk. I—I was just out by the gardens." Cass tried to look as contrite as possible.

  "You know you're not supposed to be running about after dark, especially not now, when the whole city is buzzing about a killer on the loose." Agnese shivered. "If it weren't for your cat waking the whole villa with his incessant meowing none of us might ever have realized you were missing."

  Cass didn't answer. She gave Slipper a look of reprimand. The little traitor! No more chicken broth for him.

  Agnese's eyelids fluttered. "Honestly, Cassandra, I know you get this—this recklessness—from your parents, but I don't know how much longer I can handle it."

  Cass wished she could melt into the floor. She almost preferred her aunt's cutting sarcasm to this quiet, disappointed tone. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again," she said. "I promise."

  Agnese shook her head and the loose folds of skin under her chin wobbled back and forth. "Your promises have proven to be as reliable as Bortolo's aim with the teapot. As of this moment, Narissa is in charge of you. She will go everywhere that you go, which will be nowhere without my ex
pressed permission. You are turning far too wild."

  "But Aunt—"

  Agnese held up a hand. "Do I make myself clear?" "But Siena—" Cass protested.

  "Has gotten a bit too close to you, I'm afraid," Agnese said. "Siena can work for me for the time being."

  Cass looked past her aunt, at the mosaic of The Last Supper. Jesus's dark eyes stared back disapprovingly at her. She turned away, toward Narissa and the cook. Was no one going to speak up on her behalf? Agnese couldn't make her a prisoner in the villa, not now, when Falco had agreed to explain everything to her.

  "But . . . but I promised Madalena I would meet with her the day after tomorrow," she said. "I am helping her with her wedding preparations." What was one more lie if it meant getting to see Falco?

  But her aunt was too smart to be fooled. "Madalena is always welcome here, at the villa. That is all. I'm tired. I'm going back to bed. I suggest you all do the same." Agnese swiveled her head toward the kitchen. "Siena," she barked.

  Siena scampered into the portego. Without even glancing at Cass, she knelt down and let Agnese grab hold of her arm. Once the old woman was on her feet, Siena walked her toward her room, a half step at a time. Cass thought she heard her aunt muttering something about what Matteo would think under her breath.

  "I believe it's time for bed, Cassandra," Narissa said coldly, in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

  Cass allowed Narissa to pilot her, dumbly, toward the back of the villa. The corridor seemed to have shrunk in size. She remembered the conjurer, the doves trapped in the small stone box. Cass felt like the walls of the villa were closing in on her, keeping her prisoner from everything that she loved.

  20

  The following day, Cass still felt as if the villa were suffocating her. Not only was she trapped inside, but she was bored out of her mind—so bored that she sat on the stool and plucked random strings on her aunt's harp for a while until Bortolo reminded her that he was blind and not deaf.

  Narissa had followed her around all morning like a stout, balding shadow. When the maid excused herself to fetch a basket of mending, Cass contemplated making a run for it. She imagined flying out the front door and down the steps. Running across the lawn until she hit the sandy shoreline and then swimming her way to the Rialto. And then what?

  That was the problem with running away. You had to have somewhere to go.

  A sharp rapping at the front door startled her. She glanced around for Bortolo, but the butler had conveniently disappeared. Probably snuck downstairs for a nap in his office. Cass jumped up from the divan, eager for any distraction.

  Narissa descended from the servants' quarters with more speed than anyone her age and size ought to be able to muster. She waved Cass back to her seat. "Young ladies do not answer doors."

  Young ladies, Cass thought bitterly, do not do anything but sit and rot.

  Cass watched as Narissa conversed briefly with a boy wearing wrinkled muslin breeches and a sleeveless leather doublet that was fraying at the seams. Cass sighed. Just a messenger. She settled back into the tasseled cushions of the divan with a sigh as the boy handed Narissa two pieces of parchment and turned away.

  Narissa held one of the letters out in her direction. "Signorina," she said. "This came for you."

  Another exciting missive from Luca. Cass took the letter reluctantly. Had she ever finished reading Luca's last letter? She didn't think so. She had started it at the tailor's shop and then shoved it back in her cloak pocket where it most likely still sat. Fiddling with the edge of the folded parchment, Cass ran one finger between the layers to break the lily-imprinted red wax seal. Reluctantly, she scanned the first few lines.

  My Dearest Cassandra,

  I hope the weather has been mild so that you've been able to wander around the garden. I remember how you used to like that. Don't forget to be mindful when going into the city. Many people, men especially, aren't who they seem to be.

  Cass frowned. No one was who they seemed to be. Madalena had stolen a piece of jewelry from a friend. Falco—who knew what he was getting up to in the middle of the night? Even Agnese might be a stranger for all Cass knew. She had always wondered how her aunt managed to stay single after her husband died so many years ago. If Agnese could do it, why couldn't Cass?

  "And the other letter?" Cass watched as Narissa set the other letter on the side table. It was rolled vellum, tied with a red ribbon in addition to being stamped with wax, the kind of announcement one might send for a party.

  "It's for your aunt."

  "I'll bring it to her." Anything to escape from Narissa's hawklike gaze for a few minutes. Besides, if Agnese was in a good mood, maybe Cass could cajole from her some small measure of freedom. How long could she possibly keep Cass locked in the villa? Until the murderer was caught? What if he was never caught? Sooner or later, the old woman would have to relent and at least allow Cass to wander the grounds of the estate.

  "Good idea," Narissa said. "The cook should be just about finished with your dinner trays." And then, seeing Cass's look of surprise, "Didn't your aunt tell you she was expecting your company in her chambers?"

  No, she absolutely had not.

  Dinner started out worse than being a prisoner in the Doge's dungeons. Only the smallest sliver of daylight peeked through Agnese's heavy curtains. The musty room reeked of overpowering perfume and herbal ointments, a combination that practically screamed "old lady." And Agnese's mood definitely matched the dour surroundings.

  Agnese's plate of sea bass and butter sauce was balanced on her lap. She struggled to manipulate the silverware with swollen fingers. It was painful for Cass to watch. Her aunt would get a bite of sea bass up to her thin lips only to have it tumble from the fork back onto the plate, or worse, onto the velvet bedspread that covered her legs and waist.

  After the third piece of fish hit the covers, Cass pulled her chair in close. "Let me help you," she said. Cass speared a chunk of sea bass on her own fork and held it up to her aunt's mouth.

  Agnese accepted the fish reluctantly, but then waved away Cass's next attempt with a dramatic flourish of her hand. "I don't need to be fed," she said. "I may be weak and old, but I have always been remarkably coordinated."

  Cass resisted making a comment. She was simply grateful her aunt wasn't speaking to her in the soft, disappointed tone she had used last night.

  "Remember that," her aunt continued, going after a green bean slick with butter. "Don't fall into the trap of letting others do everything for you. It's noble to accept help when you need it, lazy to accept it when you don't." Agnese blotted her mouth with a thin linen napkin embroidered with roses and doves.

  What about accepting a husband you're not ready for? What is that? "Aunt Agnese," Cass asked suddenly. "Why are you in such a hurry for me to marry Signor da Peraga?"

  "For all the reasons you imagine, dear." Agnese rested her fork on her plate. "As you know, I was forced to sell your parents' estate to repay their creditors."

  Cass nodded solemnly. Apparently, her father had made a few risky investments that had put the family deep in debt. Cass had lost almost every remaining piece of her parents because of this—their artwork, their furniture, even their clothing. It was almost like her mother and father had never existed at all.

  "My husband's nephew Matteo will be coming of age soon," Agnese continued. "Because he is the legal heir to the estate, this property will become his. He hasn't decided if he wants to move here or sell the villa. Either way, he'll eventually start his own family, and although I'll probably be allowed to stay on, given my advanced age, there may not always be a place for you." "But why Luca?" Cass persisted.

  Agnese reached out and patted Cass on the hand. "Your parents loved the da Peragas," she said. "It was always their wish that you two would marry one day. Luca is a good man. Proper. Kind. I will never worry about you, knowing that you are entrusted to him. No matter what anyone has said of me"—here she brandished her fork again—"I have always held to my p
romises, and I intend to do so until I die."

  "But what about what you said?" Cass persisted. "What about not letting people do things for me? What if I want to be entrusted to myself?"

  Agnese speared another bean. "I'm sorry, dear, but that's simply not how it's done. I did not invent the rules for us women, and they are not mine to alter. Besides, complete freedom . . . it's an ideal. An impossibility. Haven't you read enough of my books to have learned a thing or two about the world?"

  An impossibility. The words hit her like stones thrown from a rooftop. Maybe Cass did want the impossible. Love. Freedom. Maybe she was striving for things that no one could have.

  Agnese set her plate to the side and split the red wax seal of the vellum Cass had given her. She skimmed the letter and a smile broke out over her wrinkled face. "How would you like to go to Donna Domacetti's for tea? She has invited you to call on her this afternoon. It may be only a small taste of freedom, but you'll likely receive an overlarge helping of cake."

  Normally Cass would have dreaded sitting about Palazzo Domacetti, listening to that fat old crone cackle and gossip. Cass was still upset that the woman had done such a thorough job of informing all of Venice of her engagement to Luca. But today just the thought of getting some fresh air made it seem worth it. Besides, the Domacettis lived right on the Grand Canal. Maybe Cass would run into Falco or one of his friends. She wanted desperately to let him know she wouldn't be able to meet him at the Pillars of Justice. "I'd love to," she said, a little too eagerly. Agnese's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I suppose you would. Well, you might as well begin making friends with Donna Domacetti's circle. They will be your companions very soon."

  Cass tried to keep a straight face. The thought of marrying Luca was bad enough. Was she expected to transform into a boring, petty gossip as well?