Belladonna soter-2

by Fiona Paul

  “Funny you should ask,” Mada said. “He’s been there for a couple of weeks. He left not too long after my wedding. Why do you ask?”

  After a quick glance to make sure they were alone, Cass quickly recounted the story of Luca’s arrest, Feliciana, the trip to Palazzo Ducale, and the Book of the Eternal Rose.

  “You’ve had a busy couple of days,” Madalena said, frowning. For a second she was quiet.

  Cass leaned over and grasped Madalena’s hand. “I know it all sounds like madness, but I must get to Florence as quickly as possible,” she said.

  “What does old Agnese think of all this?” Mada asked.

  “I haven’t told her,” Cass confessed. “She’s been so weak. Just the soldiers ransacking the place looking for evidence of heresy took a lot out of her.”

  “Evidence of heresy.” Madalena shook her head. “Ridiculous.”

  “I know. But I have to prove he’s innocent somehow.” Cass had twisted her napkin into a coiled rope. “Or else they’re saying he’s going to hang.”

  Mada’s dark eyes widened. “Of course we’ll get you to Florence.” She sipped her tea again. “Marco is supposed to meet my father there next week. He is scheduled to leave in two days. I can just arrange for us to accompany him. We’ll all stay with my aunt Stella. I haven’t seen her since I was a child.”

  “And Feliciana?” Cass asked hopefully. “She doesn’t want to go back to Palazzo Dubois.”

  “I’m sure we can squeeze in one more,” Mada said. “Perhaps Stella is looking for another maid.”

  Excitement stirred within Cass. If she could get to Florence, she could find Hortensa Zanotta, and the Book of the Eternal Rose. Ideally, Hortensa would recant her testimony and the book would show Dubois for what he was—a monster. If Cass threatened to expose him, he would use his shadowy power to set Luca free.

  Luca had done so much for her. This would be her way of beginning, slowly, to repay him.

  * * *

  Back at the villa, Siena paced Cass’s room like a caged animal. “I still don’t see how we can just leave,” she burst out. “With Luca rotting in prison.”

  Cass cleared her throat meaningfully.

  “Mi dispiace,” Siena mumbled immediately.

  “I’m not leaving him to rot,” Cass said. “My only chance to free him is to find the Book of the Eternal Rose, and Luca believes it to be in Florence. Not to mention one of his accusers is hiding out there. Besides,” she added, “we can finally get your sister far away from Dubois.”

  “I know it’s the right thing to do, but . . .” Siena shook her head as she stared down at the floor.

  “And after we free Luca, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to bring Feliciana into his employ.” Cass forced herself to speak with a cheery confidence she didn’t feel. There was one more obstacle standing between her and Florence: she had to persuade her aunt to let her go.

  Fortunately, Agnese didn’t require as much convincing as expected. Cass let her aunt lead the conversation through dinner, doing her best to appear attentive but remaining uncharacteristically quiet. When Agnese finally asked her what was wrong, Cass sighed dramatically.

  “I just can’t stop worrying about Luca,” she admitted. That much was true. “And every time I leave the house . . . .” she trailed off.

  “Yes?” Agnese coughed into her dinner napkin.

  “I feel like everyone is staring at me, and saying horrible things.” Cass looked up at her aunt for just a second before dropping her eyes back to the tray balanced on her lap. “Mada thinks I should get away for a while. She and Marco are going to Florence in a couple of days. She keeps insisting that I join her.” Cass sighed again. “I keep telling her that I should stay. I can’t just run away because the entire city seems to be mocking me, or worse—pitying me. What do I care what other people think?”

  Agnese swallowed hard, placing her fork down next to her plate of roasted duck. She cared greatly what other people thought. “I do worry about whether Matteo has heard of Luca’s predicament,” she said. Matteo was Agnese’s nephew by marriage. He would come of age soon and inherit the estate, and Agnese fretted obsessively about her stature in his eyes because she didn’t want him to toss out Cass and the serving staff if he chose to come live in the villa. “Maybe a short trip would do you some good,” Agnese continued. “Florence is lovely this time of year.”

  “But I can’t leave you here alone, Aunt Agnese,” Cass said, knowing this would further convince her aunt that she should leave. She picked listlessly at a greasy slab of duck, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it. Agnese was no fool. If she figured out Cass was trying to con her, Cass would end up locked inside the villa again while Narissa watched her every move.

  “Alone? I wish I could have a moment alone in this house,” her aunt grumbled. “Narissa checks on me nine times a day, and that foul doctor shows up at all hours with his bloodsucking pets, not to mention the serving staff—I hardly think you’d be leaving me alone.”

  Cass formed her face into a hopeful expression. “Really? It would be nice to get away for a bit . . .”

  Agnese nodded. “And Madalena’s mere presence is a tonic for you.”

  Cass leaned forward and kissed her aunt on the cheek. “You’ve convinced me,” she said. “I’ll send word to Mada immediately, if you’re sure you don’t mind being without me.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. It was my idea. I only wish you would listen to me more often,” Agnese huffed.

  Cass had to lift her napkin to her mouth to conceal a smile.

  ten

  “The church believes the ‘Devil’s children’ should be interred near a crossroads, so that the power of Christ might prevent the evil from rising from their graves.”

  —THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

  Cass spent the entire trip to the mainland thinking about the papers she had found in her parents’ tomb. What kind of elixir was the Order trying to create, and when had her parents become involved? Was that why they had never been home?

  She couldn’t help but feel a wave of anger. How could her own parents have willingly associated with Joseph Dubois? How could they have felt a greater allegiance to a secret society than to their own daughter? These same thoughts tumbled relentlessly through her head as their ship approached land.

  Men with carriages were waiting for the party as they docked at Mestre, the main connecting point between the Rialto and the mainland. The carriages were made of sturdy wood with big metal wheels, each pulled by a single horse.

  Cass stared in fascination. The last horses she’d seen had belonged to the Doge—great glossy black things that were draped in gold and velvet and stood almost twice as tall as she did. These were shorter, with wide furry legs and bare backs. Cass approached the nearest horse, reaching out a hand toward its muzzle.

  The horse raised one of its forefeet and stamped it on the ground. Cass hesitated. The driver laughed. “Go on then. He won’t bite you.”

  She reached out to stroke the horse’s forehead and it nickered softly. Suddenly, she missed Slipper terribly.

  “He likes you,” the driver said. “He always likes the pretty girls.”

  Cass blushed. She patted the horse again. It made a chuffing sound as it studied her with its big black eyes.

  The party split into two groups. The servants and the men hired to tend to the horses rode in one carriage, and Cass, Madalena, and Marco rode in another. Cass hadn’t ridden in a carriage since she was a little girl. Back then it had seemed fun, the rhythmic clip-clopping of hooves as the carriage skipped along. Now she felt like her head might bounce right off her neck. She clutched the side of the bench for support while Marco wrapped his arms around Mada to steady her. When the path flattened out, Marco and Madalena remained twined around each other, trading occasional quick kisses when they thought Cass wasn’t looking. Cass swallowed a sigh. She wished she were riding in the servants’ carriage with Feliciana and Siena. They were probably gossiping and giggli
ng.

  “Are you all right, Cass?” Marco asked. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

  Cass blurted out the first words that came to mind. “I was just wondering how long it will take to get to Florence.” She glanced out the window. The sun had already fallen below the tree line. She couldn’t believe how many trees there were. Ribbons of pines and firs snaked out in all directions, twisted gray trunks crowned with feathery branches. The air smelled fresh, like a fire at Christmastime. Completely different from the moldy, fetid odors of Venice.

  “About a week,” Marco answered.

  A week! Cass tried not to imagine how sore she’d be after an entire week of being jostled around the tiny carriage compartment. And worse, she quickly did the math in her head. That would leave only two and a half weeks for her to find the Book of the Eternal Rose and return to Venice before Luca’s execution.

  As she adjusted to the roiling, jerking motion, she distracted herself with the stunning and unfamiliar views that rolled past her window: more and more forests, a multitude of green patches, and far in the distance, a line of mountain peaks jutting high above the trees.

  “The Apennines,” Marco said, following her gaze. “Lovely, aren’t they?”

  * * *

  It took three days to reach the base of the Apennines. The surface of a turquoise lake shimmered in the moonlight, and the dark shadows of the mountain peaks loomed all around them. Cass couldn’t help but think of Falco. He would love this beauty; he would know how to draw it.

  One day turned into another. And then another. They traded the mountains for wild open meadows, for tall wet grass and soft dirt roads. The sun rose and set again. Twice during the journey, Cass’s carriage got stuck in the mud. The male servants and the carriage attendants had to push and pull the giant wagons to get them through the murky soft spots and back onto the path. Cass began to wonder if they would ever reach Florence.

  Finally, the carriage driver announced they were nearing their destination. Cass hung her head out the window, eager for a view of the city.

  But she didn’t see any buildings or people, not even way off on the horizon. All she saw were more fields, great grassy meadows that stretched out for miles, with rolling hills beyond them. She pulled her head back inside, intending to check the view from the other side of the compartment.

  Suddenly, the carriage lurched violently to the left, throwing her and Madalena against the edge of the window. Cass heard the shrill whinny of the horse, followed by swearing. Metal shrieked on metal. The carriage tilted at a strange angle, leaving the window pointing toward the ground.

  “Mada, are you all right?” Cass and Marco reached for Madalena simultaneously.

  Madalena nodded, rubbing her side and wincing. “What happened?”

  The driver’s head appeared in the window. “Is everyone all right?” he asked, red-faced. One at a time, he helped the girls crawl out through the small opening.

  Cass wriggled awkwardly through the window, tugging her skirts behind her. She landed on the dusty ground, where Siena immediately helped her to her feet. One of the front wheels of the carriage had hit something—the wooden axle was broken clear through.

  “What now?” Cass asked. The servants and carriage attendants were all milling around, muttering. They had broken down near a crossroads, but both streets were completely bare of traffic. Open meadows stretched around them, with tree-covered hills off in the distance.

  Marco cursed. “And only an hour outside of Florence.”

  The driver knelt beside the fallen axle. “We can’t move on until the damage is repaired.”

  Just then, Cass heard a howl from the trees. She turned toward the noise and saw a pack of wild dogs across the field—four of them in total, slinking around the periphery of the tall grass.

  “Marco,” she said, her throat tightening. “Dogs.”

  Marco turned. “They won’t bother us, Signorina Cassandra,” he said. “We’re too many. Dogs are cowards.”

  The largest dog lowered its haunches to the ground, and the others followed its lead. But Cass couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching her.

  Waiting.

  She stared back, not wanting to appear afraid, until the rhythmic drumming of hoofbeats drew her attention. A carriage was approaching from the direction of Florence. She watched the cloud of dust draw near, realizing it wasn’t a carriage after all. It was an old wooden cart pulled by a short, squat horse. Two men in leather doublets were perched on the back of the cart, their boots dangling almost to the ground. Another man straddled the horse. When he spotted the disabled carriage, he slowed the horse to a walk and pulled up near the side of the road. Cass headed toward them to see if they could offer assistance. Too late, she realized what the cart was carrying.

  Bodies.

  She stopped right in the middle of the road, hugging her arms around her waist. The scene brought her back to the night she had discovered Falco’s secret. But these men weren’t robbing graves. Apparently, they were going to dig them.

  The two men in leather doublets jumped off the back of the cart with their shovels and traipsed across the field. One of them pounded a wooden cross into the ground while the other began to dig. The third hovered close to the cart, glancing occasionally at the linen-wrapped bodies, as though he thought they might walk away.

  Cass wondered why they would be taken so far outside of the city to be buried. Curiosity outweighed her fear, and she started across the road again. Madalena followed her.

  “Be careful.” The man—the driver—positioned himself between the girls and the cart.

  Cass glanced down at his hands. He wore a plain silver band around his thumb. “Are they . . . infected?” A ripple of fear moved through her. Luca’s own father had contracted the plague from one of his servants. He had died in less than a week.

  “Oh, they are infected all right,” the man said. “With the Devil’s own affliction.”

  Cass struggled to understand his thick Florentine accent, but she was pretty sure she had heard him right. She leaned back from the bundle. With one hand, the man delicately parted the burial shrouds around the first body’s face. The dead girl looked like her, with freckled skin and auburn hair.

  And she had a brick jammed into her mouth.

  “They are vampires,” he said grimly.

  eleven

  “The Church decrees that the undead must be drowned in holy water, as staking or burning might free the affliction from inside their unholy bodies and spread the scourge of vampirism across the land.”

  —THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

  Vampires?” Mada squeaked. Cass could only stare. The brick had been forced so far down the girl’s throat that it looked as if her jaw had been dislocated.

  “Bitten, anyway,” the man said. He let the white shroud fall back over the girl’s face. “We bind their hands with silver and put the bricks in their mouths so that they cannot escape their shrouds if they turn.” He looked Cass and Madalena up and down with his dark, sharp eyes. “You’d best be careful if you stop in Florence. There’s been a run of vampire attacks recently, mostly on young women.”

  “A girl is attacked by a vampire and your solution is to kill her and dump her body in the countryside?” Cass asked, her voice rising in pitch.

  The man glanced over at the two men digging. The pile of soil at the edge of the trench was growing in size. “There is no cure once you’ve had the bite. You’ll either die or become a vampire yourself. We’ve started drowning them.” He spat on the ground. “The magistrate won’t allow us to stake them or burn them because he thinks the blood and ashes might spread the affliction. The way I see it, no matter what, we are doing them a favor.”

  Cass looked toward the trench and felt nausea welling in her chest. “But what if they do wake up in there? They’ll be trapped underground, for eternity.” Before anyone could stop her, she headed across the high grass toward the wooden cross and the hole in the ground beside
it. Mada hurried after her, and the maidservants followed.

  The girls stood around the open grave. Cass couldn’t help but remember the nightmare she’d had before she left Venice. The one of herself stretched out beneath the ground, bound to the bones of her parents. As she and the others watched, the two men flung shovel after shovel of dirt onto a pile. The hole grew deeper and wider, like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole.

  The men ignored the girls completely. When they were satisfied with their work, they dropped their shovels and went to retrieve one of the bundles from the cart. Madalena looked positively horrified as the men carried over the first girl.

  The first body.

  The first vampire.

  Cass took a step back from the edge of the grave, again envisioning herself encased in dirt, white-wrapped bodies falling from the sky, as they had in her dream. She couldn’t help but wonder what Falco would have thought of this scene. He didn’t believe in vampires. To him this would be madness. Paranoia. Murder sanctioned by the Church.

  For the thousandth time, she was struck by the differences between herself and Falco. The two of them had lived in the same city, but in completely different worlds. Cass was foolish to ever dream they could be together. Her parents and Aunt Agnese, they had been right all along. Luca da Peraga was the proper man for her. Regardless of whatever charges Dubois had trumped up against him, Luca was a good man who believed in the Church. In right and wrong. Luca was the same as she was, when it came to the things that mattered.

  A second white-wrapped body went into the hole, sending up a sudden draft from deep beneath the ground. Cass shivered. She wished Feliciana and Siena would step back from the edge of the grave.

  A clap of thunder sounded. Cass glanced up at the sky. Billowing gray clouds were rolling in. She could just barely make out the hazy tips of the Apennines behind them. The third body landed with a soft thud.