Belladonna soter-2

by Fiona Paul

  So then what? She decided that perhaps she could play to his controlling side. She could pretend to be terrified of him. She’d find him, apologize for her paranoia, and beg him not to report her to the priests. She could even offer to let him take more blood from her while she was conscious, as a show of subservience. The thought of the long needle in her neck made her stomach lace itself into knots, but it might be a way to get Piero to admit that he had been bleeding her.

  Even if he refused, Cass could throw herself on his mercy until he at least pretended to forgive her outburst. Then, she could suggest they have a glass of wine together. If she could get him to drink with her, she just might be able to cajole secrets from his lips. Everyone got chattier when they were drunk, didn’t they?

  Energized by her plan, she struggled to her feet and slipped into her shoes. Her feet moved awkwardly, heavy as stone. A half step at a time, she crossed her room to the doorway. She stopped to light a candle, but the box of tinder was empty. She would have to make her way in the dark. She headed toward the main staircase, her right hand pressed against the wall for balance. Her muscles trembled in protest beneath her skin, but Cass ignored the burning. Thirty paces down the corridor was the elaborately carved wooden door leading to Belladonna’s chambers. The Book of the Eternal Rose was beyond that door—Cass could feel it. But the door was locked, and the key was likely one of the two threaded onto Belladonna’s bracelet. There was no way for her to enter. Approaching Piero for information would have to suffice for tonight.

  Cass leaned back slightly as she began to descend the stairs to keep from pitching forward into the dark. A shadow danced at the periphery of her vision. Someone below had lit a candle—one of the servants, no doubt. Guided by the faint light, she made her way around the corner, leaning heavily on the wall for support. The door to Piero’s chambers was open. Cass saw a pair of candles burning on the shelf next to his bed.

  “Piero?” She pushed the door all the way open, but the room was empty. What could he possibly be doing out of bed in the middle of the night? The floor beneath her feet suddenly felt unsteady.

  His quarters were tight, and the only place to sit, other than the bed, was a plain wooden stool that rested in front of the shelves. Cass didn’t want to go near the shelves. Her skin twitched again at the thought of the cage full of spiders. Still, the room was starting to break apart. If she didn’t sit somewhere, she knew it was only a matter of time before she passed out.

  She lowered herself to the stool, which wobbled dangerously beneath her. She rested a hand on the lowest shelf for support, averting her eyes from the covered cage.

  Her fingers landed on parchment. It was the journal Cass had flipped through the previous day. She noticed some of the pages had been torn out. The anatomy sketches were still there, but the mysterious symbols and notes were gone. Her other hand bumped something farther back on the shelf, a fluted glass vial with a stopper made of cork. It had a symbol stamped on the top of it, a triangle with a T inside of it. Cass twirled the vial in her good hand. Dark liquid sloshed around in the container. Perhaps it was some sort of medicine. Made from spider venom.

  She returned the vial to the shelf. Glass clinked against glass. Casting a quick glance at the door, Cass bent down so that her face was level with the lowest shelf. It was completely packed with glass vials.

  Cass lifted a second vial up close to her eyes. The cork stopper was marked with three overlapping circles. The fluid inside this one looked a deep red.

  Like blood.

  Cass replaced the vial in the spot where she had found it and picked up a third. This one was stamped with a lily insignia. Her fingers flew immediately to her necklace. Was she holding a container of her own blood?

  twenty-three

  “Traditional wisdom speaks of four liquids, or humors, found within the body. It is these four fluids that determine the nature of a human being, from health to temperament.”

  —THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

  The next evening Cass again pretended to take the mandrake draught, and again poured it out when Piero wasn’t looking. She hadn’t waited for him to return to his chambers the previous night—after seeing the vial of her own blood, she’d fled back to her room, needing time to puzzle through what this meant. Not only was he draining her blood, but he was saving it.

  Now she lay awake, expecting him to sneak back into her room with his needle and syringe. Turning on her side, Cass stared at the dark curtains that blocked every drop of starlight that might have squeezed through the shutters. The whole house seemed shrouded in a haze of sleep. Even the malevolent presence she sometimes sensed lay dormant. Everything was quiet.

  Perhaps she was just finally healing. Perhaps all the flashes of foreboding were connected to her fevers, which were finally going away. The ache in her arm was fading, and for the first time since Piero had rescued her, Cass felt well enough to realize just how alone she was.

  And then she heard the door to her bedroom creak ever so softly as it swung open. Her whole body went tense, and her heart battered itself against her ribs as she thought of what she would say to Piero, how she might defend herself against him and his bloodletting. Her stomach roiled as she thought about the vials of blood that stood in neat rows on Piero’s shelf. But she quickly realized that the dark form creeping across the floor wasn’t Belladonna’s physician.

  “Falco,” Cass said. Her heart was still pounding, but for a different reason. “Did you find it? The Book of the Eternal Rose?”

  “No.” His hair fell forward as he leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead. “But the entire villa seems to be empty. I thought we might sneak into Bella’s chambers and do a little investigating.” He winked. “It’ll be like old times.”

  Cass sat up so quickly that her head went fuzzy and the room began to rotate. “You have the key?”

  Falco held up a tiny scalpel, which Cass knew he sometimes used in his painting. “Who needs a key?” he asked. He dropped the instrument into his pocket and took both of her hands in his.

  Cass waited for the dizziness to fade and then let Falco help her to a standing position. The floor was ice beneath her. Her left leg wobbled as she slid her feet into the dyed leather shoes she had worn to Belladonna’s birthday party. She cursed under her breath, tightening her grip on Falco’s hands until her legs felt steady.

  “Do you think you can make it?” he asked. “I could go and search alone, but I might not find anything, and I know you won’t be satisfied until you see for yourself.”

  “Just go slow with me,” she said sharply. So Falco still didn’t believe her and was doing this only to appease her, or maybe to prove she was wrong. Well, she would be the one proving him wrong. Cass knew the book was in Belladonna’s chambers.

  Falco lit a candle from her washing table, and with Cass leaning slightly upon him, the two stepped through the doorway into the hall.

  The house was dark and quiet. Falco led her down the long corridor toward Belladonna’s chambers, holding the candle out in front of her so that she might navigate the occasional statue or pedestal shrouded in blackness. Beside her, he moved as if he needed no light at all, as if he’d spent his entire life walking the halls of this villa instead of just the past couple of months.

  Something tugged at her ankle, and she raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.

  “What is it?” Falco pulled Cass in toward him, his other arm out as a barrier between her and any possible threat that was lurking in the dark.

  She looked down and realized it was only a braided tassel on the edge of an Oriental rug that had gotten caught on her shoe. “Nothing,” she whispered. Shaking her head, she freed herself from the tassel and continued down the corridor.

  Carvings of Venus, Victoria, and Diana looked out from the wide arched door that led to Bella’s chambers. Cass leaned forward to press her ear against the wood. The room beyond was completely silent, but what if Bella was simply asleep?

  �
��You’re sure she’s not here?”

  “I saw her leave with a group of men not long ago,” Falco said.

  Cass’s mind filled in the details he didn’t. A group of men from the Order.

  She held the candle while Falco made quick work of picking the lock. He grinned crookedly in satisfaction when the mechanism disengaged with a telltale click. Pocketing the scalpel, he pushed open the door.

  Resting her free hand on Falco’s lower back for support, Cass followed him into the room. The flickering flame illuminated only a small circle of the darkened chamber, but again Falco moved around with ease. He took the candle from Cass and toured the room while she stood just inside the doorway.

  “Here we have the bed.” It was a giant canopy bed made of dark wood, with long shimmery turquoise flaps that hung loose over the mattress. Falco pushed aside one of the flaps and lifted the pillows so Cass could see there was nothing beneath. He ducked down and peered under the frame. “Nothing on the floor.”

  “What?” Cass had stopped listening for a moment. Even in the dark she could see Falco’s latest painting of Belladonna, the one of her springing forth naked from a rose, hanging on the wall opposite the bed. Cass forced herself to look away. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could clearly identify the outline of a washing table, a dressing table, and an armoire.

  Falco turned a corner into the large adjoining bathroom. It was empty except for a pair of mirrors and a circular bronze basin for bathing. “See, there’s nothing here.”

  Cass returned to the main chamber. “What about the armoire?”

  “I think she keeps it locked,” he said.

  Cass remembered Belladonna’s silver bracelet with the keys dangling from it. “So then work your magic again,” she said.

  Falco frowned across the room at the tiny golden padlock that glimmered in the faint light. “It’s a much smaller lock. What if I break it? Then she will know someone was in here. I could lose my position.”

  “Falco,” Cass hissed. “Who locks up their clothing? There’s obviously something important in that armoire.”

  “My position is important,” he muttered. “And if you cared for me, you’d think twice before asking me to risk it over some crazy conspiracy idea.” But he crossed the room to the armoire and held the candle next to the lock.

  “I am not crazy.” Cass realized she had curled her hands into fists. Her fingernails were digging crescent moon impressions into the flesh of her palms.

  Falco jiggled the lock and the metal twisted apart.

  “That was fast,” Cass said.

  He turned toward Cass, his face a mask of worry. “I didn’t do anything. The lock was already open.”

  Cass tugged on the armoire’s handles, and the doors swung open. She didn’t care who had unlocked it. She only cared what was inside. Both halves were lined with shelves. “Hold the light for me,” she said. Energized, she began at the top, feeling behind each hat, each folded bodice and skirt, each silken chemise. Nothing. She moved to the other side. Cuffs. Collars. Strings of pearls and jeweled hair clips neatly laid out on a bed of velvet. And then, an empty shelf.

  Cass grabbed the candle from Falco and held it next to the shelf. She could see a faint outline of dust, with a clear spot in the middle. A large, rectangular clear spot. A spot that might fit a sheaf of papers, or a book.

  “It’s gone.” She couldn’t keep the despair from her voice. Her heart shriveled inside her. “Someone beat us to it.”

  Falco raked a hand through his hair. “What’s gone? There’s nothing there, Cass. That’s probably just the shelf where she keeps whatever she’s wearing right now.”

  “Is she wearing something rectangular?” Cass pointed out the lines in the dust.

  Falco shook his head, but didn’t respond. He shut the armoire and rethreaded the padlock. He tried to close it, but couldn’t. “Whoever opened this before us seems to have stripped the mechanism.”

  “You believe that someone broke in here, but you don’t believe me about the book?” Cass felt the sudden urge to reach out and shove him. Why was he being so stubborn? She hadn’t disbelieved any of the story when Luca had told it to her.

  A board creaked above their heads. One of the servants was awake.

  “Let’s get out of here before we get caught.” Falco took Cass’s arm and led her out into the corridor. He locked the door. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

  “I don’t want to go to my room,” Cass said. She pulled away from Falco. “I need to find that book. Perhaps someone took it out to add pages to it. I’m going to keep searching.” She knew it was pointless, hopeless, that whoever had stolen the book was long gone, but she couldn’t just let Falco tuck her into bed. Luca was going to die. Didn’t Falco understand that? “Why don’t you believe me?” she whispered, her voice breaking apart at the end.

  Falco punched the wall lightly. “Do you know how many commissions I’ve gotten since the night of Bella’s birthday party? Five. And some of them are for multiple paintings. She’s changing my life, Cass. I realize she’s friends with de Gradi, but that doesn’t mean she’s involved with his experiments, or even if she is, it doesn’t mean they’re doing anything wicked.” He stroked the side of Cass’s face with the back of one hand. “You were attacked by dogs. You’ve been feverish and sedated. I’m not judging you for believing some nonsense about an Order or a book, but—”

  “It’s true!” Cass slapped his hand away from her and stepped back from his reach. She wanted to punch the wall just as Falco had. “There is an Order, and there is a Book of the Eternal Rose, and when I find it, it will probably be full of horrible things about your precious Belladonna.” She was practically screaming, but she didn’t even care. Tears pushed at the backs of her eyes. “And after I use it to save Luca, I will let you see it so you can see just how wrong you were.”

  Falco’s jaw tightened. “I feel sorry for you, Cass. But eventually you’re going to have to accept the fact that da Peraga is going to die.” His eyes flashed dark in the flickering candlelight. “Sometimes I wish that day would hurry up and get here, so that I could have my starling back.”

  Cass stumbled backward like she’d been slapped. The candle wobbled in its holder and then tumbled to the floor, bathing her and Falco in darkness. “You bastard,” she whispered.

  “Cass.” Falco seemed to realize he had gone too far. “What I meant—”

  “I don’t care what you meant.” She pointed away from herself, confident Falco could see her gesture in the gloom. “Just go. Now.”

  “Fine.” His voice was ice. “I need a drink anyway.” He spun on his heel. A few seconds later Cass heard his footsteps thundering down the main staircase. The front door opened, and then slammed shut.

  Cass’s body slid down the wall until she sat crumpled in a heap on the stone floor. She tried to hold in the tears, but couldn’t. Her body shuddered with sobs as she thought about what Falco had said. How could anyone be so cruel? Luca would never say such a thing. Luca would probably tell Cass to forget about him and go be happy with Falco if he knew of her feelings. Cass sniffed. For the first time, she wished Falco could be a little more like her fiancé.

  After her sobbing began to subside, she wiped at her eyes and then turned toward her bedroom at the far end of the hallway. It seemed impossibly far away. And she had meant what she said about continuing to search for the book. Even though she knew it was gone, her only other choice was to resign herself to the fact that Luca was going to die. She really would go crazy if she gave in to that line of thinking.

  Suddenly, the hallway brightened, just slightly. Cass blinked hard, wondering if she was imagining it, but then she heard the front door fall shut with a soft click. Falco must not have gotten that drink after all. Perhaps he was coming back to apologize. She swiped at a few leftover tears and then used the wall to get herself back on her feet. She padded to the top of the staircase to see if it was indeed Falco returning. />
  But it was Piero who was skulking around the lower level. Cass watched as he set something on the side table—it looked like a chalice of some sort—and then slipped into his room. He was back in the hallway a moment later, with a cloak hanging over his arm. He stopped just inside the front door to fasten the garment around his clothes and lift the hood. The flowing fabric obscured every inch of his body. Piero grabbed the chalice and ducked back out into the night. Where had he come from at such a late hour? Where was he going?

  Cass crept her way down the staircase a half step at a time. Forcing herself to hurry, she made her way to the foyer and peered outside. The moonlight clearly illumined Piero, heading across the lawn, his black robe flapping in the breeze. Wherever he was going, he was going on foot.

  She glanced around the foyer. A pair of cloaks hung from hooks. No doubt they belonged to some of Belladonna’s servants. Cass snatched the one closest to her and slung it over her shoulders. It was ridiculously large. The sleeves dangled over her hands; if she put up the hood, it would surely cover her entire face. Gathering the excess fabric in her good hand, she headed out the door.

  Ducking down behind one of the giant flowerpots to catch her breath, Cass watched as Piero crossed the road and headed into the field of tall grass that led to the church. The night air pierced her lungs, sharpening her senses. Her pain was still there, a faint pulsing in her bandaged arm, but her legs felt steady. Cass took a deep breath, stood up, and followed him.

  She hurried as best she could past the grove of trees on her left. Yellow eyes. Running. Hot breath. Her legs buckled as the memory of the dogs almost undid her. Locked door. Teeth. Blood pooling on stone. She breathed in crisp air and kept going. The road was damp, and her feet sank slightly into the mud as she crossed it. Then she started through the field, wincing as an occasional nettle pricked her through the thin soles of her leather shoes. A short line of carriages stood off to the side of the church, the horses stamping their feet occasionally. The drivers were clustered in a tight circle, talking quietly and passing around a flask.