by Karen Brooks
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Votive: Curse of the Bond Riders 2
ePub ISBN 9781742744384
A Random House book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au
First published by Random House Australia in 2011
Copyright © Beyond the Rainbow Creative Productions Pty Ltd 2011
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia.
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Author: Brooks, Karen (Karen Ruth)
Title: Votive / Karen Brooks
ISBN: 978 1 86471 943 7 (pbk)
Series: Brooks, Karen (Karen Ruth). Curse of the bond riders; 2
Dewey Number: A823.4
Cover design by Mathematics, www.xy-1.com
Cover photos: image of mask and Venice backdrop by Getty Images; image of two gondoliers on canals by iStockphoto; image of girl’s face by 123rf
Map illustration by Karen Brooks
Map design by Mathematics
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Imprint Page
Dedication
Maps
Epigraph
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
PART TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Glossary
Acknowledgements
About the Author
TALLOW: THE CURSE OF THE BOND RIDERS BOOK I
This one is for the beloved Sara (Douglass) Warneke,
with whom I have shared the best of times and the worst.
My dearest, most courageous, loyal and wittiest of friends –
thank you, lovely lady, for being in my life. Long ago,
Sara pushed me down the path, one she lovingly prepared for
me and many others, and for that (and for so much more),
I am forever grateful.
Votive: a small candle often burned during a religious or other ceremony
Votive: given or dedicated in fulfilment of a vow or pledge
Votive: dedicated, consecrated, offered, sacrifice
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
‘First Fig’
‘BY THE GODS! STOP!’
Katina stumbled into the clearing. Blood soaked the front of her shirt. Debora and Alessandro cried out and raced to her side. She shook them off and stared in horror at the spectacle before her. ‘I said, stop!’
She strode forward and struck the knife that had been about to slice open Baroque Scarpoli’s neck from Santo’s hand. It flew through the air before skidding to a halt in the dirt.
‘What are you doing?’ growled Santo, scrambling to collect his blade.
His partner Stefano made a noise of disgust and released Baroque, shoving him face first into the ground. The spy sprawled helpless, his hands and feet bound. ‘Where have you been?’ Stefano spat at Katina, his face inches from hers. ‘I waited for you at the pledge stone. But you never came.’
Katina swiped the spittle from her cheek, her mind racing as she searched for an answer that would satisfy him.
Before she could, Baroque, their captive for over a week, groaned. Santo scooped up his knife and landed a vicious kick in his side. ‘You can make enough noise now, can’t you? But you won’t tell us what we need to know.’ He thrust his boot into him again and bent down, dragging him to his feet by the collar, his dagger poised.
‘That’s enough!’ Katina pushed Santo hard in the chest. He staggered backwards and would have hit the ground forcefully but for Stefano. Katina went to snatch the knife.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ drawled Stefano, stepping protectively in front of his partner, his hand shielding the blade.
They locked eyes. Tension made the air between them contract.
Katina shook her head but she lowered her arm. ‘Back off, Stefano,’ she growled. ‘Now is not the time and you know it. Call off your … lover.’ Her gaze slid to Santo, who slowly regained his feet, his face twisted in fury. A shift and whisper of movement behind her followed by a soft intake of breath let her know Alessandro and Debora, her own partners, had her back.
‘Now. Why don’t we all calm down?’ Katina said, moving away before anyone could challenge her, making sure she was positioned between Santo, his knife and Baroque. With deliberation she turned and, drawing her own dagger, knelt down and began to cut Baroque’s bindings.
‘What in the gods’ name are you doing?’ shouted Santo. ‘Let’s just slit his throat and get the hell out of here!’ Stefano had to prevent Santo from launching himself at Katina. Alessandro also blocked his way.
Katina stopped, her knife held out like a sharp finger. ‘Not until I say so. In case you’ve forg
otten, I am in charge.’ Her voice was low and deadly. ‘Anyhow, Santo, don’t you think there’s been enough death already today?’ Her eyes bored into him.
He gave a bark of laughter. ‘We had instructions to kill the chandler, Katina. Remember?’
Katina held his gaze a fraction longer before she resumed cutting Baroque’s bonds. They were tight. ‘The Elders did not say that Dante’s death had to be so –’ she searched for the right word ‘– brutal. That particular bit was your contribution – your only one as far as I’m concerned.’
Santo frowned and shot a look at Stefano, who shook his head. He laughed again. ‘You’ve become weak, Katina. Your last stint here in Serenissima sapped your courage. It’s diluted your loyalties. You’ve developed affection for those who are our targets. And now you’re protecting someone who was trying to interfere with our mission.’ He flipped his hand towards Baroque. ‘Why, he’s nothing but a filthy spy!’ With a snort, he walked away.
Out of the corner of her eye, Katina watched as he began to untether his horse from the nearby trees. While it riled her, Santo had a point. She was not the same anymore; her feelings had been engaged and her eyes opened.
Baroque’s bonds fell to the ground. Debora knelt by his side and began to rub life back into his wrists. Katina worked his gag free. It rested against his neck like a noose.
Stefano gazed judgementally at Katina. ‘Santo’s correct. You’ve changed. You’re too soft.’ He lingered briefly, as if he had more to say, then joined his partner.
Katina quietly released her breath. Shooting Debora and Alessandro looks of gratitude, she sheathed her dagger and helped Baroque sit up. The marks of their interrogations were livid on his flesh. His lips were cut, his nose broken; one eye was so puffy, he must have been barely able to see out of it. His clothes were ruined and the patches of exposed flesh were a combination of bruises and dirt – it was hard to distinguish which.
‘Senta, Baroque Scarpoli.’ She pushed the gag over his head. ‘This is your last chance. Tell us who you’re working for. Why you’re following Tallow.’
The spy’s one functioning eye twinkled.
‘I told you. I even told them,’ he said, indicating Stefano and Santo. ‘I work for myself. But no-one will believe me.’ He made an attempt at a chuckle. Blood sprayed the air and his cheeks. He spat on the ground and a tooth dislodged. ‘I didn’t need to lose another,’ he said dourly. He took the gag from Katina and used it to wipe his mouth before letting it fall in the dirt. He rubbed his wrists, wincing as circulation returned.
Katina rose to her feet, never taking her eyes from him. That he’d been tracking Tallow was beyond debate – they’d been watching him watch her, and that meant he knew the girl was an Estrattore. But who had hired him and for what purpose remained a mystery. Stefano and Santo were right: they should dispatch the spy now. But something made her stay her hand, and it wasn’t only the image of Dante’s death – a sight that played over and over in her mind. If Santo hadn’t killed Dante, would Tallow have come with them? Would they be loitering here in front of the Limen, afraid to return to the Elders with news of their failure?
Katina glanced at the Limen now, a nacreous sentinel in the fading light. A misty rain began to fall, deepening its radiance.
After Tallow had jumped into the canal, they’d tried to find her. Combing the fondamenta, attempting to appear indifferent while desperately searching the canals, the water-stairs, and every paline that rose out of the lagoon, in the hope they’d find her clinging to one. They checked nearby rami and calles, but there’d been no sign. The mob that had been cowed into silence was furious – one of their own, a young chandler on the cusp of manhood, had been callously killed, and by a Bond Rider.
When the soldiers arrived, they’d had to end their search, leave Serenissima quickly and covertly. It would be a while before they could openly return. They’d have to wait at least until memories of what they’d done – what Santo had done, corrected Katina – faded.
‘You couldn’t have stopped him,’ whispered Alessandro, understanding where her thoughts had taken her. Reaching out, he gently kneaded Katina’s shoulders. ‘He believes he was following orders.’
‘He was,’ said Katina. Her tone was bitter, angry. She didn’t understand why Dante had to die. It made no sense. She kept her concerns to herself. ‘Only no-one said the young man’s death had to be so dramatic, so public.’ Not when a knife across the throat or a dagger slipped between the ribs would have served equally well.
Aware Baroque was listening to their every word, she bit back what she wanted to express. Who else knew about Tallow? And what did they want? If Baroque was working for himself as he claimed, then it would be for the reward the Doge offered and, if that were the case, he would have kidnapped the girl already. But he hadn’t. He’d been following her, gathering information, just as they were. Katina didn’t like what that signified one bit.
If they killed Baroque, her questions would never be answered. They needed him to believe he’d convinced them with his tale of working alone. That he’d escaped Bond Rider justice … this time.
Katina sheathed her dagger. ‘In light of what’s happened, killing this man would be … ill considered.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Stefano, leading his horse over. ‘Are you mad?’
‘We need to find Tallow. When we can return to Serenissima – ‘her eyes flashed at Santo ‘– that will be our mission. This man found Tallow once. He can do so again. More than ever, we need ears and eyes in the city, ones that will not turn an Estrattore over to the Cardinale or the Doge.’
‘But he’s a spy! How many times do we need to say it? He works for soldi, not out of allegiance.’ Santo kicked a stone in frustration.
‘Which means he works for whoever pays the most. Am I not right?’
A smile pulled Baroque’s lips. ‘Sì.’
‘And, if we paid you enough, would you work for us?’
‘You have my word. On my honour,’ he said, placing a hand over his heart.
Santo guffawed. ‘Honour? What would you know about honour?’
‘About as much as you,’ snapped Baroque, finally hauling himself to his feet and making an effort to stand straight. He pulled what remained of his clothes around his body. ‘You snatch me from the streets of the Chandlers Quartiere and drag me over here to the mainland and start beating me, making wild accusations, crazy assumptions. Where’s the honour in that? You attack me, and why? Because I am following a little boy.’
The Bond Riders glanced at each other. Katina’s eyebrows shot up. ‘A boy? You know he’s a great deal more than that.’
‘So what if I do? That doesn’t prove I’m working for anyone other than myself.’ He looked around at their sceptical faces. ‘Senta, listen: I swear, I am working for myself.’
He looked at each of the Bond Riders in turn. ‘I promise I will not reveal any of this. Just let me go, please. I will look for this boy for you. I will find him and, when I do, I will tell you. No-one else but you.’ Ignoring the others, he stared long and hard into Katina’s eyes.
‘Upon what do you swear?’ she asked.
Baroque’s breath caught. ‘On my dead brother’s soul,’ he whispered.
In the dimming light and steady rain, Katina could not see the spy’s features clearly. Her eyes flickered over the other Bond Riders. They weren’t happy with what she was doing – that was clear in their faces. Well, Katina didn’t trust him either, but killing him served no purpose except to sate some sick blood-lust. The gods knew, enough had been spilled. She resisted pulling her shirt away from her body and ripping off her gloves.
In that instant, she made up her mind. She would bear the consequences of this decision. Anyhow, if the Elders didn’t like what she’d done, she could always return and finish off Baroque Scarpoli. It was her other choice she was more worried about.
‘Very well,’ she said to the spy, ‘consider yourself hired. You now work for us.’ Debora and Ales
sandro glanced at each other, faces drawn in displeasure. Stefano and Santo began to laugh.
‘You stupid cavola,’ said Santo in disgust.
Stefano folded his arms across his chest and regarded Katina carefully, taking note of her appearance. ‘Where were you? You never did answer me. How come you took so long to get here? And why do you have blood all over you?’
Debora stared at her. ‘It’s not yours, is it?’
‘No.’ She hesitated and then changed her mind. ‘All right. If you must know, it’s Dante’s. I went back –’
‘What?’ The word slipped out of everyone’s mouths. Alessandro slapped his thigh in frustration. Debora made a noise of exasperation and turned away. Santo and Stefano hovered between leering at the discord between the partners and fury.
‘To make sure he was dead.’ Katina raised her voice. ‘I wanted to …’ She searched for an explanation, to tell them what had compelled her to return. ‘To say sorry.’
Stefano’s frown deepened. ‘You’re not serious.’
‘Sì, she is,’ Santo mocked. ‘Our leader, the apologist.’ He wound his horse’s reins around his wrist and leapt into the saddle. ‘What are we waiting for?’ He looked down at the group. ‘I’m not going to argue over this. Not anymore. She can bear the consequences.’ He nodded towards Stefano. ‘Let’s get out of here before she makes us surrender ourselves to the Signori di Notte or the Cardinale.’
Stefano didn’t move. ‘You’re not telling us everything, are you?’
Katina remained silent.
‘You’ve become unpredictable, Katina, and that’s not good in a Bond Rider.’
When she didn’t respond, he clicked in exasperation and, with practised ease, mounted his stallion. ‘Where’s your horse?’
‘Birrichino? He’s back at the pledge stone. Why?’ Katina wrapped her arms around her body.
‘You have to go back for him?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Her voice was steady.
‘So you won’t be making the crossing with us.’