Belladonna (25 page)

Falco pressed his lips to her cheek. “The signorina has been keeping me excessively busy.” He paused. “She looks in on you a lot too. Last night, I saw her watching you sleep.”

The thought of Belladonna watching her sleep made Cass’s skin crawl, but she bit back a sarcastic response. She didn’t want Falco to think she was jealous. “I’m just glad you’re here now.” She reached out her hand to touch his face, and then his hair. He was real. He wasn’t a dream.

“Is there anything I can bring you? You must be bored out of your mind.”

“Did you have any luck locating the Book of the Eternal Rose?” Cass asked hopefully.

Falco shook his head. “I pored over every volume in the library for you. There is no Book of the Eternal Rose.”

“I bet she keeps it in her chambers,” Cass murmured. “You’ve been inside her room, right?”

“And I never saw any book.” He raked his hands through his hair. “What makes you think it even exists?”

“Because Luca said—”

Falco didn’t let her finish. “Of course,” he said shortly. He didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. “Sometimes I wish . . .” He shook his head, his words fading into the darkness.

“You wish what?” There were so many things Cass wanted him to say: he wished he had met her before she was engaged, he wished he had stayed in Venice to fight for her.

“Forget it,” he said, his voice still tight. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset. You focus on getting stronger. I’ll keep looking for your book.”

Cass threw her good arm around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek. “I feel certain it’s in Belladonna’s chambers. If you could just peek around the room the next time you’re
painting
her in there.”

The Book of the Eternal Rose was in the villa—Cass could feel it. But it was just out of her reach. She counted back in her head how many days she had been at Villa Briani. A week, assuming she wasn’t missing any days. That meant Luca had less than a fortnight until his execution. Falco had to help Cass—he had to. Otherwise Luca would die.

“Just know that I’m always thinking of you, all right?” He brushed his lips against hers, stood up, and started back toward the door. “Sweet dreams, starling,” he said, ducking out into the hall.

Cass let her eyelids flutter closed for a moment. She wanted to scramble from the bed and run after him. But she couldn’t.

The door squeaked again. She assumed it was Falco again and almost called out to him.

But it wasn’t Falco.

It was Piero.

Soundlessly, he crossed the floor to her bedside. She hoped he couldn’t see that her eyes were open, just barely. Turning slightly, she watched as he hovered in front of the table, pulling items from a black bag. Tinder snapped. A candle flamed to life. Something silvery scattered the faint light. Cass squinted: a steel syringe, just as Siena had said.

Now was the time for Cass to cough or speak or otherwise let Piero know she was watching him. But she wasn’t quite ready. She didn’t know what more she was hoping to find out.

No. She did know. She wanted to see whether he would try to kiss her, thinking that she was asleep.

Cass closed her eyes. She felt him sit down next to her on her bed.

“Cassandra,” he whispered.

She didn’t answer.
Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Don’t twitch.

The air grew heavy around her as Piero bent low. His warm hands tilted her chin. His breath tickled her skin.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. She opened her eyes. “What are you doing?” she demanded, sitting up, pulling her covers up to her chest.

Piero jumped up from the bed, startled.

“
Santo cielo
. You scared me.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you awake? Did you drink all of your mandrake?”

“No, I didn’t.” A quiver made its way into Cass’s voice. She inhaled, gathered her courage. “You’ve been draining my blood while I’ve been sleeping.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, with a harsh bark of laughter. “Why would I take your blood? You lost too much of it in the attack. I told you so myself.”

“There are punctures on my neck from where you draw it out,” she said stubbornly. She looked at the bedside table, expecting the syringe and needle to be sitting there, but the table was empty except for Piero’s black bag. “Where’s the needle?”

Piero considered her with his penetrating eyes. “You told me you weren’t hallucinating.” His voice sounded almost accusatory.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “Open your bag.”

Piero showed her the inside of the black velvet bag. There were a few glass vials of herbs, a pot of theriac salve, and a silver flask. No syringe. No needle. Could she have mistaken the flask for a syringe?

“I don’t understand,” Cass said.

Piero reached out to touch her forehead with the back of his hand. “Poor thing,” he murmured. “So confused.”

“I am
not
confused. There are marks on my neck.” But as she felt around with her fingers, she couldn’t seem to locate the nicks she had felt earlier.

“Let me see.” Piero pushed all of her hair back behind her shoulders. He angled her head so that he could get a look at the side of her neck. With one hand, he rubbed the skin of her throat rhythmically, at first softly, but then more deeply. Cass didn’t want his touch to feel good, but it did.

“I see no marks,” he said. “Poor Cassandra. Your arm is healing but I think your body is still sick.” He reached his other hand around to the back of her neck, gently probing her stiff muscles. “You’re weak. You’re imagining things.”

He was so close to her that she could smell him. A combination of sweet and sharp scents, a hint of something medicinal, like the balsam her father used to smell like. It all made Cass feel very young and small and alone. Piero was still massaging her neck. She was just starting to relax when his fingers grazed a tiny sore spot.

“There,” she said, her whole body going rigid. “Right there.”

Piero leaned closer. “That?” He ran his fingertip over the spot. “Nothing more than a spider bite.” He gripped her chin and stared hard in her eyes, as though daring her to challenge him. His voice hardened. “Or it
could
be the bite mark of a vampire, I suppose. As a physician, I would be the one most qualified to decide. I can give you a more thorough examination in the light of day, if you desire.” He paused, letting his threat sink in. “Do you desire it? The penalties for vampirism in Florence are very grave.”

Cass balled her hands into fists under the coverlet, so Piero wouldn’t see. She trusted Siena implicitly. She knew the marks on her neck were from repeated bloodletting. But if she publicly accused Piero, he might diagnose her with a vampire bite. The Florentine priests would take her away.

She would be Hortensa on the platform. Flailing, drowning. Tossed aside like a broken doll. Piero Basso had the power to sign Cass’s death warrant.

“Think carefully, Signorina,” he said, drawing away. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were hard.

Cass lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying Piero’s words in her head. How dare he threaten her. How dare he
lie
to her about taking her blood. She wanted to leave him, to leave this whole villa and return to the safety of Palazzo Alioni. But that would be giving up, and she was no quitter. She had told herself, repeatedly, that she would do whatever it took to find the Book of the Eternal Rose and free Luca.

There had to be a way to persuade Piero to tell her the truth, or better yet to trick him out of some information. If Siena was right and he had truly kissed her while she was unconscious, then he obviously found her attractive. Could she use that to her advantage? Could she go and find him in his chambers and feign romantic interest in him, as a way to learn more about the Order? Cass didn’t think so. For one, he was smart and would see through her ruse. And even if he didn’t, she was weak and wouldn’t be able to escape if things got out of control. Plus, she really didn’t want to touch him more than she had to. Just the thought of him caressing her in her sleep made her want to have a bath.

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?

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?”