Starling (97 page)

“Only he who is mad or disturbed
would attempt to raise the dead
from their graves.”

ass smelled the incense and heard the sound of someone chanting before she opened her eyes. It was almost
like she was in a church, but something was wrong. Beneath the sweet smoke lingered the scent of decay. The
mix of odors reminded her of Villa Querini, of Agnese’s corpse

Cass opened her eyes, but everything was a blur. As she blinked,
the room slowly came into focus.
It took all of her will to keep from screaming.
She was back at Palazzo Viaro, in the hidden chamber with the
candelabra and the shrines. And the man who was murmuring, the
blond-haired, brown-eyed man who had rescued her, wasn’t Luca
after all.
It was Cristian.
He sat at an easel, his left hand awkwardly manipulating a paintbrush across a piece of canvas, seemingly unaware that Cass had regained consciousness.
The smoke, scalding heat, and chemical fumes must have dis

She swallowed back a sob. Luca hadn’t come to rescue her. He
probably didn’t even know, or care, about her imprisonment. And
Falco, had he died making sure Cass had gone through the workshop
window first? She hadn’t heard him at all after she landed on the
cobblestones. Her heart sank deep into her gut. One more person
who had loved her and paid the price for it.

In addition to everything else, the book was gone—the only thing
she had to prove Joseph Dubois and the Order of the Eternal Rose
were evil had burned. She would never know for certain what role
her parents had played in the secret society. Dubois would be free to
recruit another scientist to continue the Order’s depraved research.
He might have to start all over without the book, but that would not
deter him for long.

No matter what has happened, you’ll be all right.
Luca’s words
were a mockery now. Cass could not get any further from “all right.”
No, she couldn’t think that way. She might not be able to destroy
the Order completely, but without Piero or the book, they would at
least be hindered. And she had fought off Cristian once before.
With Luca’s help.
Cass forced herself to imagine him trapped in the Doge’s
dungeons—being strong, not succumbing to panic or despair. She
would do the same. Slowly, she rolled each foot from side to side. She
flexed her fingers, moved her wrists enough to realize she was not
tied down in any way. She was sprawled on a divan, but it was lumpy
and covered in dust.
She risked another peek at Cristian. And then at the opening that
led back into his quarters. And then down at herself. Cass gasped in