Venom (11 page)

F
alco loosened the final rope with a flourish and the gondola floated free of the dock. He laughed when Cass instinctively took her usual spot, tucked back inside the felze. Then he went to the rear of the boat and began to use the long flexible oar to steer toward the Giudecca, the sandbar island that separated San Domenico from the more populated islands of Venice.

Cass felt a bit foolish. She slid out of the felze and went to stand beside Falco as he moved the boat through the water. Fog swirled around the gondola.

“Don’t expose yourself to the elements on my account,” Falco said with a crooked smile. “I don’t mind playing gondolier for you.”

“Is it difficult?” Cass asked. “To steer the boat?” Though she’d ridden in a boat almost every single day since her birth, she had never paid any attention to the mechanics of it.

“It’s not so bad,” he said. The wind blew a shock of dark hair into his eyes and Cass had the sudden urge to reach out and rearrange it. “Takes a little strength. Want to try?”

Cass was surprised to hear herself saying yes. She secured the cloak tightly around her waist and pushed her hair back from her face. The boat wobbled as she stepped onto the tiny platform beside Falco, and she gasped.

“You have to move with the rhythm of the water,” he explained.

The platform was tiny, really only enough space for one person, so Falco had to press his body against Cass’s back. His forearms fit neatly across her hip bones; she could feel his soft hair brushing against her cheek. He exhaled, a warm breath that tickled her neck and sent a shiver through her. She stiffened and nearly lost her balance. Falco tightened his grip on her momentarily until she regained her footing. His body radiated heat through her cloak.

Falco gave her the oar and put his hands on her waist to steady her. Cass awkwardly thrust the oar through the murky water and the boat skewed off at a funny angle. She felt herself wobbling, but Falco moved one hand from her waist to the oar and helped her guide it through the water. Cass began to relax her body against Falco’s.

She laughed, in spite of the mist and the night and their destination. Steering the boat was fun, and she was doing something that probably no other woman in all of Venice had ever done. After a few minutes, she got the hang of steering and the long wooden gondola started to move swiftly through the water. Falco offered to take over, but she persisted, despite the aching in her arms and shoulders.

“I’m impressed,” Falco said. “You’re a natural.”

Cass was grateful that he was standing behind her, so he couldn’t see her smile. She didn’t want him to know how much the comment pleased her. She lengthened her stroke and the boat coursed over the frothy water. A sleek form rose out of the mist like a sea snake. Cass
teetered on the tiny platform, holding her oar in front of her to keep from falling into the lagoon. A man swore loudly as his small fishing vessel glided by.

“Forgot to tell you to watch out for other watercraft,” Falco said, leaning in to help support her. “Not everyone has a lantern.”

Cass glanced around for other boats, but didn’t see any. “What do you make of the X carved in the girl’s chest?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the feel of Falco pressing up behind her. The strange slash marks haunted her. She shivered even now, just talking about them.

Cass felt Falco shrug. “Judging from the bruises on her neck, I’d say she died of strangulation.” His breath was warm on her jawbone. “Those cuts were made by someone who was angry. Someone who dislikes women, or at least women-for-hire.”

Cass could almost feel fingers squeezing her own throat, a blade slicing into her skin. How terrified the girl must have been. Cass attempted to change the subject. “Do you really think we’ll find something in the city? I want to know what happened to Livi’s body.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Falco’s voice was soft in her ear, but it had a slight edge to it. “The murderer probably dumped it in the lagoon.”

Cass swallowed hard as she imagined Liviana’s decomposing corpse floating to the surface by the dock outside Agnese’s villa. “Maybe not,” she insisted, forcing the gruesome image from her mind. “Why dump one body to hide another?”

The Giudecca was coming into focus, its southern coast barely visible through the low-hanging haze. Cass steered the boat toward the dark finger of land.

“Your friend is already dead. It doesn’t really matter where her body is now, does it?” Falco said curtly. Before Cass could protest that it did matter—of course it did—he pointed toward the eastern side of the island. “The water is calmer if you hug the shoreline.” There was silence for a moment before he added, more softly, “Anyway, what matters is finding out who sent you that threatening note, so we can stop him from whatever he’s planning next.”

Cass let the argument go. He was right, of course—what mattered most was making sure the murderer was caught and put away, before he could do more harm. They needed evidence of some kind. They needed a suspect.

As they neared the Grand Canal, Cass began to feel the weight of fear pressing down on her once again. The Chiesa delle Zitelle loomed like a stone guardian southwest of the entrance to the canal. Lanterns burned in the church’s twin bell towers, illuminating the structure’s gleaming cupola. It was like God was watching over the city. Cass steered the boat into the large backward-S-shaped canal that wound its way through the main areas of Venice proper.

The air was warmer inside the city, tall palazzos sheltering the small boat from the night wind. Cass leaned forward to put space between herself and Falco. The darkness swallowed up all but a faint halo of light from their lantern.

As Falco directed Cass down a side canal, the two maneuvered the gondola by the light of the moon reflecting off the water. Cass held her breath, hoping she wouldn’t awaken anyone by running the boat into the canal wall.

Falco seemed to sense her discomfort. He took the oar from her and navigated toward the Castello district, toward a seedy block
where the buildings looked as though they’d been under siege. Even in the darkness she could see that their roofs were full of broken red clay shingles; shutters hung open and tilted at funny angles.

As Falco steered the gondola along the edge of the canal, Cass saw a man slink across a bridge and head down an alleyway.

Cass pointed out the retreating figure. She and Falco watched the man vanish into a broken-down shack. “Probably just a thief, or a Jew hiding from the soldiers,” Falco said. “Ah, there it is.” Falco pointed to a square brick building with a pair of cracked marble lions flanking the front door. He steered the boat over to a dock. Sliding his body nimbly over the side of the gondola, Falco looped the rope over a mooring post. The gondola swayed back and forth. “Leave the lantern,” Falco said. “I’ll guide you.”

Cass reached out for Falco’s hand as she exited the boat, thankful that she was moving without the constraints of her heavy skirts and chopines. She had never been out in the streets like this before—unfettered, nearly undressed—and it gave her a quick thrill.

Falco led her quickly into a narrow alley and pressed their bodies up against the side of a private residence. The alley was completely dark. Cass again felt the weight of the knife in her pocket. She realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled slowly. The night was so quiet, she swore she could hear her eyelashes feather together each time she blinked.

From where they stood, they could see the front of the abandoned building. The whole street was deserted.

“Come on.” Falco took Cass’s arm and pulled her past the front of the building around to the back. Another alley. This one was home to a butcher shop and an apothecary.

The two of them maneuvered around a large pile of trash. Cass’s
insides churned from the smell of spoiled meat, and she brought the sleeve of her cloak to her face, inhaling through it. Falco pointed; Cass could just barely make out a small six-petaled flower inscribed in a circle beneath one of the windows. Though mist or rain had faded part of the symbol, she could tell each petal was exactly the same size and shape, meeting at a point in the center of the circle. There was something almost mathematical about the design.

“What now?” she whispered.

Falco didn’t answer. He stood on tiptoe, his face pressed against a pair of grimy shutters. Cass leaned in next to him, but the crack between the shutters was too small and the room beyond too dark to make out anything.

“Do you hear something?” he asked her.

She stretched up and tried to press her ear to the warped wood, but her face only reached the stucco. For once, she would have welcomed her chopines. “Nothing.”

Cass’s stomach flipped over as Falco reached into the stinking heap of garbage. He closed his hands around a tangled chunk of blackened metal.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Blacksmith’s error, most likely,” he said, reaching up and slamming the metal into the shutters. The wood splintered.

Cass jumped back and covered her face with her hands as a cloud of dirt sprayed outward. “Are you insane?”

“Only occasionally.” Falco brushed the dust from Cass’s cloak. He reached his arm through the jagged hole and winced as he felt around for the latch. The shutters opened with a groan, unveiling an inky rectangle of open space that reminded Cass of a coffin.

Falco hoisted his body up through the opening and into darkness.

“We can’t just break into the place,” she whispered loudly.

“And yet, it appears that we can,” Falco said, perching like a cat on the narrow windowsill. “Were you hoping a servant might admit us through the front door?”

“No, but…” Cass glanced around the dark alley, half expecting a battalion of soldiers to come running with their swords drawn. All she saw were the lurking outlines of dilapidated buildings. All she heard was her own breath and the lapping of the canal water against wet rock.

“Do you want to find out about the murder or do you want to go home to your satin sheets?” Falco asked, extending his hand in Cass’s direction.

She felt heat rising to her cheeks. He had no right to speak to her like that, so scornfully. She glanced around the alley again. A pair of beady eyes stared back at her from the trash heap. The rat chittered and then let out a high-pitched squeal. Cass bit back a scream.

“I’m coming,” she said hurriedly. She reached up to let Falco help her through the window.

He pulled her up under her arms, grabbing her waist and easing her through the opening. Cass felt her body tighten momentarily. She wondered if Falco had felt the jolt of tension pass through her.

She landed in a cold, shadowy space. The air smelled acrid. A glimmer of moonlight through the broken shutter illuminated the room’s basic features. Along one wall, a group of glass cabinets held rows of silver instruments. Most of them looked like scissors. Or knives. Some of the tips were crusted over with a reddish-brown substance Cass hoped was rust. She jiggled the handle of the nearest cabinet. Locked.

“Look at this.” Falco stood at the edge of a square table in the center of the room. A thin white sheet covered a mounded form beneath it. He yanked the corner of the sheet, pulling it back to expose the corpse of a dog. Cass drew in a sharp breath and stepped back, bumping against a cabinet. The animal’s four legs were tied out at its sides. Someone had sliced a Y-shaped incision down its middle, pinning back flaps of skin so that even in the darkness, Cass could see the sinewy red muscle beneath.

“What
is
this place?” Cass whispered, past the lump that had grown huge in her throat.

Falco’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s set up like some sort of workshop.” He drew the sheet back over the dog’s corpse and crept across the stone floor to the doorway.

Cass followed him, pressing one hand to his back as she peered over his shoulder and into the hallway: darkness, in both directions.

“Come on.” Falco grabbed Cass’s hand and pulled her out into the hall before she could even protest.

The blackness thickened with each step they took away from the room with the broken shutter. Cass gripped Falco’s fingers with all her strength, positive that the hallway would swallow her up if he released her, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to adjust her eyes to this new level of darkness.

Something sticky slapped across her cheek and she fought to keep from screaming. She flailed her free hand out in front of her face.

“Spiderweb,” Falco said. “It got me too.” His voice was calm, reassuring.

They crept farther down the corridor. The hair on the back of Cass’s neck pricked up. She could swear they weren’t alone, that
someone else was walking alongside them, toying with them. “Do you hear that?” she whispered. “I hear someone breathing.”

“All I hear is you huffing and puffing,” he answered.

Cass paused and held her breath. Sure enough, the hallway was silent except for Falco’s smooth, even exhalations. How could he be so calm when she was panting like a dying animal?
Dying animal.
She touched her rib cage, imagining thick bands of red muscle like there had been on the dog. Who would do something like that? Why would anyone be so violent and cruel? What
was
this place?