Venom (33 page)

Cass froze. The bird’s striped feathers were eerily reminiscent of the stranger’s mask the night of Dubois’s masquerade ball. Could it be just a coincidence? The falcon perched on the conjurer’s hand, preening itself. It stretched out its wings, and for an instant Cass saw it like a skeleton instead of a bird, each wing made out of delicate bones not too different from the ones in her own hands.

Maximus noticed Cass in the crowd for the first time. Both conjurer and bird stared at her for a long moment.

“Come on.” She stumbled back from the crowd, pulling Siena with her.

Cass and Siena continued across the piazza, passing the Basilica San Marco, the Doge’s personal chapel. The building was made of fine marble and almost as big as the Palazzo Ducale, with five sets of arched doorways across the front and five shiny golden cupolas laid out in the shape of a cross. Frescoes depicting biblical scenes decorated the area above each arched threshold. Elaborate friezes and
bas-reliefs ran along the terrace and roof. Every square inch of the place was gilded or sculpted or painted. Cass always imagined the great building was what the Garden of Eden would look like if it had been magically turned to stone.

A semicircle of six boys sat directly in front of the basilica, drawing its likeness on pieces of yellow parchment. Cass’s heart skipped. She couldn’t help but look for Falco. He wasn’t there, but she recognized Paolo, Falco’s roommate, among the group.

He’d been civil to her last night, but who knew how he might act without Falco around to defend her. “Wait here,” Cass told Siena. Then she walked up to the boys and stopped just behind Paolo. “Excuse me,” she said. All of the boys turned around. A couple of the younger ones giggled.

Paolo weighted his drawing down with a worn leather canteen.
Probably full of alcohol,
Cass thought. The tall boy hopped to his feet. “Come to talk more about de Montaigne?” he asked with a wink.

Cass looked away. From the corner of her eye she could see Siena staring at her. “I actually was hoping you might give Falco a message for me,” she said. “I need him to meet me tonight, at midnight, at the churchyard by my aunt’s property.”

“Churchyard, eh? Sounds very…deserted.” Paolo lifted his hat and shook his black hair out of his face. “I don’t know. You kept him out late last night.” The boy gave Cass a long look. “I’m surprised you made it to Mass this morning. But perhaps you had reason to repent?”

Cass blushed. “It isn’t like that,” she said. “I just need to talk to him.”

A gust of wind blew Paolo’s baggy white shirt back against his thin
frame. Cass could see the contours of his body beneath the fabric. She realized she was seeing everything differently now. Nothing was whole anymore; every figure, every movement, was the sum of smaller pieces.

“I’ll give him the message, but don’t be upset if he can’t make it,” Paolo said. “And by the way—congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.” A slow grin spread across his face as Cass froze in place. “Don’t worry, Signorina. Falco doesn’t mind.” Then Paolo tipped his hat and went back to his easel in front of the basilica. The boy next to him poked him on the arm and said something under his breath that Cass couldn’t make out.

Cass glanced back at the clock tower as she gestured for Siena. It was almost noon. Falco
would
meet her tonight. She was certain of it. In just twelve hours, she would make him give her the answers that she needed. In just twelve hours, things would begin to make sense again.

T
hat night, Cass stood at the fence surrounding the graveyard, one hand pressed up against the cool metallic bars. She hadn’t been inside it since the time she’d gone looking for Falco and caught him drawing the nude girl. Cass had never found the drawing. Siena had probably burned it to protect her. Cass remembered how upset and embarrassed she’d felt when she’d seen it, her obsession with who the girl was supposed to be. It all seemed insignificant now.

She looked up at the sky. The night was unusually clear, and a smattering of stars shone down on her. Cass wished she knew more about constellations. Certain stars grouped together bestowed luck, and Cass needed all the help she could get.

“Starling.”

Cass whirled around. Falco. How had he managed to sneak up on her again? Dressed in all black, he was invisible except for his tanned face, barely lit up by the stars.

“You shouldn’t have run off,” he said seriously. She saw no hint of his usual grin. “I was worried. I tried to follow you; I wanted to make sure you got home safely. But I lost you in the alleyways.”

“I—I was afraid,” Cass said.

Falco moved closer to her and Cass did not pull back. “Afraid? Or angry?”

“Confused,” Cass said. Falco’s body was just inches away from her own.

Falco sighed. “I know what you must think of me,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. “If you can just give me two more days, I promise then I can explain everything.”

Cass yanked the circle of amethyst stones from beneath the collar of her dress. “And can you explain this as well?” she asked. Her heart thrummed in her chest. “This belongs around the neck of my dead friend, whose body is conveniently missing.”

“You must be mistaken.” Falco looked away. “That’s costume jewelry. It was in with the rest of Tommaso’s junk. He probably bought it from a Gypsy.”

“Mistaken. Of course.” Her skin felt too tight, like she might burst at any moment. Of course he couldn’t explain it. Once again, she had given him a chance to make things right, and once again, he had failed. Cass ripped the necklace from her throat, watching as the chain broke and the stones scattered on the wet ground. She gestured toward Liviana’s tomb. “There’s a dead girl in there who’s not supposed to be, and another girl murdered, and you don’t care. You don’t care about them, or me.” She turned and walked away from him, blinking back tears. “I refuse to be lied to any longer.” What an idiot she was.

“Cassandra, wait.” Falco ran after her, grabbing her arm just before she reached the edge of Agnese’s garden. “I do care. Give me two days. That’s all I need. And then I will tell you anything you want to know.” He stared at her. “Please. I’m asking you to trust me.”

“Why should I?” Cass asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The breeze rustled through the ivy. Cass watched one leaf whip back and forth. “Last night you told me not to trust you, and tonight you tell me I should. What’s changed?”

“What’s changed is that I…” Falco reached for her face, his fingertips caressing her cheekbones. “I’m falling in love with you,” he said, brushing a strand of hair back from her eyes. “For the longest time I couldn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. So impossible. But I can’t deny my feelings any longer. You’re more than a muse, Cass. I want you to be more. I want you to be mine.”

“But you know—” Cass could barely stutter out a sentence; Falco’s words were so unexpected, she could hardly breathe. “But I’m engaged…”

“Forget the engagement. Forget what you’re supposed to do. What do you want to do, Cass? What do you
need
?”

Cass felt her resolve melting away. His fingertips were ten individual spots of heat on her cool skin. She was tired of being cold. All she had to do was lean in and let the warmth engulf her. She thought of their bodies pressed together in the old batèla, her hands caressing his bare skin as their mouths met over and over.

She realized she was crying. Falco kissed away her tears one at a time. Each time his lips touched her skin, she felt a brightness, like he was making flowers bloom inside of her. “I want to believe you, but it’s not that simple. I—”

“It
is
that simple.” Falco tilted her face upward and pressed his mouth to hers, gently, then harder. Cass didn’t even try to resist. The wind whipped his hair around, and hers, tickling her skin as Falco pressed her against the framework of the trellis that lined the back of
her aunt’s garden. Falco leaned into her and Cass could feel their hearts beating against each other. This was what a kiss should feel like. This was real.

When Cass broke away from the embrace, she was breathless. “All right,” she said, exhaling hard into the darkness. “I’ll give you your two days. But from then on I want everything explained. No more lies.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Falco said solemnly. “That’s all I need.”

Light flickered in the distance. Cass raised a hand to cut him off. “Did you see that?” She pointed to the graveyard. “It looked like a lantern.”

Falco turned to look. “It may have been one of the servants lighting a candle?”

“No, look.” Cass stared as the flickering light moved between the shadows. “I have to go. My aunt is already furious with me. No one can find me out of bed at this hour.”
With you.

Falco leaned in to give her one last kiss. “Meet me at the Pillars of Justice. Day after tomorrow, at noon. I promise I’ll explain everything then.”

“I’ll be there.” Cass fled from the gardens, to the servants’ entrance that would take her safely into the kitchen. Her hands trembled as she fidgeted with the knob. The door was locked fast. Someone must have come along behind her and discovered the door unbolted.

Cass swore under her breath. Why did everything have to be as difficult as possible? She felt her way along the rough stone walls of the villa as she headed around to the front entrance. The lantern light still moved along the graveyard fence where she and Falco had met.
Had someone been spying on them? Spies, secrets—they were everywhere now. Cass almost couldn’t fathom the strange turns her life had taken over the past few days.

She didn’t even make it back inside the villa before she realized something was terribly wrong. When she turned the corner onto the main lawn, she saw that the whole front of the house was ablaze with light. Through one of the arched windows, she could see into the portego. Nestled on the divan facing directly toward Cass was Aunt Agnese. She had never looked so furious.

Even the graveyard, with its possible vampires and murderers, seemed like a safer choice than going inside to face her aunt. But then Cass saw Agnese start up from the divan and totter over to the portego window, her gray hair peeping out from her white nightcap. The old woman pointed one swollen hand at the glass. Then she disappeared from view, as if she had collapsed.

Cass raced up the stairs and into the portego. Her aunt had fallen into a chair. She was hunched over, trembling slightly. Her cap had fallen to the floor, exposing the coarse gray braid that reached just past her shoulders. “Aunt Agnese,” Cass said, kneeling down to retrieve the cap. “Are you all right?”

The commotion brought Narissa and the cook running from the kitchen. They were both wearing cloaks. Cook had a lantern, as if he had been preparing to go outside. Slipper trailed along behind Cook as if he thought the portly man might leak scraps of meat from his pockets. Cass stared at them. What on earth was the whole house doing awake?