Venom (36 page)

L
ater that night, Siena burst into Cass’s room. She was ghost-pale and shaking. “She’s gone,” Siena said, dissolving into tears. The marketplace had been buzzing with the news. Feliciana had vanished from the estate of Joseph Dubois.

Cass couldn’t keep herself from envisioning Siena’s sister, swollen and slashed up, her body rising to the surface of the Grand Canal. She forced the image out of her head. She couldn’t think like that.

“Are you certain?” Feliciana always did have a wild streak. Maybe she’d met a sailor or a shopkeeper while running an errand. “Might she have just spent the evening with a…gentleman?” Cass asked gently.

“She’s been missing for two days,” Siena said, her blue eyes wet with tears. “And my sister is no whore.”

Cass pulled Siena to a seated position on the bed next to her. The girl was trembling so badly that if she didn’t sit, she might collapse at any minute. Cass couldn’t imagine how she would feel if she had a sister who had gone missing. But then, her lady’s maid was the closest thing she had to a sister. Awkwardly, she wrapped an arm around Siena’s shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“Of course she isn’t,” Cass said, though privately she wasn’t entirely convinced. “But do you know if anyone has been courting her? A merchant, perhaps? Someone from the city?”

Siena shook her head violently. “Nothing like that. She’s been very devoted to her work lately.” The lady’s maid swiped at her eyes with a white handkerchief. “Very devoted to Signor Dubois.”

“Were she and her master—” Cass paused, not exactly sure how to ask the question. “Having relations?” she finished lamely.

Siena flushed bright red. “My sister—well, she never said as much, but I know she finds him attractive. And he used to buy her things sometimes. Little pieces of jewelry. Trinkets from wandering salesmen. I told her to make sure to keep them hidden from the signora, but you know how my sister likes to show off.” Siena buried her face in her tiny hands and began to weep. “She’s going to end up like Sophia, isn’t she?”

“No. Siena, no.” Cass enfolded her lady’s maid into a hug. Siena smelled faintly of rosewater. “Think of how smart Feliciana is. If she were in danger, she would know it, and she’d go hide somewhere, right? Or maybe she’s not missing at all. Maybe she
did
meet someone. Maybe they ran away together.”

Siena cried into Cass’s sleeve. “That’s just what the town guard said about Sophia, before she washed up in the canal.” Her voice was muffled. “My sister wouldn’t run off without saying good-bye.”

Cass knew Siena was right. But she couldn’t bear to see her lady’s maid so upset, and it did no one any good to start assuming the worst. “What about Joseph Dubois? Did she ever say she thought he might be dangerous? Or jealous?”

For some reason this question made Siena cry even harder.

Plodding footsteps sounded outside the door. “What are you
doing down here, Siena? It’s late. You belong in the servants’ quarters.” Narissa fixed her fierce gaze on Siena, who managed to stop crying but still had her head pressed to Cass’s arm. “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded.

Narissa must not have heard the latest gossip while at the market. Cass couldn’t bring herself to repeat it. “I—I spoke without thinking and upset her.”

Narissa clucked her tongue. “A habit you might rid yourself of before your marriage.”

Marriage.
Mannaggia.
Cass had been so upset by the thought of another disappearance that she had completely forgotten to try to leave a message for Falco. She was supposed to meet him tomorrow at noon. She had to figure out a way to sneak out of the villa before then. But how?

Narissa pulled Siena out of the room, and Cass stood up and began to pace. Her mind was racing. There was no longer any doubt in her mind. Dubois had to be the killer. Feliciana wasn’t the kind of girl to get spirited away by some juggler. Not when she had a desirable position at one of the Rialto’s most glamorous palazzos and a master who showered her with gifts.

Cass yanked her journal out of a drawer in her writing desk. She had been meaning to organize her thoughts on paper, to see if a pattern might emerge from the chaos.

“Is something troubling you?”

Cass jumped. Narissa had materialized once again at the door. There was no way Cass would be able to think when the woman was practically breathing down her neck.

What she needed was a distraction.

“I’m fine,” Cass said, and pushed past Narissa and into the hall.
She headed down the corridor and turned left into the library. Narissa followed her—of course. Cass noticed Agnese’s needlework basket sitting on the floor near the marble fireplace. Her aunt had been fond of sewing before her fingers and joints started to swell. Cass didn’t really have the patience for needlecraft, but unfortunately she had to endure several hours of it a week. It was only proper, as Agnese was fond of saying. Narissa actually seemed to enjoy sewing.

“You might as well occupy yourself.” Cass gestured toward the basket. “I’m going to be writing for a while.”

Narissa settled happily into Agnese’s favorite chair by the fireplace, cradling the basket of cloth and thread on her lap. Cass sat at the table where she used to have her lessons, drumming her fingers on a likeness of Neptune that was carved into the tabletop. She tapped the point of her quill against the sea god’s trident. Feliciana missing. Donna Domacetti wearing a ring with the flower insignia. Falco and Angelo arguing. How was it all connected? And how did it fit in with the disappearance of Liviana’s body? The image of the flower within the circle kept tickling the edge of her consciousness. Cass felt like she had seen it somewhere besides the rings and Angelo’s workshop. Somewhere a long time ago…

A slamming noise from somewhere in the house made her jump. The tip of her quill pierced the skin of her finger, bringing a fat red drop of blood to the surface. She cursed under her breath and pressed her finger to her lips.

“It’s just the wind, Signorina,” Narissa said. “A loose shutter.”

“Could I trouble you for a glass of wine?” Cass asked. Maybe a drink would calm her nerves.

Narissa set her needlepoint on her chair and left the room. A few
minutes later, she returned to the library with a goblet of red wine. Cass swished it around, inhaling the sharp fragrance. She took a long drink and then set the goblet down next to a blown-glass lamp.

Opening her journal, she wrote down a series of names: Liviana. Mariabella. Falco. Angelo. Maximus. Sophia. Dubois. Donna Domacetti. And now, Feliciana. And then, after a bit of hesitation, she added
Cassandra.

How did they all fit together? Livi didn’t seem to have connections to any of the others. And none of the people on the list had connections to everyone. Mariabella and Sophia had been murdered and marked with an X. Feliciana was now missing. The men on the list were all suspicious in one way or another, especially Angelo de Gradi and his gruesome assortment of bodies and body parts. He might have met both Mariabella and Sophia through his dealings as Dubois’s physician. He might even have treated them. But if he had killed them, why had one ended up in Livi’s crypt and one in the middle of the Grand Canal? Why weren’t they both tucked neatly into bath basins? Why didn’t he want to keep them for his collection?

Falco had promised to tell her what he was doing with Angelo. Maybe that was the missing piece of information she needed. She struggled to remember the snatches of conversation she’d overheard between Falco and the physician at the small chapel by the statue of San Giuda. Angelo had said something about tonight, but Cass hadn’t heard enough of the man’s words to know if he was referring to the body in the canal or the chapel or something else.

The little church bothered her. She felt like she knew it from somewhere. Cass closed her eyes. She saw the fallen sculpture, the broken-down chapel, the tiny graveyard attached. She had never been there before; she was certain of it. She’d never even walked that
area of Venice before. She opened her eyes and blinked hard; the library looked slightly hazy. The wine must have been stronger than she thought; she noticed that she had drained almost all of her glass. At least it wasn’t as bad as the muddy wine from Tommaso’s studio.

That was it! When the boys had interrupted Cass and Falco’s kiss in the studio, she’d overheard one of his friends say something about San Giuda. Something about a pickup. Something about the smell of death. Could it be just a coincidence? Or was something going on at the crumbling chapel?

Narissa had noticed that Cass’s glass needed refilling, and had returned to the library with a whole bottle of red wine. Cass was about to decline when she noticed the hungry way the older maid looked at it as she refilled her glass. An idea began to form in Cass’s mind.

“Would you like a glass?” Cass tried her best to sound innocent.

Narissa’s eyes went as bright as the fire for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. “I shouldn’t, Signorina. But thank you.”

Cass winked. “Go on. No one will ever know. I’m sure my aunt is asleep by now. What harm is there in having a sip or two?”
Or three or four or five.

“Well, if you’re certain.” Narissa glanced quickly around the library as if she thought spies might be hiding behind the bookcases or in the fireplace. Then she poured herself a small glass of the wine and continued her needlework. Her fingers worked the thread quickly.

When the maid’s glass was empty, Cass refilled it without saying anything. Narissa didn’t even seem to notice, and finished her glass before Cass had had more than three sips of her own. Again Cass refilled it; again Narissa quaffed it down.

After one final glass, Narissa’s head began to nod against her chest. Cass felt a rush of triumph. She knew she was taking a huge chance sneaking out of the villa. If she got caught, there would likely be a padlock applied to her bedchamber door. Or worse, Agnese would send for Luca and arrange an immediate betrothal ceremony.

Cass ripped a page out of her journal and scrawled a quick note to Falco.

She signed it simply with a
C.
There was so much more she could have written, so much more that wanted to pour out of her—love and fear and hope—but she figured these things were best said in person. Especially since Cass had no idea where the servants kept the wax and would have to leave the note unsealed. She would look for Falco in the taverna. If he or his friends weren’t there, she’d leave the message with the barkeep and simply hope for the best.

Then, she’d find a way back to the chapel with the fallen San Giuda.

Cass glanced over at Narissa again. The maid was snoring loudly, chin resting on her chest, half-completed needlework in her lap.

Cass stood up soundlessly and moved into the hall. Should she risk heading upstairs for her cloak? She decided to borrow Siena’s again. Fastening the woolen garment around her shoulders, Cass
tucked her journal into one of the pockets. Grabbing a lantern and tinderbox from one of the long wooden counters, she unlocked the servants’ door and opened it slowly, trying her best not to make any noise. If Agnese caught her this time, she was as good as dead.

Cass slipped out of the villa, and into the night.