Belladonna

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.

twenty-two

“The essence and vitality of youth are contained in the blood of the young.”

—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

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