The Chamber of Ten

ditched him at the hospital. At the moment, she felt as though she did not deserve such friends. She pocketed her phone before the temptation to call grew too great.

Palazzo Cavalli was a popular place for weddings, Venice’s old Town Hall now converted to little more than a tourist trap. Remarkably romantic—and with the Grand Canal and Rialto Bridge close by, it was busy all year round. So what the hell did Nico have to do there?

As the taxi bobbed against the jetty, she let herself wonder what she would do when she faced Nico again. She had never been afraid of him, and she could not entertain that idea now. But when Volpe was driving him … who knew what else he might do?

Maybe that old ghost would want to finish the job started at the Biblioteca.

She alighted from the taxi and felt solid ground beneath her feet once again. The sun glittered on the waterways, even as the afternoon shadows grew longer. The smell of cooking food hung heavy in the air, and from elsewhere on the Grand Canal she heard the excited chattering of travelers.

Even before she pressed against one of the main doors, she knew that she was too late. He had been here, but she had no sense of his presence at all. But then she pushed and found that the doors were locked, and her brow furrowed in confusion and concern. It couldn’t be much later than three o’clock, but the office was closed, without even a scrawled message taped to the door to indicate a reason. Had Nico done something here that caused them to lock up tight?

And just what the hell would Nico want here? she thought. She sat for a while, looking out across the Grand Canal, trying to avoid the despair that threatened to well up within her. She had to help Nico—she might be the only one who could—and if that meant walking the city day and night until she found him, that was exactly what she’d do.

She felt her cell vibrate, checked the screen, saw that it was Domenic again, and turned it off. The only person she wanted to hear from right now was Nico. And he didn’t need a phone.

Volpe took charge once they were away from Palazzo Cavalli, but he let Nico see. It was as if he was taunting him with the ability to take over control of his body and functions at will, but if that was the case Nico could accept it. He’d rather that than be thrust down out of sight, deep into his own subconscious, where his thoughts did not even feel as real as dreams. Those blackouts were the worst, and he knew that so long as he did not fight too hard, Volpe would leave him be. He’d already used them to exert his authority.

Besides, Nico knew that there was no way he could escape. To begin with he’d been thinking of it as having an invasive presence in his own body, but now that had changed. Now he was a prisoner in his own body, and the invader was triumphant.

Zanco Volpe obviously had some definite goal in mind. He strode with purpose, the drawstring bag clasped tight in his right hand. He’d left the briefcase back in the building, its contents scattered across the floor of one of the old offices now that he had what he’d come for. He’d also left a hole in one of the plastered walls, and a space where something had been hidden away for so long. The office had closed early today for some reason, but that had made his job much simpler. No need to be quiet when the building was empty. He had broken in through a side door and managed to slip in and out without being seen. Volpe had admitted that there was magic in his ability to remain inconspicuous, a spell that caused people to look away or even change direction in order to avoid encountering him. It was subtle magic, he had explained, and not infallible—the monk on San Marco had proven that—but when he wished to go unnoticed, it aided his efforts.

The bag in Nico’s hand contained The Book of the Nameless, the soldier’s hand from the shattered ossuary on San Marco, the blade—still stained with Geena’s blood—and now the old seal of the city: an ivory stamp once used by the Mayor to stamp his authority into the wax seals of official city documents. It had been mainly ceremonial even back then, used on official certificates and state documents that would either go on show, or which were ruled more by tradition and ritual than by current laws. Yet it seemed important, and when Nico had first laid his hands on it—after hacking at the plaster and digging once again—Volpe’s sigh had been almost audible. He’d spun around in the room, searching the shadows for the shape he was certain must be there, thinking, He’s come out, he’s manifested, and maybe that means I’m rid of him.

But then Volpe had chuckled and touched him inside, needing no words to urge caution.

He boarded a water taxi, and Volpe told him where to go.

“Chiesa di San Rocco,” Nico said, offering the driver an initial payment. “We need to be quick.”

“I follow speed limits,” the driver said.

Volpe leaned Nico forward, his voice low and filled with threat. “We need … to be … quick.”

They were. Like the driver on their way out to San Marco, this man seemed keen to get Nico out of his taxi as fast as possible. The boat bumped against the jetty and Nico stepped lightly off, and almost before his feet were on dry ground the taxi was powering away, the driver’s hair flying about like a nest of upset snakes.

Almost there, Volpe said in his mind, and Nico knew he was being spoken to. When we arrive there’s a ritual, and you will perform while I conduct. There’s no alternative. I’ll guide you, and you will obey, and they will be excluded from the city once more.

“What if I don’t want to help?” Nico said out loud, and a sunburnt couple glanced at him warily as they approached the water taxi jetty.

You keep testing me, Nico? Volpe asked. He kept walking, looking at the ground before him, and he was being steered. You provoke me? It’ll do you well not to. I have done ugly things when they were required, but I am not a cruel man. I don’t want to hurt you—

“Like you didn’t want to hurt that man in the apartment?” Nico whispered. “Or that monk? What happened to him? I have no memory, but my hands are bruised and cut, and I feel sick to the stomach every time I think of him.”

Not your concern, Volpe said impatiently. What is your concern is the health of your own self, yes? The well-being of this body that your Geena loves so much?

“Geena is—”

My insurance, if other persuasions are not compelling enough. Don’t force my hand. Neither of us will benefit from that. And besides, all of this is your fault.

“I’m an archaeologist,” he said. Other people glanced at him, but perhaps they thought he was speaking to someone on Bluetooth. He almost laughed. Maybe this was the Bluetooth of the future, contacting the past.

You’re a meddling fool. Fate compelled you, I know, but it relied upon your bumbling—

“What do you mean fate compelled me?”

Venice has chosen my successor, as she always does. But they have all lived and died without inheriting the legacy, because my essence remains.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Nothing and everything. Fate or not, it wouldn’t have come to this if you’d left the Chamber alone … Volpe trailed off, as if what he’d been about to say was too much.

“Your rancid heart was so powerful?” Nico asked, wincing as he feared Volpe’s rage.

Only because I made it so, the old ghost said. Now walk on, Nico. This way … that way …

Soon they reached the church of San Rocco. Nico felt control slowly return to him, and he came to a standstill.

The fools, Volpe said. Oh the fools …

“What is it?” Nico asked. He had been here several times before, examining the relics of Saint Roch and trying to develop a time line for the church’s construction and alterations. It was unremarkable, as churches in Venice went.

The heart of the city, Volpe said. But like the bell, they have changed this also. It’s a wonder the Exclusion did not fail long before now. No matter. The ritual will still work, only differently. Walk on. Inside. If they haven’t torn the guts from the place, I know where there’s somewhere quiet.

Nico entered the church, sorry to be leaving the sunlight behind. He moved through to the nave and glanced around at the noted Tintoretto paintings that attracted more visitors than the building’s relatively recent