and though this burst of fury felt good, he was sure that Volpe could stop it at any moment.
“Once the remaining two are put down, you’ll be rid of me,” Volpe said. Nico felt those bloodied memories drawn away, and he frowned as he tried to hold on to them. “They are the threat right now,” the magician continued, the sound of his voice surprising Nico. He’d not sensed the takeover, and now it felt natural speaking as Volpe.
“We’re in a place I haven’t been to for a long time,” Volpe said, as if answering a question. Control of Nico’s body remained with him, and he relaxed back onto his haunches as Volpe spoke. He could not deny his interest. “Even years before I died, I had no cause to come here. We’re deep beneath my family tomb on San Michele, in the buried ruin of the church that once stood here. This place houses the remains of those who wronged my family and friends over the decades and centuries.”
“When you’re at the forefront of progress, there are always those keen to hold you back.” Volpe took subtle control and pointed at the stacked skeletons, and those pinned against the walls. “Some were brought here dead, this was simply a place to dispose of them.” Then he indicated bones scattered across the floor, not all of them as a result of Nico’s brief show of anger. “Others were put here alive.”
Nico could barely comprehend the fate of those thrown in here still alive, dying in a darkness full of rotting cadavers.
“Recuperation,” Volpe said. “The gunshot damaged more than I can touch right away. You feel well because I’m holding back the pain. I’m accepting it myself.”
“No,” Volpe said. “Cautious. They know the city, but never knew this place. I believe the Doges are hidden in a mansion in Dorsoduro. That’s where they will have Geena. For either of us to get what we want, we will have to kill them both. But before we can face them, you must heal. While fighting them, I cannot also take on your pain. And it would be crippling to you.”
Nico touched his chest again and felt Volpe withdraw. His skin felt warm, but the heavy weight inside his chest gave out no real sensations. He almost thanked Volpe, but felt little real gratitude.
“How long do we have to wait?” he asked.
“Where’s the door?” Nico asked. He was looking around the chamber again, trying to perceive squared edges in the uneven shadows. But all he sensed from Volpe was a smile, and then nothing.
So he sat down for a while and rested, closing his eyes, breathing calmly and smelling age and candle wax, and the dust of broken bones. And when he thought Volpe was deep enough and far enough away, Nico opened his mind and perception and thought,
XVII
GEENA DESPERATELY wanted to go to him.
If they were very lucky, and her courage did not fail her, perhaps they would know that comfort again. But now was not the time. Enemies still lurked all around them, working in shadows to wreak havoc upon their lives. But even that was selfish thinking; more hung in the balance than just the lives of two lovers. Plague and ancient hatreds had come to Venice on wings of greed.
All of it needed to be expunged and, somehow, the fates had conspired to make Geena Hodge the only one able to do that. If she acted now, and swiftly, and as mercilessly as her enemies.
She felt Nico’s psychic touch, the flutter of his thoughts caressing hers, and she wanted to melt into him. She chose ice instead, freezing emotion out in order to preserve it.
She felt his thoughts recoil.
Geena felt his confusion.
She did not finish the thought, but she knew that Nico would feel it and understand her fear. Perhaps Volpe would sense it as well, but perhaps not. She was not sure how much of their communication he could understand, if it had to be concrete thoughts or if just feelings were enough. But Nico would know, he would feel her suspicion and mistrust of Volpe. The magician had promised to leave them alone, to depart Nico’s body when all of this was over, but Geena no longer believed him, if she ever had. His hubris had made him preserve his heart and his spirit for centuries so that he could remain the Oracle of Venice long past the time someone else ought to have inherited the role. He saw himself as the only one capable of protecting his city, and would not surrender that responsibility for anything.
To be the Oracle, he needed a body.
Geena could not risk letting him see more of what was in her mind.
She felt his concern and his love and his fear for her, but just before the connection between them was severed, what Geena felt more than anything was his trust, and that gave her the strength to go on.
Nico sagged back against the stone wall of the catacombs beneath the Volpe family crypt, feeling the absence of Geena in his mind like the urgent nothingness of a missing limb. The shadows were fluttering moths in the dim, jittery candlelight. More than anything, the place felt dry, all of the moisture drawn from the bones of the dead long ago.
As though stepping out from the dark recesses of his mind, Volpe slunk forward.
“You were listening in,” Nico said. “You know as much as I do.”
Or did he? He knew that Volpe had heard the thoughts he and Geena had exchanged, but how much more had he been able to understand?
“I was. But if your old friends are telling the truth—”
Nico winced, both from the lingering ache of his healed-over wound and from the strange glee he felt coming