‘Amen,’ chorused the captain and his men breathlessly.
WAITING UNTIL HE WAS certain the Cardinale and the Signori di Notte had left the bridge, Baroque peeled back the canvas and stood up unsteadily. Once again, he untied the craft from its moorings. He began to ease the oar into the forcola and push away from the fondamenta.
‘Merde!’ he hissed, almost dropping the oar as a shadow detached itself from a doorway. It was a black cat. It meandered to the edge of the canal and sat there, staring at him with its luminous eyes. He shook his fist at it before guiding the old boat into the middle of the waterway, trying to catch the current.
As he manoeuvred along the stygian waters his mind raced. He’d thought the Maleovellis deluded when they first approached him to find an Estrattore. Keen to take their soldi, he’d agreed to work for them, humour them. When he’d finally found Tallow and realised what the boy … no, he corrected himself, girl was, he couldn’t believe his luck. Options that had never been available to him suddenly appeared. Depending upon to whom he chose to reveal the girl’s whereabouts, he was going to be a rich man, only just as she was in his grasp, she was snatched out of reach. He’d missed his chance.
He was not the only one. The Bond Riders had failed to obtain her, the Maleovellis were denied, and now the most deadly of all pursuers was on her tail.
He steered through the Dorsoduro Sestiere, heading for Nobiles’ Rise. He knew he was taking a risk – in many ways. The Bond Riders would be watching him, but not tonight, not when they had their own problems to deal with. Tonight he could return to his former employers safe in the knowledge that he would not be followed. What happened after would be a different matter. No doubt the Maleovellis would use his journals to force his cooperation. They would want him to continue to search for the Estrattore. Fear clutched at his chest and a rivulet of sweat coursed down his back. Only now, with the involvement of the Cardinale, the search for her had reached a new and deadly level. He would be working not only against time, but also against forces that frightened him in ways he did not quite understand. He recalled the anger of the Bond Riders, the fervour of the Cardinale: his life depended on him finding Tallow first.
I’m too old for this, thought Baroque.
The oar spliced the water, sending gentle ripples of Cimmerian wash to break against the passing casas. As he piloted the gondola towards the Circolo, a scream shattered the night. He froze, the oar just above the water. The breeze brought with it fragments of broken voices, other frantic cries. Baroque quickened his stroke. He had to put as much distance between himself and the Signori di Notte as he could. His heavy thoughts turned again to the Cardinale and the conversation on the bridge that had carried down to him in the gondola below. What he’d heard were not mere promises or threats, but pious plans for a terrible revenge.
A tremor gripped Baroque and he swallowed, grateful for the gondola that first hid his presence and now carried him to relative safety. He had escaped, unlike the poor, innocent souls in the Candlemakers Quartiere and Dante’s grieving family, who were about to be plunged into a nightmare beyond their wildest imaginings.
UNFAMILIAR SENSATIONS ASSAILED ME – soft fabrics resting against my body, sweet-smelling pillows under my cheek. Beneath my fingers, I could sense the latent memories of other lives, other moments: longing, reluctance, sated desire and exhaustion. I kept my eyes closed and tried to explore the outlandish fantasies further, pretending that I wasn’t an Estrattore, that I wasn’t alone in the world, that first my dog and then the man I loved hadn’t died in my arms.
Grief flooded my chest, causing an ache so great, it was as if I too had been trampled. I rolled to one side and clutched the pillow as I recalled my last moments with Dante – his pale face, his beautiful dark eyes, the feel of his hand in mine, the kiss we exchanged. I remembered the love I finally confessed. But, most of all, I remembered the love he’d declared for me.
For eternity …
And now he was dead. Gone. Killed by a Bond Rider. Tears welled inside me, rising