Constantina Maggiore.’
Dante looked from Katina to the old woman and back again, understanding registering on his face. ‘You’re the friend Elder Maggiore told Katina to meet. You’re the one who is going to help us.’
‘Sì,’ smiled the old woman. ‘When Katina didn’t arrive at the agreed meeting place, I was very worried. It was Elder Maggiore who told me to come here – to find you. I didn’t expect this.’ She turned to Katina. ‘She’s been attacked by Morte Whisperers?’
‘They tried to … enter her body. It was like they were devouring her.’ He quickly explained what had happened. ‘What have they done?’
‘They’ve tried to steal her life-force and, from the looks of her, they’ve almost succeeded.’
‘Why?’
She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. But it’s clear they didn’t want her to survive.’
‘Can you help?’ he asked. ‘I mean, I can see you already have. But will she be all right?’
Constantina reached out and caressed Katina’s cheek. ‘She will be, once I return her to the Limen. I can only do so much here.’
‘Return her?’ he repeated. ‘You’re taking her now?’
Constantina nodded.
‘Oh, thank God. I didn’t know what to do, whether to stay or go back with her. I was –’ Relief made the words rush out of Dante’s mouth.
‘Hush,’ said Constantina soothingly. ‘It’s all right. I need you to help me dress her, get her out of here. There’s a back way, sì?’ Dante nodded. ‘Bene. Can we send someone to bring her horse there?’
‘I will ask Signor Vestire myself.’ He didn’t wait, but dashed down the stairs, his thoughts scattered. Estrattore in the calles of Serenissima. That would be a sight to see. He hoped the Signori di Notte were not in the sestiere tonight.
When he returned, Constantina was already halfway through dressing Katina, who stirred briefly. She blinked once, twice, and then her eyes widened and a small sob escaped. Slowly she reached out and touched the Estrattore, gently at first, then with an urgency that was frightening to behold. She held Constantina’s face between her palms, locking eyes with her in a silent communication. Dante watched them, wondering what was being said. Katina’s eyes slid over towards Dante before returning to Constantina’s. She nodded once and then burst into tears, throwing herself in Constantina’s arms. It was this reaction more than anything that both filled Dante with alarm and reassured him.
When Katina tried to ask questions, Constantina put a finger to her lips. ‘There will be time for that later. Rest, cara mia.’ Katina fell silent and allowed Dante and the Estrattore to finish dressing her.
Before long, they hauled her to her feet and were ready to leave the room. Once again, she’d fallen asleep.
‘You wait here,’ said Dante to the little girl who had sat the entire time with a beatific smile on her face. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked Constantina.
Constantina gave a wise smile. ‘She’s fine. Just lost in happy memories. She won’t recall any of this.’
Dante expelled air. ‘Lucky girl.’
‘Indeed. Now, help me get Katina down the stairs.’ Dante picked her up. She was light for such a tall woman.
The noise from the bar muffled their descent. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they sneaked past the kitchen and through a small passageway and into a storeroom that had shelves for linen, bottles, leather flasks and fruit and vegetables. Haunches of meat hung from hooks in the ceiling. They ducked under these, Dante moving ahead. Constantina unlatched the back door.
Snow flew into Dante’s face as he stepped out into the night. The wind whipped it in eddies around his feet and blew through his cape, inflating it above his shoulders. Helpless to control it, he tried to shield Katina from the worst. Thankfully, the weather kept revellers inside. Scudding clouds mostly obscured the moon.
‘Where to?’ he asked, the wind catching his voice and throwing it into the campo.
‘Over there,’ shouted Constantina, indicating a small calle off the main square.
Dante pushed through the drifts. As they drew closer, he could see a horse, fully saddled, standing in the middle of the calle. Birrichino was also there, ready beside it. Signor Vestire himself held the reigns.
‘Grazie, amico mio,’ called Dante.
‘Do you need help?’ shouted the Signor, trying to be heard above the howling wind.
‘No, no. We’re all right.’ Dante swung round to check with Constantina, but she’d moved to her own horse and kept her head bowed.
Signor Vestire gripped Dante’s shoulder on his way past. ‘You know where I am if you change your mind,’