Chapter 14
They went to a quiet corner of the piazzetta, away from the crowds, and De Luca freed Bastian from the cuffs. Bastian rubbed his wrists with relief. They had almost healed. Only a thin pink line remained, a ghostly reminder of the silver that had eaten through his flesh the previous night.
“Thank you,” Bastian said to De Luca. “For helping me. For not letting your boss drag me back to the station.”
De Luca was watching the crowd that still packed out the harbor on the far side of the piazzetta.
“It was nothing,” he grunted.
“No, it wasn’t. You could lose your job. You put your neck on the line. Does this mean you…” Bastian almost didn’t dare to hope. “Do you truly believe I’m innocent?”
De Luca looked at him, and Bastian swallowed, wanting him to say yes. He needed the inspector to say it, because it would be wonderful to have an ally—a true ally—right now. Other than Whitby, of course.
Instead, De Luca said, “What happened? After the mayor’s office?”
“Yes,” Whitby said. “Where did you go? And what did you mean about Matteo attacking you?”
Bastian adjusted his Wayfarers. The light was bothering him more and more, and his body felt strangely light.
Floaty. The sun was beginning to affect him.
As best he could, he filled them in on the face-off with Salvador and Matteo, even though his memory suddenly felt distant, as if he couldn’t quite get hold of it.
Whitby’s whiskers trembled with displeasure. “A pitchfork-wielding mob.”
“They had stakes, not pitchforks. You do know what year it is, don’t you?”
“Still.” Whitby sniffed. “I would say I told you so, but I wouldn’t want to be branded a know-it-all.”
“Heaven forfend.”
Bastian realized that De Luca had remained silent throughout. He appeared deep in thought.
“Did you pick up anything from either of them?” the inspector asked. “Anything that might tell us if Salvador or Matteo is the killer?”
Bastian’s skin was buzzing now. He blinked, his vision wobbling. He blinked a couple more times and it cleared. Focus.
“Salvador is an opportunist,” he said, “but I didn’t get the feeling he was a killer. He said a lot of stuff about time running out. Something about an olive lady. And he really doesn’t like you, Inspector.”
“Probably because I throw him in the drunk tank every Friday night.”
He’s hiding the truth from you, Salvador had said about De Luca.
Bastian shook the thought free. Salvador was just trying to con Bastian out of his money. That was all.
“Matteo, on the other hand,” Bastian said, “that’s a man who knows violence. When I looked into his eyes, I saw it, as plain as you are before me now. And he has motive. Luna dumped him.”
“What’s his motive for killing Emilio, though?” Whitby asked.
Bastian noticed heat waves rippling around her, like she was a slab of meat fresh from the grill, and he tried to ignore it. The case was more important than the effects of the sun.
“Perhaps Emilio knew something that pinned Matteo to Luna’s murder,” he said. “Emilio seized up during the mind-casting when I asked about Matteo. He was scared of him.”
“It would be pretty stupid of the man to kill two of his colleagues in less than a day.”
Bastian squinted at her. “You think it’s a coincidence? Or are you saying that Matteo really is that stupid?”
“You tell me, you’re the one who saw violence in his eyes.”
“You make it sound contrary.”
Whitby sniffed. “I’m not discounting your instincts, I just don’t think you can look in somebody’s eyes and know they’re a killer. If you ask me, it’s the mayor who should be top of our list right now. That goblet of blood was a dick move.”
“The blood affected you, didn’t it?” De Luca asked Bastian.
Was that concern in his face? The thought made Bastian feel even more lightheaded.
He was so accustomed to the inspector scowling and grunting, the sudden concern felt alien—and there was a tingle in his belly at the possibility that De Luca cared.
“I’m fine, darling, but thank you for asking.”
“Some vampires are able to wean themselves off human blood,” Whitby said, “but it’s sort of an all-or-nothing scenario.
Removing human blood from their diet doesn’t necessarily remove the craving.
A single drop can send them into a feeding frenzy.
It’s like people who give up chocolate and then end up eating a whole box by themselves. I wonder if the mayor knows that.”
“If she did, that is worrying,” De Luca said.
“How long has she been mayor?” Bastian asked.
“Three years. She’s progressive, open-minded. The kind of person Vernazza needs, or at least, that’s how it has always seemed.”
“So progressive that she supports L.O.V.E.,” Bastian said. “I wonder if she has bitten off more than she can chew with that one.”
“She could be a vampire,” Whitby said, her eyebrows rising.
Bastian shook his head. “I heard her pulse. She’s human. De Luca, can you think of any reason she would want to get rid of Luna and Emilio? Some shared history, perhaps?”
“No,” De Luca said. “I’m not sure she even knew Luna.”
“She was in the League with Emilio, though. And she is weird, maybe even dangerous.”
“Going after the mayor of Vernazza would be dangerous,” De Luca said. “It would be an even bigger deal than going after the commissario’s son. If we’re wrong, we could lose a powerful ally.”
“But what if we’re not?”
“We’d need evidence. Something concrete that tied her to the murders. The commissario would accept nothing less than a bloody dagger.”
Nobody spoke.
De Luca was watching the harbor again, and there seemed to be something on his mind. Bastian recalled what Zappa had said about De Luca disgracing the memory of his father.
“Zappa shouldn’t have said what he did,” Bastian said, “about your father.”
De Luca looked at him, surprise in his eyes. Surprise that Bastian remembered?
“The oaf is a disgrace,” Whitby grumbled. “He should try a few nights in a cell, see how he likes it.”
De Luca’s mouth teased a smile as he looked at the cat, but she was too busy licking her shoulder to notice.
A familiar beat came over the sound system of the bar a few feet away. A soulful voice trilled the opening of “Smalltown Boy.” It was the song that De Luca had been humming outside the gelateria.
“De Luca!” Bastian cried. “Listen! It’s Bronski Beat! Ah, I just love this song.” He tugged his hair free from the ponytail, letting it blow in the breeze. He raised his arms and stepped side to side, letting the song fill him up.
“Bastian, what’s gotten into you?” Whitby asked.
“It’s called dancing, love!” He twirled on the spot, feeling light as air. “Even in the darkest moments, dancing is a ray of light. Join me, Inspector! It’ll make you feel better!”
“Bastian, this is completely—” Whitby began, then she groaned. “The sun. He’s been in the sun too long. It does funny things to him. Makes him giddy and annoying.”
De Luca looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You really don’t know much about vampires, do you? There are certain vampires who can go out in daylight, but after a while, the sun makes them all…drunk or something. Pretty soon, he won’t want to go inside at all, which is bad, because he’ll begin to cook.”
“Cook?”
She nodded. “Slowly, but it’ll kill him.”
“What do I do?” De Luca asked.
Whitby rolled her eyes. “Get him out of the sun.”
“No, not indoors,” Bastian said. “I’m not sick. I feel amazing.”
“Bastian, stop,” De Luca ordered.
Bastian booped him on the nose. “Inspector, it’s possible to have fun and be a good person, you know.”
De Luca scowled. “Don’t make me cuff you again.”
Bastian shook his head. “You need to live a little, dear.”
“Don’t call me—”
“Oh phooey. You need to lighten up, De Luca. You’re so wedded to your job. I’m better at living than you are, and I’m dead.”
De Luca’s mouth opened, then closed again. Bastian got the sense he’d hit a nerve. The inspector’s throat blushed red.
“Oh dear,” Bastian said, putting a palm to his forehead. “I fear Whitby may be right about the sun. Forgive me, Inspector.”
He reached out to take De Luca’s hand, but the inspector stepped backward, out of Bastian’s reach, off the sidewalk. At the same time, Bastian heard the sputter of an engine, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a scooter speeding toward De Luca.
“Watch out!” Whitby cried.
Bastian lunged forward, dragging De Luca safely out of the scooter’s path, back onto the sidewalk.
He was only vaguely aware of the bike continuing on down the road, because a new sensation overwhelmed his senses.
Warmth spreading through his torso.
De Luca’s chest was pressed against his.
Firm and strong. De Luca’s heartbeat echoed in Bastian’s own chest, filling him with heat and life.
Their arms were wrapped around each other, and De Luca’s biceps popped against Bastian’s ribs.
His scent was overpowering, that musky parfum mixed with perspiration.
Maybe it was the sun sickness, but De Luca’s embrace caused a prickle of excitement to travel up Bastian’s spine.
“That was close, darling,” he said softly.
“I didn’t…” De Luca murmured, but the words died on his lips. His eyes, so beautifully clear and blue, were fixed on Bastian’s, and there was a new look in De Luca’s gaze. Confusion and…enjoyment? Was he enjoying this closeness as much as Bastian?
Bastian’s gaze dropped to De Luca’s lips and suddenly he was thinking about what it would be like to kiss the handsome inspector.
Would his kisses be tentative or insistent?
Angry, perhaps? The same kind of angry he’d witnessed when De Luca kicked the bin into the street?
A part of Bastian wished De Luca would lean forward, just a couple of inches so he could find out and—
“I did it!” Whitby cried. “I saved the inspector!”
The moment broke.
De Luca stepped free from Bastian, wiping perspiration from his brow. His heartbeat became distant. Bastian’s chest was quiet once more, disappointment sitting cold in its place.
“Did you hear me?” Whitby cried, strutting back and forth on the sidewalk. “I saved De Luca! I nudged the scooter with a counterbalancing spell, and it worked! The scooter missed him by a whisker!”
They both stared at her. Bastian shook his head, pretty sure it was just a coincidence. He didn’t want to shatter her hope, though. She had been working so hard on her incantations. Before he could utter a word of encouragement, De Luca said, “Nice work, Whitby. Good job.”
The cat regarded him through narrowed eyes, then swiveled her head to look in the other direction.
“Don’t patronize me.”
Bastian chuckled, then laughed louder as Whitby started to lick her paw, turning her back on them. His laugh echoed around the piazzetta, and he knew he was being too loud. He clamped his hands over his mouth.
“Oh dear,” he said through his fingers. “I think I probably should get out of this sun for a bit.”
“The church,” Whitby said, nodding to the quaint stone building on the edge of the piazzetta. “I’d put good money on it being dark and cool in there.”
“Can you go into churches?” De Luca asked Bastian, and there was that adorable frown again. Bastian tried to ignore it. Tried to forget how good it felt to be pressed against the inspector, but his mind clutched hold of the knowledge like something precious served up from the depths of the sea.
It’s just the sun sickness making everything wonky.
“I won’t burst into flames, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Bastian said, then he laughed again. “Although being gay and a vampire means it’s never a safe bet.”