Chapter 24 #2
“Wonderful to meet you, too, darling,” Bastian murmured, though he couldn’t help shuddering at the man’s words.
Unease mingled with frustration at his inability to get Filip to talk.
If he had bitten him, the man might have surrendered to the mind-casting, but Bastian couldn’t risk it.
He didn’t trust himself to drink human blood for the first time in years and not lose himself in the bliss.
Accidentally kill. No information was worth that.
He found Whitby in the large room beyond the foyer.
She sat on a side table, whiskers quivering as she watched the revelers, an intense look of concentration on her face.
Guests drank from crystal flutes, and handsome waiters served canapés that looked like works of art on silver trays.
There were marble sculptures, and white fabric draped like sails across the ceiling.
A man wearing a powdered wig played a grand piano, and the music vibrated through Bastian’s bones as he surveyed the guests. He assumed this would be a different crowd from the one that nearly killed him in the piazzetta, but still he was grateful for the meager disguise.
“You took your time,” Whitby said.
“I got waylaid by the secretary.”
The cat’s pupils contracted. “Did he tell you anything useful?”
“Just that the mayor is responsible for bringing L.O.V.E. to Vernazza.”
“He said that?”
Bastian nodded. “But he wouldn’t say why. He told me to stay away from her. And I’m pretty sure he wants to be a vampire.”
“What? What happened?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. The suit’s decent, at least. Italian tailoring. I’m sure we could have found one for you, too.”
“Animals shouldn’t wear clothes,” Whitby said, then leapt from dressers to side tables as they went farther into the room. “Now, we need a game plan.”
A couple of guests startled at the sight of the cat, but they appeared amused rather than confused by her presence. Bastian smelled alcohol on their breath. The place was pickled already.
“I propose that you mingle, glean what you can from everyone. Meanwhile, I’ll snoop around the rest of the house. If I find anything, I’ll come fetch you.”
“Good thinking, love.”
Whitby nodded, then hopped down from the table, disappearing into the crowd.
Bastian watched as a woman in a blood-red shirt joined the pianist, raising a violin to her chin and teasing the strings with a bow.
The music set Bastian swaying, a smile on his lips.
Despite the gravity of the situation, the music made him feel at least marginally better.
“Buonasera,” he said as he moved between the guests, admiring dyed ostrich feathers and glittering jewels. “Buonasera, buonasera.”
Nobody appeared to recognize him, and Bastian reveled in the freedom.
He glided through a set of doors into a ballroom with a live orchestra. Five chandeliers twinkled above dancing couples. Bastian watched from the sidelines, admiring their form, the delicate shapes—the temptation to join them was enormous. Dancing was life.
But no. He shouldn’t. It would be madness to draw attention to himself.
He listened, wondering if he could pick out Whitby’s footsteps as she moved through the house, but there was too much interference. Music. Laughter. Heels tapping and hearts beating.
His gaze swept the room and did a double take as he spotted a man in a tuxedo standing just inside the ballroom door. A black mask covered the top half of his face; his black hair was combed in perfect waves. Bastian would recognize those ears anywhere.
De Luca was talking to an elderly attendant, his expression stern. The guest flapped a hand and chased after a tray of bright orange cocktails. De Luca approached another guest, saying something that made the smile die on their lips. They excused themselves and De Luca’s jaw clenched.
He turned and looked directly at Bastian, his blue eyes shining, and Bastian felt a sudden, intense flood of relief.
De Luca was safe. He looked unharmed. The Obliterati hadn’t turned on him.
Bastian raised a shaking hand and De Luca’s rose to mirror him.
The inspector checked around them before making his way past the dancers to join Bastian.
“Not bothering the guests with police business are you, dear?” Bastian teased, resisting the urge to drag him into a hug. He shouldn’t draw any attention to them.
“What are you doing here?” De Luca asked, his gaze flicking over Bastian’s purple suit. He appeared stunned and relieved at the same time. Bastian looked over the inspector, searching for bruising or bite marks but discerning no apparent injury.
“You know I can’t resist a dance, Inspector.”
“I just meant, I thought you would have left Vernazza.”
“Now why on earth would I do that?” Bastian’s smile shrank as he asked, “Did the vampire council hurt you?”
“No, but they’re angry. They’re searching the town for you. Commissario Zappa sent me home, but I remembered the gala and thought it would be a good opportunity to question people. Find out if anybody has seen anything suspicious around town that could help find the killer.”
“And have they?”
De Luca shrugged. “Nobody wants to talk to a poliziotto at a party.”
“No, I imagine not. Well, their loss is my gain.” Bastian dipped in a curtsy and raised his hand, unable to restrain himself any longer.
“Would you care to dance, Inspector? Don’t worry, I doubt anybody recognizes you.”
“We can’t—” De Luca protested, but Bastian gently hushed him.
“This isn’t the time or place to get anyone to admit anything, dear.
Everybody here is three sheets to the wind; they aren’t sparing us a second glance.
Besides, Whitby’s on the case. She’s searching the house as we speak.
She’ll be back any moment to let us know what she’s found.
Also, listen…I’m sorry I left you. The council… ”
“Were going to kill you,” De Luca said, taking his hand. “You did the right thing, Bastian. And I can look after myself.”
Bastian couldn’t help smiling, relieved that there was no bad blood between them. Also, the sound of his name on De Luca’s lips was heaven. He led them out onto the floor and felt De Luca’s arm press against his shoulder blades. De Luca held Bastian’s hand out to the side and led them in a waltz.
Bastian emitted a delighted chuckle. He hadn’t expected De Luca to lead, but he did so with surprising poise.
It was lucky that Bastian knew how to follow, and the funny thing was that it worked.
They fitted together perfectly. His body belonged to De Luca now. He could do whatever he liked with it.
“You know how to dance,” he said.
“I learned for my cousin’s wedding.”
“You’re good. Stiff, though. You need to loosen up. Give in. Let go.”
“I suppose some people find that difficult.”
Bastian broke De Luca’s lead momentarily to twirl. “You only have to let go once, Inspector. If you hold on, you have to hold on every day.”
De Luca rolled his eyes as he retook the lead, but he was smiling, too. “What does that even mean?”
“It means being in the moment is the only way to live.”
De Luca looked around at the other dancers. “It’s not so easy for some people to just let go.”