Chapter 30
The question was, What did he want to do?
“Karaoke!” Bastian cried, pointing at a pink neon sign in one of the quieter streets.
Vernazza was buzzing, even at this late hour.
The bars bustled with music and laughter, and Bastian soaked up the atmosphere.
This was what holidays were all about. Staying out late and following the signs that led to a good time.
“Bastian, are you sure about this?” Whitby asked as they went into the karaoke bar.
“Of course, darling.”
“You seem upset.”
“I’m not upset,” he said, paying up and then leading them to a private room. “I think it’s high time we had some fun. Now do you want to sing first or shall I take that honor?”
They sang. Bastian raged through Judas Priest’s “You Got Another Thing Coming,” but made sure not to hog the mic, propping it up against a cushion so that Whitby could belt out her best rendition of “Set Fire to the Rain.” Bastian sang until his body hummed with joy, and only the sight of Bronski Beat on the track list dimmed his glow.
No.
No De Luca.
No mystery.
“To us,” Bastian said, toasting with a glass of Merlot as they sat in the fish bar they’d found down the road from karaoke.
Whitby tucked into the biggest sea bass on the menu. Some of the patrons stared, but Bastian raised his glass and said “Buon appetito,” and they smiled and went back to their meals.
They climbed up to the castle and Bastian danced as a street musician played the cello.
They pressed their hands and paws into wet cement outside a restaurant that was being renovated.
They looked around the church, admiring the stained-glass windows and beautiful paintings, and Bastian made sure to avoid the statue of Sofia because it reminded him of things he didn’t want to be reminded of.
Finally, they sat in a rowboat that was docked at the farthest end of the harbor. Nobody else could see them there unless they, too, walked all the way out the pier. Waves lapped the side of the boat, giving the early morning hours a drowsy atmosphere. It wouldn’t be long before the sun rose.
Sudden melancholy stole through Bastian as he realized it may be the last sunrise he’d ever see.
“It was good while it lasted,” he said softly.
“What are you saying?” Whitby snapped.
“I’ve lived a long life. Many people live far less.”
The cat glared at him. “You’re talking nonsense. Stop it this instant.”
“You must move in with De Luca. He’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t want him to take care of me. You can’t give in to self-pity now, Bastian.”
“That’s not what I—”
The cat huffed a breath. “I need you, Bastian. Not the inspector. You.”
Bastian avoided her eye, looking out to sea.
“You think you deserve to be punished all of a sudden?” Whitby demanded. “Is that what’s going on here?”
Bastian tugged at the sleeves of his sweater. “I don’t know.”
“The past is in the past,” the cat said. “You can’t change it.”
“I wish I hadn’t killed you.”
The cat emitted a short laugh. “This isn’t helping either of us—”
“I mean it,” Bastian said. “I wish that day had never happened, because then it wouldn’t be so painful to say goodbye.”
“Will you let me finish?” the cat snapped. She drew herself up, giving him a haughty look that mellowed suddenly as she said, “I forgive you, Bastian.”
Bastian frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“I forgive you for what happened to me. I realize I have never said it, maybe because I didn’t fully believe it before now.
I was angry for a very long time, and I had every right to be angry.
But you didn’t ask to become a vampire. And you’ve changed, so much.
You take care of me like no one else ever has. You…”
She looked away, then said, “You may be the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Bastian opened his mouth, then closed it again. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was speechless. He had never asked for Whitby’s forgiveness. He had never expected it to be granted.
“Now,” Whitby said, “I will apologize. I’m sorry I tried to cast a spell on De Luca.”
“Yes, it wasn’t your finest moment.”
Her tail kinked into a hook at the end. “You needed to focus on what was important. Staying alive. And I suppose, well…a part of me was jealous.”
“Jealous? Whitby, I had no idea you felt that way.”
She hissed. “I’d rather be skinned alive than suffer the romantic affectations of Bastian Emerson.” Her voice softened a fraction. “I mean, I was scared. Maybe. A little bit. Of losing you. To him.”
Bastian blinked at her, his mouth half open. He rubbed his eyes, which had started to sting.
“I take it back,” Whitby said. “I’m just messing with you.”
“You meant it,” Bastian said, his throat tight with happy tears.
“I’ll deny it. If you mention this to a soul, I’ll deny ever knowing you.”
He patted her gently on the head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.”
While Whitby licked her shoulder with sudden interest, Bastian cast his gaze around the harbor, unable to believe how far they had come since they first met. Something about their location struck him as odd. It took him a moment to realize why.
“Wow,” he said.
“I’m telling you,” Whitby snapped, “don’t get sentimental on me—”
“No, I mean, wow! Whitby!” Bastian gestured around them. “We’re floating!”
The cat peered over the edge of the boat, and her eyes widened.
The boat had risen into the air. It must have happened so slowly that neither of them noticed until they were twenty feet above the water, rotating midair as if they sat on a turntable.
“What’s happening?” Whitby asked, watching droplets of seawater rise on either side of the boat, falling upward instead of down, shimmering like pearls in the moonlight.
Bastian’s eyes stung once more. “It’s you, dear.”
“Me? But I didn’t…” The cat put her paws on the side of the boat, stretching out in wonder. The lights of Vernazza glittered below them like diamonds strewn across black fabric. Waves crashed against the harbor far below.
Whitby’s golden eyes swiveled in Bastian’s direction.
“I don’t believe it. The block is gone! Bastian, I made magic! I made magic, Bastian!”
He laughed. “I always knew you had it in you.”
Or, at least, he had hoped, for her sake if nothing else.
Whitby scampered to the stern and whispered in Latin. The boat moved forward, still rising into the night sky, trailing sparkling water drops in its wake. Bastian laughed again, delighting in the cat’s joy as they sailed through the air.
“Just look at that view,” he said.
It really was beautiful. They had picked the perfect place for a holiday.
He realized they were moving out to sea.
“Not too far,” he said. “We need to make it back before sunrise.”
“We’re not going back.”
Bastian scooted forward so that he was right behind her.
“What are you talking about? We have to go back.”
She stared at the horizon, face pointy with determination. “They’ll kill you, Bastian. I told you, I need you. I won’t let them take you from me.”
Bastian felt a wrench in his heart. She was trying to save him.
Fleeing made sense. Everybody in Vernazza thought he was a murderer. There was nothing for him there now. If they went back, he’d be taken by the council.
“You think you can sail this thing all the way home?” he asked.
“It’s worth a try.”
“Wonderful. Fly us back to London, then. No need to pack. I’m sure you don’t need your bag of spells and supplies. Or your cat bed.”
Whitby’s tail quivered. “They’re replaceable.”
“Of course. And once we’re home, you’ll have to cast an enchantment to lock us in forever, because it’s a sure thing that the Obliterati will find us there.”
“We won’t go home, then. We’ll go to Stockholm. Or Egypt. I hear they like cats there.”
“Fabulous. And when the vampire council eventually catches up with us in another far-flung corner of the world, we’ll accept our time is up.”
“I’ll turn them to dust,” Whitby said.
“You can do that without opposable thumbs?”
“You don’t need thumbs when you have magic.”
“The answer to all life’s problems. Of course.”
Vernazza had shrunk to a speck in the dark and the wind had picked up, ruffling Whitby’s fur. Below them, the sea rose and fell in black waves.
Whitby looked at him. “I know what you’re doing, Bastian, and it’s not going to work. If we stay, you’ll die.”
“And if we leave, I’ll die. The only way to get the council off our back is to find the killer.”
“But—”
Bastian raised a hand. “It’s the only way.”
The cat stared at him, her eyes wide. He could practically see her little cat brain working.
Searching for an alternative. Some spell that would save him.
After a moment, she growled and leapt forward.
Bastian flinched, anticipating a swipe from her claws.
Instead, she hopped into his arms and pushed her face into his shoulder. She was trembling.
“It’s going to be okay, Whitby,” he said, stroking between her ears with his forefinger.
“If they kill you, I’ll kill them.”
Bastian smiled. “I’ll take some comfort in that.”
She squirmed free from him, jumping back onto her seat.
“All right, Captain, turn this boat around,” Bastian said. “It’s time to finish this once and for all.”