Chapter 35
While De Luca drove, Whitby uttered something in Latin, and Bastian felt the cuffs click open, releasing him.
He shook them off with a grunt of disgust, watching them tumble into the footwell.
Wincing, he pushed himself upright in the backseat of the car, expelling stale air from his lungs as he examined his scarred wrists. The flesh was red, angry, and sore.
“You’re getting good at that,” he told the cat. “Though if I never see another piece of silver, it’ll be too soon. Also, what on earth were you thinking coming after me?”
She glared. “Don’t act like you’re not happy to see us.”
Bastian smiled. He stroked her head, and her glare softened. She nuzzled against him, pawing the car seat.
“You can’t begin to imagine how happy I am to see you,” he said. “Both of you. But you could have been killed. You could still be killed.”
“We couldn’t let the council take you,” De Luca said. His eyes flashed in the rearview mirror.
They hadn’t spoken since Bastian fled De Luca’s home, and there were a hundred things Bastian wanted to say.
Sorry and Do you forgive me? and Can I kiss you?
But he couldn’t say any of it because he kept seeing that look of hurt and distrust that had glinted in De Luca’s eyes the last time they were together.
Whitby spoke first. “It was lucky De Luca was home when I ran to fetch him. I’m not sure I’m ready to drive a car.”
Bastian took her by the shoulders. “Darling, I speak for every road user who has ever lived when I say it’s imperative you never get behind the wheel.”
De Luca snorted, and Bastian met his reflection again, warmth spreading through him.
“What about your job?” Bastian asked. “Zappa will surely fire you.”
De Luca’s gaze returned to the road. “I don’t want a job that involves punishing an innocent man.”
Bastian couldn’t help staring at the inspector, taking in the set of his jaw, those soulful eyes. The last time they had looked at each other was in De Luca’s kitchen, where it seemed De Luca had started to suspect Bastian was the killer. Now, though…
“Am I to understand that you no longer think I murdered Salvador?” Bastian asked.
The inspector’s gaze went to the road, then back to Bastian. “I never did. I was just freaking out about Enzo. I’m sorry.”
Bastian felt a smile spread across his face, and his limbs suddenly felt lighter. He had been carrying around the worry that De Luca hated him, but he had only noticed the weight when it lifted.
Beside him, Whitby began to whisper more Latin words; another incantation, Bastian presumed. He retied his hair, still processing the past few minutes.
“You rolled the van,” he said.
De Luca drummed the wheel. “Whitby’s idea.”
The cat sniffed. “I knew you’d be all right. Well, I hoped. Vampire advantage.”
“Considerate of you.” When the cat resumed muttering in Latin, he added, “Whitby, what are you magicking now?”
“A protection charm to cloak us from the council, in case they survive. It should buy us some time.”
“You really can turn people invisible?” he asked.
“Not invisible, exactly, just make them less likely to look in our direction.”
He gave her a wry smile. “You are a marvel. And I would be very surprised if the council survived De Luca’s attack. Their faces slid clean off their skulls.”
“Good,” Whitby said.
Bastian shuddered at the memory of those jaws releasing, the sickly yellow gleam of hungry eyes, and he looked out the windscreen as they drove between fields, shaking off the image. If the council did survive, it would take a while for them to recover, perhaps even a lifetime.
In the distance, the ocean was almost entirely concealed behind a dozen rising plumes of black smoke. The smoke rose above Vernazza, combining to form a dark cloud that hung over the town.
“They actually set fire to Vernazza,” Bastian said, still unable to process the so-called logic behind the Obliterati’s actions.
They came to towns to feed on vampires, and they ruined the place if their appetites were not sated.
He replayed the image of their bodies blistering and burning as holy water consumed them and felt better.
“Psychopaths,” De Luca grunted, squeezing the wheel. “We were able to stop most of the fires before too much damage was caused, but some buildings are already ruined.”
“And the commissario?” Bastian asked.
De Luca shook his head. “He is blaming vampires. Would you expect anything else?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t.”
“That’s not all,” Whitby said. She blinked at the inspector. “I think it’s time you told him, De Luca.”
Bastian frowned. “Told me what?”
De Luca took a breath. “Enzo is missing.”
“Your brother? Since when?”
“Since after Salvador’s body was taken away. I dealt with Zappa and the council, and when I went back upstairs to check on Enzo, he was gone.”
“I thought he was bedbound,” Bastian said.
De Luca exhaled. “So did I.”
“Do you think he—” Bastian couldn’t finish the sentence, knowing how badly it could hurt De Luca. He couldn’t bear having De Luca look at him the way he had in the house. Cold and injured and angry.
“I don’t see how Enzo can be the one hurting people,” the inspector said, no anger in his tone. “But after everything that’s happened, I suppose we should consider it a possibility. Either way, I have to find him.”
“Perhaps Arianna knows where he is,” Bastian said.
“Or she took him,” Whitby mused. “She’s his ex, right? And going by the way she behaves around you, Inspector, I’d say that she still cares for Enzo.”
De Luca nodded. “That was my thought, too. Although I have no idea how she got in and out of the house without me seeing.” He sighed, then raised a smile in the rearview mirror. “Who wants another ice cream?”
—
The town was alive with activity when they returned. The scent of smoke clogged the streets and people rushed about in a fevered state. Some lugged suitcases and appeared to be leaving Vernazza, while others bore bulging supermarket bags, helping those who had been affected by the fires.
Bastian felt a pang of guilt, then reminded himself that the tragedies that had befallen Vernazza weren’t his fault. He had been trying to help the townspeople ever since the first body on the beach. Just because he was a vampire didn’t mean he was like the council.
He spotted Micio Micio on the left, a little farther down the cobbled street. Outside the cat café, half a dozen bunches of flowers lay on the ground, alongside a number of cards and pictures. Presumably, they had been left by locals in tribute to Luna and Emilio.
Standing by the tributes were two women. One wore a large sun hat, which was how Bastian recognized her.
“Is that the olive oil woman?” Whitby asked, following Bastian’s gaze.
“Kerstin,” he said with a nod.
“And Arianna,” De Luca added. Bastian had been so stunned to see Kerstin out of her grove that he hadn’t paid attention to who she was with. The two women were bent toward each other, as if sharing a secret.
Frowning, Bastian watched as Arianna held open a padded container—a freezer bag, he realized—into which Kerstin placed a small white parcel. Right as Kerstin was removing her hands, Arianna’s gaze switched to meet Bastian’s, and her eyes widened.
“She’s seen us,” Bastian said, moving toward the women, wondering why Arianna looked so nervous. He hadn’t forgotten the aroma of olive oil in his kitchen when they found the room filled with occult paraphernalia—not to mention the mayor’s body.
“Hello, ladies,” Bastian greeted, assembling a strained smile. “I’m relieved to see you are both safe.”
They looked confused for a moment, then Kerstin seemed to remember the black smoke drifting overhead.
“The fires spared my grove,” she said. “Thank goodness. I came into town to see if I was needed.”
“Of course. The gelateria looks unharmed, too,” Bastian said, peering past Arianna to the ice cream parlor. “You must be relieved.”
Arianna’s jaw clenched as she pushed the freezer bag behind her body in a clumsy attempt to conceal it.
“What is that you’re hiding?” Whitby asked, while at the same moment, De Luca said, “Enzo is missing.”
Arianna’s eyes widened as she looked at the inspector. “Missing?”
“Since this morning,” De Luca said. “Do you know where he is?”
She frowned. “I don’t understand. You said Enzo hasn’t been out of bed in months.”
“He hasn’t.”
“So how could he go missing?”
De Luca’s gaze remained steady. “I’m hoping you can tell me.”
Arianna’s nose wrinkled. She looked scared and angry at the same time. Bastian watched Kerstin take a green bottle from her pocket and sip through a metal straw. She seemed unconcerned by Arianna’s distress, closing her eyes in bliss as she gulped the oil.
“I haven’t seen Enzo since the last time I came to the house, over a month ago,” Arianna told De Luca. “You know that.”
“You weren’t there last night?” the inspector asked.
“No!”
“Where were you?”
Arianna’s fingers touched the cross necklace. “I was in bed asleep, like any normal person.”
“I assume there are no witnesses to verify this?”
Arianna looked like she wanted to slap him.
“Can I be of assistance, dears?” Aunt Agata said, puffing for breath as she appeared behind De Luca.
She offered a sunny smile as they all turned to look at her, but she was unable to suppress the sharp glint in her eyes.
Bastian had a feeling she had spotted the gathering outside Micio Micio and come to rubberneck.
The shopkeeper wore a yellow sunflower dress and carried a wicker basket, her large knitting needles poking out like miniature spears.
“I was just sweeping ash from my porch when I noticed you all here in the street,” Aunt Agata said. “Is something wrong?”
De Luca returned to glaring at Arianna, while Kerstin seemed lost in thought. Arianna looked over her shoulder at the gelateria, as if checking the distance. Was she preparing to flee? And if so, why?
“What were you doing just now?” Bastian asked her. “What did Kerstin give you?”
Arianna’s cheeks flushed red as pomegranate seeds.
“Yes, what’s in the bag?” Whitby asked.