Chapter 38 #2
Bastian felt a pang of rage at the thought of Enzo drinking Luna’s blood.
And Emilio’s. Salvador’s. He couldn’t believe how blind they had been; how easy they had made it for Arianna to carry out her dark work.
Bastian, De Luca, and Whitby had spent the past few days running around town trying to find the killer, and all the while, she was at De Luca’s home, in Enzo’s room, feeding him the “blessed” blood.
“You were in his room last night,” Bastian said, recalling the creak he’d heard through the floorboards—the one that drew him to Enzo’s bedroom in the first place. “You were the one moving around in there.”
Arianna almost looked proud. “Somebody had to be with him.”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “Let me guess, you hid under the bed when we came into the room. Or was it in the closet? Perhaps clinging to the windowsill by your fingernails?”
The woman’s mouth pursed, unamused. “He was so thirsty, I had to be close by to feed him what he needed.”
De Luca cried out in horror. “How could you do that to him? He wouldn’t want this! He wouldn’t want you killing for him!”
“She didn’t do it for Enzo,” Bastian said, his gaze going to Whitby. “She did it for herself. Because she couldn’t handle the one thing every human being has to go through at some point in their life: the pain of losing the ones you love.”
“Silenzio!” Arianna snapped. “It was the only way to save him, and it’s working!”
“Blood,” Enzo said suddenly. He had been caught up in Arianna’s embrace the entire time they talked and seemed drained and exhausted, barely conscious of what was going on around him. But he had stirred now, and he drew back from Arianna, frowning at her.
“I don’t want it,” he said. “I don’t want any more.”
Arianna cupped his chin with her free hand. “It’s all to make you better, amore. It’s helping you.”
Enzo’s brow furrowed at her.
“What did you do?” he asked, gaining some lucidity. “What did you do, Ari?”
“I’m saving you, amore mio. You’re going to be okay.”
Enzo looked at De Luca, who reached a hand toward his brother.
“Come here,” De Luca said.
“No,” Arianna spat. She seized Enzo’s arm, holding him back. “You don’t get to take him away from me. You don’t have the right. You were going to let him die.”
De Luca gritted his teeth and his fists curled at his sides. He looked from Arianna to Enzo to the glinting mezzaluna in her hand, its long, menacing blade catching the low light.
Bastian sensed De Luca wanted to charge her, disarm her and cuff her, and drag her back to town. But Arianna was strong. Four victims had succumbed to her, after all. And she was armed. They had to be careful.
Bastian felt the cold of the cave stealing into his bones, and his joints creaked as he shifted his weight. He was running out of time. With the water slowly but steadily filling the space—it was up to Bastian’s ankles now—it seemed like they all were.
Matteo hadn’t moved from where he lay on the rocky ground. If the water rose any farther, he’d drown. If he was even still alive.
De Luca’s focus was on Arianna.
“Did Enzo see you attacking Salvador? Is that why he was out of bed last night?”
Arianna stroked Enzo’s face. “He thought it was a dream. He saw me from the window of the spare room and I told him to go back to bed. Isn’t that right, Enzo?”
Enzo blinked at her. He looked like a confused child.
“You killed Salvador?” he asked.
“The mayor,” Bastian broke in, still trying to piece together what Arianna had done. “How did you get her body into my apartment?”
Arianna rolled her eyes. “She walked in herself. Never leave a fool like Lombardi guarding a place you want to protect. A small distraction—say a contained fire down the street—and he’ll abandon his post in a breath.
Then all I had to do was convince the mayor that you wanted to talk to her.
It didn’t take much; the woman was broken by her husband being taken by the council. I almost felt bad. Almost.”
Her callous tone set Bastian’s stomach swirling. He had met plenty of monsters in his time, but none as cold and unrepentant as Arianna.
Beside him, De Luca’s body was rigid with tension. He trembled so hard that Bastian instinctively wanted to reach out and soothe him, prevent him from doing something rash. But he knew it wouldn’t help. De Luca’s anger was justified.
They had to subdue Arianna. Save Enzo and, if they could, Matteo.
How quick was Arianna? If Bastian flew at her now, would she have time to raise the mezzaluna? Would she use it on herself—or worse, on Enzo—if it meant avoiding capture?
He frowned as he saw movement behind Arianna. Something else floating in the dark. It almost looked like a face. A placid face made of stone.
The statue.
Sofia di Vernazza hovered at Arianna’s back. For a moment, Bastian thought the statue had come to life, as if Sofia were angry at Arianna for using her name as an excuse to murder innocent people and came alive to punish her.
Then Bastian heard a soft whisper, and he looked at Whitby on the other side of the cave.
Her eyes flashed with magical green fire as she whispered to herself, focusing on the statue.
Bastian almost laughed in relieved delight at her initiative, but he didn’t want to break her concentration or alert Arianna.
He looked back and saw that the statue was just over Arianna’s shoulder now, hovering eerily.
“Impetum!” Whitby yelled.
The statue swung forward, striking Arianna across the back of the head. Arianna cried out and staggered forward a few steps. The water was nearly halfway up their shins now, though, and Arianna stumbled and crashed to her knees, dropping the mezzaluna into the water.
Bastian took his chance.
He leapt at her, moving around to seize her from behind.
He yanked one hand behind her back, his other hand clamped to the base of her skull, where blood oozed from the place the statue had struck her.
The scent roved into Bastian’s nostrils, salty and sweet at the same time, and he tried to ignore it.
“Get off me!” Arianna screamed, her free hand stirring the rapidly rising water in fury. “You have to let me finish it! You have to let me save him!”
Beside them, Enzo stepped back and lost his footing, going under the water. De Luca sloshed forward, putting his arm around Enzo and hauling him up. Enzo spluttered and gasped for air, soaked through.
“De Luca, get him out of here,” Bastian said, holding Arianna tight. Beside them, Matteo’s body had begun to float. He was on his back, rocking gently with the current, water splashing his face.
“No!” Arianna cried.
“What about you—” De Luca began, but Bastian cut him off.
“Just get Enzo out of here.”
De Luca’s eyes flashed with gratitude, and he nodded, helping Enzo across the cave. They waded clumsily through the water, then vanished through the opening back into the tunnels.
“NOOO!” Arianna shrieked, struggling to get free from Bastian, her hand submerged in the water.
“It isn’t nice, is it, love?” Bastian said. “Being overpowered? Fearing for your life?”
“The waiter!” Whitby cried from her perch on a rock.
Bastian saw that Matteo’s body had flipped, and he was now face down in the water. But Bastian couldn’t do anything to help him, not without releasing Arianna.
He watched as Whitby leapt from the rock into the air, and for a moment Bastian thought he was hallucinating. He was sure Whitby was flying. She hopped through the air toward the waiter, her feet appearing to land on invisible floating platforms that held her weight, propelling her forward.
Bastian’s mouth dropped open. “You can fly, darling.”
The cat stopped by Matteo, standing on the air.
She nudged him with her paw, rolling him onto his back.
When he didn’t respond, she swiped at his head, muttering in Latin as she smacked him a couple more times.
Matteo jerked suddenly, coughed, and startled awake, splashing upright and staring around him in horror.
“Che cazzo?!”
“You’re all right, dear,” the cat told him. “You’re safe. Ish.”
Matteo scowled. “Get away from me, demon!”
“Gladly.”
The man glared at Bastian and Arianna, appearing confused and scared. Finally, he spat, “Fuck whatever this is,” and turned to wade out of the cave. He vanished through the opening that De Luca had used, and Bastian lost sight of him.
“No!” Arianna cried, thrashing about in the water. “I have to finish it!”
“Your reign of terror is over, dear,” Bastian told her. “I just have one more question. When exactly did you decide to frame me for your crimes? It can’t have been when you killed Luna; I had only just arrived in Vernazza when you took her life.”
Arianna stopped struggling. She twisted to glare at him, her eyes shining like dark mirrors, free of remorse.
“Vampires are always trying to claim this town,” she spat.
“They covet beauty as if it will mask their aberration.” Her face was pinched with hatred.
“The day after Luna, you came into the gelateria, smiling and joking, acting as if you were normal—as if you had any right to be here. But Commissario Zappa saw through the facade. He understood your true nature. You’re a killer. ”
“And you decided to help confirm that for him,” Bastian said, suppressing a prickle of contempt as he recalled just how close he had come to the True Death. “How clever of you.”
He almost wished he were angry, but all he felt for Arianna now was pity. She had given in to her darker impulses. She had succumbed to the monster within. She had failed where he had succeeded.
Bastian tightened his grip on her arm. It was time to put this to bed. “Now are you going to play nice or—”
He broke off as pain erupted in his neck, bright and sharp. Arianna pulled free from his grip, sloshing backward through the water, and Bastian saw the mezzaluna in her hand. She had fished it from the water and swung it at his throat. The weapon dripped red.
Red with blood.
Red with his blood, which was pouring from an open wound in his neck.