Chapter 40
Two Weeks Later
De Luca’s home was not built for the number of people who were attempting to fit into it.
They filled the kitchen, eating finger sandwiches and homemade tortas, chatting, drinking, and cleaning all at the same time.
They spilled out into the street, where they sipped red wine and smoked, looking like wedding guests, aside from the fact that every one of them wore black.
Bastian couldn’t find De Luca among them.
He squeezed into the kitchen, apologizing for bumping people and eventually resorting to pressing himself up against the wall to scan the crowd.
“Maybe he went for a walk,” Whitby suggested, hopping onto the windowsill. Bastian couldn’t help thinking it was a good thing she had black fur—she didn’t have to rush out to the town’s only formal clothing store and purchase an ill-fitting black outfit with a day’s notice, like some people did.
He eyed the stairs to the first floor, where more people had gathered.
“I have an idea where he is. I’ll be right back.”
Apologizing as he went, he maneuvered his way up the stairs.
A few people stared at him, perhaps recognizing him as the vampire who had been given a full pardon in the wake of Arianna’s arrest, or perhaps they were just looking at him the way people tended to look at him, sensing his difference on a chemical level.
“Fabulous hat,” Bastian told one of them. “Absolutely divine.”
On the landing, he knocked lightly at the door and opened it to peek into De Luca’s bedroom.
De Luca sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees, face downturned. His black hair was slicked back, and, by some unfair miracle, his suit made him look even more dashing than his police uniform did.
“I thought you might be in here,” Bastian said.
De Luca looked up. “Please don’t tell me you’ve brought cake. The neighbors have been trying to feed me since before the funeral.”
“Empty hands,” Bastian said, flashing his palms. “You’re safe.”
“Meno male.” Thank goodness.
Bastian shut the door, muffling the chatter of the wake, and went to sit next to De Luca on the bed. He nudged De Luca’s knee with his own—a subtle show of togetherness, of compassion—and felt that delighted ripple in his belly when De Luca nudged back.
“It was a beautiful service,” Bastian said.
“Grazie.”
They said nothing for a moment, Bastian listening to De Luca’s heartbeat. Then De Luca said, “Want to hear something crazy?”
“Always, darling.”
“I can’t stop thinking that if Arianna hadn’t done what she did, I wouldn’t have had those final few days with Enzo. Not in the same way.”
Bastian nodded. “That’s understandable.”
“I’m grateful for it. I know it’s wrong, but I am.”
In the days following the showdown in the cave, Enzo had almost seemed cured.
He ate and drank and laughed. He and De Luca showed Bastian and Whitby the Vernazza sights, and Enzo seemed fine.
Bastian loved seeing the lightness that graced De Luca’s body, the sight filling Bastian with a bright, glittering kind of joy.
And he loved getting to know Enzo. Enzo, it turned out, was an expert prankster.
He had served De Luca an espresso that was revealed to be gravy, and he had cut his finger while chopping bell peppers for dinner, but the blood turned out to just be ketchup.
He was a terrible dancer, but he could sing.
De Luca got out his guitar, and they sang Aerosmith, George Michael, and Talking Heads—while Bastian danced, of course.
Enzo had been fine. Completely and utterly fine.
Then suddenly he wasn’t.
A week ago, they had been about to eat dinner when he collapsed in De Luca’s kitchen. By the time the doctor arrived, he was gone.
Bastian felt like he should have asked. So that the option was there.
But he got the feeling that Enzo didn’t want to be turned.
He’d had enough blood drama to last him a lifetime, and he didn’t need any more.
De Luca didn’t bring it up, either, which was how Bastian knew it wasn’t even a question.
Enzo didn’t want to be a vampire, and Bastian had to respect that.
“I had no idea Arianna was capable of something so monstrous,” De Luca said, frowning at the bedspread, as if searching his memory for some clue that could have exposed Arianna before she’d had the chance to kill.
Bastian took his hand, linking their fingers. “I think that’s the secret, dear. There’s no such thing as monsters; there’s just people and the choices they make. What Arianna did was terrible, but you shouldn’t feel guilty for savoring the time her actions bought you. That wasn’t your doing.”
De Luca’s mouth tightened. “It feels like there’s never enough time.”
“No, there isn’t. Which is why it’s so valuable.”
He felt De Luca shudder, and then De Luca’s head pressed into Bastian’s shoulder, and he realized he was crying.
Fat, silent tears slid down his cheeks, and Bastian didn’t even stop to think about what he was doing as he took De Luca’s head in his hands and kissed the tears away.
He smiled through his own tears as De Luca lay down and pulled Bastian’s arms around him.
As they lay there, Bastian pressed his mouth into De Luca’s neck, soothing his hair and whispering into his skin.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but they eventually heard people leaving. Good-byes rang out below their feet as the house emptied, and then it was just Bastian and De Luca, Whitby somewhere below, the light turning orange outside the window, the room becoming soft and dreamlike.
Bastian uncurled from De Luca as he pushed himself upright.
“Are they gone?” he asked.
“They’re gone,” Bastian said, propped up on his elbow, listening for any signs of movement downstairs.
De Luca stood and went to the stereo, flicking it on.
Bastian couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as Kate Bush came through the speakers.
De Luca held out his hand and Bastian slid from the bed, allowing himself to be pulled into De Luca’s arms. They danced a slow waltz around the bedroom as “Cloudbusting” played.
“I love this song,” Bastian said.
“I know.”
Bastian gave him a quizzical look, and De Luca smiled.
“It was playing that morning, in your kitchen, right after you were put under house arrest. You were cooking salmon for Whitby and prancing about in that tiny banana-print robe.”
“I like dancing,” Bastian said.
“You were trying to seduce me.”
Bastian opened his mouth to protest, then laughed.
“You changed everything,” De Luca said, his eyes sparkling, so intense that Bastian couldn’t look away. He’d happily spend the rest of eternity looking into those eyes.
“Me, dear?”
“I was a different person when we met,” De Luca said. “Vernazza was a different place. I can’t remember what it was like before you. Who I was.”
Bastian’s brow creased in an exaggerated thinking face. “Grumpy. A little rude. And so unbearably tense, just looking at you caused my blood pressure to rise.”
“And you were spontaneous to the point of self-destruction.”
Bastian smiled. “It all worked out okay in the end.”
They were pressed so close; Bastian could feel every contour of De Luca’s body. He loved the way the music moved them, every step and turn in sync.
The song changed. Bronski Beat, “Smalltown Boy.” Bastian closed his eyes in bliss.
De Luca had hummed this song outside the gelateria, surprising Bastian for the first time with his depth and complexity.
Was that the moment he knew he liked De Luca?
Or was it the moment he noticed those long lashes?
The sweat on De Luca’s upper lip? His charming nervousness about being around a vampire?
“I could dance with you forever,” Bastian said.
He found De Luca looking at him with eyes that blazed blue fire, his ears turning pink, and Bastian saw longing in his gaze. Longing and passion and sadness. He didn’t have to ask why.
Bastian was leaving soon.
Leaving Vernazza. Leaving De Luca.
They both knew it was coming. The time-share was coming to an end, and with nowhere else to stay and a life in London to return to, Bastian and Whitby would be leaving tomorrow. Bastian hadn’t expected it to be so difficult. He hadn’t—
“You got out,” De Luca said. Bastian frowned, and De Luca elaborated, “This song. You said it inspired you to get out of your town. See the world.”
Bastian swallowed. Nodded. Suddenly words eluded him. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“It sounds nice,” De Luca said, and it felt like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He chewed his bottom lip, his eyelids lowering.
Bastian raised a hand and put it to De Luca’s cheek. Hope bloomed in Bastian’s chest and softly, he said, “This doesn’t have to be good-bye.”
Their dancing slowed.
“If you want to see the world—” Bastian continued, but De Luca broke him off.
“I’d want to see it with you.”
Sparks crackled in Bastian’s chest. De Luca was looking at him, unblinking, so certain.
“Even though I’m loud?” Bastian said.
“Even though you’re loud.”
“Even though I’m spontaneous and lackadaisical and cavalier about personal safety, not to mention a vam—”
De Luca dragged him into a kiss, grinning.
“Because of all of that and more,” he whispered.
—
“There you are,” Bastian said, spotting Whitby eating what looked like fresh spaghetti Bolognese from a plate that had been placed on a garden chair just outside the back door.
“Eating leftovers, dear? How unsophisticated—not to mention out of character.”
Whitby’s ears flattened against her skull as she licked her lips. “I didn’t…I was just…the smell was so…” She silenced and then gave Bastian and De Luca a haughty glare. “Where have you been? People were looking for you to pay their respects.”
“And you helped them, I’m sure,” Bastian said with a wry smile. He worried suddenly that he had kept De Luca from his loved ones on a difficult day, but De Luca appeared unfussed at having missed saying good-bye to his guests.
“I’ve seen those people every day of my life since I was born,” he said. “I’m sure they won’t mind. Besides, most of them only came back here for the food.”
“Speaking of, how is it, darling?” Bastian asked Whitby.
The cat gave him a filthy glare and hopped down from the chair. Her tail stood tall as she approached the path that ran alongside the house, leading out to the street.
“I thought I’d go down to the beach,” she said. “See if I can magic up some sandcastles.”
Bastian smiled. Whitby had been so resistant to leaving the apartment on their first night in Vernazza that he’d had to force her off the front step for an evening stroll. Now she appeared quite at home roaming the streets.
“What about the sand parasites you’re so worried about?” Bastian asked.
Whitby didn’t blink as she said, “Bastian, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
He chuckled. “No, I’m sure. What do you say, Nico? Beach?”
“I was thinking about packing,” De Luca said.
“Are you going somewhere?” Whitby asked, the edge leaving her tone, her tail losing a little of its pep.
“I was thinking about leaving Vernazza for a while,” De Luca said. “Seeing what else is out there.”
“Am I to believe the commissario has granted you some leave?” Whitby asked.
De Luca wore a strange smile as he said, “Actually, I quit.” Bastian gasped and De Luca laughed lightly before adding more seriously, “The magistrate cleared the commissario of any wrongdoing, but I can’t trust anything the commissario says anymore, especially not now that his son is joining the force. ”
“Matteo is going to be a police officer?” Bastian asked.
De Luca nodded. “I think the commissario wants to train him up to be his successor. I don’t need to be around to see that. I have better things to do with my time.”
Whitby almost looked like she was smiling as she said, “Good for you, Inspector.”
“You can call me Nico, if you’d like.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
De Luca laughed. Eruptively. Bastian grinned so wide, he feared he would dislocate his jaw.
He looked between Whitby and De Luca, his skin humming with happiness.
His hand nudged De Luca’s, and warmth seeped into his fingers as De Luca’s grip tightened, squeezing gently.
Not for the first time, Bastian marveled at the fact that they had found each other—two smalltown boys, worlds apart but unexpectedly united.
They would always be smalltown boys at heart, but Bastian knew that they were ready to take on the world. To see what else was out there. The small towns would always be there, if they needed them.
For now, it was smalltown boys against the big, bad world.
“How would you feel about another trip?” Bastian asked the cat.
Whitby looked between them. “Another trip?”
“Just the three of us and the open road.”
Bastian felt De Luca’s shoulder nudge his as they leaned together.
“You’re coming with us?” Whitby asked.
“If you’ll have me,” De Luca said.
The cat considered him.
“Do you have any irritating habits?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing as bad as, I don’t know, singing Celine Dion top-volume in the shower,” De Luca said.
Bastian looked at him sharply. De Luca was grinning.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find it adorable,” De Luca said, brushing a kiss against Bastian’s cheek.
“How do you know about that?” Bastian asked.
De Luca shared a glittering look with the cat. “Me and Whitby had some interesting conversations while we were on our way to rescue you from the vampire council’s transport vehicle.”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed.
“What else did you two talk about while I was being driven to my fate?”
De Luca smiled. “Oh, nothing much else. Although I am curious to see the photos of the time you had a mullet.”
Bastian made a high-pitched squeak and clenched his fists to stop himself from grabbing hold of Whitby.
“I like you,” the cat told De Luca, her tail perking up. “This is going to be fun. I just have one question, though. Where are we going next?”