Part 15 (2/2)
He wasn't alone, and he hadn't noticed her, or the gondola.
She smiled slightly. Tiff had found the object of her desire. The brash American woman had halted his travels; she was speaking to him earnestly, her hands on his chest.
”I'll be careful,” she repeated, a strange sensation tingling at her nape. Ragnor had warned her about danger in Venice. Now Sal was doing the same, while Jared's belief was that she was losing her mind. Maybe. She was seeing a dead man's face on a mannequin. Wolves in the shadows. She was hearing the whisper of wings in the night.
She should just fly home. That would be the intelligent thing to do.
No...
She couldn't go home. Something was going on.
And though she had been afraid, she was also compelled, determined, and ...
Beguiled?
That was the term Tiff had used earlier. As to her reason for staying, it seemed to fit perfectly. She would be careful, she told herself, as she had promised Sal. And she knew for a certainty that bad things did happen. In a real world.
”The Danieli,” Sal said, sliding next to the side entry of the hotel. ”Please, you will not be alone?”
A bellman waited to a.s.sist her from the gondola. As she stood to disembark, Jordan kissed Sal's cheek. ”I promise, I'll stay close to friends. And thank you for being so sweet.
You are the best gondolier.” He offered her a deep smile. ”Grazie. Ciao, bella!”
”Ciao, bravo,” she told him.
She thanked the bellman as well and entered into the lobby of the hotel. It was busy, filled with laughter, languages, costumes, and an air of camaraderie and warmth. She surveyed the lobby for a moment, smiling slowly.
People were so beautiful.
They were having so much fun.
She felt oddly protective of Venice. If something was happening here to mar the wonder of this city, it had to be stopped.
Sal D'Onofrio poled his gondola out of the narrow ca.n.a.l, heading around the vaporetto that waited at the dock in front of the Danieli. He pa.s.sed the Square and the Doge's Palace, entering into the waters of the Grand Ca.n.a.l. He hadn't spoken of his discovery that morning to any of his friends, he had delivered his grisly find to Roberto Capo at the police station. And now ...
He still did not feel like singing. He was going home.
Tomorrow, after a night's sleep, he would be himself again.
Gondolas were out in ma.s.ses. He pa.s.sed by one of the landings. Giuseppe Donati, a friend, waved at him; he had just picked up a young couple in full costume. He waved back.
Giuseppe indicated a lone costumed figure on the dock, a man seeking a gondola.
Sal waved a thank-you to his friend. He had not really intended to pick up another costumer, but it might be a good thing to help shake off his unease. He slid to the bank, forcing himself to talk cheerfully to the man in English.
”Alone, signore? And you wish to ride?”
The masked man nodded gravely. He hopped into the gondola, needing no a.s.sistance.
He spoke in a low voice; indicating the route he wanted to take. He spoke in English, with what accent, Sal couldn't tell. It didn't matter. He was glad-he'd drop this pa.s.senger near his own home, and then he'd be a little richer for the night he intended to remain home.
They moved along the busy ca.n.a.l, watching pedestrians, shopkeepers, children, dogs and dog-walkers.
They moved off the beaten path. Here and there, an old man shuffled along, headed for a bar or trattoria. A woman swathed in black hurried to a church service. A young housewife strolled with her baby in a carriage.
Another turn. They were far from the shops, into a mostly residential section of the city. Dusk was now falling. The lights that fell upon the ca.n.a.l were dim, coming from dwellings where fathers were returning from work, some to stay, some for a bite before returning to work to soak in the tourist dollars by night.
It was still Sal's city. Warm now in the glow of home and day-to-day living.
Ahead was a wide bridge, one that connected two islands of houses. They were not too far now from his own.
The gondola drifted beneath the bridge.
Sal barely heard the man in the dottore costume move.
He had just started to turn, not quite hearing but sensing the whispers ... He felt the hands on his shoulders, powerful in a vise that would soon break bone. The grip was agony, but even as he opened his mouth to scream, the noise was choked off in the sudden rampant flow of blood.
He wasn't even aware of the razor-honed piercing that seared into his neck, creating the bubble of blood in his throat...
Nari was in the center of the Square, masked, surrounded by revelers. She stood still, staring up at the sky, appreciating the dying of the day. Night... soon. She could hear the laughter around her, the talk, the languages. She could hear the music, playing at the bandstand. When she concentrated, she could hear more.
A pulse ...
Thump, thump, sweet, delicious.
Breathing...life ... essence ...
Tonight. It might be tonight. She had a plan in place, and actually, missing out on her intent here and there wasn't so bad. It was rather like a game.
Cat and mouse. The chase creating an even sweeter scent of fear. And the taste of fear ...
She started when she felt a grasp on her arm. She glanced up in horror.
Ragnor. He had found her. Here, in the open.
”It stops,” he said.
She wanted to jerk away furiously. She knew that she could not.
”Really? What are you going to do with me to make it stop? Kill me?” she taunted.
”Put you away,” he said quietly.
<script>