Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) (17 page)

I
had only ever seen Felice’s house once – on the night I was kidnapped by the Falcones. Being back again was like being plunged into a nightmare. Poised at the end of a winding driveway lit up by iron lamps, it was an architectural feat. Unblemished stone climbed across three stories, protruding into the front lawn in a circular balcony supported by a row of Roman columns. The roof was domed. Four black SUVs surrounded the front entrance. His precious bees were around the back somewhere, quiet and hidden in the darkness. I was glad of that, at least.

I had the vaguest sense we might die, but I didn’t mention it to Millie. We held hands as we crossed the driveway. The gravel was crunchy underneath our heels. I remembered that crunch. I had heard it once before, when I had left this place,
but that felt like a lifetime ago now, and the bruises had only just begun to fade.

A faint pricking feeling in my eyes made me realize I was crying. I wasn’t even aware of it. The tears felt like rain, born of something outside of myself and far from my immediate awareness.

A crystal chandelier lit up the foyer, and on the ground, the Falcone crest greeted us – a crimson falcon poised for flight. I tried not to stare at it. It brought back too many unpleasant feelings and I was already at capacity. Up ahead, the stairway split, winding towards the second storey in mirroring steps.

The quiet was eerie. Did they know about Calvino? Would Luca or Nic have to tell them? I was conscious of every droplet of his blood on my skin. We climbed the stairs, our heels click-clacking off the marble as we followed the boys up and up. On the second storey, Luca and Nic led us to a room at the very end of a dimly lit hallway. The door was already ajar. Leather couches sat either side of a grand fireplace. The local news was playing on a giant muted TV. The headline was flashing:

ONE DEAD IN EDEN MOB FIGHT.
POLICE ARE ON THE SCENE.

Valentino was in his chair by the fireplace. His attention was trained on the TV, so I could see only the side of his head – close-cropped black hair and a sharp profile. Beside him, squished side by side on the couch, were three boys; the first I recognized as CJ, Calvino’s twelve-year-old son. He was the one who had filmed my torture, thirsty for his dad’s approval.
He was staring at a fixed point on the floor. The other two boys were younger than him – no more than nine or ten – with rounder faces and fair hair. They had the same eyes, though, and their mouths bent the same way. Even though there was a yard of space on the other side of them, they had crushed themselves together. They were crying. I wondered where their mother was. I wondered if they had one – or had she, like Evelina, made a run for it while she still could?

‘Wait out here,’ said Nic. ‘We’ll be back.’

He crossed in front of Luca and entered the room. Luca lingered, keeping Millie and me under his attention for a moment longer. His brows lifted and in the silence I realized my teeth were chattering. I unhinged my jaw to stop them.

‘Relax.’ Another beat under that azure gaze. ‘It’s going to be OK.’

I believed him, that’s the strange thing. He was earnest, at least in that moment, and I remembered the last proper words I had spoken to him.
He’s broken. You all are
. It occurred to me, as I quivered in someone else’s blood, that I had walked myself into danger for the shred of hope I had for an uncle I wished would change but never would, and I realized we were both broken, he and I. We were a couple of fractured lines, running parallel to one another, stuck in families that wouldn’t ever truly let us go. And I was sorry for hurting him.

‘OK,’ I said quietly. Millie didn’t say anything, but I could feel her shaking beside me, trying to hold on to herself. ‘We’ll stay here.’

Luca stalked into the room while Millie and I hovered outside the doorway, teetering alien-like on the edge of
something we were caught up in but not a part of.

The brothers crossed the room and rounded the couch. Valentino was still staring at the headline. It had changed:

DONATA MARINO TAKEN INTO CUSTODY.
MORE TO COME.

Luca clapped his hands on the younger boys’ shoulders. ‘
Questo è un giorno triste
,’ he said softly. His face clouded and for the first time I could see grief creeping to the surface. The boys looked up at him, their eyes shimmering. A moment passed between them and I got the overwhelming sense that to these kids, Luca was someone important. And not just in the Mafia sense.

Nic bent down beside CJ. His voice was hard. ‘We will have our revenge.’

Without lifting his eyes from the floor, CJ nodded.

Luca dragged his brother upright by the back of his neck. ‘Can’t we have one moment of peace, Nicoli?’

‘This is not a time for peace. It’s not what’s best.’

‘And what’s best for Sal and Aldo?’ asked Luca. ‘
Sono bambini
.’

The youngest boy blinked his big eyes. ‘Me and Sal aren’t babies,’ he said, affronted. ‘We
want
to talk about revenge.’

I glanced sidelong at Millie, our faces screwing up with matching levels of shock. We had never heard a child talk like that. Not even in movies. It was jarring, and yet in that room just then it seemed so … casual.

Sal didn’t look as convinced as Aldo. His face was blotchy with his tears and his lip was quivering violently.

‘You see?’ said Nic to Luca. ‘This is what’s best.’

Luca shook his head.

Valentino pulled his attention from the news. They were showing footage of the club exterior now. There were fire trucks and ambulances on the scene. Onlookers had gathered around it and the front entrance was cordoned off with police tape.

He turned to his brothers. ‘Can you two stop arguing? I’m trying to find out what happened.’

‘We know what happened,’ said Nic. ‘We were there.’

Valentino rounded on his brothers. He pulled his hands from the wheels of his chair and cracked his knuckles. ‘Oh, you were?’ he asked, his voice acidic. ‘Then maybe you can tell me how you screwed up so spectacularly and managed to get one of our finest members killed in action? Maybe you can tell me how you marched into that club with a contact already on the inside, the element of surprise on your side
and
five armed assassins, and still
somehow
failed to kill a sitting duck?’

‘They were armed!’ Nic said. ‘There were too many people in the way and Calvino went back for Jack after we pulled out. What could I do about that?’

‘You could have gone for Donata!’ Valentino snapped. ‘You had them in the palm of your hand and they both got away!’

Nic’s anger rose to match his brother’s. ‘You don’t know what it was like, Valentino. You weren’t there.’

‘It’s not my job to be there! It’s
your
job!’ Valentino clasped his hands around the arms of his chair and hoisted himself up, balancing on his good leg so he could be closer to Nic. I was surprised by how tall he was. He jabbed his brother’s
chest. ‘
You
said it would work.
You
cased the place. We put our trust in
your
intel and it failed. You’ve made me look weak, Nic.
Un pazzo incompetente!
’

‘You’re not a fool, Valentino.’

‘Tell that to the Marinos!’ he hissed.

Nic lifted his chin and, defiantly, he said, ‘We’re still stronger than them.’

‘Are we?’ Valentino’s voice fell deathly quiet. He bared his teeth, sharp canines ripping into a savage smile with no mirth. ‘What makes you so sure, brother? We don’t know what Jack Gracewell traded for their protection. We don’t know what weapons Donata Marino has.’

He released his stance and slumped back, landing heavily in his chair. It was jarring to witness him so unhinged. Tonight had removed his mask of careful impassivity and it was unsettling for everyone. Aldo’s sobs turned to hiccups. He and Sal were cowering so hard they were sinking into the couch.

Valentino’s shoulders slumped as he looked away from Nic, scowling. ‘Calvino has died and Jack Gracewell walks free still.
È una disgrazia
.’

‘We did our best,’ said Nic.

Valentino growled at his brother, his features turning feral, the way I had seen Luca’s many times before. ‘It wasn’t good enough, do you understand? Your best wasn’t good enough.’

‘Stop shouting at me!’ Nic replied. He turned to Luca, his expression imploring. ‘Tell him to stop!’

‘Valentino,’ said Luca, calmly. He clasped his twin’s shoulder, and Valentino sat a little straighter, strengthened by the gesture. ‘This isn’t helping. What’s done is done. We
need to stick together, not tear ourselves apart.’

It occurred to me that I had never seen the Falcone twins side by side before. On the surface they were so alike – the same bright eyes and stern expressions – but when they spoke, they broke apart. This time it was Luca in command of himself, controlled and practical, as Valentino shook with rage, turning dangerous at the threat of what lay ahead. There was a world of difference between them, but I knew what they were: two halves of one whole. The boss and the underboss, united, in that moment, in their loss.

After a heavy silence, Valentino waved his arm in half-surrender. ‘It is what it is,’ he conceded. ‘We must look forward.’

Millie and I had gotten used to being invisible by now. We had shuffled closer without meaning to, listening with eagerness as they argued back and forth.

It was Aldo who spotted us. Wiping his nose with an overused tissue, he pointed through the doorway. ‘Who are they?’ he asked, tugging at his brother’s sleeve.

Sal cocked his head. ‘I don’t know.’

Aldo’s eyes grew. ‘Is that … is that … blood?’

I looked down at myself.
Uh-oh
.

Valentino followed Aldo’s gesture, and our eyes met. He dropped his face into his hands, his reaction muffled by his fingers. I was expecting a mild explosion but his response was weary. ‘Luca,
why
would you bring her in here looking like that?’

CJ lifted his head. He lurched forwards, bending over his knees. I thought he was going to be sick but instead he cradled himself, his fingers clutching at his sides as he stared
down at the floor. He was probably smart enough to know it wasn’t my blood.

Luca looked at me sharply and I had the sudden image of him strangling me.

‘Sorry,’ I mouthed, hands raised in supplication. Millie and I backed away, into the semi-darkness of the hallway. We waited with our backs pressed against the wall and our hands squeezed tight while the conversation turned to angry Italian murmurs inside the room.

In the distance, down the marble stairs, we heard the purposeful clacking of heels. At the end of the hallway, coming at us like a bird of prey, was the crisp figure of Elena Genovese-Falcone. Her face was shadowed by the darkness but she glided with purpose, her black dress pooling around her. She was so like Donata and yet the idea of them once playing together as children seemed impossible. She was every bit the Falcone queen, marching through her dark castle. It was hard to decide who was worse between her and Donata, but they both definitely had a seat waiting for them in the pits of hell.

I pulled Millie against the window at the end of the hallway. Part of me wanted to open it and jump out into the garden. I’d take a thousand bees over Lucifer any day.

Elena came to an abrupt stop outside the room. She turned on the heel of her boot and pinned us silently with her eyes. Her lip curled, and in that plummy voice she said, ‘Did I not tell you to stay far away from my sons, girl?’

Millie gulped. I gulped.

She gestured at Millie, one wiry finger tracing her outline. ‘And now it seems you have multiplied.’

I felt an unexpected rush of indignation course through me. ‘I
was
staying away from them,’ I protested. ‘Maybe you should have told them to stay away from me.’

Millie pinched me.
Shut up
.

Elena flashed her teeth. ‘You think I didn’t?’

‘W-we d-don’t want to be here,’ said Millie. ‘It wasn’t our choice. We were in Eden when it all kicked off and we got caught up in the … in the hustle. We just want to go home, Mrs Falcone.’

Elena pitched forward and got right in my face. ‘Rubbing shoulders with my sister, were you, little Gracewell?’

I shook my head. ‘Of course not—’

‘Were you laughing about how your father slaughtered my husband?’

‘What? No, I went there to see my uncle—’

‘And what exactly has your uncle bargained with my sister for her protection?’

‘I–I don’t know,’ I stuttered.

‘Really, we don’t,’ Millie added.

‘Drugs? Money?’ she continued, watching us closely for any signs of betrayal on our faces. ‘What does that man have in his diner that would open the gates of my sister’s dynasty?’

My exasperation peaked, and too exhausted to reign in my annoyance, I half-shouted, ‘I don’t know! I don’t know anything about it!’

I blinked and her face was an inch from mine. ‘I think you’re lying.’ Closer still, until Millie was axed from my periphery. ‘I think there are lies in those eyes.’

I blinked hard – to hide the lies? Perhaps that’s what she thought, but the truth was that I was experiencing an
overwhelming flurry of rage and I was
this
close to slapping her right in her face to get her away from me.

‘Secrets,’ she hissed, pulling back from me at last. ‘We all have them. And, girl, I will find yours and when I do, my sons will see you into the next life. If you’re a spy, I will find out.’

‘She’s not,’ interrupted Millie. Elena double-blinked, reminded that there were two of us.

Millie’s words came flooding out. ‘Neither of us are spies, actually. We’re not good at subtlety, to tell you the truth, so if we were you’d have found us out by now. We just want to go home and watch movies and go back to school in a couple of weeks. Please don’t kill us or ask someone to kill us or hurt us. We don’t care about your sister, I didn’t even talk to her at the club, which was really overpriced and kind of creepy, and even though I saw her in the crowds I thought she looked kind of haggard and definitely not as glamorous as you but then again I’m sure she’s like twenty years older than you and you got all the good looks in your family.’