Inferno (Page 22)

‘God,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ said Luca. ‘He paid the ultimate price in the end.’

‘For killing the Marino boss and his wife?’ I thought about the wife. Had she been someone like me, ushered into the family by her feelings and naïvety, or was she raised the way Nic’s mother and her sister were? Did she marry Vincenzo Marino willingly, knowing what might one day happen to them?

‘For ordering it,’ Luca clarified. ‘The hit on Vincenzo Marino and his wife was Felice’s. His first. Well, first and second.’ A bitter smile twisted on his lips. ‘If you ever want to piss Felice off, mention the missing Marino twins and he’ll go so red you won’t recognize him. The ones that got away,’ Luca said with mock wistfulness. ‘Only Felice would lament the failure to kill a couple of kids.’

‘He ruined their lives,’ I said, bitterness overtaking me at the thought of Felice’s stupid face. His leering grin. His murderous eyes. ‘Wasn’t that enough?’

Luca shook his head. ‘There’s a long history between our families, Sophie. It doesn’t come down to a couple of murders, not of their boss, not of my grandfather. We’ve been warring with the Marinos since Sicily. It started with land, and land became profit and drugs and arms, and territories, and revenge. There have been losses on both sides.’

‘I don’t see how that excuses anything.’

Luca’s voice hardened. ‘I never said it did.’

‘Nic told me once that you never go after members of the Mafia culture, no matter what they’ve done.’

Luca’s laugh was mirthless. ‘Nicoli says a lot of things. That doesn’t make them true.’

‘So he lied.’ I tried to keep the surprise from my voice. I know Nic was more than capable of being dishonest, but when he had sat beside me in his sitting room, pouring out the secrets of his lineage, he had seemed so sincere.

Luca’s forehead creased. ‘I think it’s less about him lying to you and more about him lying to himself. The Marinos have always been different from the other families. We’ve never shared a history of respect with them.’

‘Are you still at war … in a “blood war”?’ I amended, wondering at the sick turn in my stomach, at the way my panic flared at the thought. How strong were the Marinos now? How close were they to the Falcones? Just how bloody was a blood war?

‘No. Not for a while now.’ Luca’s face was pale and drawn; he looked tired of standing, tired of talking. He sat down, tucking his boots under the bench and leaning forward. He steepled his fingers in front of his lips, thinking. I was struck by the memory of Valentino – how alike they were in that moment, one in my memory, the other beside me. I stayed standing, curious now that I was steeped in their history. I circled the room, scanning names I couldn’t pronounce and Roman numerals that made no sense.

‘That’s good, I suppose, that there’s peace,’ I said.

I couldn’t see Luca’s face, but the back of his head jerked, and he snorted. ‘A truce is only as good as its sincerity. Once my mother’s sister has rebuilt her wealth and the Marino membership, she’ll come out of the woodwork.’

‘Maybe she won’t. Maybe she wants peace too. That’s what most people want.’ Well, most sane people.

‘Peace or not, there’s an old Falcone saying: “Never turn your back on a Marino”.’

‘Ah, a family saying,’ I said. ‘Kind of like “A Lannister always pays his debts”.’

He swivelled around, re-planting his feet on the ground closest to me. He cocked his head. ‘What?’

I raised my hand to him. ‘Don’t act like you’ve never seen Game of Thrones, Luca. Nobody likes a liar.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Trust you to lower the seriousness of the conversation.’

‘I was contributing,’ I countered. ‘It’s not like I have a family motto to offer.’

‘What a shame,’ he said drily.

‘If I did, it would probably be something like “When all else fails, play dead”.’

‘That’s idiotic.’

‘Tell that to possums. They know what they’re at.’

‘Well, it’s nice to know I don’t have to worry about you when you’re out there on your own.’ I could almost taste the sarcasm in the air.

My laughter surprised me. It hung in echoes around us, making the room seem bigger and colder.

Luca’s eyes grew in surprise, two sapphires sparkling in the dimness. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Just the thought of you worrying about me. Or, well, anything, really.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘How low your opinion of me is.’

I circled the bench, zeroing in on his grandfather’s inscription. I could sense him turning with me, following my movements. How long had we been in here by now? And why was I so eager to traverse the walls of history in his company?

‘They were hoping I would be just like him,’ he offered into the silence. I pressed my lips together, surprised at his willingness to surrender information to me, to want to talk to me about something real, something important. ‘Gianluca Falcone was the capo di tutti i capi, the boss of all bosses. My grandfather had marked me that day in the hospital, before he died.’

‘Do you want to be like him?’ I asked, turning to study him.