Inferno (Page 38)

Nic fell back against his seat with sudden, violent exhaustion. ‘We’re going to Evelina.’

Millie turned to me, her eyes wide and pooling. ‘What’s Evelina?’

Evelina was the name of Felice’s runaway wife. And if Evelina was also a place, that meant it was his house. I thought about sugar-coating my response, but there was no point. We were sitting in a pool of Calvino Falcone’s blood and speeding into the darkness with two assassins to the place where the Falcones had tortured me and held me against my will.

When I said the words they were strangely disconnected, as though my threshold for horror had caved in and there was nothing but blithe impassivity left. I had stopped shaking. I was numb. ‘We’re going to Felice’s house.’

Millie dug her nails into my hands. ‘No, please. Make them turn around. I just want to go home.’

There was only one thing more horrifying than the thought of being inside Felice’s house again, and that was the thought of seeing my mother react to my appearance. She would keel over. She certainly would never sleep again, and I couldn’t watch her waste away from anxiety any more. And besides, it wasn’t like they were going to let two girls steeped in Marino/Falcone evidence walk unaided back into Cedar Hill, so why pretend we even had a choice?

‘It’s going to be fine,’ I lied, patting Millie’s arm.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘We’re going to hell.’

In that moment, with her pallor drained by fear and our trembling hands entwined beneath blood that wasn’t ours, it really felt like we were.

PART III

‘This is the law: blood spilt

upon the ground cries out

for more.’

Aeschylus, The Libation Bearers

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EVELINA

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.