Inferno (Page 43)

CJ, who had been looking up at Felice with wide, unblinking eyes, snapped his head back into place. Something seemed to click inside him. He got down on his knees and leant over the girl. His mouth twisted, cruel and biting, and I saw shades of Felice in him – a whisper of the man he would become if he did what was expected of him tonight. CJ raised the gun high above him, like he was going to shoot at the sky. And just as Luca managed to swing me around, away from the scene, he brought the gun down hard. There was a crack, and this time Sara’s scream was a raw, animalistic screech.

‘Bel lavoro!’ shouted someone.

‘For Calvino!’

‘Tale padre tale figlio!’

Felice’s voice rang out. ‘We have only just begun.’

My tears were falling over Luca’s hand. He was half carrying me from the room. There were more whoops coming from the garden. They would kill her, right there in their self-made amphitheatre.

I had to do something.

I made myself go limp. My legs dragged along the floor and I flopped over Luca’s arm like a rag doll. We dipped towards the ground together.

‘Sophie?’ He tried to hoist me up.

I didn’t budge. My fingers were brushing against the floor and my legs were bent outwards from each other. In that moment, Luca made two crucial errors. He made the mistake of believing me, and he propped me against a chair.

I leapt from the chair, slid across the conservatory floor and screamed at the top of my lungs.

Everyone in the garden turned around. There was a sudden cacophony of muttering. Sara was lying on the grass, one cheek facing the sky, her face so badly swollen I could barely make out her eyes. CJ was standing again, the gun dangling by his side. He was glaring at me.

Felice stepped off the grass and stalked towards me. Valentino turned around. His icy gaze bored holes in me. Whatever bravery had just coursed through me was spent. I clamped my fists together so the Falcones wouldn’t see them shake.

Luca came to stand in front of me and raised his hands to Valentino. ‘Sorry, brother,’ he said. ‘I’m taking them home. She got lost.’

Luca made to pull me away again, but I stalled. Trouble or no trouble, I had come this far and I still wasn’t dead. I shoved him out of my way so we could stand side by side at the entrance. I pointed at Sara. ‘I’ve come down here to get her. We’re all going home together.’

Sara heaved her head up, and I saw her eyes grow wide above her swollen cheeks. She didn’t speak – she couldn’t – but I could read the desperation in her eyes, I could feel it in the fear that pulsed between us as we stared at one another.

Help me.

I will.

Felice broke the stunned silence. He threw his head back at the sky and released a laugh, the sound forcing itself from his throat like he was choking. He made a show of wiping the tears from under his eyes; even in his manic amusement I could feel his grief as though it was gripping me by the throat. ‘This girl has a death wish, Valentino. She seems to constantly exhibit this unyielding desire to be killed.’

‘Maybe we should grant it, then,’ said Elena. ‘Since she keeps getting in the way.’

I could feel Nic behind me, bristling. He moved around us and stepped into the garden to where his mother was standing with her arms folded. ‘We’re going,’ he told her. ‘Don’t say things like that. She’s not going to be a problem for us.’

She closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Nicoli,’ she said. ‘Sei un pazzo in amore.’

Felice tutted. ‘Our Nicoli, I truly thought you had a better handle on your affairs. You’re so much more … effective when she’s not around. Look at you now, standing on the periphery of something you should be directing. Your cousin needs you. Show him how to use the gun. Show him the pretty tricks you can do.’

‘Basta!’ Valentino raised his hand in the air. ‘This is not a situation any of us should be making light of, Felice. I’d caution you, once again, to remember your place in this family.’

The mood was souring, and fast, the sharp edge of the Falcones’ collective grief cutting into the air.

‘You mean my place in this nursery you’re running? This is, yet again, another juvenile matter that has been ill-handled. You are like young volcanoes – constantly erupting with these ludicrous emotions. When was the last time an Americano got free rein to run around this house? Giammai!’

Valentino’s voice fell deadly quiet. ‘And what concern is that of yours?’

Felice was nonplussed. ‘I show concern in matters that undermine the status of this family, nephew.’

There was a collective intake of breath.

Valentino bared his teeth. It seemed for a moment like he was going to launch himself at Felice and tear his throat out.

A man with thick, jet-black hair stepped out of line. He was tall and broad, but moved with a strange fluidity, almost like a dancer. He was the perfect mixture of Angelo and Felice – lithe and narrow, with warm, dark eyes. ‘Felice, remember to whom you’re speaking. You should amend your tone accordingly.’

‘And your words,’ added Dom.

Felice addressed the tall man with venom. ‘I don’t need your caution, Paulie. I remember. He’s our brother’s child.’

‘He’s your boss,’ said Luca, forgetting about me and stepping into the garden to join the others. He stopped beside Valentino. It was a telling show of solidarity: the underboss and the boss, side by side, united against the consigliere. Cracks, I realized. They’re everywhere. No wonder Felice’s wife had run a mile. ‘You would do well to remember the Falcone order, Felice.’