Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) Read online

  We pulled on to a back street and I lost sight of them.

  ‘What are they doing?’ I asked, pressing myself against the window and leaving bloody handprints on the glass.

  No one answered me. Millie was still crying. Nic and Luca were arguing in Italian. Jack was God knows where. We were speeding into the night, far away from the direction of Cedar Hill and the sirens at the club. And in the sudden calmness of the car, one very vital piece of information erupted inside my head.

  ‘Calvino’s dead!’ The memory descended on me like a black cloud. ‘He fell on top of me. This is his blood!’

  My throat started burning. Millie pitched over her knees and vomited.

  Luca and Nic had fallen silent in the front. They shared an uneasy glance, and then Nic turned around, leaning across the armrest.

  ‘Your uncle is dead,’ I said, hearing the horror warp my voice. ‘He’s gone. He’s dead.’

  Nic was so calm it threw me.

  ‘Do you hear me?’ I pressed. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘We know,’ said Nic. Simple, emotionless. But his face was too placid. He was barely blinking, and I glimpsed a muscle feathering in his jaw. Luca’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel. Millie was still retching.

  Why did they have to come? They had ruined everything. Now someone was dead and it was only going to get worse. Everything was such a violent, steaming mess. That stupid crimson card. That stupid boy.

  Nic was watching me.

  ‘You broke your promise,’ I said.

  ‘And you broke yours.’

  There was no accusation in his words, but they still stung. Every second seemed to pull him further away from the boy I had thought he was, and I was starting to wonder if I had tricked myself – if the feeling of needing someone, of wanting someone to want me in a world where everyone had turned their back on me, had masked the truth of everything.

  ‘Did you mean it – at least when you said it?’ I asked, my voice deceptively steady for all the commotion that was raging inside me. Show me who you are.

  It was hard to find the warmth in his dark eyes now. They were hardened, absent of their golden flecks. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I never meant it.’

  Honesty at last. Even if it stung. Well, we could give each other that, at least.

  ‘I didn’t mean it either,’ I said. I didn’t want him to think he had gotten one up on me, even now, in the midst of all the bloodshed and horror. My pride was important to me, and his betrayal was irritating.

  ‘I thought you did,’ he admitted with a frown. ‘But when I told Luca he was sure you’d lied.’

  I glared at the back of Luca’s head. So mistrustful. So accurate. Tears were streaming down my face. My vision was red around the edges. In my mind the image of Calvino careening backwards played over and over. I tried to blink it away, but it slithered back in every time my attention lapsed. Here was a new nightmare, waiting to play over the top of the warehouse one. Great. At least my mother wouldn’t have to suffer this one along with me. The world is full of small mercies – I chose to recognize that one.

  To Nic, I said, ‘You would have come either way, though.’ It was a statement, not a question. I knew he would do anything to get to Jack. To have the first move on the Marinos was obviously a no-brainer. Anything I did or didn’t do was peripheral to that.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We would have.’

  I looked away from him, out the window, every molecule in my body still trained on those brothers, wondering what was next for them – for all of us. But I didn’t want to talk about Nic’s betrayal any more. We were both just a couple of liars with blood on our hands and agendas more important than our trust in one another.

  It is what it is.

  We were leaving the city, heading west and watching the city lights fade behind us. Millie was cowering against me in the back seat. ‘Soph, I’m so scared. I really don’t want to die tonight.’

  ‘You’re not going to die, Millie.’ Luca spoke matter-of-factly from the front seat. His panic in the alleyway was a million miles away from his carefully controlled demeanour now. ‘I think we all need to calm down.’

  ‘I am calm,’ said Nic. It was scary how emotionless they could act, how pragmatic they seemed to be at a time when it felt like the world was tipping over. For all I knew they could have murdered someone in Eden, and still I didn’t have the guts to ask them.

  ‘I’m not talking about you,’ Luca returned. ‘We can’t send them back to Cedar Hill like this. They’re in shock. Qualcuno chiamerà la polizia.’

  I looked at myself and then at Millie. Our dresses were destroyed, our limbs were bloodied. ‘We’re a mess. Our parents are going to freak out.’

  Luca nodded. Calm. Focused. ‘We need to get you both cleaned up.’

  Nic turned to his brother. ‘It will take a lot. Guardali.’

  Luca’s grip on the wheel tightened, threads of red lining his white-knuckled hands. He kept his eyes trained on the road. ‘I can’t,’ he said quietly. ‘It makes me sick.’

  ‘I didn’t think she’d come,’ Nic said.

  They switched to Italian as the argument escalated.

  ‘It’s too late now,’ said Nic, flipping the conversation back to English, either too weary or too distracted to stay angry. ‘We have to deal with the evidence. Sophie is covered in it.’ He threw me what I assumed was an apologetic glance, but it only made me more concerned about the ‘evidence’, and whether I constituted part of that as well.

  Millie’s hands were clutching mine so hard my fingers were turning purple. I didn’t want her to let go. I wished I hadn’t counted those stab wounds. They were printed in the backs of my eyelids: those pooling smudges.

  Nic’s phone rang. He turned away and his voice changed, turning low and hurried, as he flipped into long strings of Italian. When he hung up, he released a heavy sigh. It was the closest thing I had seen to grief up until then.

  ‘Valentino?’ Luca asked Nic.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’

  Nic nodded. ‘The boss is angry.’

  ‘Ci sarà del sangue,’ said Luca, shaking his head. Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound good.

  Millie pinched me. ‘What’s going on?’

  Nic turned around again. ‘Valentino knows you’re here.’

  ‘Is he angry about what happened?’ I asked.

  Nic looked away from me, out the window towards the passing trees. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s angry.’

  I got the sense that was a colossal understatement.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Millie asked tremulously.

  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.

  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 chai
r. 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.’