The door to the library on the first floor was slightly ajar, though the room beyond was dark.

"What do ya think is in there?" Mathias asked Lukas, pointing his ax at the doorway. A whole bunch of other guests had gone to see Natalia and her room, but Mathias was sick to his stomach and definitely not in the mood to see another corpse. Travail had been the first dead person he'd ever seen. Add in Antonio and Miss Arlovskaya, and the ordeal was a little unbearable. He'd asked someone to go down to the Dining Hall with him to make chamomile tea, and Lukas had volunteered.

"I think it's a library or a study," Lukas said. "I haven't actually been inside, though."

At that moment, the power flickered back on, illuminating a few dark splatters on the floor.

"What's that?" Mathias exclaimed.

Lukas handed Mathias the candle they'd been using and bent down to examine the dots. "I think it's ink," he replied, looking at Mathias with a trace of confusion on his face.

Mathias shrugged, blowing out the candle and setting it on a small side table. He stepped forward and prodded the door with his ax, causing it to swing open completely.

His bloodcurdling scream, much louder than the storm outside, echoed through the entire building.


"Good God," Arthur murmured. "Two people gone in just one day? This is absurd. This—Mr. Laurinaitis, didn't we tell him to be careful?"

Toris' eyes were wide with fear, and he nodded, one hand covering his mouth.

"Oh my God," Elizaveta said. "Guys, look." She pointed at the wall of the study that Eduard's dead body was leaning against. Black ink was everywhere, but Eduard's hand had dipped into the dark pool on the ground and his trembling finger had, before death, written out a single, shaky word on the wall.

ITALY

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "He was shot twice. Once in the leg, once in the head. He was obviously shot in the leg first, then he wrote out the message, then the killer decided that was the end."

Arthur looked around the gathering of people. "Mr. Lovino, Mr. Feliciano—"

"Now, hold on, bastard," Lovino interrupted. "You can't possibly think that we did this!"

"Well, you're the only Italians here," Arthur said, pointing at Eduard's dying message.

Ivan was staring at the broken items on the floor. Shards of wineglass were sprinkled around like confetti, and the broken mirror looked especially ominous. "You... you aren't, by any chance, a member of any sort of crime organization, are you?" he asked.

"Of course not," Lovino snapped. "Why the hell do you ask?"

"I just know that a certain... family... of the Italian mafia has an interesting habit of leaving broken wineglasses around before making a kill." He shrugged. "Unfortunately, I cannot remember which."

"You think all this is because of the mafia?" Roderich Edelstein exclaimed indignantly. "That's ridiculous. I have never—"

"Mr. Lovino," Ivan said. "Now would be a good time to confess."

Lovino looked outraged and terrified. "This isn't my fucking fault."

Mei frowned. "Dr. Braginsky, how do you know about the wineglass thing?"

Ivan stared at her for a moment, thinking of how to say what he needed to say in such a way that made him sound innocent. "I happen to know—or knew—Mr. von Bock," the doctor said slowly, his voice cold and steady. "Though we haven't been in contact for maybe eight years."

"From what?" Gilbert asked.

"We are both twenty-six," Ivan continued in that eerie, measured pace. "When I was much younger—seventeen, eighteen—we met through the Russian mafia."

"And I'm the guilty one?" Lovino roared.

"I can recall several occasions where we had run-ins with the Italians," Ivan countered. "So of course we were both well aware of the meaning of the wineglasses. Now, Mr. Lovino, please tell me: was it you? Was Eduard just another assignment? Another person you were ordered to take down?"

"Please stop!" Feliciano exclaimed, throwing himself in front of his brother in a protective motion. "I'm sure my brother is not capable of this level of horror."

"Based on everything you've said, it could be you," Lovino spat at Ivan. "Now, excuse me. I'll be down for dinner."


Dinner was a tense meal. Only a few people even showed up, so Elizaveta had plenty of seating options. Of course, she knew that even if everyone came down for dinner, there would still be a couple empty seats, but the thought made her shiver.

She couldn't believe at least two people in the mansion—even if one of them was dead—were associated with the mafia.

"Pass the dressing?"

Elizaveta snapped out of her thoughts and passed the salad dressing to Yao Wang, who was sitting to her left.

"Thank you." The Chinese man's eyes darted across the table to the vacant seat where Lovino Vargas had been sitting before going upstairs to bed. "I think Mr. Vargas left his watch on the table."

"Under normal circumstances, I'd take it up to his room, but I don't want to go up there alone," Elizaveta laughed anxiously, sipping her water.

"I'll go with you as soon as I finish this salad," he offered.

Once he'd cleared his bowl, he thanked Francis for the delicious meal, grabbed Lovino's watch (which appeared to be very, very expensive) and beckoned Elizaveta along with him. "So... your name is Miss Héderváry?"

Elizaveta grabbed her quiver of arrows and followed Yao up the extravagant staircase. "Right. You're Mr. Wang, right? What do you do for a living?"

"I am an English teacher in Shanghai," he answered. "And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm eighteen. I'm just a student," Elizaveta said. "I thought this refreshment cycle would be a nice break from my studies. I was terribly mistaken."

They stopped in front of Lovino's door, which was closed. Nervously, Elizaveta dug her toes into the plush Turkish carpet covering the hall's floors. "Mr. Vargas?"

"I'm getting in the shower," came the terse reply. "What do you need?"

"You left your watch on the table," Yao called.

"The door isn't locked," Lovino shouted back. "Just set it on my nightstand, please."

Elizaveta and Yao exchanged glances. Elizaveta loaded an arrow into her crossbow and Yao brandished his Dao, and they went inside slowly. The door to the room's bathroom was shut, and Elizaveta could hear the shower running. She saw Lovino's suitcase tucked against one wall. The chandelier was turned off, but a lamp on the nightstand provided adequate light. Yao set the watch on the table, then stopped. "Oh my God... Miss Héderváry?"

"What?" Elizaveta asked, walking over to the bed. "What's the—holy shit," she gasped. "Excuse my language, but..."

"I agree," Yao whispered. "This is not good."

Tucked under Lovino's canopied bed, nearly hidden in shadow, was a giant sniper rifle.