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Enjoy!
Erik
Chapter 67
The Spider
For all of Giovanni's constant precautions when it came to his daughter's safety, for all of his anxieties that he'd lose her like he lost his wife, Giovanni couldn't stop the forces of irony. He couldn't stop the fact that Luciana died the exact same way her mother did. He couldn't stop the fact that it was a domestic life, not a dangerous one, that killed her.
She'd started labor a little past midnight. Vincenzo, Giovanni, and Carmelo sat outside her room as the midwife coaxed and soothed the process along. I sat with Salvatore in my room, both of us silent, as though our quiet lips would help the world concentrate on a safe delivery. I wasn't bound to her by blood or marriage, and neither was he. So we waited a room away.
But then, hours later, Giovanni opened the door, face stained with tears. It wasn't in happiness. My throat tightened. Something was terribly wrong.
And when he told us, I-
I lost myself.
My mind shattered into a million sharp, angry, grieving pieces, scattered itself across the room, across Venice, across Europe - I thought I'd never have the time or energy to collect myself again. And I sobbed deeply. I felt arms around me - I didn't know if they were Salvatore's or Giovanni's or both. But it didn't matter. It wasn't them I wanted near. But the person I wished for would never be near again.
It was my fault.
Like with every other person I'd lost, it was because of me she was dead.
If I'd only told her I loved her, maybe she would have rethought her feelings. And I could have...I could have protected her from this fate. I could have avoided a pregnancy...somehow. I didn't know exactly what I could have done to predict and prevent this, really, but... But things would have been different had I expressed myself - even if she didn't love me back, perhaps she would have given pause before marrying Vincenzo. Perhaps...perhaps...
My heart ached.
My mind pounded.
Everything hurt.
Her hips were too narrow, the midwife said. I'd always thought that - how small she was. She had to deliver by Caesarian section, and neither she nor the baby made it.
Carmelo refused to leave his room for nearly a week.
Vincenzo looked absolutely lifeless - but he kept moving. He kept marching. As we all had to. Somehow, we had to find a way.
I blamed myself, but I wanted to blame him too. I wanted to hate Vincenzo for taking Luciana away from me. But then I remembered Mario; how Signor Cardacci blamed Giovanni for the exact same thing, and how unfair that was.
Mario.
I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to take revenge. But how do I seek vengeance from death? It was impossible. Death was unstoppable - I of all people should know that. But there was one person I could hurt. A person who'd hurt us. Who'd hurt Luciana.
Mario took the necklace from the Billisis - he took a remnant of Luciana's mother. And she'd died before ever seeing it again.
I could give her a gift, even as she lay in her grave.
I could bring back what she'd lost.
I'd never have her next to me on the roof again, laughing and watching the setting sun, but I could do this. This last show of love, since I'd been too coward to express it in words.
It was three-thirty in the morning, and the cloudless night sky allowed the moon to shine its dull, pale, lifeless light onto me as I stared in hatred at the Cardacci estate - a hatred as sharp and biting as the late autumn air.
Two of his men were posted outside of the door to his estate as I watched from the shadows between two buildings across the street. I was a shadow myself - soundless and unassuming, but there, lurking where the light couldn't reach. And no light, surely, would ever reach me again.
I took a deep breath and threw my voice, made it sound like it was coming from the side of the house. A baby's cry. A very convincing one.
The guard closer to that side of the house raised his brows in clear confusion. He looked to the other guard and said something low - I was too far away to make it out. He left to go investigate. But the other man stayed posted.
I tried another tactic. From the same side of the house where I'd sent my voice to sound like a baby, I made a high pitched shattering noise to sound like window being broken.
Without hesitation, the posted guard ran to meet his partner.
Checking the bottom-floor windows once more to ensure that they were indeed dark, I moved on quiet feet to the house. And I did have to be as quick as possible. If either of them came back any time soon, I would be done for.
I made fast work of picking the lock, opened the door, and closed it with extreme softness. Only when it was again locked from the inside did I turn around.
I had no idea where Mario would keep a necklace. But if I were to have a piece of Luciana, I knew where I would hold it - as close to me as possible. Close to where I slept, so that I could have her with me in the black and lonely night.
Moving like a ghost through the house, I kept to the walls and corners, peeked around doorways. It seemed that everyone was asleep. The stairs were the most worrisome part - and luckily the estate was only two stories high. I walked up them as slowly as I could, testing each step gingerly for creaks; once at the top, I started my search for Mario's bedroom.
I went first to the door at the far end of the rightmost hall. This door, I found, was locked as well. No light was coming through the bottom - and I'd already come this far. So I picked that lock as well, making no noise. Not a sound was emitted, either, as I opened it and stepped inside.
My eyes, well adjusted to the dark now, confirmed that I was in the right place. There, in a large canopied bed, its curtains open, was Mario sound asleep. Hopefully a deep sleep.
And there, on his bedside table, was a silk-lined box.
I went to it, moved swiftly and silently, like a black spider after its prey, and found that it was a simple latch-box. I opened it, and found - yes.
A necklace.
I nearly scoffed. Surely it couldn't be this easy. Surely he wouldn't leave it out like this, where anyone could take it - surely any reasonable thief looking for it would go here first, and he-
A cold feeling washed over me.
Of course.
He wouldn't make it this easy, unless-
I didn't dare touch the necklace now. He'd know who it was - who took it. He was expecting this. Expecting a fox to come sniffing around his cave.
I closed the box and walked away, feeling foolish - impulsive. Feeling that grief had gotten the best of me and I should have known better. I turned to leave. I closed the door behind me, realizing that using my picks to lock it once more would take up precious time, so I couldn't think of that now.
I couldn't use the doors to escape, I knew - not without coming up with yet another effective distraction. So I went to a room at random on the bottom floor: a sitting room, I noticed, and opened wide the window, stepping out on the side street. No one saw me leave; no one saw me close the window and go back home, leaving these fantasies of heroism and vengeance behind.
No, no one saw me do any of that.
But someone had seen a masked phantom entering their master's bedchambers, had seen his bony fingers turn the knob of the door.
Someone made sure to alert their master the moment the phantom disappeared.
