Blood Ties

Chapter 12

Giuseppe  was standing in the entrance hall when Damiana stumbled through the door, a bloody stone in his hand. He did not look pleased.

"Do you have any idea-" he started, putting the stone to one side. Some kind of tracking ritual? He paused. "You've been fighting?"

Damiana grinned, feeling bold. "You should see the other guy."

Giuseppe's eyes flashed, something sinister moving behind them. "You think that's funny?"

Oh. He looked angry. Damiana swallowed. "No, sir."

"Good." Giuseppe's nostrils flared. "God," he growled. "You smell of blood, nepote." He sniffed. "And whiskey. And... Tommy?"

"He walked me home," Damiana confirmed, unbuttoning her coat.

Giuseppe seemed to watch her for a moment. "Tell me what happened."

"I-" Damiana started.

Giuseppe shook his head. "No," he said. "Not you. Go to bed, Damiana."

He talked to the ghost as she stalked upstairs, too low for her to hear.

The anger bubbled in her, a pot of hot lead that left her hands shaking. She shouldn't be this angry, all things considered. Giuseppe had been worried, that was all. And she had taken a risk, going out unaccompanied. Of course the squadristi had her description. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Damiana watched her reflection in the mirror as she undressed, the girl with the hungry, angular cheekbones. Fresh stretch marks ran below her ribs, fine red welts like those left by the prong of a belt buckle. And a dark patch on her face. What was that? A shadow? The girl in the mirror rubbed at it, only to find it came off, onto her hand.

Damiana looked down at her hand. Nothing. In the mirror, the shadow wound its way, sinuous, round the girl's wrist and up her arm, coming to rest on her chest, over her heart.

Damiana looked into her eyes and saw that she was afraid.

No. No. Damiana pulled a nightgown on and sat on the bed, feet curled under her. There were other things to worry about, more important than the aftereffects of drinking too much vampire blood. She needed a way to fulfill her promise to China without getting caught again. She needed to save her grandfather from execution by wraith, or whatever the anziani were going to do to him. And she needed a way to kill the capo, Scordato, as she had promised herself. The shadow seemed to approve of the last one, coiling up round the neck of the girl in the mirror.

"Bloodthirsty, aren't you," said Damiana.

Well, fuck. It's in my head. Though I guess I knew that already.

Damiana turned the lights off, after that, and lay in bed, waiting for sleep to claim her.