The main hallway ended in a T. There were arched doors on both sides of her. Tiny gargoyles were carved into the stone above them. She knocked gently on the door to her right. No one answered. She tried the knob. Locked. She repeated her soft knock on the door to her left. Again, no response. She placed her hand on the doorknob, expecting that this, too, would prove locked.
But the door swung open, and Cass peeked into the room. A small bed was nestled against the far wall, its covers disturbed, as if someone had risen from it quickly. Next to the bed was a teetering stack of leather-bound books. A candle burned on the washing table just inside the door; Piero, if indeed he was the one who lived here, would be back soon. Still, Cass crept forward into the chamber.
“Dottor Basso?” She cleared her throat. “Piero? It’s Cass.” She wasn’t sure why she said it. She didn’t really think the physician was hiding in the rumpled coverlet or behind the stack of books. Still, it didn’t seem right to creep into someone’s chambers unannounced.
She entered the room and closed the door behind her. Her eyes gravitated to the stack of books. She didn’t think the Book of the Eternal Rose would be lurking in a lowly physician’s room, even if he did wear the ring of the Order, but it wouldn’t hurt to give them a quick look.
Tiptoeing over to the bed, she knelt down to examine the leather-bound volumes. Gingerly, she lifted the top one from the stack. There was no name or title embossed into the deep brown cover. She peeked at the second volume. Also blank. A rustling sound from the shelf near her head made her jump, and the whole tower of books spilled onto the floor.
Accidempoli. It had probably just been a mouse scurrying inside the wall. Wincing in pain, Cass hurriedly tried with her good arm to restack the books as they had been. A page pulled loose from one of the bindings, a diagram that caught her eye. It was a crude sketch of a person, with wide vacant eyes and a shock of long hair framing her cheekbones. She was mounted on a table, her hands and feet splayed out and bound, a Y incision carved into her midsection. Cass shuddered. The drawing reminded her of the dissected dog she and Falco had found in the workshop on the Rialto.
Except this wasn’t a dog. It was a girl, just like her.
Cass turned to the front of the book. Was Piero doing the same sort of research as Angelo de Gradi? She tried to remember if she had seen his name among those listed on the parchment she had found in her parents’ tomb. De Gradi, Dubois, da Peraga. She saw these names as if they were inked in blood. But Basso? She wasn’t sure. Falco had said most of the Order members were wealthy. Perhaps the tradesmen and physicians were engaging in experiments that the wealthier Order members were funding.
But to what end?
The first page was dominated by a drawing of a skeleton, whose bones were identified in the margin. The next page was just a leg, its three bones enlarged to show detail. Cass flipped again and again. She paused at the drawing of an arm. According to the sketch, there were three bones in the arm. Cass was lucky the dogs’ powerful jaws had not snapped them all like twigs.
Cass kept flipping pages. Interspersed among the diagrams were pages of foreign symbols and notations about illness and vitality.
She knew she should stop reading, that she shouldn’t be snooping through someone’s private notes. She knew how furious she would be if she caught anyone reading her journal. Her stomach clenched. Somewhere, Cristian still possessed a volume of her most personal thoughts. Cass slammed the book shut and reordered the crooked stack as she had found it.
She turned to a set of shelves next to the bed. Maybe she would find the ring he had worn to the Palazzo della Notte. Then she would know for certain he was a member of the Order. Among a jumble of medical equipment were a hairbrush, a vial of perfume, and a syringe. Cass eyed the silver syringe and attached long steel needle with curiosity. What sort of injection required a needle so thick?
The shelf below that one held a single sheet of lush vellum, with withered rose petals pinned to the page. There were scrawled notes next to some of them—strings of letters and numbers that Cass didn’t understand.
She turned to go back to the stack of journals when she heard the rustling sound again. At the back of the shelf, almost totally concealed beneath a silk pillow slip, was a rectangular container made of glass. Cass folded back the fabric and shrieked, stumbling back from the shelves and sending the stacks of journals tumbling to the floor again. She had uncovered a cage.
A cage filled with spiders.
“Careful, Signorina. I wouldn’t want you to faint right onto my bed. It would look bad for us both.”
Cass whirled around. Piero was standing in the doorway. How long had he been watching her? “I—I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to disturb—I came looking for you.”
“You came looking for me? I like that.” Piero crossed the room in a few strides, his thick-soled boots as quiet as slippers on the stone floor. “No need to be scared.” He draped the pillowcase back over the top of the cage. “Spiders are not nearly so frightening as the reputation that precedes them.” His dark eyes lingered on her.
“But why do you keep them?” She bit her lip. “Are they poisonous?”
“All spiders are venomous,” he said. “In most cases, however, their venom is weak, so it doesn’t make people ill. My colleagues and I have found it to be just the opposite, in fact. We believe spider venom may contain medicinal properties.”
“Really?” Cass couldn’t imagine anything good coming from the hairy-legged little beasts.
He nodded. “Many medicines come from plants. Is it so hard to believe they might also come from animals or insects?”
“And your . . . books?” She stopped herself at the last second from saying journals. “Are they for studying? I was looking for something to read.”
“Believe me, don’t concern yourself with my books,” he said. “They don’t make good bedtime stories. Full of foul humors.”
“I know about humors,” Cass said, raising her chin. “My father studied medicine. But the texts he studied were very different.”
“If I’d known you were going to spend such a long time in my chambers, I would have been there to entertain you.” Piero smiled, but there was nothing amusing about the way he looked at her—as though he wanted to devour her.
Cass found his gaze too intense; she had to look away. Thunder boomed outside the window, and she flinched.
“Are you all right?” Piero asked, his hand coming to rest gently on her forearm.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Just in pain.”
Softly, he touched her face. “You have a fever,” he murmured. “Let me help you back to bed and then I’ll prepare your medicines.”
Before Cass could protest, Piero bent down and scooped her into his arms. He headed for the hallway.
“You don’t need to carry me.” Cass was blushing furiously. “I’m not an invalid.”
“I believe you said something to that effect last night as well.” Even though she refused to look at him, Cass could hear the smile in his voice. “And then you fainted.”
She gave up and let Piero carry her through the first floor and up the winding staircase to her room, praying that they wouldn’t accidentally bump into Falco. She did feel a little unsteady. She didn’t know if it was her condition or seeing the spiders that had caused it.
In her room, he set her down gently on her bed and started to remove her dressing gown.
“No,” Cass said quickly, willing herself not to start blushing again. “I’d like to keep it on. I’m a little chilled.”
Piero looked concerned but nodded. He tucked her beneath the covers, adjusting the pillows behind her. A piece of Cass’s hair fell in front of her eye. She and Piero reached for it at the same time, and their fingers brushed. Cass felt a spark move through her. She dropped her hand awkwardly into her lap. Piero tucked the shock of hair back into her cap, his fingers lingering on her jawbone for a second.