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A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd. Then a man burst out, “From what, exactly, are you creating this magical pure specimen? And what of your sister chapter, your loyal supporters in Venice? Will there be no elixir for us?”

Cass knew this voice too. Her heart stopped. Angelo de Gradi.

Belladonna’s face twisted into a frown. “I have been telling you for years, Dottore, that the fifth humor can be procured only from the blood. Not by slicing away at livers or spleens. My own father, who dedicated his life to seeking out the research of those before him, made this clear before his death. His words are inscribed in the Book of the Eternal Rose. Have you never gotten a chance to review its pages?”

Cass sucked in a sharp breath. If someone had stolen the book, Belladonna didn’t yet know it was missing. Could de Gradi have taken it?

“I have, but—”

Belladonna silenced de Gradi with a wave of her hand. “Blood is, as you know, difficult to obtain, and sadly there seems to be great variation among our subjects as to its quality.” She narrowed her eyes. “But we will succeed.”

Apparently the Order believed in the fifth humor, and in Florence they were going as far as to steal blood from the living for their research. The parties at Palazzo della Notte suddenly made perfect sense. Attractive men luring lonely and bored women away from their husbands. Drugging them. Drawing off their blood and sending them home weak and confused, marked as victims.

Belladonna gestured to Signor Mafei to help her with her cloak. He draped the garment over her shoulders, and she cinched the belt around her waist. “And yet, Dottore, you still persist in your barbaric methods of trying to extract humors from the tissue of the dead. Wasting time. Wasting blood. What makes you think we here in Florence owe you anything?”

Cass’s head was spinning. Angelo de Gradi hadn’t purchased corpses to study anatomy and improve medical techniques. He had been cutting up bodies to try to create the fifth humor.

“Begging your pardon, Bella, but the dead have always been in good supply, and far more compliant than the living,” de Gradi said. “I should like to observe young Dottor Basso’s persuasive techniques. Then again, perhaps there is safety in tradition. Wasn’t the Order almost destroyed from within during your father’s time at the helm?”

Belladonna stared at him coldly. “You would do well to not speak ill of my father, Angelo.”

De Gradi backed slightly away from the baptistery pool. The rest of the Order members still encircled him closely, perhaps hoping there might be a chance to bathe in his blood if he kept talking.

“Did not Signor Dubois donate generously to your cause while he was living here in Florence, back when you were just a girl?” de Gradi asked. “Was it not his gold that helped pay for your physicians?”

“Joseph’s money did not go as far as you presume,” she said. “And I no longer need his fortune.” She tugged on her belt again. “One can only imagine what he might squander the elixir on. Imagine, eternal life for Venice’s finest courtesans.”

The group tittered, and the tension seemed to ease.

“Bella,” de Gradi said, almost in a playful tone. “Rather than talk of finances, perhaps we should talk of common interests. Does not the Book of the Eternal Rose say it was a Venetian woman from whom your father once isolated a near-perfect specimen of fifth humor?”

Belladonna raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying the women of Florence are inferior to the Venetians?”

“Not at all.” De Gradi bowed. “Your beauty makes such thinking unimaginable. I was merely suggesting that the purest fifth humor may come from a Venetian bloodline. If the good Dottor Basso would share his notes, Signor Dubois and I could continue your research in Venice.”

“I’ll consider your proposal,” Belladonna said, with a wave of her hand. She stepped out of the baptismal pool and spread her arms wide before the crowd. “Brothers and sisters, what is left is yours.”

Cass watched in disbelief as the hordes of robed figures leapt from their seats. They pressed forward, crawling into the baptistery, clawing at the smears of dried blood, even rubbing their faces against the sides of the marble pool. Hoods were falling, and Cass knew that if she got closer, she might be able to identify some of the members writhing around in the baptistery.

But she was revolted, and could not force herself any closer to the blood fest.

Belladonna strode down the center of the church, with Piero and Signor Mafei flanking her. With her, Cass knew, lay additional answers. Discreetly, she ducked out of the alcove and headed down the side aisle, straining to make out what Belladonna was saying.

“It’s disgusting, don’t you think?” Belladonna asked. She paused at the threshold to the entrance hall, gesturing again at the crowd. Cass tucked herself back in the corner of the nave, keeping her hood pulled low. “The way people lose control over a little blood.”

“It’s only natural.” Piero shrugged. “You yourself know the benefits of fresh blood. To what else can we attribute your exquisite youth and beauty?”

“I don’t claw and fight to get at it,” Belladonna pointed out.

Piero’s voice seemed to contain a smile. “That is because you have your faithful shepherds to bring it to you.”

“If the magistrates of Florence were witness to this, the whole Order would be strung up as vampires,” Signor Mafei said.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Belladonna said. “The Church and their obsessive worry about the undead. A most opportune way to hide our tracks and dispose of our unwanteds. Poor girls. They can’t even defend themselves without admitting to what they think happens at our decadent little parties. And their husbands and fathers would likely execute them for those crimes as well.” Belladonna smiled. “Grazie a Dio for lust and fear. Without them our work would be much more difficult.”

Signor Mafei opened the church door, and wind rushed in.

Cass realized she was shaking violently. She pressed her body against the wall of the church. Everything was starting to make sense. The Order of the Eternal Rose was using the city’s fear of vampirism as a cover for stealing blood. They were extracting humors from the blood and attempting to create the mythical fifth humor, long rumored to be instrumental in extending human life.

But apparently not all blood worked. It had to possess a certain quality. It had to be the right blood.

Angelo de Gradi had suggested that it might have to be Venetian blood.

No wonder Piero had been draining her.

And what if her blood didn’t contain the required properties? How much time did she have before the remainder of her blood would be taken forcefully from her? How long before it was Cass, and not Tatiana de Borello, who was being poured over Belladonna’s perfect skin.

twenty-four

“Prior research suggests the four bodily humors are blood, black bile, yellow bile, and phlegm. It is rumored that recombining them in the proper proportions might yield the fifth humor.”

—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

Cass stayed crouched in the back corner of the nave for several minutes. The other members of the Order at last began to file out of the church, murmuring to each other as they made their way down the aisle.

The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. She gathered the oversized cloak tightly around her as she continued to piece together everything she had heard, as she struggled to believe it. Piero had saved her life. If it weren’t for him . . .