Page 59 of A Dangerous Bargain

He’s trying to tell me my brother’s soul is trapped in hell.

All at once, the cathedral is too crowded, the incense too cloying. I can’t hear the priest prattle on about God and heaven when my brother’s stuck in hell. I need to get outside, where there’s more space and air, where my beloved brother can’t look at me with nothing in his eyes.

Leonardo inches closer, his face so gentle, I want to scream. “Virgil, you can’t—”

“Let’s go.” I take Lupa’s hand and stand, pulling her with me.

Only to collide into someone returning to their seat from Communion. I’ve gone the wrong way out.

“Excuse me!” the woman cries.

Lupa turns, her face a full moon in the circle of her veil. Her eyes catch the candlelight—

A gasp, as loud as a scream, cuts through the quiet.

The woman’s face goes milk-white. Her shaking finger rises.

“Angel.” Her eyes are wide and shining. She pivots to the congregation and shouts joyously, “An angel is among us!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Angel!”

“A girl angel!”

The news ripples through the crowd, a wave that crashes into every corner.

I lace my fingers through Lupa’s, wanting to drag her somewhere safe, even though every eye in the cathedral is on her. I can’t forget what happened at the fountain, her eldritch scream and ravenous eyes. They don’t see her as a person. They won’t care if they hurt her.

And if they do, she might not be able to stop herself from hurting them.

“Lupa?” Oh God, Verrocchio. There’s a bulge in the crowd ahead, as if someone is trying to push their way through. “What are you doing here?”

The demon’s eyes flare with gold. She pushes me away. “He can’t see you!”

I open my mouth, ready to protest, but Leonardo is already tugging me away, shouldering his way through the crowd and the double doors outside.

The piazza is deserted, save for coaches parked and waiting for their wealthy owners. The drivers’ heads perk up curiously. They’re gathered between the cathedral and the white-and-green marble bell tower. Mass doesn’t end for another quarter hour.

Acid bursts in my stomach. This was a foolish, stupid idea. I should’ve listened to Leonardo. We should’ve scrapped the plan the moment I saw Verrocchio.

“Don’t run. It’ll look suspicious.” Leonardo motions me down the steps, toward the coach queue.

“Is running away not exactly what we’re doing?”

“Leaving mass early is a sin. Fleeing guiltily across the piazza is a crime and infinitely more interesting to anyone watching.”

The clamor of voices swells louder from inside the church. Then a door slams open.

“Virgil!” Verrocchio’s furious voice cracks across the courtyard. “I know you’re behind this!”

Panic floods me like a slick of oil. If we run down the empty piazza, he’ll see us. If we freeze on the other side of the coaches, the gossiping drivers will see us. There’s nowhere to run.

But there’s somewhere to hide.

Leonardo shoves me toward the nearest coach. “Inside, inside!”

My fingers fumble on the latch, and the door flies open. We tumble onto the bench.