Inferno(81)

Someone slammed their fist on the table and I was startled back into the conversation. Gino’s glass of water had toppled over and spilt on to his lap. Luca was standing up, his palms pressed against the table. ‘I owe Sophie Gracewell my life. Is that really nothing, Mother? Con tutto il rispetto, si sbaglia.’

‘That doesn’t excuse her blood ties!’ shouted someone else, his voice joining with the heat of others. ‘We just buried Calvino. Are we all so quick to forget how and where he died? Are we all so quick to forget his death at the hands of Jack Gracewell?’

‘The girl is just a teenager. Una innocente,’ Paulie said, and my heart swelled with gratitude. ‘We must believe she is here to assist us. She brought news of Donata’s plotting.’

‘Unreliable news,’ said a young man with a shaved head and a severe nose. He fiddled with the gold chain around his neck. ‘Who knows if it was made up just to get us on side?’

‘Donata has Sophie in her sights,’ said Luca. ‘We don’t know what she plans to use her for. We don’t know if she plans to kill her.’

Well, he mightn’t have been able to stomach looking at me properly after what had happened upstairs, but at least he was fighting for me. I exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. The word of the Falcone underboss would carry a lot of weight in this room.

‘Donata won’t have time to use anyone for anything,’ said Gino. ‘Because we’re going to kill that Marino bitch and mount her head above the fireplace.’

‘Dio,’ muttered an old woman right across from me. ‘Is this what we have become?’

‘Gino,’ cautioned Elena. ‘Watch your language.’

He snapped his head down, folding his arms in a childish huff. ‘You weren’t complaining when Nic dumped Sara into the lake with all that cazzate on her skin.’

I felt a sudden whack of nausea. It was Nic. Nic threw Sara Marino in the lake. He had carved those words on to her body. I covered my mouth and concentrated on not getting sick. I had come here willingly. I had known discovering more horrible truths was a possibility. It was their world. But this … I had never expected this.

I stared at Nic. He was shouting at his brother, his eyes flashing with rage, his chest heaving violently. No one around the table seemed remotely surprised. God. Who was this boy? This was so much bigger than me and him now. This wasn’t about his heart – this was about his soul. Maybe the nagging voice in my head was right, maybe he was beyond saving. Maybe they all were. I felt a sudden, crushing sadness inside me. It took every ounce of strength to stay on my feet, to keep my mouth shut.

‘Settle,’ said Valentino, gesturing at Nic, who was still yelling at Gino in Italian. ‘Nic was following a direct order. Gino, you’re steering this off course.’

Of course, Valentino had ordered the carving and the water burial. And still he presided like an angel over the gathering: clean, clear, beautiful … deadly. He really was the worst of them all. A puppetmaster: all head, no heart.

Luca’s voice soared above the rising commotion. ‘We have the upper hand thanks to Sophie. I think it best to remove her and her mother from Cedar Hill.’

‘We’ll hide them,’ interjected Nic. ‘And give her father protection from Franco Marino in prison.’

‘Her father?’ screeched Elena. ‘Have you gone mad, Nicoli? What nonsense.’

‘It’s Jack we want,’ said Paulie.

Elena’s chair screeched backwards. She stood now too, leaning across the table. ‘Who are we to trust a Gracewell after everything they’ve done? Who are we to trust the words my own sister has said to her? Donata has never spoken plainly in her life. Everything is a trick with her.’

‘Sophie is not Donata,’ said Paulie, calmly.

‘She speaks for her.’ Elena curled her lip. ‘Do you forget your brothers so easily, Paulie?’

Paulie clapped his palms off the table but his voice remained deceptively careful. ‘Do not use my brothers against me, Elena. I know very well what we have lost.’

An old man with liver-spotted skin and a large bulbous nose was clinking the side of his glass with the end of a switchblade. ‘Silenzio!’ he called out in a heavy, rolling accent. ‘Calmatevi, tutti voi.’

Valentino raised his hands and quiet descended. Elena and Luca sat down.

‘Ignacio,’ Valentino said. ‘You have the floor.’

The old man dipped his head in gratitude. He pulled back and looked at each of the members as he spoke. ‘When my brother Gianluca was alive, he would not allow Councils to descend into such chaos. We have a clear-cut decision to make. The fate of this girl’s safety, whoever she may be, has been entrusted to this family. What is the point of squabbling like bambini? Let someone speak for her virtues and then let us decide like adults. I will not sit here and be subjected to such childish disorder.’