Chapter 18

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

It had been a week since Claudia had gone missing, and Stella felt sick and frustrated at the thought that they were no closer to finding her. Maybe they should turn it over to the inquisitors.

They would probably treat it with about as much interest as the Coins officials did.

Stella hadn’t heard from Dom, and she hadn’t messaged him. Maybe some space would do them good. She had gone to sleep the previous evening wishing that he would’ve stayed with her.

She missed him. That was bad news for her heart and her head.

Stella looked at the piece of paper in her hand with two addresses written on it. Luca had slipped it under her door before she had woken up, along with a note saying he was going to spend the night with a friend again, and not to worry.

The first address for Clarissa’s client Massimo wasn’t too far from her. It was near the Universita’ Ca’ Foscari, and Luca had made a note underneath it saying, ’It’s a basement property.’ Those were rare enough to comment on because people only bothered with basements for aesthetic purposes.

It told Stella two things; Massimo had enough money to hire a mage to make the property watertight and not suffer damage from the high tides, and that he wasn’t welcome on the Swords side of the canal.

It wasn’t unusual for those of different Houses to live in different sestieri, but a man like Massimo, who obviously had money, wouldn’t live in Dorsoduro unless he had to.

Or he is a criminal.

Stella waited until dusk for a message from Dom. When it didn’t come, she decided to take matters into her own hands and do something.

She went into her wardrobe and slowly set about the business of transforming herself into a man. She put a short black wig on to cover her hair, strapped her breasts down, stuck on a mustache, and dressed in men’s clothes.

She found the ability to disguise herself as a young man useful at times, like when she had to spend those nights in a brothel painting prostitutes for a deck of cards.

As a woman, it would have damaged her reputation; as a man, it wasn’t even noticed.

As soon as Stella found the door to the address she had been given, she knew precisely why Massimo had a basement property. He was running an illegal gambling den.

There were bouncers by the door, the kind who were heavily armed and wore permanent scowls on their faces. It cost her a gold soldo just to gain entry.

Stella had been in such places before, but never alone and never dressed as a man. She got a drink at the bar and had a look around.

There were people playing cards and dice, with strippers performing on a stage in one corner.

Luca had said that it was hard to miss Massimo; the hawk shifter was massive and had three thin scars running from one black brow down his neck. Stella spotted him at a poker table, and all her guesses were confirmed. He was definitely the boss of this gang, his hands tattooed with stylized feathers of an alpha and displayed proudly.

"Need an extra player?" she asked, deepening her voice as she joined them.

"If you got the money," a man to Massimo’s right said. Stella tossed down the coin wallet she had stolen from Dom. She had planned on giving it back, but now she could say it went to a good cause.

The five men stared at the Aladoro insignia embossed into the leather.

"You never said it had to be my money," Stella added. Massimo was the first to laugh, and the rest followed.

"Sit down, boy. You’ll do," he said and lit a cigarillo.

Stella wasn’t just good at cards. She was excellent. She had cards in her veins and had always been quick at counting them.

She lost a few hands to ease in and get to know the other players’ tells. They thought she was going to be an easy mark, and she let them believe it...right up to the point when she started winning. She was drinking too much, and for the first time in a week, she began to get cocky.

"I don’t suppose you guys could point me in the direction of a good brothel where I can spend your money on a special lady? Massimo, you look like you know a girl who would take me to heaven and back." She laughed loudly. No one else did. Massimo lowered his cards.

"Who are you?" he asked, and the men around him stilled.

"No one. Just after a decent fuck. If you can’t help out, then fine." Stella tapped on the table and slid her winnings into Dom’s wallet.

She had made it outside into the drizzling wet night before the bouncers stopped her, one of them pinning her against the wall.

"Hey, come on, guys, what’s this all about?" she demanded angrily.

"The boss wants a word."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Massimo came out of a side door, the hood of his leather jacket up.

"You are going to tell me what you know about Clarissa, or I’ll start by cutting off your ears," he said slowly, a stiletto appearing in his hand.

"I don’t know anything about a Clarissa. I don’t know what you are talking about!’

"Bullshit. You were fishing for information in there, and I want to know who you work for. Is it the owner of that stolen wallet? You know I don’t like shedu, and that family least of fucking all."

"All I wanted was the name of a brothel! It’s not a crime," Stella hissed. "Who is Clarissa? Was she your girl?"

Stella cried out as Massimo’s blade slashed against her stomach and ribs in a fast act of violence that she hadn’t expected. Four precise cuts produced bright red stains on her shirt in seconds.

"Clarissa was my love, and now she’s missing, but you already know that, little spy." Massimo placed the blade flat against her cheek. "I’ll ask you one more time, and then I’ll start carving up your face."

Stella didn’t give him the chance. She had pulled energy out of more than one streetlamp on her way to the den that night in case of emergencies.

She let the stolen power explode out of her, giving the men who were holding her and Massimo a shock hard enough to drive them to their knees.

Stella turned and ran like hell, holding her left arm over the cuts on her stomach and ribs. Massimo was shouting something behind her, and as she ducked around a corner, she saw four men chasing her. If Massimo decided to shift and track her that way, she would be screwed.

Don’t think about it.

Stella slipped as she crossed a bridge and almost crashed into a kissing couple on a nighttime stroll.

She headed for the Campo Santa Margarita, where a night market was being held despite the rain. It was packed with stalls selling magical amulets, tarot readers, bakers spinning confectionary delights, antique peddlers, djinn trading deals, and religious painters selling ikons.

Ducking down, Stella ran between the crowd of shoppers, pulling off her wig and fake goatee and shoving both into her pocket.

She spotted a cat licking its paws under an awning, and a flash of inspiration struck. She took the goatee from her pocket, ran it through her blood, and stuck it to the cat’s collar. It yowled at her and took off into the night.

Let them trace that.

She had to get home and off the street. Pain rattled her breath as she stumbled over a small bridge and towards the Campo San Barnaba.

Stella didn’t want them to follow her home, so she went to the empty ferry stop outside of Ca’ Rezzonico and stripped off her bloody shirt. She rubbed blood against a post, hoping her pursuers would think she rested there before getting onto a boat.

After tossing her bloody shirt into the water, she buttoned up her coat and climbed up the building’s drainpipe behind the Vianello palazzo. She had done this many times since she was a child, though usually she had been sneaking out, not in.

The terracotta tiles on the roof were slippery as she slowly made her way across, clutching the coat tighter around herself in the hope she wouldn’t leave a blood trail.

Stella gripped the edges of the roof over her small balcony and swung down, right into the waiting arms of a soaking wet and very pissed off Domenico Aladoro.