Christopher Golden - The Chamber of Ten

Wearing Nico’s body, Volpe glanced at Geena. Something passed between them— among them, all three.

Geena smiled. “It can wait until the two of you are as dead as Caravello.”

“You’d betray us?” Foscari asked, feigning insult.

“I kept my part of the bargain,” she said. “I brought you Volpe.”

“Yes, thank you,” Aretino said, nodding to her in gratitude. Then he glanced at his hired killers—the slim man in his gray suit and the blond woman were in front—and gestured at her with a flourish of his hand.

“My friends, if you’d be so kind. Kill her.”

XVIII

I HAD TO try , Geena thought.

Nico’s reply did not come in words but in an outpouring of anguished love. As she stared at the two mad Doges and their hired killers, at cold eyes and gun barrels, she knew that she was about to die. Aretino and the depraved Foscari had not waited for dawn. Her only regret was that Nico would die with her, and that he would die with Volpe still inside of him. She’d tried to drive the magician out, thinking it was her only chance to free the man she loved, the only opportunity to prevent Volpe from claiming his body forever.

The Doges had to be stopped, but she’d told herself that she and Nico could do it. They’d already killed one of the ancient lunatics. It could be done. She’d been taking huge risks, flying by the seat of her pants, relying on hope and the way fate seemed to have been running her way … as if the city itself was on their side. And if Volpe was right, and she and Nico were meant to become the new Oracles of Venice, maybe it had been. But now her luck had run out.

She hadn’t expected so many guns.

“My friends, if you’d be so kind,” Aretino said. “Kill her.”

Nico moved to block the killers’ aim—or was it Volpe, wearing Nico’s body? Would the magician do that for her? Surely not, and yet …

He stood straighter, his head slightly cocked, and she knew that if she could have seen his face his features would have changed in that subtle way that told her who looked out from those eyes at any given moment. He had fooled her once, but this was no performance. This was Zanco Volpe.

The Doges knew it, too. Geena could see it in their eyes.

“You were fools to come back,” Volpe said, speaking with Nico’s lips, protecting her. “I will never allow you to uncap the well. Akylis’ evil has caused enough strife in my city. Venice will be tainted no further.”

Foscari laughed. “We’ve been waiting for this moment, Volpe. Now it has finally come, do you think there is anything that would have kept us away?”

The killers paused a moment, glancing back and forth between Aretino and Volpe, unsure.

Geena cast a glance at the granite disk set into the floor perhaps twenty feet away from her. She had risked so much. If her risk led to the release of that evil, to the fate that the Doges had in store for Venice and the world, she would never forgive herself.

But once exposed to the full power of Akylis’ evil, would she even care? The thought made her sick.

Aretino shook his head almost sadly. “Honestly, Zanco. You’ve been out of the world for centuries. You’re nothing but a ghost.”

“I am far more than a ghost,” Volpe snapped.

Geena glanced around quickly and spotted the bloodstained knife on the stone floor. She measured the distance in her mind, wondering if she could reach it and make it to cover behind an obelisk before bullets cut her down. But there was no way. It would be suicide.

“Venice is ours,” Foscari said, preening. “The fullness of Akylis’ power will be ours. Whatever power you had is nothing to us now. If you still had a shred of your true power, you would not have allowed me to wound that shell you’re wearing.”

“You shot me because I had no experience with guns,” Volpe said. “I did not understand them. I do now.”

“You bled. This time I’ll cut you into pieces.”

“Then do it. Until you do, I am still the Oracle of Venice. Her soul is under my protection.”

Aretino blinked slowly, a predator just coming awake. He glanced at the man in the gray suit, then down at his gun. His left eye twitched with anger.

“Didn’t I tell you to kill the woman?”

The man in the gray suit nodded toward Volpe. “He’s in the way.”

Aretino glared at him in disgust and the gray suit got the message. He and the blond woman started forward again, eyeing Volpe warily. Geena’s breath quickened, pulse racing as she cursed. The knife lay perhaps ten feet to her left. She had no choice.

No , Nico said in her mind. Volpe, you keep her alive .

She just tried to kill me .

“You’re already dead, you son of a bitch,” Geena whispered to his back. You had your friends cut out your heart .

Gray suit and the blond aimed their guns at Volpe’s skull as they began to edge around him. Four other thugs stood with the Doges, awaiting the opportunity to kill someone.

Tears began to well in her eyes and she grew furious with herself for letting these monsters see her cry.

I love you, Nico. You were the best thing about living .

Volpe flinched as he overheard this thought. He turned his head just enough so that she could see the thin smile on his face. He lifted his left hand, clutched into a fist, and whispered a single word—it might have been “araignées,” French for spiders —and popped open his hand as though releasing something from his grasp.

Gray suit and the blond cried out in unison, dropping their guns as they reached up to claw at their faces.

“No!” Aretino barked, and raised both hands, beginning a guttural chant.

Volpe took a step toward the Doges and brought both hands together in a single clap that echoed off the stone walls. As if struck by a sudden gale, the Doges and their lackeys were blown backward, limbs flailing as they hit the floor with a splash.

Find cover! Nico shouted in her thoughts.

Geena had already started running. The blond and the man in the gray suit had collapsed to the ground and were having some kind of seizures, still tearing at their faces.

“They’re in here!” the man in the gray suit screamed. “The spiders are inside my head!”

Geena bent to snatch up the knife as she ran by, then sprinted for the three columns at the center of the Chamber of Ten. Any of the obelisks would have hidden her, but from in there she might be able to defend herself, to survive precious seconds or minutes—long enough for Volpe to kill the Doges and their hired help. Until now, casting spells had drained him. The lack of a body of his own had weakened his magic. But something had obviously happened, because now the Doges seemed outmatched.

She darted between two of the stone columns, took cover, and peered back out at the magicians.

Just in time to see Volpe fall to his knees in the inch of water, too weak to raise a hand in his own defense, or in hers.

“Is that the best you can do these days?” Foscari said, wiping at a bloody scrape on his face as he stood.

Aretino rose stiffly, hatred burning in his eyes. “You know, Francesco, I think that might have exhausted our old friend. I think that might well be the last spell he will ever cast.”

Get up! Geena thought. Goddamn you, get up!

As if in reply, Volpe snapped his head back and grinned wildly at the Doges. “Just waiting for you to catch your breath,” he said. “I want to make this last.”

Brave words. Cruel words. But only a ruse. From the darkness of the three columns, Geena saw his face in the flickering lantern light and the features had changed again. Volpe had burned himself out and retreated back into Nico’s mind, leaving Nico himself to face the Doges, pretending to be Volpe.