Page 114 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
A voice speaks at the other end.
“Two,” I reply. “Castellano Shipping Co. Warehouse seven. And there’s one more ...” I take a breath. “A Di Santo.”
The voice on the other end of the line stills for a moment. “We’re on our way.”
I hang up the call and bend at the knees. Then I open Sav’s jacket and reach inside the pocket. I half-expect it to be a complete fabrication, but there is an actual letter, folded and well-thumbed. I pocket it without reading it and flick the buttons on Savero’s jacket, then I rip his shirt apart.
There it is. The Di Santo crest.
I remember us both aged fourteen sitting for hours in the back-alley tattoo parlor, under the watchful eye of our father, while the symbol of saintliness, a dove amid a tongue of flame, was inked onto our chests. Grief floods through me—not for the brother I just lost but the brother I never had.
The brother I did have never deserved that crest. Not in life ... or death.
And with that final defiant thought, I flip out my pocketknife.
Trilby
Awareness comes back to me in dull waves.
I feel heavy, as though I’ve been asleep for days. My eyelids are fused together, so I focus on the sounds around me.
There’s beeping close by and in the distance. People speaking in hushed voices. Faint footsteps. Someone breathing not far from my body.
A wave of sadness grips my chest. It’s so tight and so acute I choke on it.
“Trilby . . .”
Someone’s fingers brush my cheek.Papa?“Nurse?—”
“God, is she okay?”Sera.
“Let’s sit her up.” This comes from a voice I don’t recognize.
I sense two people, one either side of where I’m lying, cradling me as I’m lifted a little more upright.Where am I?
“Trilby, can you hear us?” Sera asks.
The coughing just killed my throat, so I nod.
“Oh God, love. You had us so worried.” I smell Allegra’s perfume close to my nose.
“Don’t crowd her, Alli,” Papa snaps.
“I’m not crowding her,” Allegra hisses. “I want to make sure she can hear us is all. I’ve been just as worried as you?—”
“Quit arguing,” Sera says. Someone’s fingers slip between my own, and they feel like my sister’s.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Shh.” It’s Sera. “She’s trying to say something.”
“He—” I start, then I swallow. My mouth is dry and scratchy. I try again. “He left.”
“Who did, sweetie? Savero?”
My head hurts when I shake it, and I close my eyes. I can’t say his name, because then they’ll know.
“Savero will be here soon,” she says.
