Starling Read Online Free PDF Page A

constitution.
Wandering through the long aisles, she tried to ignore the way her
heart stuttered in her chest each time someone brushed up against
her. She stopped occasionally as if to browse at the different stalls,
but really she was listening to the mingling servants, trying to glean
any tidbit of gossip that she could. No one seemed to be speaking
about her and Luca—perhaps they truly were presumed dead—but
there was a steady undercurrent of chatter about vampires.
“Girls  .  .  . to be executed,” a young servant whispered to another. Cass struggled to hear the response. “Blood in the water . . .
Palazzo Viaro.”
And then a few stalls down:
A merchant selling vegetables and herbs leaned in to her customer. “The undead . . . the streets are no longer safe.”
“The streets were never safe,” the woman responded pragmatically as she held out a copper coin. She had the same stern tone and
squat build as Narissa.
“I heard the vampires are handsome men who gain their victims’
trust by seducing them.”
“Hah. Then I shan’t worry,” the stout woman said. “It’s been fifteen good years since any man at all has tried to seduce me.”
Cass smothered a smile. Now the woman reminded her more of
Agnese than Narissa. Her aunt had always been blunt about certain
things.
When she got to the front of the line, Cass bought a bundle of
fresh rosemary. She didn’t know if the cook needed any, but a merchant would be more likely to speak to a paying customer, and at least
rosemary was light and easy to carry.
“Excuse me,” she said. “My mistress and I have just returned to
town. Did I hear you speaking of vampires?”
“Surely you’ve heard about the attacks,” the merchant said. “Girls
found by their fathers and husbands bearing the mark of the beast.
Vampires strolling the streets, feeding on those foolish enough to be
out after sunset. They say sometimes the canals in the Castello district flow red as the sun begins to rise.”
Cass shivered. The merchant was talking about the neighborhood
where Luca was investigating at that very moment.
“Stay away from Palazzo Viaro,” the woman added. “I’ve heard
a coven is living there. A body was found nearby, beneath the Conjurer’s Bridge, just two days ago. A courtesan, gray as a specter and
hard as stone, completely drained of her blood.”
“Thank you for the warning,” Cass said. Her fingers dropped to
her belt before she realized she had no crucifix to hold for comfort.
Clutching her bundle of rosemary, she stepped away from the stall.
    The Conjurer’s Bridge: Cass knew it. A small stone bridge that
crossed a minor canal in the Castello district. Beyond it was Palazzo
Viaro, a large house that had sat empty for a couple of years. And
only a few blocks away, Angelo de Gradi’s workshop. Cass shivered
again.
She made her way out the back of the market and then around to
the Grand Canal, where she stopped so suddenly, she stumbled and
nearly fell.
A group of men carrying swords and clubs stood at the base of the
Rialto Bridge. They were intercepting random passersby as they
flocked home from the market in droves, pulling them from the
crowd and showing them unrolled pieces of vellum. These were not
the Doge’s soldiers, as they weren’t wearing the traditional scarlet
and gold of the palace, but they were clearly some sort of militia
group.
Slowly, Cass inched forward, trying to see what was on the parchment. She caught a glimpse of a drawing, but the ink wavered before
her eyes. Was that . . . a sketch of Luca? She couldn’t tell. Right as she
was about to blend back into the crowd and hurry past the men, she
noticed the crest on one of the men’s sleeves, and she froze. A griffin
wielding a flaming sword. It was the Dubois crest. Perhaps the Doge
and Senate had given Cass and Luca up for dead, but Joseph Dubois
was still looking for them.
And Dubois had a way of getting what he wanted.
“A body