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padlock.
    Sighing, Cass turned away. What were she and Luca thinking?
What could be accomplished by watching buildings or wandering
through yards? She needed to get inside to discover anything meaningful, but the window glass was thick. It would be almost impossible
to break, and even if she could manage it, she would leave behind
evidence of her trespassing. The Order members would see the broken window and probably move their operations elsewhere.
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    But if multiple Order members were using the palazzo, they
couldn’t all have a key, could they? Perhaps there was a spare hidden
somewhere nearby. Luca had once hidden a key for her behind a
brick in his fireplace.
    It was worth a try.
Staying close to the palazzo walls and safely below the windows,
Cass walked the periphery of the house, feeling for loose bricks. The
mortar had chipped away in several places, but there was no key.
Returning to the courtyard, she peeked underneath the bench and
examined the ivy-covered statue of Jesus, glancing up at Palazzo
Viaro’s back windows every second or two to make sure she wasn’t
being watched. At the first sight of movement she would run.
She stumbled as she knelt to examine the base of the Jesus figure,
her fingers instinctively gripping the statue’s outstretched marble
arm to maintain her balance. No key. As she rose to her feet, she
glanced in the direction the statue seemed to be pointing and noticed
a particularly thick spot of weeds abutting the courtyard fence.
Could it be?
Cass went to the weeds and reached her hand into the tangled
branches, wincing as nettles scratched at her skin. But her fingers
closed around cold metal, and her heart started to race. She pulled
out a tarnished key.
Ducking low, she crossed the courtyard to the back door of the
palazzo and slipped the key into the lock. A perfect fit.
Gathering her skirts and her courage, she pushed open the door
just wide enough to admit her body. With a single deep breath to
quell her trembling, she stepped over the threshold and into Palazzo
Viaro.
    “We have witnessed those awakening
after burial, but whether from deep slumber
or death, no clear evidence yet prevails.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
si x
    T
    he kitchen was dark except for the slice of light that
penetrated the broken shutter, illuminating the rough
outline of an iron spit, a butter churn, and a long table.
The dust was so thick that Cass could trace lines in it
with her fingertips. The cupboards hung open, empty aside from a
    sparse collection of chipped dishware and a scattering of utensils.
She found a paring knife and tucked it into her pocket. It was paltry
as weapons went, but if she stumbled across Belladonna or Piero,
they would not expect her to be armed. She didn’t know if she could
really stab anyone—the mere thought of it, the blade piercing skin,
the softness of organs beneath—made her cringe. But who knew what
she might be capable of if her life depended on it? After all, a couple
of months ago she would have thought herself incapable of penetrating the Doge’s dungeons and rescuing Luca, but she had managed to
do exactly that.
But at great cost . . .
Cass ignored the voice in her head. She had to focus. The house
felt empty, but something was off. It was the smell. The faint lingering
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    hint of incense. Her body went rigid. The last time she had smelled
incense, Belladonna had been bathing in human blood. Cass curled
her fingers around the handle of the small knife.
    Servants’ stairs led from the kitchen up to the dining room, also
buried under a layer of grime. Next was the portego. Its walls were
stark white, and she could see faint outlines where large canvases had
once hung. Marble steps sloped both up and down in a graceful spiral. Several rectangular recesses were cut in one wall, most likely
used at one time to display Viaro family heirlooms. The only furniture left in the room was a single padded