Seeking Crystal (28 page)

‘My favourite kind,’ noted Zed. Sky gave him a glimmer of a smile.

‘The old witch is expecting her notoriety in Italy to play in her favour—we are unknowns. She can project on to us any kind of baloney as no one had any idea who or what we are—we’ve done too good a job at keeping our heads down.’

‘I’m not getting the evil part, bro.’

‘She did not factor in that we have one of the biggest names on the planet on our side. Steve Hughes, Crystal’s boyfriend, rushing in to save his girl’s sister like the hero he is.’

‘I thought I was your girl?’ I muttered.

‘You are, darlin’, but we’re talking about the make-believe land of publicity—which is where the contessa has taken this battle. How about you put a call in to your Hollywood hunk and get him to give an exclusive interview to some international news corporation? Talk about blowing the contessa’s story out of the water; she won’t even be a rubber duck afloat on the ocean when his warship sails into view.’

‘Do you think he’ll do it?’ asked Phoenix, rubbing her temples roughly. I could sense she was trying to cudgel her brain into remembering. Yves took her hand and kissed the knuckles before she hurt herself.

I nodded. ‘Yes, he’ll do it. He might even get something out of it for himself as I imagine that right now he wants to distract the press from his new relationship with Lily. This will give them something to write about for a few weeks.’

‘You might have to give an interview,’ cautioned Trace. ‘Are you ready for that, Diamond? Crystal?’

‘Anything it takes,’ said Diamond firmly. ‘Just help me say the right things.’

‘Always,’ promised Trace.

If Diamond was brave enough to do it in the knowledge that only a fraction of her mind was functioning properly then how could I refuse?

‘Sure. I’m up for that.’

‘Great.’ Xav rubbed his hands together. ‘Let’s make some calls.’

By the time Saul and Karla arrived back from transferring Will to a Venetian hospital, the story was running on every major news channel. The arrest of the Count of Monte Baldo made a nice background piece. The BBC had found photos of the operation in Central London and shared them with the other media outlets. The contessa’s version of his innocence was now heavily undercut by the wild-eyed, pasty-faced police mugshot taken while he was being processed. This was then matched with the six shots of the Benedict brothers taken in the Verona police station.

We watched the whole news package unfold.

‘Hey, you look like a serial killer,’ Zed mocked Victor. For guys who had shunned publicity, they were making the best of their newfound fame. I thought they all looked gorgeous, especially Xav. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started receiving fan mail from TV viewers.

Then came the interview with Steve, conducted picturesquely on the top of the mountain, his helicopter as backdrop.

‘Yeah, I rushed to my girlfriend’s assistance. Of course I did. Her sister is very important to her.’

‘What about the contessa’s claim that Diamond Brook and her friends were just guests?’ asked the reporter.

Steve snorted. ‘That’s one weird lady. I mean, when you have a house party do you knock your guests out, abandon one on an island to freeze, and then hold the rest hostage from their family? I prefer to send out invitations and make sure everyone has a good time.’

The reporter preened, doubtless hoping to be a recipient of an invitation for Steve’s next private bash. ‘I’m sure you do.’

‘Seriously, maybe she’s lonely; but to me what she did sounds like the actions of one severely disturbed woman. Her son’s in jail, she sees the means of getting revenge, and then she takes it way too far.’

‘Why did you not bring in the police, if it was a hostage situation?’ So the reporter wasn’t such a pushover after all.

Steve treated us all to his brilliant smile. ‘Why wait when we had the helicopter and could do it ourselves? We weren’t going to do any more than knock on the door and ask to take them home.’

Yeah right.

‘It was the contessa who escalated the situation. She shot one of my friends. None of us was armed.’

The piece then cut to a report from outside Will’s hospital where he was described as in recovery. That would generate a nice wave of sympathy for our side.

The final section was the interview Diamond and I had done that afternoon outside our apartment. Di looked pale but resolute; I looked as glamorous as I could manage, trying hard to live up to my reputation as Steve’s model girlfriend. Diamond gave a brief explanation of what had happened, similar to the one she gave to the policeman. I backed it up with a fuller description of being stranded in the lagoon wearing nothing but an evening gown. The press liked that little detail and even got me to describe the cut and colour.

‘Are these the actions of a sane woman?’ I asked.

The reporter chose to end the piece on that question before spinning off into speculation about Steve’s and my non-existent romance.

Celebrity power: don’t you just love it?

Sitting next to me on the settee, Xav kissed my neck. ‘You did really well. Take that, contessa.’

‘I just hope it doesn’t inspire her to do anything worse.’

Victor got up. ‘I’ll go visit with Will. Anyone coming?’

To my surprise, Diamond offered. ‘If he’s to be my brother-in-law, I’d better meet him properly.’

Trace smiled sadly and joined her by the door. So they had decided to travel in hope towards the wedding, had they? ‘I’ll come too.’

After they left, the rest of us decided to make an early night of it. Having survived on far less sleep than normal, I was expecting to go out like a light but instead I tossed and turned on my pillow, my grand prix car of a brain racing around the circuit of our predicament.

Our publicity battle with the contessa reminded me of the history of two Italian Renaissance cities, lobbing insults at each other from behind their fortifications. It was doing nothing to save the devastated valley between them—in our case, the ruins being the minds on which the contessa had exercised her malign gift. I had promised to sort it out but unless I had the map to show me what she had done, I had not the first idea where to start.

Maybe I could bargain for information? I thought of her son: would he tell us how his mother’s power worked in exchange for some leniency in his treatment?

But Xav had told me that his case was still going through the courts. Until he was sentenced, he would not be interested in striking a bargain with us.

What about the contessa herself: what would she want in exchange for information?

A soulfinder? If not for her, maybe for the son she loved and any Savants among her grandchildren? It was the one thing I could offer that any Savant could not refuse. I was sitting on a deal clincher.

I threw off the covers, put on my trackies and jumper and crept out of the bedroom. Xav was really going to kill me if he knew what I planned. It was an enormous risk I was taking but I couldn’t face myself if I kept failing the girls and their soulfinders, not when there was something I could do.

On my way to the front door, I almost tripped over Barozzi and stumbled into the settee.

‘Going somewhere?’ asked Phoenix. She was sitting by the window, watching the moonshadows play on the garden wall.

‘You gave me a scare!’ I patted my throat. ‘Just letting the cat out. I won’t be long. Don’t wait up.’

It was a sign of how unlike her normal self she was that Phoenix was not more suspicious of my explanation.

‘OK.’

I paused at the door. ‘Phee, why are you here and not at the hotel with Yves?’

She gave a lopsided shrug. ‘Just didn’t feel right.’

That decided me. I could not bear to think of how much Yves must be hurting sitting alone in his hotel room without his wife. ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Phee.’ I eased my feet into my wellingtons. ‘See you in the morning.’

At the moorings by the Accademia Bridge, I found a gondolier about to go off-duty. A stout man with a chubby face like a worn-out cherub, he was packing up for the evening, accepting a hefty tip from his last cargo of lovers. He was transferring his gear from his shiny gondola to a scruffy little motorboat for his commute home.

‘How much to take me to Contessa Nicoletta’s island?’ I asked.

‘A hundred euros,’ he said casually, standing at the back of his bucking boat like a bareback rider on a galloping horse.

I snorted. ‘Yeah, and I was born yesterday. Look, I’m not a tourist and you’re probably going home to the Guidecca so it’s not far out of your way.’

He looked me up and down. I looked nothing like I had that afternoon in front of the cameras, as I was wearing my most comfortable and baggy clothes. ‘Why are you going there so late?’

‘Emergency staff meeting. You must have heard the rumours about the contessa’s difficulties.’

He grinned. ‘Yes. Funny old bird, never liked her. Sounds as if she’s really gone off the deep end this time. What do you do for her?’

‘I work for her chef.’ Fingers crossed behind back.

‘All right, signorina, in you get. I’ll drop you at the water-steps for twenty euros. You’ll make your own way home, OK?’

‘Fine.’ That’s if I got to come home. Just now I couldn’t worry about the details of after.

With a couple of pulls of the starter motor cord, my aging cherub propelled me across the choppy wide water of the Canale della Guidecca.

‘You want me to sing?’ he asked cheekily.

‘Not paying for it.’ I hunched my head against my knees. I was shaking with nerves and did not want to show it or he would suspect I was up to something.

‘I give you one free.’ He began his not so tuneful rendition of Italian opera arias. Gondoliers usually inherited their boat and mooring from their family; it was a shame the genes hadn’t passed down musicality too.

I thought of the last time I had been taken somewhere by a man singing. It had been Xav driving me to the airport.
Hey, soul sister
—the song had proved to be correct. I prayed that I was not risking our connection by making this trip into the lion’s den. But then, I told myself sternly, I was a lioness too; I was not going in without my own power to protect me. The old alpha female was about to find her dominance challenged by the new girl in the Savant pride.

Left on the steps, I watched my gondolier head off home, probably to a house packed full of cherub-faced sons all practising arias to take over from Dad when they were old enough. I wished my life was so straightforward. I pressed the intercom.

No response.

It was late, at least midnight. Was my big adventure going to end with me sitting on the steps till morning? I eyed the wall. After my failed ninja moment of the previous day, I knew better than to attempt to scale it. I pressed the bell again, this time keeping my finger stuck on the button.

The intercom crackled. ‘Yes?’

‘Hello? Can you tell the contessa that Crystal Brook is here to see her?’

There was a brief silence then the gate hummed open.

‘
Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly
,’ I muttered, that line of an old song drifting unhelpfully into my head. ‘Stick with the lion image, Brook: it makes you feel more powerful.’

The garden was deserted. The dark outlines of box hedges stretched in a grid like a chess board; the pale grey shadows of statues looked like pieces left in the middle of a game played by giants. Without the warmth provided by the flaring torches at Diamond’s party, the secret island was a haunting place. I felt a moment’s pity for the imprisoned count growing up in this weird atmosphere; no wonder he had turned out so badly.

The butler opened the garden doors for me. If any other staff were in residence, I saw no sign. ‘May I take your coat?’

‘Thanks.’ I stood with my hands in my pockets, feeling absurdly out of place in this elegant room.

‘I will tell the contessa that you are here,’ the butler intoned, shuttling off on his mission.

I drifted over to look at a gold-leaf clock on a marble side table. Black-faced cherubs held up the dial—cheerful relatives of my gondolier.