Vendetta (Blood for Blood #1)(32)

“There can be light in the dark,” I said, echoing Valentino’s words from earlier.

Valentino nodded thoughtfully, but I could sense his discomfort. He was gripping the sides of his chair so hard his fingers were turning white.

Ah, weird relatives. There was something quite sweet about the fact that Nic and I shared slightly unhinged uncles. Maybe one day we would get to introduce them.

“Absolutely!” Felice responded to my borrowed maxim after a pause. “And sometimes a dark path can lead to a bright light.”

I shuffled awkwardly. He’d lost me again, but I was definitely beginning to see how he thought buying knives for his nephews was a good idea. “I guess it’s food for thought.”

Felice’s phone buzzed, filling the room with an intense flurry of opera. He closed his eyes and swayed to the music before finally pulling the phone out from his breast pocket and answering the call.

“Ciao, Calvino!” He covered the mouthpiece. “Excuse me for one moment,” he whispered, before leaving the kitchen.

I watched him go. “Well, he’s certainly … energetic.”

When I turned back to Valentino, his expression was unreadable.

“Sophie,” he said wearily. “Thank you for returning Nic’s hoodie, but I need to be honest with you. He wouldn’t want you here.”

I felt like I had been slapped. “What?”

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he continued in that same soothing lilt. “But we’re in the middle of a very private family matter.”

Was he referring to their father? His passing was obviously more recent than I’d realized.

“I’ll go,” I gulped.

Valentino smiled apologetically. “Please don’t take it personally.”

“It’s fine,” I lied, turning from him and hurrying across the kitchen. My gaze fell upon a large black frame to the left of the door. It was hoisted midway up the wall and was unmissable from this angle. Inside the frame was the same crest I had seen on Nic’s knife — jet-black with a crimson falcon at its center. Below the crest, in cursive red script, it read: LA FAMIGLIA PRIMA DI TUTTO. Family Before Everything — Nic’s grandfather’s words, I remembered.

“It’s just the timing of it …” Valentino called after me.

I felt tingly all over and I wasn’t sure why. Everything felt so intense all of a sudden. Feeling my cheeks prickle as the color drained out of them, I pulled the double doors of the Priestly kitchen closed behind me.

I had barely made it to the end of the block when someone grabbed the back of my T-shirt. I stumbled backward and bumped against a small cushioned body with a soft oomph!

I sprang around, shrugging away from the viselike grip.

“Mrs. Bailey?” The shrillness in my voice alerted me to an octave I didn’t know I could reach. “What are you doing?”

The old woman contorted her face like she had just bitten into a lemon. “I could ask you the same question, Persephone Gracewell. What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m on my way home. My shift at the diner starts in an hour.” I wrung my hands to keep from shaking her. With the day I was having, this was the last thing I needed. “And my name is Sophie!”

“I saw you go into that house,” she shot back. “I told you to stay away from that family. You were in there so long I nearly called the police!”

“Are you serious?”

She stiffened. “Haven’t you been reading the papers?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about several disappearances and two strange deaths in the last two weeks — all of whom were members of this community, and you haven’t even noticed. Open your eyes, Persephone!”

“They are open!” Or so I had thought. I obviously had a lot of Googling to do.

Mrs. Bailey was still ranting, pointing her finger directly in my face. “People don’t just drown in their own bathtubs, you know. And they don’t accidentally fall off roofs, either!”

“What are you saying?” I asked, folding my arms to keep the sudden chill at bay.

Mrs. Bailey dropped her voice. “I’m saying there’s a wrongness in that house and it’s not something you should be anywhere near.”

I didn’t make an attempt to hide my irritation. Another day, another rumor. “You can’t just go around saying stuff like that, Mrs. Bailey!”

“There’s a darkness,” she hissed, her resolve unbroken.

I started walking again, quickening my pace so that she had to scurry to keep up. “It’s grief! They’re mourning their father.”

She didn’t seem the least bit surprised by my response. In fact, she snorted.

I gaped at her. “Do you find that amusing?”

“That man deserves to be where he is.”

I skidded to a halt.

She caught up with me, her chest heaving.

“What did you just say?”

“Listen to me very carefully, Persephone.” She tugged at my arm, pulling me closer so that she could whisper. “That man deserves to be in the ground. And if those boys are anything remotely like him, then they do, too.”

For a long moment I stared at her, my fists clenched at my sides, my nostrils flaring. I was desperately trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but with the way my emotions had been backflipping all day, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and throttle her. Was that the kind of stuff she said about me behind my back? Her thoughts on my father had always been crystal clear. “How could you say something like that?” I demanded.