Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Enzo quickly scans the kitchen and dismisses the soldier nearby with a jerk of his head.
“Where is he?” I ask, unsure where I stand without Cassian here. I am the enemy, after all.
“He had some business to handle. Have you eaten?”
“What happened to my brother?”
“I suppose he’s fine,” he says.
“Fine apart from being choked?”
He just exhales, expression hard and unyielding. This man is loyal to Cassian. He won’t give me anything.
“Have you eaten?” he repeats.
“I’m fine. When will he be back?”
“When his business is finished. In the meantime, if you’ve eaten, I’ll escort you back to Cassian’s room.”
“Is he coming back tonight?”
“No.” That’s not the answer I expect. He clears his throat and gestures for me to go ahead of him. “Cassian has made sure you’ll be safe,” he adds.
By safe he means locked in, I guess, considering the number of soldiers stationed in the church-house.
“Can I at least have my backpack? It’s just books and an iPad in there. And some toiletries. You can search it. No letter openers. I swear.”
“Where is it?”
I point to where the soldier had dumped my things and follow Enzo who picks up the backpack, raising an eyebrow at the weight. I packed several art history books containing details on churches in Verona as well as my high school textbook which has several chapters devoted to the history of this church. I also have a sketch pad and some pencils. Although I’m not great at it, I do like drawing.
Enzo sets the backpack on the counter and unzips it.
“Which book do you want?”
“That one and the notebook. My pencil case, there. And toiletries.”
He takes everything out, searching through the pencil case and the toiletry bag. He removes a small manicure set and drops it back in the backpack, but hands me the rest.
“My iPad?”
“When Cassian’s back. Go to bed, Allegra.”
“How about clothes?” I raise my eyebrows. “Or you think I’ll smother someone with a sweater? Maybe choke one of you with a scarf?”
“When Cassian’s back. He gave clear instruction you’re to eat and go to bed. You’ll be free to roam the house tomorrow, if you do as you’re told tonight.”
“If I do as I’m told? Of course. Fine. If you’re in communication with him, deliver a message for me, will you?” I wait until he raises his eyebrows, which I guess is his go ahead. I flip him my middle finger then pick up the things he allowed me and carry them into Cassian’s bedroom. I know I don’t have much choice and he’s not going to give me more than this. If I had my iPad, at least I could get online and figure out what the hell happened to Cassian’s brother. Hadn’t he told me he was dead? And was my brother suggesting Cassian had killed him?
But I don’t have it, and I won’t get it. I look around the bedroom, then at the adjoining door to the other room where he’d first put me. I’d like to set up there, cold as it was, rather than Cassian’s bedroom, but the door is still locked so, with a sigh, I take out my textbook, sit on the comfortable armchair and find the page that contains information on the baptismal font. I begin reading the history as much as I can focus, which isn’t much.
I have no idea when Cassian will return. I guess morning, but I’m wrong. Another night passes, then one more. No one will tell me anything. I feel like I’m just waiting and nothing is in my control. At least I’m allowed to wander around the house, but I’m only allowed outside for brief periods with Enzo hovering nearby. He’s the only one of the soldiers who must be allowed to speak to me. He did finally go through the duffel when I threatened to walk around naked which I wouldn’t actually have the balls to do, so at least I’m dressed in my own things.
I spend what feel like endless hours going through the various chapels and finding my favorite one. It’s near one of the fireplaces so it’s warm and in this massive church-home, it’s cozy and feels lived-in. There’s a mural of Azazel chained up as fire licks up the walls around him. A thousand angels watch him burn, his punishment for the role he played in the corrupting of man. It’s gruesome, but so much of what is depicted on church walls is. There are very few scenes without some horrible thing being done to someone.
There’s a comfortable oversized loveseat in here where I can curl up. It’s one of the few chapels that has seating, and I wonder if Cassian spends time in here. I wonder if it’s for this mural. I feel like every time I look at it, I find something new to see. I’m copying it into my notebook piece by piece. It’s good practice. I’m working on an Art History degree although I’ve always known I wouldn’t do anything with it. Maybe Cassian was right about me being a pawn all along. A piece to be played to the greatest advantage. Marriage, a union that would benefit the Moretti family. I used to think my parents’ marriage was for love. Or maybe I believed that when I was little. After her death, though, I saw things differently even starting to remember the past differently.