CHAPTER THIRTY
THE SECRET
The meeting was held in a room at the very back of the house. A huge table made from varnished dark wood stretched the entire length of the room. The oil painting from the Priestly house in Cedar Hill – Valentino’s rendering of the avenging angel – hung in the middle of the room, and framed pictures of other Falcones, all dead, ranged along a shelf underneath. Calvino’s picture was nestled between Angelo’s and that of an old man with no hair – Rico Falcone, I guessed, since he was the most recent Falcone casualty.
Valentino stopped at the head of the table, and one by one, like a domino effect, every single Falcone – women and men, elderly and teenaged – formed a procession leading towards him. He held his hand out, his lids falling lazily as they each bent low and kissed his ring, murmuring Italian greetings as they turned to take their seats again. I pressed my back against the wall.
The Council was called to order. Felice sat on Valentino’s left, Luca on his right. He hadn’t looked in my direction once. He was facing forwards, the muscles in his jaw grinding. Nic winked at me before turning his attention to his oldest brother. I wished I could have shared his confidence.
Valentino cleared his throat. ‘Welcome, everyone, to what promises to be a memorable meeting.’ He flicked his gaze to me. I looked into those azure eyes and saw my own hopelessness reflected back. ‘Today, we remember those who have given their blood to protect this family.’ He placed a hand on his chest and dipped his head. ‘We think of Calvino and Rico. Ora riposano in pace.’
Quiet murmurings echoed along the table as the other Falcones pressed their hands to their hearts as Valentino had. ‘Ora riposano in pace.’
Valentino snapped his head up and the tender moment was gone. He looked straight at me when he said, ‘We are here today to discuss a serious matter, which concerns Donata Marino and the Marino family.’
There was a hiss from somewhere at the far end of the table. Elena pulled her lips back, her teeth bared, at the mention of her sister. Valentino pointed towards me. ‘For those who are not aware, I present to you Sophie Gracewell, daughter of Michael Gracewell.’
Luca looked at me for the first time. His expression was shuttered.
‘She has come to us today seeking the order of Sanctuary, for the protection of her mother and herself,’ Valentino added with a sneer.
A man with a heavy white beard seated part way down the table, said, ‘Such ceremony for small matters, Valentino. Of course we offer Sanctuary – it’s nothing for us.’
‘So it would appear,’ muttered Felice.
Outside, the storm clouds were sinking lower and lower. The room was charged, and the hairs on my arm were standing up. The urgency of the situation licked at my consciousness.
‘It’s ludicrous,’ Elena cried. Her hands rose into the air, gesticulating above the heads around her. ‘These people are the family of the man who killed your father, Valentino. They certainly do not deserve Sanctuary.’
A man with puffed-up white hair and a face creviced with wrinkles clapped his palm on the table. ‘We do not punish innocents,’ he said in a voice croaky with age. ‘Elena, you are letting your personal feelings override your duty to protect. That is the Falcone cause.’
Her voice turned hard. ‘That has not been our cause for a long time, Tommaso.’
I was watching Valentino. He and Felice had their heads bent together. His lips moved hurriedly, and every so often Felice’s eyes would grow very large. He glared at me, and I felt like there was a sniper rifle trained on my forehead. Luca sat apart from their huddle, his mouth set in a hard line as his twin angled his body towards Felice, continuing their hushed conversation.
Dom was speaking at the other end of the table. ‘I say we send her back to Donata. We’ve got all the information we need. What Sophie does now shouldn’t concern us.’
‘Exactly,’ said Elena in an exasperated voice. ‘At least one of my children sees sense.’
I couldn’t place the look on Felice’s face, but it was utterly mirthless. He was staring so hard at me I felt the heat underneath my skin. I lifted my chin, determined not to break under his attempts to intimidate me.
Someone slammed their fist on the table and I was startled back into the conversation. Gino’s glass of water had toppled over and spilt on to his lap. Luca was standing up, his palms pressed against the table. ‘I owe Sophie Gracewell my life. Is that really nothing, Mother? Con tutto il rispetto, si sbaglia.’
‘That doesn’t excuse her blood ties!’ shouted someone else, his voice joining with the heat of others. ‘We just buried Calvino. Are we all so quick to forget how and where he died? Are we all so quick to forget his death at the hands of Jack Gracewell?’
‘The girl is just a teenager. Una innocente,’ Paulie said, and my heart swelled with gratitude. ‘We must believe she is here to assist us. She brought news of Donata’s plotting.’
‘Unreliable news,’ said a young man with a shaved head and a severe nose. He fiddled with the gold chain around his neck. ‘Who knows if it was made up just to get us on side?’
‘Donata has Sophie in her sights,’ said Luca. ‘We don’t know what she plans to use her for. We don’t know if she plans to kill her.’
Well, he mightn’t have been able to stomach looking at me properly after what had happened upstairs, but at least he was fighting for me. I exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. The word of the Falcone underboss would carry a lot of weight in this room.
‘Donata won’t have time to use anyone for anything,’ said Gino. ‘Because we’re going to kill that Marino bitch and mount her head above the fireplace.’
‘Dio,’ muttered an old woman right across from me. ‘Is this what we have become?’
‘Gino,’ cautioned Elena. ‘Watch your language.’
He snapped his head down, folding his arms in a childish huff. ‘You weren’t complaining when Nic dumped Sara into the lake with all that cazzate on her skin.’
I felt a sudden whack of nausea. It was Nic. Nic threw Sara Marino in the lake. He had carved those words on to her body. I covered my mouth and concentrated on not getting sick. I had come here willingly. I had known discovering more horrible truths was a possibility. It was their world. But this … I had never expected this.
I stared at Nic. He was shouting at his brother, his eyes flashing with rage, his chest heaving violently. No one around the table seemed remotely surprised. God. Who was this boy? This was so much bigger than me and him now. This wasn’t about his heart – this was about his soul. Maybe the nagging voice in my head was right, maybe he was beyond saving. Maybe they all were. I felt a sudden, crushing sadness inside me. It took every ounce of strength to stay on my feet, to keep my mouth shut.
‘Settle,’ said Valentino, gesturing at Nic, who was still yelling at Gino in Italian. ‘Nic was following a direct order. Gino, you’re steering this off course.’
Of course, Valentino had ordered the carving and the water burial. And still he presided like an angel over the gathering: clean, clear, beautiful … deadly. He really was the worst of them all. A puppetmaster: all head, no heart.
Luca’s voice soared above the rising commotion. ‘We have the upper hand thanks to Sophie. I think it best to remove her and her mother from Cedar Hill.’
‘We’ll hide them,’ interjected Nic. ‘And give her father protection from Franco Marino in prison.’
‘Her father?’ screeched Elena. ‘Have you gone mad, Nicoli? What nonsense.’
‘It’s Jack we want,’ said Paulie.
Elena’s chair screeched backwards. She stood now too, leaning across the table. ‘Who are we to trust a Gracewell after everything they’ve done? Who are we to trust the words my own sister has said to her? Donata has never spoken plainly in her life. Everything is a trick with her.’
‘Sophie is not Donata,’ said Paulie, calmly.
‘She speaks for her.’ Elena curled her lip. ‘Do you forget your brothers so easily, Paulie?’
Paulie clapped his palms off the table but his voice remained deceptively careful. ‘Do not use my brothers against me, Elena. I know very well what we have lost.’
An old man with liver-spotted skin and a large bulbous nose was clinking the side of his glass with the end of a switchblade. ‘Silenzio!’ he called out in a heavy, rolling accent. ‘Calmatevi, tutti voi.’
Valentino raised his hands and quiet descended. Elena and Luca sat down.
‘Ignacio,’ Valentino said. ‘You have the floor.’
The old man dipped his head in gratitude. He pulled back and looked at each of the members as he spoke. ‘When my brother Gianluca was alive, he would not allow Councils to descend into such chaos. We have a clear-cut decision to make. The fate of this girl’s safety, whoever she may be, has been entrusted to this family. What is the point of squabbling like bambini? Let someone speak for her virtues and then let us decide like adults. I will not sit here and be subjected to such childish disorder.’
‘Wise words,’ said Tommaso. ‘Sophie Gracewell seeks to align herself with this family and gain Sanctuary. Who will speak for her?’
Valentino shifted in his chair, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Felice. Without taking out the paper inside it, Felice peeked in. He glanced back at Valentino, his expression grim.
Nic stood up. He held a steady stance, his hands folded in front of him so that he loomed over the rest of the Falcones like a soldier standing guard. ‘I’ll speak for her, since I know her the best.’
‘And ’cause you’re doing her!’ shouted Dom, his words peeling into raucous laughter. Gino shook with childish titters and I felt my face grow hot.
‘Vaffanculo!’ hissed Luca. ‘Have some respect!’
‘Let the truth reign,’ Dom returned with a sneer. ‘He wants to make her his comare!’
I didn’t know what a comare was, but I could tell by the blazing anger in Nic’s expression that it was meant to be offensive. I felt the overwhelming urge to launch across the table and punch Dom’s stupid face in.
‘Smettila!’ said Nic. ‘Or I’ll come over there and stuff my fist down your throat.’
‘Speak!’ said Ignacio. He pursed his lips and the resulting frown was so severe I felt a trickle of fear creep down my spine.
Valentino gestured towards Nic, rolling his hand in a circle. ‘Go on,’ he said dispassionately. He was staring at me again. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head. I looked at my hands. If he was going to say it, he should just say it, and stop lording it over me like this.
Luca’s mouth was set in a hard line, his penetrating gaze fixed towards the side of Nic’s face as he spoke.
‘We know of Donata’s movements, but Jack Gracewell is still hard to pin down. He might not come back to Cedar Hill at all now he has the Marinos to do his bidding. If it comes to tracking him down, Sophie is the best tool we have. We’d be fools to set her loose while she has so much to offer.’
‘And, don’t forget, you’re doing her!’ Dom catcalled. This time Luca leapt out of his seat and lunged towards him, grabbing his shirt collar and tightening it around his neck.
‘Luca,’ cautioned Valentino, a frown drawing his eyebrows together. ‘What are you doing?’
Dom’s face was turning purple. ‘Calmati,’ he wheezed. ‘What’s it got to do with you anyway?’
‘Act your age, idiota di merda.’ Luca pushed him away and fell back into his chair with a sharp curse.
‘Nic, are you done?’ asked Valentino.
Nic was looking unsure of himself. That made two of us. Did he mean all that stuff about using me and exploiting my allegiance? Or was he saying what he knew they wanted to hear? He was so nebulous, his family’s mission twined so tightly in his core that it was difficult to separate the two.
‘Yeah,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat down. ‘What else is there?’
‘Can we just vote already?’ CJ was the youngest in the room and he appeared to be monumentally bored. I guessed his murder of Sara Marino had earned him his place at the table.
‘Wait.’ Luca stood up and walked alongside the table, stopping behind Paulie and pinning his attention on his mother. ‘Nic shouldn’t have to plead Sophie’s case by presenting her as a weapon at our disposal. Sophie seeks what is good and just in this world, just like we do. Her loyalties are decided not by blood but by right and wrong. She has never betrayed this family, and when times have questioned her allegiance she has stood beside the Falcones. She risked her life to save mine. Now we can repay her. This isn’t a matter of her use but of our collective conscience, and whether we are going to do the right thing.’
The room had fallen silent. Valentino’s eyes were closed, his frown deepening bit by bit. The words were not sitting well with him; I could feel it. I could feel it coming towards me, like a tidal wave. Beside him, Felice’s gaze was hooded with caution.
‘Eloquently put, Luca,’ said Paulie. ‘You truly are your father’s son.’
Elena tapped her nails along the table and heads turned in her direction. ‘Eloquent or not, my son,’ she said. ‘There is still the question of whether she will betray us.’ Her exhale sounded disconcertingly like a warning whistle, and it snapped something inside me.
I had had enough of my name being bashed. Plus, I had stayed silent for what must have been a world record for me. I stepped forward, clearing my throat and intending to clear my name too, before she stomped over it any more. ‘I’m not a snitch. I know the importance of omertà. I’ve never spoken to a cop about anything to do with you or my uncle. I came today with information hoping you might give my mother and me something in return. I’ve never tried to betray any of you, despite your actions – which have, in the past, been pretty shady.’
‘Shady?’ grumbled the young man with the shaved head.
‘Case in point: my kidnapping and attempted murder.’
That shut him up.
I stamped down the quiver in my throat. ‘I love my mother more than anything. Donata Marino is threatening to split us apart if I don’t do what she wants. Jack has installed himself in the Marino family. His vendetta against this family is stronger than ever. They are coming for me and they are coming for you. I’ve come here for your protection because I can’t protect myself. But that doesn’t make me weak; it makes me smart.’
‘So you propose we offer you our protection for nothing?’ snapped Elena. ‘You will deplete our attention and our reserves because you’ve involved yourself in something that was none of your business in the first place?’
‘We are the reason she’s involved in this,’ interrupted Luca.
‘No.’ The word was so small it almost got lost in the rising argument. But I had been expecting it. I had been waiting – like a lot of other people, apparently – for Felice to finally open his mouth.
Luca rounded on him. ‘What do you mean, “no”?’
Felice stood up, his sudden height commanding all of the attention in the room. He fixed his tie with one hand, his other clutching the envelope Valentino had handed him. ‘I mean we are not the reason she has been sucked into this world.’ His voice was utterly emotionless, his words quietly sure as he flicked his attention to me and said, ‘Sophie has been part of this world since birth.’
One by one, every head turned in my direction.
There was a cavernous silence.
Nic broke it. ‘What?’
Echoes of ‘What?’ followed.
‘What?’ I added, just for good measure.
Valentino was sitting back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. ‘I gave you ten minutes, Sophie. I gave you the opportunity to come clean on your own, but you wasted it. So, you can say it now,’ he offered with blithe indifference. ‘Or you can let Felice tell them.’
I was suddenly keenly aware that Valentino was not talking about The Kiss, and that whatever was in that envelope was not evidence of what had happened with Luca.
‘Valentino …’ I began, trying not to focus on thirty pairs of eyes burning through my skin. ‘I really have no idea what you’re talking about. I think there’s been some confusion …’
‘Oh, there has been confusion, Persephone,’ said Felice. ‘Why don’t we alleviate it right now? Tell us, bugiarda, at what point in your pathetic relationship with my nephew were you planning on telling him that you are, in fact, a Marino?’
The accusation landed like a slap in the face. I jerked backwards, halfway between a laugh and a splutter, as incredulity washed over me. My mouth fell open, as I grasped for a response. It was a struggle to find the right words to aptly communicate just how insane Felice was being. This was character assassination at its worst. ‘Stop,’ was all I could manage. ‘Just stop.’
The silence sizzled as Felice leant across the table towards me. ‘I thought I knew those eyes from somewhere.’ He pointed directly at me and I noticed, dimly, that everyone else leant closer too. ‘Those are Vincenzo Marino’s eyes. Those are the same eyes I looked into when I pulled the trigger and shattered his skull.’
There was a collective intake of breath.
I almost smiled. His plan was so stupid, so outlandish, it would never work. He could never discredit me like that. I rolled my eyes – my incriminating eyes – so they could all get a good look at how dumb their consigliere was.
‘What is this, Felice?’ Elena asked. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You’ve said it yourself countless times, Elena. There is something off about this girl. You saw it that night in the hospital.’
Elena rose a little in her seat, latching on to Felice’s ridiculous diatribe. ‘Yes … but this …’
Felice glared at me. ‘I will ask you only once. Are you, or are you not, the granddaughter of Don Vincenzo Marino?’
‘You know I’m not,’ I gritted out. ‘Cut the crap. You know who my father is.’
‘I know now,’ he boomed, the sudden loudness shocking me a little. ‘Though it’s taken me far longer than I would have liked, I’ve finally found the missing Marinos.’
I lunged towards him, stretching across the table as my lungs burnt with all the names I wanted to call him. ‘You’re sick,’ I hissed. ‘To make up lies like this after I brought you real information that would help your family. It’s low, even for you.’
Murmurings began – sceptical, hesitant, as heads whipped back and forth between Felice and me.
‘At first it didn’t make sense,’ Felice continued, turning to his family now and leaving me discarded in his periphery. I straightened up, composing myself. I would not go crazy. I would not stoop to his level. ‘Why would Donata Marino welcome Jack Gracewell into her fold? We have long known how private the Marino family is. Their allegiance makes no sense. Her interest in this girl makes no sense. And yet her final words to her were Fidelitate Coniuncti! Incredible!’
‘Felice,’ Luca growled. ‘You’re going too far.’
Felice’s eyes were flashing, desperate, searching. He turned to Valentino. ‘Tell them,’ he implored. ‘Make them see.’
Valentino knitted his hands together on the table, his ring flashing beneath the lights. ‘Before our father was killed, he had been looking into Michael Gracewell’s past. I’ve found files that show his growing interest in the Gracewell family, but almost half of them are not directed at Jack and the Golden Triangle Gang. He seems to have been piecing together a puzzle, and Jack was only part of that.’ He ran his tongue along his teeth, pausing, deliberating in his head. Everyone – including me, despite the absurdity of it all – was hanging on the next word from their boss. ‘There’s no record of the Gracewells as children. Michael Gracewell first appears as a junior in a high school in Milwaukee at sixteen years old. A transfer student from Chicago with no background. Until now I didn’t know what any of this meant, or what my father was pursuing at the time of his death. Most of us had forgotten the legend of the missing Marinos.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Felice, his voice deathly quiet.
Valentino ignored the interruption. ‘I never thought to make the connection between my father’s research on the Gracewells and the Marinos until Jack Gracewell turned to Donata Marino, of all people, for protection from us. Until Donata Marino opened her doors to a simple Americano with a languishing drug trade. Then I started to wonder.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ I said, looking around at matching expressions of incredulity. ‘I know exactly where I come from. Jack and my dad had to move to Milwaukee when they were young to live with their grandmother. Their parents died in a car accident when he was—’
‘Sixteen,’ said Felice, getting to his feet. ‘I know. I was there.’ He made the sign of a gun with his finger and thumb and pointed it at my head. ‘But it was no car accident, believe me.’
I shook my head. This guy was utterly deluded. There was no way he was taking me down like this. Not when I needed Sanctuary. Not when I had my mother to think about.
‘You know, Vincenzo’s boys weren’t there that day,’ he said to me. ‘The two of them were gone before I could finish the job.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘They had vanished in a puff of air.’
‘Jack and my father aren’t twins,’ I countered.
Felice shrugged. ‘Neither were the Marinos. Twins make it a better story. It seeks to justify the Marinos’ hit on my own father on the day Luca and Valentino were born.’
‘You’re clutching at straws,’ I said. ‘You know you are. Everyone can see it.’ I was starting to sound less sure of myself, but only because he was so convincing. That didn’t make him right. He was a lunatic.
‘You’re either a good liar or a dumb fool,’ said Felice, coming closer. I watched his hands, anticipating the appearance of a real gun, but he kept them where I could see him, raising them as he asked, ‘Do you know why your father murdered my brother? Because I think I finally understand now.’
‘It was an accident.’ I blinked back the tears pooling in my eyes.
Felice was losing his composure. His voice was shaking. ‘Don’t you think it strange?’
‘He came for Jack that night,’ I said, repeating what Felice had told me all those weeks ago. ‘You said it yourself.’
Felice turned to the others. ‘Who here believes Michael Gracewell’s hit on Angelo was an “accident”?’ he said, making air quotes.
There was a stony silence. Nic deflected his gaze. Luca wouldn’t look at me either.
Felice turned back to me. ‘Haven’t you ever asked yourself what your father was truly capable of?’
I declined to answer, offering him my most contemptuous glare instead.
‘I made my own assumptions, but I didn’t know. The truth is, my brother never told me where he was going that night. I knew he was up to something so I had to follow him, like a scarafaggio!’ He was starting to perspire. The lie was breaking through. ‘Your father killed Angelo because he knew who he really was! Angelo was going to break apart your perfect little life.’
Thirty heads rolled back towards me. There was a general sense of wonderment – dark Italian eyes widening in surprise, mouths going slack. A flurry of whispers scuttled along the table. They were falling for it. They would vote against me.
‘You’re lying!’ I shouted. ‘Stop it!’
Luca shot to his feet so he could stand between Felice and me. ‘Drop this now, Felice,’ he warned. ‘It’s not right what you’re doing.’
‘Luca.’ Valentino’s quiet interruption killed the commotion. It was remarkable; whenever he spoke, the whole room dangled on his word. Luca backed away from Felice and stood, instead, by his twin’s shoulders.
To Felice, Valentino said, ‘Show them the photo.’
Felice didn’t take his eyes off me. ‘With pleasure.’
He pulled a page from the envelope he was holding, and slid it across the table. I stepped forward tentatively, staring over Gino’s head to look at it. We were all craning to look at it.
‘Stateville biometrics,’ narrated Felice for those who couldn’t see. ‘They make a record of their prisoners’ identifying markers when they’re brought in. Valentino pulled some strings. He received this email thirty minutes ago.’
Felice’s words droned in the background of my attention. I was too busy staring at a photo of my father. It was like his mugshot but in this one, his shirt was off, and there were three images, one of him side-on, the shamrock on his arm small and blurry. He’d told me he had gotten it with a friend on his eighteenth birthday – a cautionary drunk tale. His back was bare, and in the photo of his front, right over where his heart was, was a crest with a black handprint inside it. Beneath it were the words Fidelitate Coniuncti.
Donata’s final words to me.
‘Loyalty binds us,’ translated Valentino. He wasn’t anywhere near the photo, but I’m sure he had already stared at it long and hard. ‘The Marino family motto.’
‘That,’ Felice’s index finger stabbed the tattoo on the page, ‘is the Marino crest. Every Marino since the dawn of Cosa Nostra has had this crest engraved on their person. Many of us in this room have seen them first-hand on their corpses.’ He sucked in a gulping, excited breath. ‘He’s covered it since, smart boy. But these he can’t get rid of.’ He moved his finger and pressed it over my father’s grainy, lifeless eyes. ‘These are Don Vincenzo Marino’s eyes.’ He lifted his head and moved his finger until it was an inch from my face. ‘And so are those.’