"Yes, Lion," Marco replied obediently, feeling the burden of responsibility settle on shoulders that stiffened to meet it. "I will remember. If I leave--it will be because there is no other choice, not only for me, but for Venice."
The Lion seemed satisfied. "You do not complain. Good. It does not seem a great sacrifice to me. I do not know why you humans are so itchy-footed. Now--time to put an end to this, before you--or I--come to like it all too much!"
* * *
The monster crawled towards the window, and Kat felt fear mixed with rage. It--she--was going to get away! Lucrezia had unleashed war in the streets, had killed men with her own hands or her own orders, had hurt Rafael and she was going to get away!
Not this time, little sister.
The golden, glowing hands over hers made her drop the pistol--made her reach to the side, and take a book from a shelf there--a very, very, heavy book, which must have weighed several pounds, encased in a silver-chased cover.
A Bible?
--and throw it.
It landed squarely on the monster.
There was a flash of light that was somehow black, a scream that cut through Kat's skull so that she clapped both empty hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block it out.
Then there was nothing.
Nothing but a silver-chased Bible in the floor, and a snaky black smudge on the marble.
Hmm. What's appropriate, I wonder? "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing?" "The Word is mightier than the blade?" Ah, I know! "Let Evil beware the Weight of the Word of God!"
There was--a golden laugh that washed through her, erasing the pain that the scream had left behind, and the feeling of uncleanliness. Then the presence was gone.
Kat shivered convulsively. Then . . . saw the candles in the magic circle suddenly snuff out, saw the air suddenly clear, and the glittering circles of power fade to nothing more than the silver and gold inlaid on the floor.
"Oh God--Marco!" She pushed forward past Luciano's body. Marco lay still and cold, with the blade still pressed into his breast. Katerina had the impression of a misty and insubstantial gold crown on his head. But the image faded almost instantly, and she had no time to think about it. She tugged at the hateful, fateful dagger. It fell and snapped as if it had been made of the finest Venetian glass. She stared. There was no blood. She ripped at his shirt, scattering buttons.
Marco's chest had a tiny, V-shaped cut on it--not a fingernail deep. Kat seized his wrists. She was shaking too badly to feel for a pulse. She pressed her ear to his chest. After a terrible instant of fear--silence!--then she heard his heart beating. Beating steadily.
Suddenly, Marco breathed deeply and put his arms around her. She clung to him like a drowning woman.
"I can never leave here, you know," he said softly. "He said so. I have to stay, or he can't protect Venice."
She burrowed against his chest, not giving a damn who he was. "I will never leave here then, either."
* * *
It was Benito who found them, nearly an hour later. He walked in and stared at the two of them.
"Thank God Claudia knew where this place was. Otherwise you two lovebirds might still have been here tomorrow. Tore the shirt off him, eh, Kat?" He was grinning broadly. "I must get Maria to have a little talk with you, girl. Tearing the breeches off him is much more satisfying for everyone."
"Benito!" roared Marco.
It was a real roar. The windows rattled.
Benito started at the sound, but the grin stayed on his face even if it became a little less broad.
But as he looked around, studying the room, the grin faded away. The bodies. The paraphernalia.
"So I didn't imagine the Lion," he said quietly. "I think you two had better get out of here, before someone else finds you. I've got news for the two of you; besides that, Dorma and Montescue are both searching frantically for you."
They got up. "Tell, Benito," said Kat. "What's happened?"
Benito managed another grin. "Well, lots of stuff. The Doge has stopped slipping into a coma, but he's really weak. He's offered his resignation, as he says the city needs a strong Doge in these times. I reckon Petro will be chosen, even as young as he is. A boat's just come in from Chioggia. Grandfather Dell'este and the Knights of the Holy Trinity and the boys in the Polestine forts made my father and his army head back to Milan." His good cheer faded. "But it looks as if Caesare Aldanto managed to escape."
"What?!" They both exclaimed simultaneously. "Damn him," added Kat, snarling.
Benito walked toward the nearest window, still covered with heavy drapes. "Let's get some light in here, what say?" He shrugged. "Nothing's ever perfect. Aldanto had a galley ready--in case things went wrong, I guess. That'd be just like him. When the fog cleared and the Lion's Shadow spooked them, he took advantage of it. Just in time, too. Petro Dorma is spitting mad about it. And he's looking for you pair of lovebirds." He looked quizzically at them. "So what are you going to do now?"
Marco took Kat's hands. "Kat. You realize that this doesn't change anything? I made my promises. I'm still married to Angelina."
Kat smiled. "Marco. I'll be your mistress if you want me. I'll be your friend if you don't. But I won't leave you again."
Epilogue ========
VILNA ----------------
The shaman raced frantically through the water, trailing blood from several gashes. Behind him, their jaws leaving their own red trace, came the vengeful undines.
Insofar as the shaman could think at all in his state of panic, he was sure he could elude his pursuers. He was well into the open waters of the gulf now, beyond the lagoon, and he was a better swimmer than the undines.
The thought was not especially comforting. Undines were not the only menace he faced. The shadow of the Lion, sweeping across the lagoon, had not only cast terror into the minds and hearts of Venice's enemies. It had also emboldened Venice--and its friends.
Among those friends, often enough, the tritons of the gulf and the open sea could be counted. And those, more fishlike than the undines, he could not outswim.
For that matter, the blood he was trailing might draw sharks as well. And if the sharks were no friends of Venice, they were no friends of his either.
Again and again, he cried out in his mind for the master to rescue him. Open the passageway! Open the passageway!
There was no answer. No passageway.
* * *
When he sensed the disturbance in the water, quite some distance away, the shaman veered aside. That was the sound of a ship breaking up and men spilling into the water. No threat to him, in itself--but it might draw tritons. Occasionally--not often--the sea creatures rescued drowning sailors.
But his master's voice, finally appearing, commanded otherwise.
Find the ship and its sailors. Seize the strongest one and bring him to me.