Page 24 of Soul Hate

I ’m Renza Di Maineri, and today I was part of a successful jailbreak.

Fate’s Fury, I never thought I’d say that!

Emilia whisked Serra away the instant we got back on solid land, stating that Alfieri had somewhere the two of them could hide. In any case, I need to be far away and somewhere public. Somewhere out of suspicion thanks to my earlier visit. We don’t need people to have good reason to question my involvement.

They’d be right of course, but we don’t want anything to stick.

It was so hard to let Serra go, but at least she is out of that disgusting, dank cell. I shudder at the mere memory of the smell. I would have to get Serra a plethora of scented candles, anything to cover up the memory of that stench.

I walk through the front door of my house, slipping off my shoes.

“Nouis? Nouis, you home?” I call up the stairs. I can’t wait to tell him everything. He’s going to be so relieved Serra is safe. This is going to be amazing. Finally a win for us! For our team! When I’m met with silence I realise it’s still the middle of the afternoon. Nouis is supposed to be working on Bellandi for information, trying to get something we can use.

Oh well, this will be a fabulous surprise this evening. Or perhaps not much of a surprise—I’m sure word will spread pretty quickly that there is a gaping hole in the side of Halice’s prison. I hurry to the stairs, hopping up the steps with a bounce in my gait.

I can’t believe it. I pulled off a jailbreak. We did it. Serra is safe, and Alfieri’s confirmed Dorado survived his injuries so we have a witness who can give evidence against Bellandi too. Things are far from over but they are looking up. We can do this .

I pause at the top of the stairs. It feels a piece is missing… Something big, but I can’t put my finger on it. I try to shake off the feeling as I sweep down the hall. I hum a little tune as I reach Giulia’s room.

“Just me, Giulia,” I call as I push the door open.

My heart drops and shatters in my chest.

The bed is completely empty. The sheets are strewn wildly over the floor, her feeding tube and a large, glass pot shattered and scattered across the room.

A bloody handprint is pressed against the pink-painted walls.

“No. No. No!” I scream at the top of my lungs, falling to the stone floors. Everything shakes and tilts. My hands tremble; my vision blurs; my breath feels rotten in my lungs.

“Giulia! Giulia!” I scream at the top of my lungs. The physical pain of her absence is agony. I stagger to my feet, racing out into the halls.

“Help, someone help!” I sob, but nobody comes. There isn’t a soul in the house. I grip at my stomach, the aching unbearable as I turn to see the empty room again. That bloody handprint glows like a vicious, demonic smile.

Giulia is missing . The pain in that short sentence makes me double over again.

Gasping for breath and with fresh tears streaming down my face, I race down the stairs. I shove my feet into the nearest pair of boots, yanking them on. I only have one thought.

Find her. I have to find her.

Nouis.

Nouis has helped us so much before, he can do it again now. I need him. I scramble to my feet, sprinting out the door as fast as I can. My breath echoes in my ears, my pulse turning to thunder and stars. I barely see anyone else, the water on my face and the burning in my lungs separated by a thousand degrees of numbness.

I move as fast as my sputtering lungs will allow, tearing off into the city towards Market Square, where I know Nouis will be. He’ll be occupied with Bellandi but I can pull him away. I have to.

The sky is sliding from mango to violet, streaked with vicious white gashes. People gape as I tear past, caring not for anything except moving faster over the creamy white streets.

The memory of that handprint taunts me, pushes me on when my feet feel as though they might drop off my legs.

Nouis . I need to find him. I have to find him.

I charge towards Market Square, pushing through the throng of bodies as I look up at that hideous square building. I stop, panting for breath as I begin to carve my way up the stairs towards the main door. Four men from the City Guard sweep forwards, locking their swords to bar my way.

“Let me through! Let me in, it’s an emergency,” I sob.

“No one in. Orders of the cardinal.”

Screw the cardinal. He did this. He knows what happened to her. I know it—who else would do it?

I scream with frustration as I turn back to the throng of people in the square. I scan for someone, anyone, an opportunity.

I march off through the crowd, circling the building for any other way in. I bite my lip, breath still bursting through my lips. I scan the crowd again and then I see it, two men approaching the back door with a huge crate of something. Then they disappear straight inside.

An idea forms in my mind. My eyes catch on a large crate brimming with shiny, red apples by one of the vendor’s stalls. An idea ticks over my mind.

Now or never.

I approach the vendor, pulling out my purse.

“Hello, signora, how can I help?” he asks readily.

“I’d like to buy this crate of apples.”

“The whole crate?”

“Yes. How much?”

“Well, that’s a lot of apples there. How about … thirty-four Hali-Pounds?”

“No more than twenty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Done,” I say, fishing through my purse to free the money, “but I’ll need your help to move them.”

“Signora, I have a business to run. I can’t just?—”

“It’s only for the Watchtower,” I point over there. “I just need some help getting them all inside.”

“Oh, in which case. Paolo! Paolo!” He turns around, looking for someone. A young man with floppy brown hair appears by his side, rubbing his long nose.

“Yes, Father?”

“Help the signora carry the apples into the church building, will ya?”

“Of course, Father,” says Paolo, hurrying to grab the crate.

“Thank you,” I say, grabbing one side of the box. The two of us lift together, the weight uncomfortable on my arms. We start waddling awkwardly through the crowd towards the back of the building.

Paolo narrows his eyes at me over the bundle of fruit, then a look of realisation dawns across his face. “Wait, you’re?—”

“Play along and you’ll get twenty Hali-Pounds for your silence,” I hiss at him. His grey eyes go wide but he nods, mouth snapping shut. My heart hammers. My pulse rushes around my fingers and toes. My breath is shallow and sharp. Together we toddle for the back door where two Church Militia are standing guard.

“Stop! Who are you?”

“Just making a delivery,” Paolo says brightly before I even have the chance. “Apples for the kitchen.”

“Apples? Let me see.”

The guards come closer, and I drop my head, hoping my ratty hair will cover most of my face. Light bounces off their polished weapons like a razor flare. They start pulling apples off the crate, inspecting the inside to see if there is anything hidden.

“Fine. But don’t linger,” scowls the soldier.

“Absolutely,” says Paolo, leading the way forwards. The relief of the building’s shade is instantaneous. My hair clings to my sweat-gripped face. My clothes are damp with perspiration.

Okay, I’m in. Now what?

“Go,” whispers Paolo. “Do what you need. I’ll wait.”

“Wait? How?”

“I’ll strike up a conversation in the kitchen,” Paolo explains. “Try to sell them on the business. That’ll give you a good twenty minutes. Then we can leave together, no one the wiser.”

“How— Why—” I stumble for words, taken aback by his generosity.

“You’re a Maineri,” he chuckles. “There’s a reason you don’t want to be seen.”

My throat closes as I try to come up with a good answer.

“Whatever you’re doing, I trust it. You’re an Electi after all,” Paolo whispers. “Now go, before people spot you.”

“You’re a good man, Paolo,” I whisper, shuffling my end of the crate to him so he holds all the weight. I stretch my fingers, flexing out the stress of the load.

“A Maineri loan saved our family business.” Paolo shrugs. “I’ve got your back.”

I smile at him, heart bursting with pride. This is it. This is the spirit of Halice that I love. “You ever want another, let me know. Directly.”

“I’ll remember that,” he snorts as I dart down the narrow hallway and up the servants’ stairs. My boots set off a flurry of whispered creaks with each chipped step. At the top, I look around, trying to work out where I’ve appeared.

I keep my steps as silent as possible as I move down the empty corridor towards the cardinal’s office. My heart crashes in my ears. My breath seems louder all of a sudden, louder than thunder.

I pause, my hand about to reach up and knock on the dark wood.

“I’m telling you I didn’t do it,” Bellandi says with derision. “I didn’t take the girl.” I pause before the door, leaning closer to listen against the tall, dark wood.

“Then who did? Because I get home and she’s gone. Gone!” Nouis roars. A massive bang makes me jump away from the door for a second before leaning closer again.

“Why don’t you look a little closer to home?” hisses Bellandi. “After all, the sister was attacked by an assassin while unconscious. Maybe Renza moved her to protect her.”

“No, Renza would’ve told me. She trusts me.”

“So you think the assassin did the trick? You got to play white knight for the lady and have now secured her undying loyalty and confidence for all eternity?” Disgust crawls around Bellandi’s words. “Be smarter, Nouis. And really, did you have to kill him? He was so useful.”

“And leave him alive to spill our secrets?” Nouis scoffs in derision. “I’m the one with the plan, Bellandi. You do as I say, remember?”

Ice rips through my entire body. Stinging radiates across my eyes. My breath catches in my throat. I tremble in place.

Nouis.

Idris was right. Nouis is playing me. All this time… This is just some sick game. Through every touch, every kiss, every stolen laugh. He’s been part of the planning this whole time. He’s robbed us. He’s slaughtered our Electi.

He killed Father and probably Giulia too.

Wait, no, he doesn’t know where she is. He didn’t do this; he didn’t take Giulia. That’s why they’re fighting.

If he didn’t take Giulia, and I didn’t take her either…

Fate’s Fury, who has my sister?

My stomach turns. I might be sick on this very floor.

I grit my teeth, ice replaced with fresh, blistering fire in my every fibre. My nails bite into my fists as I try to keep the screams inside. I feel dirty, like I need to peel off my skin and shred it.

That monster. That sick, disgusting monster. I’ve known him my whole life. We’ve been friends since we were small children. He’s been part of the family for decades. And yet, he did this to us? He wrought this devastation on my city, my home, my family?

I’m such a fool. I’m so stupid for falling for his lies.

I take a deep breath, fighting to steady my frayed nerves. They’re talking, planning their next steps. I need to know what they are.

Determined, I wipe the tears from my eyes. Steel tightens in my core as I force my breathing to slow.

Nouis scoffs. A creaking sound makes me think he’s sitting in one of the chairs, “There’s a reason the Holy Mother sent me here to babysit you.”

His voice is so harsh and sharp. Gone are the gentle tones and warm lilts. Every word has an angle meant to slice at his opponent.

“You’re here to help me,” Bellandi snaps. “Not run things.”

“No,” Nouis smirks, “I’m here to make sure you don’t ruin things. Again.”

Bellandi slams his hand down on the table. “Watch your tone.”

“Watch yours!” Nouis snaps back. “Because only one of us has lost control of an entire city. Only one of us has let the Holy Mother down. And it’s not me.”

The silence between them is thick and crackling. At any moment Bellandi could launch across the desk and try to batter Nouis’s head in on the worn wood.

Instead Bellandi sighs as he searches for words. “We need to be rid of Patricelli and Maineri—sooner rather than later.”

My heart goes cold. My mouth runs dry.

I shouldn’t be surprised; they slaughtered an entire church filled with people after all. But hearing him actually say it, so cold and calculated—a man I’ve known all my life—my stomach flips.

“What if we make it look like they lost control?” Bellandi continues. “Bludgeoned each other to death? Soulhatred and grief mixed together.”

“No. We just get rid of Patricelli. Accident or illness or robbery gone wrong. I’ll go tonight, after sundown. Make it look convincing,” Nouis says so matter-of-factly. My brow pulls together, nausea sweeping over my tongue.

If Nouis doesn’t plan to kill me … then what are his plans for me?

“What?” the shock in Bellandi’s voice is more obvious than the sun in the sky. “Leave Maineri alive? Are you mad ?”

“I can control her.” Nouis is so certain.

Now I’m definitely going to be sick.

“Now, perhaps,” retorts Bellandi. “She’s crippled by grief but soon she’ll throw off that shadow and the warrior will return—with a vengeance. We need her gone.”

“I can control her,” Nouis hisses again.

“She’s Renza Di Maineri,” Bellandi argues. “If you truly think that, you’re an idiot.”

“Watch yourself, Bellandi!” Nouis barks, poison thick on his words. “Renza Di Maineri is my job—touch her and I will kill you for the mere principle of daring to undermine me.”

Bellandi goes quiet for a minute. “You fool. You’ve fallen for the girl and now you underestimate her,” whispers Bellandi.

“Why should I listen to a washed up, failing cardinal?” answers Nouis, lethal anger rippling through his words.

Why? Why would Nouis keep me alive?

As a sick game? As a trophy of his slaughter?

“Either way, we’re all paid up now. Whether Maineri is dead or alive, the mercenary army will be here soon,” says Bellandi.

Army? What army? That’s who they were paying?

“Agreed,” Nouis grinds out reluctantly. “When the Askerler Company arrives, we need to be ready. Do you have somewhere prepared to safely sit out the invasion?”

The Askerler Company? Soldiers? My head goes light as my entire body goes numb. The war of icy horror and fiery rage running through me might make me pass out or vomit, or both.

“I do. I take it you do as well?”

“Yes.”

“And Maineri?”

“She’ll be with me,” Nouis says. I fight the bile flooding the back of my throat and the way my skin crawls in disgust.

Bellandi scoffs, shaking his head. “There is no way that woman will sit out an assault on this city.”

“She won’t have a choice. I have everything in hand.”

I jolt back from the door in shock. The stolen money was to pay an army. To sack this city. Shaking, I back away. Every bone under my skin judders; my pulse gallops as my eyes water.

I need to find Idris.

He might be a liar. He might have secrets. But he doesn’t deserve to die at the hands of a monster like Nouis Rizaro.

Nouis said he’d kill Idris after sundown, so I don’t have long. Where would he be? I have no idea how he spends his days. Nouis will know. Nouis will be using the Militia to keep track of him. They’re all over this city now.

Well, one thing is certain: Idris isn’t here.

I tiptoe away from the cardinal’s door, making it to the servants’ steps. I hurry back down to the kitchen where Paolo is chatting up a pretty kitchen maid. I wave at him frantically to catch his eyes. He doesn’t waste a second, winking at the kitchen maid before walking to my side.

I want to run. To sprint as fast as I can till my lungs explode. But I can’t. That’ll get me caught, so I force my legs to move slowly. I force myself to stop shaking as we walk out the servants’ door. We’re not troubled by the Church soldiers on our exit.

“Signora, you look pale. Are you okay?” Paolo queries once we’re a few steps away, keeping his voice low.

“Do you know where I could find Idris Patricelli?” I ask, gripping his arm.

Paolo frowns. “Uh, he has business offices down by the docks?” he suggests. “Even if he isn’t there, the dockworkers might know where to find him.”

“Brilliant. Thank you. Thank you for everything.” I yank open my coin purse and pull out a fistful of coins. I shove them into his hand, head snapping around towards the docks. I don’t waste another second, jostling through the crowd. Their bodies are like a wall of heat as I push my way past by any means.

My heart slams in my ears. My breath races through my lips.

The sun sinks by the second from the sky. The world twists to stretching shadows and columns of amber. I break through the throng of bodies, sprinting down the creamy cobbled street. My hood falls down, my hair flapping against my back as sweat forms a ring around my hairline.

I fly over the cobbled road. Blood rushes to my face, the air somehow thin. Stabbing fills my side, but I don’t have time for a stitch now. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Don’t worry.

Move.

Salt fills my nose. I stagger out into wide, open docks. Rows and rows of large commercial ships sit on bleached wooden platforms. Creaking gently, they teeter from side to side, their watery bed rippling shades of peach in the dying sunset. I spin around, searching for a sign of where to go. I grip my head, pulse crashing in my head like war drums.

I sprint to the closest dockworker, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Patricelli offices. Where?” I pant, gripping my stomach as though I could fight back the agonising stitch building in my ribs.

The man frowns. “Ain’t you his Soulhate?”

“Yes. Not going to kill him. Where’s the office?”

“Well, over there but?—”

“Thank you!” I sprint off towards the building. My legs protest. My lungs scream with the effort as I push through the main doors and into the office space below.

Everyone turns their head in shock to see me.

“Idris? Where?” I gasp, gripping the door frame for support.

“Not here, signora. He’s visiting one of our warehouses,” answers one of the clerks quietly.

Fate’s Fury, of course he is. “Which one?” I groan.

“Number eleven.”

“Where?”

“Is everything alright, signora? You don’t look well.”

“Where?” I repeat insistently. The clerk points to the wall behind me. I spin around and see a map of the docks, all labelled out perfectly. Panting I stare up at the large drawing, sweat clamping stray hairs to my face and my tunic to my damp skin.

“Eleven,” I breathe.

Of course, it’s on the other side of the docks.

Seriously, Idris?

Seriously?

Clenching my fists, I propel myself through the office doors and sprint down the long length of the docks. I weave in and out of the straggling dockers on their way home, jumping a stray rope pile on my journey. My lungs scream. My legs ache. Sweat coats every inch of my skin.

Fading sunshine blazes into my eyes, sending dancing stars around my vision. The water giggles softly. The boats creak and their flags flop limply around the mast overhead.

The sun slips further and further down the horizon.

Every muscle in my body is screaming by the time I get to the other side of the docks. Spinning on my feet, I desperately search through the big red-painted numbers on the side of the old wooden buildings.

Eleven. Eleven. Eleven.

Got it!

I burst through the door, searching through the dark piles of goods. My heart hammers, my tongue dry as sandpaper as I haul heavy air into my lungs.

He’s not here.

No hot loathing. No revulsion at our proximity. No goosebumps or nausea or a desire to set the world on fire.

There’s no one here. Dropping my hands to my knees, I desperately try to think. Nouis’s betrayal hits me like an avalanche. Giulia’s kidnapping and Father’s death. All his fault. Alone in the dark, frustration, desperation, and anger all boil out of me.

“Idris!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Idris, where are you?”

My voice echoes around the large, empty building. I hiccup a few deep breaths, trying to pull myself back together. With tears in my eyes, I dig my fingers into the ground. Desperately trying to catch my breath, I search every corner of my mind for something resembling a plan. Where else might he be?

My stomach convulses. Goosebumps run down my arm. My mouth gets slick with a sour sensation.

Yet the relief is so potent, I could sing.