Page 36 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

Bastian almost reached for Salvador’s throat. His head pounded with suppressed anger. It was painful trying to contain it sometimes, especially when he was provoked. But as he looked down at the so-called fortune-teller, seeing the conniving gleam in the man’s eyes, he realized that all of this was nothing more than an opportunity for Salvador to make a little money.

“Oh yes,” Bastian said, freeing himself from the clutches of anger. “Very clever, claiming you knew Luna was going to die when she’s not alive to contradict you. Let me think. You accosted her outside the café, that much we know to be true, but you didn’t warn her, did you? You were simply doing what you do: attempting to frighten somebody into handing over their hard-earned cash. And now that she’s dead, you can say whatever you like. Play the hero. Very clever indeed.”

Salvador said nothing.

“You don’t know anything,” Bastian scoffed. “If you did, you would have more to barter with.”

He bent down to give the man a warning glare. “Stay away from the inspector. And stay away from me, too. You really don’t want to see me on a bad day.”

He turned and headed for the street, satisfied that he’d struck one suspect off the list. But Salvador’s voice rang behind him, piercing in its conviction.

“The cat,” he said. “Her blood runs in your veins, doesn’t it?”

Bastian felt like he’d been staked in the back. Or what he imagined being staked felt like. He turned to stare at Salvador, unease and anger squirming through him. But there was no way the man knew anything about Whitby. Salvador was a charlatan. A liar. You just had to look at him to know that the only person he cared about was himself.

Bastian cared about Whitby. He wouldn’t let her get dragged into Salvador’s game.

He gritted his teeth.

“I won’t warn you again,” he said, and he left the alley.

He paced into the street, attempting to calm down. There was no sign of Whitby or De Luca. They must be searching for him in one of the other streets, and either they had stopped calling his name or they were so far away that he couldn’t hear them any longer.

On the far side of the road, beyond a low wall, the sea sparkled and shimmered. Bastian hadn’t realized how high up he was. From where he stood, he could see the harbor down below. He listened to the sea, focusing on the crashing of the waves and attempting to find his center. His calm.

The bright light stung his eyes, though. He had been out in the daylight for hours now—far longer than usual. It was starting to make his skin prickle and hum.

He put on his shades, which helped. He was about to apply a fresh layer of sun cream—he’d brought it with him, kept safely in his trouser pocket—when a new male voice yelled, “THERE HE IS!”

Bastian cast a wary glance down the street and saw half adozen men jostling together, staring at him. They were young, scowling, every one of them glaring at him with hatred. At their front stood a pale man with black hair who Bastian immediately recognized.

It was Matteo, the rude waiter from the cat café.

The one who had dated Luna before she dumped him. The commissario’s son.

Suspect number two.

Matteo had removed the cat-ear headband, his black hair tied up.

“Hey, vampire!” he shouted. “Come here a sec. We want to talk to you.”

The other men snickered, and Bastian saw Matteo’s right hand was pressed to his thigh, an object clasped tight in his grip.

A stake.

They all had stakes, Bastian realized. Not the manufactured kind you could buy in certain outlets, but homemade. Whittled chair legs, spoons, and chopsticks. Anything wooden that could be sharpened to a point.

Great, the vigilantes have arrived.

“What a coincidence,” Bastian said to Matteo, “we’ve been looking for you.”

That seemed to throw him. Matteo’s grip tightened around the stake.

“He wants to bite you!” one of his friends said.

“I have better taste than that,” Bastian said. “No, Matteo, I’m more concerned about your relationship with Luna. It ended badly, I hear. Some boys can’t handle that.”

Matteo looked stunned.