Page 62 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

Bastian left the bedroom quietly so as not to wake Whitby, going to the kitchen.

De Luca was pacing by the balcony doors, his back to Bastian. He had a phone to his ear and he spoke in a hushed tone. Bastian couldn’t understand what he was saying. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the doors. What time was it anyway? The clock on the wall said three. He felt disoriented from the nap but had slept only a couple of hours.

De Luca hung up the phone and turned, jumping when he saw Bastian.

“Cazzo!Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry, dear.”

De Luca pocketed the phone with a shaking hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Fabulous,” Bastian said, though that wasn’t entirely true. He could easily sleep for another couple of hours.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, his gaze flicking to De Luca’s pocket. The phone conversation had sounded urgent.

“Fine. Just the commissario checking up on me.”

Something about his tone caused Bastian to still. Was De Luca lying?

“Would you like a croissant?” Bastian asked, changing the subject. “I bought them yesterday when we arrived.”

“Sì, grazie.”

“I should be thanking you,” Bastian said as he removed two pastries from a paper bag and placed them on a plate, which he set next to De Luca. “For saving me. If you hadn’t intervened, I’d be a pile of ash right about now.”

“Matteo has always been a problem, though I didn’t think he had it in him to lead a mob like that.” De Luca massaged the back of his neck. “I made a call while you were asleep to check his alibi.”

Bastian looked at him expectantly. “And?”

De Luca sighed. “It checked out. According to the owner of the bar, Matteo was there during the hours Luna was killed.”

“Is there any chance they’re covering for him? Maybe Matteo bought the guy off?”

“I’ve known the owner my whole life. I don’t believe he would lie.”

Bastian groaned. “Damn. I suppose that would explain why Matteo is so certain I’m the killer. If he really is innocent, I must look pretty guilty to him.”

He went to the fridge and took out his Bonnie Tyler flask. He sucked blood through the straw, which made him feel a little stronger. A full belly always put him in a good mood.

“He’s no fan of vampires,” De Luca said. “That much is clear.”

“Got to love a bigot. If only he’d calm down for two seconds, he might learn something.”

De Luca picked at a croissant but didn’t eat. “This town has been vampire-free for so long, people feel a certain way about them. They hear stories and they worry terrible things will happen to the people they love.”

“Is that how you felt?” Bastian asked.

De Luca didn’t look at him. “I suppose I had all the old ideas that everybody does. Vernazza has a history with vampires.”

Bastian frowned. “It does?”

“There was an infestation around the millennium. A lot of people were killed, found with puncture wounds in their necks, but it was before vampires went mainstream, and so nobody outside of the town believed vampires were to blame. Nobody helped.”

Bastian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He’d had no idea. Thenagain, he wasn’t exactly paying attention to the news twenty years ago. He was busy stalking and killing, held captive by his rage. Even if news of vampire activity in Vernazza had made headlines, he wouldn’t have known it.

“Zappa said that Vernazza has been vampire-free for almost twenty years,” Bastian said, recalling what the commissario had revealed during their interrogation. “What happened?”

A mixture of pride and sadness strained De Luca’s voice as he said, “My father banded together with his colleagues—Zappa and a couple of others—plus some locals. Together, they tracked and exiled a dozen vampires, made sure they didn’t return. They freed Vernazza from vampires.”