Belladonna

Epilogue

Piero turned the crank, and the metal cylinder began to whirl. Silver flashed. Glass tubes clinked together inside the mysterious apparatus. He cranked again. And again. A few more turns and the machine slowed to a stop. Piero removed a single tube. He held it up to the fire, nodding in satisfaction at the layers of fluid: a clot of darkness in the bottom, then red, then a skim of yellow, then clear on the top. All four humors, separate and pure. All four humors extracted solely from blood.

Consulting his notes, he carefully measured out the different humors with a pipette. Drops of red, yellow, black, and clear fell into a tiny crucible. Everything had to be done in just the right ratio and order, or the reaction wouldn’t work. With a pair of long iron tongs, he held the crucible just above the fire. The mixture needed to be hot, but not singed. If the flames surged too high, he’d have to start over.

He heard the fluid begin to sizzle. He pulled the crucible back from the fire. With a tiny wand, he stirred the solution five times clockwise, five times counterclockwise. The liquid bubbled and then turned clear. Not pinkish. Not yellowish. As transparent and colorless as water. It was the fifth humor, another remarkably pure sample. Piero stared in wonder for a moment and then added exactly one dram of spider venom. The venom kept the fifth humor from separating when it cooled, but Piero thought it was also responsible for the potency of the newer batches of elixir. Back when they had used wine instead, the resulting compounds had only slightly increased the longevity of the roses that served as Piero’s first line of testing subjects. His current test plant had been in full bloom for weeks, and there was not even a hint of wilting on any of the petals.

If the elixir worked as it should, they wouldn’t have to take it daily as they had been. Perhaps every other day, and then later once a week. It would build up in their bodies and keep them from getting ill. It would keep them from aging.

Finally.

Piero didn’t yet know why some blood resulted in a batch of fifth humor that was cloudy or imperfect, but what he did know was that this subject’s blood resulted in the purest humor he’d ever seen. And the strongest elixir. He had been testing it not just on the roses and spiders, but also on himself. He had never felt as alive as he did in that moment.

He scribbled a few notations on a loose piece of parchment and then waved it dry. When he had finished with this subject’s blood, Belladonna would insist on personally locking up his notes. Someone had stolen the Book of the Eternal Rose right out of her chambers, and she was livid about it.

He found her in the garden, composing a letter on her finest vellum. “What are you writing?” he asked.

Belladonna looked up. “Did you get a chance to meet Cristian de Lambert?” she asked. “He used to work for Joseph Dubois in Venice, but Dubois sent him away, so he came here, hoping to work for me. I sent him back to Venice to spy on Joseph and spread fear about the threat of vampirism.” Her tight lips turned slightly upward. It was the closest thing Piero had seen to a smile since the book had gone missing. “If Angelo de Gradi is right and mass amounts of the proper blood can only be found there, that could be very useful to us.”

“I believe you’ll find these notes useful as well.” He set a few sheets of parchment on the table next to her half-composed letter. “I know you are upset about the book, but truly, we didn’t lose anything crucial to our goals.”

Bella’s posture tensed, and for a second Piero thought she was going to pounce on him. “That book was my father’s, and my grandfather’s before him. I will get it back or I will die trying, do you understand?”

“Completely.” Piero bowed low. He had learned it was best to appease his patroness when she was in one of her moods.

“And when I find whoever took it, I will kill that person very slowly.” She watched his reaction.

Piero knew she suspected both him and the butler, Dionisio Mafei, of the theft. As members of her inner circle, they were two of the only people who knew where she kept the book. Piero hadn’t stolen it, though. Why would he? He enjoyed his current arrangement too much, and as the one actually making the elixir, he knew there was no way Belladonna could deny him his share.

She seemed to notice the vial clasped in Piero’s hand for the first time. “Another test batch of your favorite elixir?” Her catlike eyes tunneled straight into him.

“It is.” Piero gestured at a rosebush near the center of the garden. “I’ve been feeding this plant for two weeks.”

Belladonna’s lips curled into another half smile as she studied the roses in question. Her whole garden was stunning, but this particular bush was laden with the largest, most vibrant blossoms she had ever seen.

“I cannot wait to begin taking this elixir,” she said. “I do hope, whoever your donor is, that she hasn’t been executed as a vampire.” Belladonna laughed a cold, bitter laugh.

Piero thought of the shelf in his room, of the row of glass tubes stamped with the lily insignia. “Do not worry, Bella,” he said, smiling. “I know exactly where to find her.”