CHAPTER 10

A knight near me overheard. “He has the plague?”

“Plague?” cried another.

The first knight backed up, and others moved back with him. There were certainly no more deadly words than those in this day and age.

It was far worse than war.

I looked to Lia and whispered, “I thought we had some years, yet.”

“It probably didn’t all happen at once,” she whispered back. “Maybe an early strain that died out?”

Waves of it. Right. Like colds and flu at school—you just got over one bug, and another came around.

“Nay, nay,” said Signora Giannini, bringing a fist to her mouth and taking her husband’s arm. “He has no such thing. No such thing,” she repeated angrily, as if it would make it true. Like No. Such. Thing.

The children sensed the mood shift, and one begged to be taken up into his father’s arms. Automatically, the man bent and lifted her.

“You must not touch them!” I shouted, figuring out I had to see this through, as much as I hated to. How much had we all been exposed, already? I shoved away the memory of him kissing my hand. “Forgive me,” I said sorrowfully, trying to quit shouting and adding to the chaos. “I loathe this more than you can imagine. I know how you’ve longed to be reunited, but Signore Giannini,” I said appealing to him, “your illness, if it is not plague, will still need to be treated as such. Consider your family. You do not want to endanger them, do you?”

He paused and then shook his head as if it pained him.

“Nay!” his wife cried, looking like she wanted to claw my eyes out for suggesting it. “I shall not leave him!”

I wished I knew more about the plague…was there any sort of treatment other than treating the symptoms? Anything in our medical kit that might help? Were we all exposed already? Or only those of us who’d neared the man? If only Mom had come along…But then she’d have been exposed too. Thank You, God, I said to Him, in my head. Keep her safe. Please, please keep her safe.

I looked to Lia, and she understood my unspoken question. “I read once,” she said, “that it is best to quarantine. And burn all the clothes. It takes seven to ten days to find out if those exposed will…exhibit the symptoms.”

I glanced at Marcello.

We were in a world of hurt.

Trapped outside the castello.

Needing to be quarantined ourselves.

A target for enemies.

And unable to attend the wedding festivities of Fortino and Romana.

Lots and lots of people were going to be seriously cranky.

Three knights had mounted up. “M’lord, we must retreat, back to the castello,” said one.

“Marcello,” I hissed, “they must remain.”

He turned to them and barked, “Dismount! At once!”

Reluctantly, they returned to the ground, holding their reins in their hands.

Marcello turned to face me and Lia and Luca. “What is our best course?”

All three of them looked at me. “I know only a little. Lia’s the one that’s read something on this—”

“A novel, Gabi. Fiction. I know not how to treat the plague.”

“If it is plague. We’re guessing.” I looked at Marcello. “Have you heard reports of it, out of Firenze?”

He shook his head. “But few cities would be apt to herald such news. All commerce stops for a city battling such illness.”

“So instead they simply export the pestilence,” I said bitterly. “The men of Firenze must have laughed under their breath when they sent sick Sienese soldiers home.”

“Might not the knights that arrived with me and Lia return to the castello?” Luca asked, glancing back. “They were a good distance apart from us.”

I shook my head. “Others have mingled with them.” I splayed out my hands, then checked out a fleck of black on my pinkie. Only dirt. “We’ve intermingled. That is the difficulty of this disease. It’s so rapidly passed along…we have to be certain.”

“But if they remain with us, they risk exposure again,” Marcello said.

“We can try—keep them separated. Tell them, quickly.”

Luca turned and shouted to the men, “Those who arrived with me, separate yourselves. Go down to that oak at the bottom of the field until we give you further direction.” He lifted a warning finger. “No one, no one is to depart without my leave.”

He looked fierce, like he’d hunt down and kill anyone who tried to escape. There was none of the customary happy glimmer in his eye.

“We need seven days, mayhap more,” I said to Marcello. “There are twenty-eight of us. Where can we go? Someplace where few others travel. We’ll need shelter, food, access to some supplies.”

Luca eyed Marcello. “We could go to the old Orci villa.”

Marcello shook his head. “We cannot defend her.”

Luca cocked a brow. “It’s as defensible as we’ll find. Off the main roads. And only ten or so servants to displace.”

Marcello studied him a moment and then looked to me. “He may be right. It’s an old walled villa on a hill. It once belonged to my mother’s parents and has been somewhat maintained by my father. But it takes us closer to the border. And it’s hardly the castello. We would not be able to repel an outright attack.”

“If we all become ill, it will hardly matter,” Luca said.

“Might we wait until dusk and make our way under cover of darkness?” I said, shoving down the thought of us all stricken with plague, with no one to care for us. It was enough to send the hypochondriac in me into full-on panic. I was already fighting the urge to go running to the tiny Giannini cottage and dip my hands into a cauldron of scalding water. “If we reach the Orci villa with no one seeing us, we can swear the ten servants we displace to silence.”

“Or we may have to insist they remain,” Marcello said grimly.

I frowned. If we were to become ill, we would be condemning ten more to a similar fate. “Our secret will not remain one for long. We cannot miss the nuptials in Siena without everyone in Toscana asking where we are. It will have to be known that we were exposed and have separated ourselves to keep the disease from spreading.”

“And anyone with any knowledge of your family will soon figure out where we’ve gone,” Luca said.

Marcello heaved a sigh and paced back and forth a moment, thinking. “It will take them a few days. We will ask Lord Rossi to not make it public until the day of the festivities. That’s yet five days away. Then we only have five more days to wait it out, see if any of us becomes ill, right?”

I stared back at him. “It’s worse than that. If any of us becomes ill, then we all must be considered exposed again. We essentially have to remain apart until all illness has been stamped out for ten days.”

“Or we’re all dead,” he said, voice low.

I nodded, grimly. “Or we’re all dead,” I repeated. I couldn’t believe such words were coming out of my mouth like it was no big deal. It seemed impossible.

“Gabriella. You, Evangelia could…return,” Marcello said carefully, staring into my eyes. “In Normandy, they have a cure for this illness?”

A cure for the bubonic plague? I didn’t really remember, though I had done a school report on ground squirrels and skunks that occasionally showed up with it. But few humans seemed to get it in the Western hemisphere. Was it like HIV, passed by blood?

“Do you remember, Lia? Is it passed by blood? Saliva? Touch?”

She looked up to the sky, trying to remember, and my heart skipped a beat. Her blue eyes matched the skies. What if those eyes became still, in death? I could not tolerate losing her. After a moment, she shook her head. “I cannot remember. Was it not fleas or ticks or the like?”

That jarred a memory, and I nodded. “Mayhap. We need Signore Giannini and everyone he’s touched to be bathed in hot water, their clothing burned.” I looked to Marcello. “Send Pietro to the castello to fetch us all several changes of clothes—clothes we won’t mind seeing burned. And he must remain a hundred paces from the castello.”

“He can tell them what has transpired,” Marcello returned. “But Gabriella, you did not respond. You and Evangelia—”

“We shall remain,” Lia said, surprising all three of us. She glanced at Luca, blushed, and then hurriedly to me. “Gabi will be impossible at home. She’ll only fret on and on about your health,” she said, nodding in Marcello’s direction.

But was she covering? Using me as an excuse when perhaps she’d be worrying over Luca? I thought so. By the tiny grin on Luca’s lips, I believed he did too.

The messenger—and two others to help him transport the clothing—departed, and we all moved up the hill to the Gianninis’ tiny house. Signore Giannini was settled onto a mat and given a blanket under the trees, a hundred paces away, to keep us all from further exposure. In the house, we placed several pots of water over the crackling fire, and began the process of bathing ourselves and burning our clothes. Too tall and broad-shouldered to fit in one of Mrs. Giannini’s dresses, I was one of the last to bathe behind the screen, after the messenger had returned.

I put on a simple day dress, feeling a pang at the loss of the lovely green gown that was about to go up in flames, and Lia helped comb out my hair. Neither of us were much good with the pins, so after a few tries, we bailed and just left it down. When we came outside, Luca rose, mouth half open, eyes solely on Lia, then rapidly knelt at her feet and took her hand. “M’lady, you look like a bride on her wedding day. Since we might not live through a fortnight, shall we marry this very eve?”

She laughed at him and tried to pull her hand from his, shaking her head. She was blushing though, not angry. “Luca. Must you always be the court jester?”

He cocked one brow and rose. “Ahh, but I do not jest.” He still held on to her hand and stared down at her, as if they were the only two in the clearing. Some of the knights caught sight and laughed, welcoming the break from the gloom and doom that had settled over us.

Eyes bright, she pulled away and looked to me, the pretty tinge of pink still at her cheeks. “Get me outta here.”

“You’ve got it,” I said, and walked toward Marcello. For a few minutes, I was able to forget that we were on the brink of death, and it felt good. But the look on his face brought it all back. He strode over to me.

“Gabriella,” he said, leading me a few steps away. “I will say it again. I wish to send you and your sister home, away from harm.”

I reached up and touched his face, feeling the appealingly masculine stubble there. “Marcello, I am not going anywhere without you. We will face this together.”

His lips clamped shut as if he was upset, but he held my hand as he turned to address the two groups, each a hundred feet from the other. “Come dusk, we shall ride to Villa Orci, leaving the road just past Castello Pisi and moving through the trees. With the Ladies Betarrini in our company, our goal is to remain unseen. To be less obvious, we will travel in groups of fourteen. As I’m certain you all know, outside the protection of the castello, we will become a prime target for every one of Firenze’s sons.”

“What of the peace treaty?” Luca asked.

“It is due to run out the day after my brother’s nuptials; it is a nod to Lord Rossi, nothing more. And no loyal Fiorentini would skip such an opportunity as this,” he said, eyeing me and my sister. I shivered.

“By morning, Sienese forces shall assuredly move to our side to help protect our flanks.”

Right then, morning seemed a long, long time away.

“Our intention is to remain ten days,” he continued. “By God’s grace, no one else will take ill in those days and we’ll be free to return home.” His eyes slid to Signore Giannini, standing on his own, up the hill. “Signora Giannini refuses to come with us, not without Signore Giannini along.”

“But—” I began.

He raised up a hand to shush me. “There is no dissuading her, Gabriella,” he said softly. “She feels God has answered her prayers, that he is here at all…She feels it is her place to remain with him, either to a place of health or death.”

I shook my head. “She’s condemning herself,” I sputtered, “her children.”

“Speak not of what you do not know for certain. We shall pray that God will have mercy on all of them.” He turned back to the others. “Luca’s knights will take the lead. Once at the villa, you shall evacuate those inside and send them to Castello Forelli, under strict orders to tell no one where we have gone. Word must not get out. The Gianninis have been sworn to silence. But it’s all a game, really. A slim chance that we can keep this secret for long. And once it’s out…battle is bound to be upon us, peace treaty or not.”

We moved between the trees, a hundred yards from the main road, but it was pretty hard to hide twenty-eight people on horseback, even if we were in two groups. The deep shadows of dusk were creepy, making me jump every time I heard a woodpecker at a tree or the wind washing through the leaves. Marcello was on guard too, his big brown eyes wide and sober as his gaze swept from one side of us to the other.

He heard it before any of us did. “Riders coming, hard,” he growled over his shoulder. The word was passed along, and we all pulled our horses to a stop.

It was another couple of seconds before I heard the hoofbeats. It sounded like twenty horses. Along the road. Would they simply pass by? Were we deep enough in the woods that we wouldn’t be seen?

I held my breath and tried to listen over my heartbeat thundering in my ears. We couldn’t see them. We could only hear them.

And then the sound divided, clearly coming from two directions, swooping in at our front and back. Marcello’s scout arrived then, hunched over in his saddle, an arrow through his shoulder.

“Move into formation!” Marcello cried out to Luca. “Get the women to our center! Weapons at the ready!”

We had seconds at most. There was no time to flee. Besides, where were we to go where we wouldn’t be exposed? I just knew one thing: There was no way I was going to hang out behind the guys. If someone was taking us on, I was all in.

“Quickly, Lia, up into the trees with you,” I said, pulling at her elbow. From up above, her arrows would be most helpful against our attackers. And the tree limbs would give her a bit of protection.…

I leaned down, my fingers laced together in a makeshift stirrup. She put one slippered foot into my hands and braced against my shoulders. I lifted her up until she could reach the first branch, then she scurried upward, shifting her bow and arrows so they’d be out of her way.

“Gabriella!” Marcello barked. “Return at once to my side!”

I would’ve given him some sort of smart-aleck response, but the horses sounded like they were directly behind me as I ran to the circle of knights. A shiver ran down my back.

“They’ll know who we are as soon as they see the Forelli gold on our horses,” I said to him, as his eyes shifted to the expanse of wood before us and back to me.

“They know who we are already,” he said grimly, nodding to the fallen scout in his golden tunic. “You must not be captured. Do you understand me? Fight. To the death if you must.”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. This was not the kind of thing Marcello usually said to me. I knew he’d be beside me every moment. But it was what he wasn’t saying that bothered me most—that if it was Firenze coming our way and they captured me and Lia, we’d wish we were dead.

“You help take down one castle,” I muttered to myself, “and suddenly you’re on a hit list. Can’t these dudes just move on with their lives?”

“Gabriella,” Luca called to me, frowning at me over his shoulder. “Where is your sister?”

I pointed with my chin, up into the trees, and the worry on his face gave way to glee. “Well, if that is not the most beautiful squirrel in the wood, I know not—”

His words died as our enemies arrived. I lifted my sword higher, at the ready.

“Gabriella, get back,” Marcello said.

“Nay, you have need of every sword—”

They pounded out of the woods then, streaming toward us from three different directions. By the sound of it, I was sure they did the same on the other side. The first of them swept by us, striking at the six knights in front. Four knights moved forward to protect their fallen brothers as the next wave came by. I glanced up and swallowed hard. Still, they were arriving. How many? Thirty? Fifty?

They clearly knew who we were. Had they been hunting for just this opportunity to pounce on us? How far away were the Sienese? A tall, broad-shouldered knight with black hair pulled up on his reins, and his agitated horse circled. He stared hard at Marcello before digging his heels into the flanks of his horse and charging toward me.

Lord Greco. What? I thought angrily. You trying to make a name for yourself, Big Boy? Attacking a group in search of refuge? Think that makes you a man? So much for your peace-seeking gig, huh?

But then I had another guy to contend with, coming at me from the left. He swung one of those horrific spiked metal balls above his head and grinned at me as he moved closer.

The ball made a whoop-whoop sound as it passed by once, twice, missing me by inches. Marcello raised his sword in the air at just the right moment and the chain caught, wrapped, curled around it, and then Marcello yanked the handle from the man’s hand. With a roar, the man rammed into him. One of Lia’s arrows sank into his back, but he kept moving forward as if he didn’t feel it. He only wanted Marcello.

I returned my attention to Greco. He was similar in stature to Lord Paratore. But he had the face of a politician, not a soldier. He would’ve found easy work in Hollywood in seven hundred years, but right now, he seemed entirely focused on me. Like he couldn’t see any of the twenty-some skirmishes around us.

I took a few steps back and looked to my right, where Marcello was rolling atop his adversary, punching him, and to my left, where Giovanni’s foe fell forward, two arrows in his back.

Lord Greco followed my gaze and then looked to the trees and spotted Lia, who was aiming her arrow at a man on horseback who was attempting to pick her off with the same weapon.

He smiled over his shoulder and then at me. “The She-Wolves of Siena. At last I get to see if the stories are truth or fable.”

He bowed as if we were back in the Rossis’ palazzo, and I took the opportunity to swing my sword around, not in any mood to observe polite niceties.

But he saw my movement and bent backward at the last moment, surprisingly agile for his tall stature. The sword whipped by an inch from his chest.

I grunted and turned, using the momentum of the sword rather than expending energy to stop it. When I brought it down and around, he stopped it with his own. His face was a foot from mine. “Come now. Might we not go about this conversation in a more civilized fashion?” He raised one dark eyebrow and gave me a crooked, flirty smile.

I didn’t bother to answer. I lifted my sword and struck again, but he easily parried every stroke. Still, I drove forward, again and again.

He caught my sixth strike above his head, his own sword crossing mine like a barrier again. “Cease this at once. Surrender, and I swear I will inflict no further harm upon you. Moreover, the peace treaty shall be preserved.”

I laughed under my breath, Marcello’s demand that I fight to the death ringing through my head. Nah. You won’t hurt me. But your people will.

“You broke the treaty when you attacked us, Lord Greco,” I said, panting, turning, and lunging again. “You intend to take me back to your city? For what purpose?”

He blocked my next strike, frustratingly good at anticipating the angle of my blows. “You might find that Firenze is to your liking.”

“Until your people draw and quarter me.”

“Nay. My people are not animals.” A small smile edged up to the corners of his lips. “Swear your allegiance to Firenze and turn your back on these Sienese, and you shall be treated like royalty. They are as new to you as we are, right? Three women from Normandy?” He looked beyond me, over the others. “Your mother is not with you?”

I ignored his question and pushed forward again, but he batted away my next two strikes as if he were shooing away a fly.

I was getting tired. And he sensed it. He immediately pressed his attack, driving me backward. An arrow came whizzing by his head and rammed into the ground, then another. But he was no fool. He moved to the left, and then right, herding me while avoiding Lia’s strikes. Using me as his shield.

Desperate, I jabbed my sword at him. He dodged it, then grabbed hold of it, wrenching it from my hands, ignoring the blood on his own. He tossed it aside, pulled out a handkerchief—tucked inside his breastplate—and calmly wrapped his bloody palm as he moved toward me. I glanced toward Marcello, but he was fighting two others. His eyes paused on Lord Greco and then flitted over to me under a concerned brow.

Lord Greco looked from me to Marcello. “’Tis a pity that it had to be you who captured Sir Marcello’s heart. I wish him no harm. But alas, a duty is a duty.”

I pulled my eight-inch dagger from my belt and held it in front of me.

“Come now, She-Wolf,” he said, like I was a silly five-year-old. “Do you wish me to take off your entire arm with my sword? Put that down.”

The blade felt light and nimble in my hands. But he was right; it was no match for his powerful sword.

He lunged forward, surprisingly fast, grabbed hold of my forearm and turned, sending me flying over his back and onto my own, in the dirt, disarmed. He immediately was on me, pinning my arms to the ground, barely allowing me to breathe with his weight on my belly. He grinned exultantly at me, then over at Marcello.

“Gabriella!” Marcello screamed. But he could not get past the two knights that held him at bay.

From what I could see, five Forelli knights lay dead on the ground. Only three of this man’s mercenaries were beside them. And I knew they came with far greater numbers.

Lord Greco lifted a fallen soldier’s shield and casually set it behind him to protect his head and upper torso from Lia’s arrows. “So…Lady Gabriella, I say it once again. Come with me, as my willing hostage. Mayhap, in time, we can work out an exchange with Sir Forelli.”

“Never,” I said, wanting to spit in his face, but judging from how things were going, I was fairly certain it would just lob up and fall back on me. I cast around for any reason to get us out of this predicament.

Plague.

I tried to laugh but found it hard with him sitting on my diaphragm.

“What amuses you?” he asked, his handsome eyes squinting.

“You are already dead.”

He raised a brow and glanced around. “On the contrary, it is Sir Forelli’s men who seem to be anxious to meet their Maker.”

“You will too, soon enough.”

He shook his head a little, as if I was merely wasting time. My fingers were going numb, the circulation cut off beneath his knees.

“Do you not wonder why we were out here? So close to Firenze’s border, with so few?” I asked, a note of triumph in my voice. “Did you not wonder why you suddenly had a chance to attack?”

He paused, waiting for it.

“Because we have plague among us, you fool. Plague.” P-L-A-G-U-E. My grin widened.

It took me a moment to understand that he was off of me. I could breathe again. I coughed and rolled to my side, then hurried to my feet, crouched, ready for another attack. But Lord Greco’s eyes were scanning our group.

“You dogs sent home a prisoner—in exchange for Lord Paratore—infected with plague. We went to assist his wife this day, in her vineyard, when he returned. Was he the only one?” I advanced upon him, shaking with fury, sensing my advantage, his fear. “Or did you send every ill man you could find home to our people? Is there no sense of decency about you? No shred of morality?”

He stared back at me, hard. And then I knew. They had sent back prisoners who were suffering from illness, of one sort or another. Of all the underhanded, horrible war tactics…

“Signore Giannini kissed my hand, embraced our men in greeting,” I spit out. “There is plague among us, and now, mayhap, among you, too.”

Finally he read my righteous anger as truth. “Cease your attack!” he cried, backing up. “Retreat! There is plague among them!”

I didn’t bother to tell him that it was too late, that they were probably already exposed. Run home and infect all your people. Go! I felt mean for a sec, but I was definitely in that eye-for-an-eye mode.

Marcello arrived beside me, panting, bleeding at his brow. But he seemed okay. He edged in front of me as Lord Greco mounted his horse and looked over to us. He wiped his upper lip of sweat, crossed himself as if to ward off evil spirits, gave Marcello a long look, and without another word, galloped away, his troops behind him.

“He seemed…reluctant to fight you and your men,” I said to Marcello. “Though it didn’t keep him from coming after me.”

“At one time, during more peaceful times, our fathers traded. They were with us every year.”

“So he knows your land well.”

Marcello nodded grimly. “I doubt they ever returned to Firenze, since their time in Siena. They simply were lying in wait for us, for the opportunity to try and kidnap you.”

“Will he know where we’re heading?”

“It will not be difficult to guess,” he said. “But we have little choice.” His eyes moved to the men, gathering together around the bodies of their fallen comrades. We’d managed to take down five of Greco’s men. But they’d left us with eleven dead. Only thirteen knights left. My heart pounded.

“Bury them,” Marcello said to the men. “We cannot take their bodies back to Castello Forelli anyway.” There was a note of defeat in his voice, the first I’d ever heard there. I knew he considered all of the men friends, brothers. I could only find some gladness in the fact that Luca, Pietro, and Giovanni, his closest friends, were not among the dead. But I, too, knew all of the dead by name.

I placed a hand on his arm, waited for his sad eyes to meet mine for a moment, and said, “I am sorry for your pain.”

“Far greater would my pain be had they captured you,” he said, touching my chin.

I returned his sad, somber smile and looked to Luca, who was helping Lia from the tree. I hurried over to her, and we embraced, with Luca awkwardly standing to the side, as if he wished he were in on our hug-fest.

“Your arrows flew straight and true,” he said, smiling down at her.

“If only my aim had been as straight and true,” she returned ruefully. “It was most difficult, with the branches.”

“And yet those branches kept you safe from our enemy’s strikes,” he said.

All three of us looked up. I swallowed hard when I saw the fifty or more arrows lodged in the trunk and branches all around Lia’s position. I hugged her again. “Oh, Lia.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, through teeth chattering from nerves. Her blue eyes met mine. “We should go, Gabi. Grab Mom and get out of here.”

She spoke in English, but Luca obviously understood. His face fell from concern to hurt. He turned and edged away. Lia glanced his way, and a tinge of sorrow crossed her face, but then she looked back to me. “We should go,” she repeated, pulling me a few paces away, where we could speak in privacy. “Before we’re all dead.”

“But you were the one who said we should stay,” I returned fiercely.

“Yeah, well, that was a serious dose of reality,” she said, gesturing toward the men, hauling the dead bodies away.

“We’re miles from the tombs and the castello now,” I said, piecing together my argument as I went. “We need to get to safety, see to the sick, before we think of home again.”

She shook her head. “If we get the plague, we’ll never make it to the tombs. In the dark, we could make our way—”

“Did you hear what Marcello said to me? As the men attacked? Fight to the death. Clearly, if we’re caught and hauled off to Firenze, it won’t be pretty. Our only chance is to stay with the men.”

She shrugged. “We won’t get caught.”

“You think.”

“I think.”

Marcello neared, obviously wondering what was up. But Lia and I were only looking at each other.

“Even if we were able to get back there,” I said, “grab Mom, and make it to the tombs. Then what? We arrive back in our time to what? To spread the next round of the bubonic plague in the twenty-first century?”

“No,” she said. “The tunnel would heal us, just as it healed you of the poison and your wound.”

She was right, of course. But I couldn’t let on that I agreed with her. I couldn’t leave. Not now. I would always wonder if Marcello had died of the plague, whispering my name, wishing I were there. I didn’t know if I could live with that on my conscience—that I’d taken care of myself and left him to face it alone.

I glanced at him, standing there, watching us argue in English, arms folded, then looked back to my sister. “What if the tomb doorway doesn’t heal us this time, Lia? What if that was just a one-time deal?”

“They have medicine for the plague, in our time,” she said, delicate brows lowering over her eyes.

“Medicine for the twenty-first century version of the plague. What if it’s evolved? Different? You know, like H1N1? Or the flu? How it’s always different, every year? What if they can’t stop it? What if we’re responsible for bringing back the greatest horror the world’s seen in some time?”

Her pretty lips clamped shut.

“You know how many people died in the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918?” I asked, pressing her now, knowing I was gaining some ground.

She rolled her eyes. She always loved it when I pulled out health stats.

“Fifty million. A third of the world’s population got it.” I shook my head. “No, we fight this bug here. We’re not taking it home.”

“Whatever, Gabi,” she said, edging past me. “You’re making an excuse. You know it as well as I.” She walked toward her horse. Luca silently helped her mount and then turned to his own.

I sighed and followed, Marcello right behind me.

It was almost completely dark now.

I hoped no other loyal Fiorentini or mercenaries lurked, willing to risk illness in order to capture the handsome price on our heads.

Because right then, I was running low on the will to fight.