I pulled on the edge of the empty shelves, and they swung silently on oiled hinges, revealing a door hiding asecret, one long kept by my father and his father before him.
A hidden room below the waterline. A safehouse for plunder back when Venice was a lawless port city of smuggling rings and black-market trade.
The scent of the lagoon—brine, mud, and something boggy sifted past half-rotted iron hinges on a warped wood door, the arched frame low enough that I had to duck. Once, there might have been a proper lock. Now, a simple steel bolt held the old door closed, the new metal slick under my fingers.
I hesitated, thumb resting on the latch.
If Giovanni had hidden the proof down here, he would have taken precautions, but…
I was here now.
I studied the doorframe. No sign of my uncle’s tampering, no extra warding, just that new deadbolt. I slid the bolt back, waiting for Gio to jump out of the shadows, but there was nothing but the steady drip of water and the distant rush of the Grand Canal pressing against the ancient foundations. I slipped inside and pulled out a small torch, illuminating the uneven stone stairs. After ten steps, the air turned boggy enough, I tasted the lagoon on every breath.
At twenty, the world shrank to the narrow circle of light, then…
My boot splashed into knee-deep water, soaking through the leather as I stumbled forward, arms pinwheeling.
“Shit.”
The dark surface rippled, a thin film of scum catching the light.
I swallowed, wondering how deep the water would get,pulse jumping as I inched forward, shuffling my feet across what felt like stone.
“You’re the one who wanted Giovanni’s secrets, and this is where they are.”
As it turned out, the water never made it past my knees, and still, I panic-shuffled across the uneven floor, everything slippery with mud and algae. It was impossible to see anything past the dark, rippling surface, expecting the floor to fall out from beneath my feet any minute.
This was terrifying.
If I was facing an attacker, I could stab them.
But this? Water was an enemy I knew nothing about.
Near the domed ceiling, faint marks were carved into the pillars, sigils so old, the edges had blurred.
Old protective runes, I noted, shining my light over them. Sealing this section of the basement off, making it impossible to dematerialize in and out. Older than most of the city above my head, I guessed. If I went any farther, I’d be trapped.
“Now, where would you hide something that couldn’t get wet?” I wondered aloud.
“I know I’m right about this,” I whispered to myself, my light catching on a narrow archway half-concealed behind a tangle of rusted chains and hooks. Water swirled through that opening and disappeared into darkness, as if it was being drawn into another room.
Just. Fucking. Perfect.
Halfway to that archway,I dropped straight down, fear cutting off my scream, my feet finally hitting bottom when the water hit my chest.
I gasped, flailing to keep my balance, boots sliding on the silty bottom as I fought to keep my head above water. Panting for breath, terrified by this horrible sensation of being smothered by cold, dark water chilling me to the bone, I tried to turn, floundering to get back to those steps.
Stop panicking, Emberline.
It’s only water, and your feet are firmly on the ground.
You can’t give up now.
I ran through the breathing exercises my uncle—of all people—taught me, a long breath through my nose and a hard, fast exhale through my mouth, which left me gagging on the boggy taste.
Somehow, I’d managed to keep the flashlight above the surface, otherwise… I’d be fucked.
Twice more through the breathing exercises, and I couldalmostsay I was calm.
