The press conference lasted for hours, and Sal spun a yarn for the media that would be printed as truth the next day. When evening fell a celebration erupted on Primavera Street the kind Jenny had never seen before. The entire city had heard of the Lionheart’s resurrection, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling of a religious fervor taking over everyone. As was the tradition, a new lord listened to the people’s requests and Cassio sat on a throne that the people had built for him. A barber’s chair on top of old furniture. A long line of Spring Islanders had formed in front of Cassio, and he listened patiently to anyone who dared to approach him.

  Those who felt content, partied.

  A lot of money had been thrown around, and people were grilling meat and vegetables on the streets while wine, beer, and brandy flowed. Artie was mingling with the people who were stunned that a lord still remembered their names from the time he had interviewed them over fifteen years ago. Jenny had her arm around Gail’s shoulder and to anyone who passed them by, they just looked like two drunk friends. Friends and nothing more. Neither of them still had fully come to terms with what a hurricane the day had been. While washing down a warm meat pie with beer, Jenny spotted Sal on the roof of Isabella’s apartment complex.

  “Be right back, love.” Jenny said.

  “Don’t be gone too long.” Gail said.

  She would have loved to kiss her before going but even now the risk was too much. Even the Princess of Primavera Street had limits to her privileges. When she stepped inside the apartment complex, she found Isabella crying alone and Jenny rushed to hug her. Isabella clung to her desperately and soon Isabella’s shoulder was wet with tears.

  “… he’s alive… he’s alive…” Isabella sobbed.

  “I know.” Jenny said and felt her own eyes growing wet.

  She had grown up with Sal until he was seven and she still remembered that boy fondly. She could still see him in the man he had grown to… sometimes. Sometimes Sal was the warmest and friendliest fellow she knew, and she loved that side of him… and she hated how cold and cruel he could be. He should have been with his mother when she needed him. After calming Isabella down and pouring her a drink, she headed to the roof where Sal was stargazing through a telescope with a bottle of brandy nearby.

  “Your mom’s crying.” Jenny said.

  “Uh-huh.” Sal said without taking his eyes off the stars.

  Jenny picked up the bottle and had a sip: “Maybe you should go and see if she’s okay.”

  “Jenny… I have literally held the world together for the past year. Can’t I try and relax just for a moment?”

  “You can be a real bastard sometimes.” Jenny said and had another drink: “Are you still mad at her for letting your dad take you? That was years ago.”

  “I am a Torrini. We do not forget.” Sal said.

  “What about forgiving?” Jenny asked.

  Sal finally took his eyes off the star and Jenny gave him back his bottle.

  “If you think my old man was bad in the city, the wheels really came off in the circus.” Sal said.

  “It’s must have been tough.” Jenny said.

  “I didn’t run away when I was twelve because I was having so much damn fun.” Sal said.

  “Yeah…” Jenny said: “Have you… let him know you’re alive?”

  “He can read it from the papers like the others. I am not above spiteful bitchery.” Sal said.

  “You can be one callous asshole.” Jenny said and then hugged him: “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you’re back. Just… please. Talk to your mom. Call your dad. You’re better than this. You need to be better than this. For Julian.”

  Sal sighed and then hugged her back: “Fine. Also… below the belt. Bringing my son into this but… fine.”

  They shared a drink and watched the stars and the party going on in the streets. When Artie glanced at them, they waved at him and he waved back.

  “I… was hoping to ask you something.” Sal said.

  “Nuncio?”

  “… yeah.”

  “He’s still hung up on you so… good for you.” Jenny said: “You must have a truly magical penis.”

  Sal snorted and had more brandy: “You… wouldn’t happen to know where to find him?”

  “I do. I also got his number. I’ve tried calling him, but I guess the phone lines are down. You can have it once you’ve given your mom a hug and told her you love her.”

  “This is blackmail.” Sal said and had another drink.

  “Get over it, you huge bitch.”

  They drank more and Jenny looked down at the street. At Cassio.

  “You must be proud. I can guess what you’re planning and Cassio… he really is in the thick of it now.”

  Sal lit his pipe and took a deep breath of tobacco: “Things are going to change. By this time next year, Primavera Street will be under the protection of House Rossi. The next chief of police will answer to Cassio.”

  “I am sure that… Luciano Riggi will take that well.”

  There was always a moment of hesitation when she uttered Riggi’s name. She knew that many people didn’t even dare to say it out loud. To many Riggi was simply the Devil of Leoden. She hated it. She hated the power Riggi had over her. That he didn’t even need to be here to make her feel… scared. Unsafe. Threatened.

  “Once I’ve hung Riggi with his family’s innards, it won’t matter.”

  “Just…” Jenny said before hesitating: “… promise to be careful. I… lost you once. Not again. Remember Bastian…”

  “You think a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about Bastian?” Sal asked.

  “You never forget, right?” Jenny said: “You’ve changed. Even more than… your eyes used to be brown. Where the hell did you and Cassio go?”

  “I can’t say. A matter of national security.”

  “Fine. Keep your secrets.” Jenny said.

  Sal snorted and then beckoned her to come with him. They went downstairs where Isabella was drinking alone. Sal walked up to his mom and hugged her. Isabella was too stunned to move and just let her son hold her.

  “I love you, mom. I’m sorry for always worrying you.”

  Isabella blinked away her tears and hugged her son back: “It’s okay, Sal. It will be okay.”

  Jenny smiled to herself and wrote down Nuncio’s phone number: “I guess I owe you this.” Jenny said and handed Sal the number.

  Sal thanked her and then dialed the number. The only sign of nervousness in him was how he tapped his thigh. He let the phone ring for a minute before hanging up.

  “They must be asleep.” Sal said.

  “Who were you trying to call?” Isabella asked.

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  “Nuncio. You’ve met him, remember?” Sal said.

  “Oh, yes. The pretty boy.” Isabella said and shook her head: “So handsome and rich and still not married.”

  Then Isabella turned her judging eye on them.

  “And why are neither of you married either? You’re both good-looking and successful. Can you believe this useless lout would knock a girl up and not marry her?”

  Jenny shared a look with Sal. Then Sal picked up his coat and headed out.

  “As much as I love being judged… me thinks I need to stretch my remaining leg.” Sal said.

  ***

  The world seemed to be obsessed with having all of the illustrious Salvatore Torrini to itself. Stealing some time for himself was a rare treat and Sal was going to make most of it. On his way out he shook hands with people he didn’t know and patted their backs like they were old friends. When his eyes met with Cassio, they shared a nod. They were one man in two bodies but for now they could make do on their lonesome. Leoden never slept but it did die down at night. Sal had always preferred the city after dark. It was less overwhelming and you had room to get to know it then. Sal walked the streets and enjoyed the cool night air and the pleasure of solitude. The public transport had stopped running for the day, but Sal didn’t mind the long walk. After leaving the circus he had lived on his feet for years and not getting steps in made him feel anxious. Pietro Capello could burn in hell for nearly taking walking from him but that was the beauty of being him. There was nothing he couldn’t change or overcome.

  “Isn’t it rude for a man to leave his own party?”

  Gonzo was standing in the shadow of a building, just out of view.

  “It’s not really my party.” Sal said and swung his cane on his shoulder: “You could have joined us instead of hiding here.”

  “I didn’t think anyone wanted to a see a Neri goon ruin their celebration. Especially here.” Gonzo said and looked sadly at Primavera Street: “Where are you headed?”

  “To say hi to… friends who are no longer with us.”

  “I see. If you’re going for a walk, care for some company? The city can be dangerous at night. Especially for a consigliere.”

  “I always wanted an honor guard. Walk with me, Gonzo.” Sal said before smirking: “Or did the Neris send you to assassinate me?”

  “That is a bit below my paygrade.” Gonzo said.

  “Fair enough. Have the Neris ever tried to get me killed?”

  “Now that is confidential.” Gonzo said with a smile: “But if someone had floated that idea around, I would have tried shooting it down. Nothing good would come out from killing you. Especially now that it’s obvious that death can’t contain Salvatore Torrini.”

  Gonzo lit a cigarette and Sal shook his head when he offered him one.

  “You did not hear this from me, but Stefan has taken over Saint Nicholas. I was not unhappy to hear he hung the warden.” Gonzo said.

  “Just the Old Tiger’s luck. He gets to save children and is still overshadowed by Cassio’s return.” Sal said.

  “He will have his day. I hope you don’t hold it against me that I filled the paperwork to make him heir.”

  “Had to be done. What I’m pissed about is that Garland came this close to being a high lord. Can you imagine that moron with real power?”

  “All too easily. I am glad it did not come to that. You are back now.” Gonzo said before smiling: “Where have you two been for over a year if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Now that is confidential.” Sal said.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Is it? Anyway… how is lady Bianca doing?”

  “How do you think? Her son came back from the dead. How did your mother take it?”

  “Not well but she’s managing.” Sal said.

  “Yes. I hope so will Bianca now that she doesn’t have to deal with Santiago.” Gonzo said and slapped Sal’s back: “I missed you, Sal. Garuccia was not the same without you.”

  “I missed you too.” Sal said and looked at Leoden: “We are both consiglieres now. But for different Houses. I guess that makes us officially enemies. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends.”

  “I grew up in Gehenna. Men would try to kill each other one day and have drinks the next. I am used to it.”

  “Loyalties do change.” Sal mused: “Keep that in mind if you ever feel like the Neris are suffocating you.”

  “It’s not the Neris I am faithful to.” Gonzo said.

  “Was Ginevre really that beautiful?” Sal asked.

  Gonzo’s silence told him everything. Behind his shades, his eyes glowed with the power of the Red Swan. Even after all he centuries the curse she had placed on him still ruled him. Sal had little doubt he would have to kill Gonzo one day… and he knew it would shatter his heart.

  “Some holds can never be broken.” Gonzo said.

  The image of Old Badger flashed before Sal’s eyes. A woman the fox prince’s previous skin had loved… and he had inherited those feelings alongside the title of His Savage Highness.

  “No… they can’t, can they?” Sal agreed.

  A fervor had taken over Leoden. The news of Cassio’s return had spread fast, and it had knocked people off their feet. That Cassio had chosen to reveal himself in Primavera Street had tainted their excitement and an invisible wall had risen between Primavera Street and the rest of Leoden. Many wanted to see Cassio for themselves, but few dared to enter Primavera Street. For the longest time Leoden had pretended Primavera Street did not exist. That the particular part of town and its inhabitants were just a bad dream they would one day wake up from if they ignored it long enough.

  There was no ignoring it now.

  Not when a lion had made it his den and was hearing the requests of its people. If they entered it, they would have to admit that Primavera Street was real. That its people were real. That they were people. Few had that kind of courage.

  Their long walk finally took him to the city cemetery and Gonzo stayed by the gate.

  “Go pay your respects. I will wait here.” Gonzo said.

  Sal thanked Gonzo for accompanying him and entered alone. The cemetery was officially closed during the night, but the guards didn’t mind you wandering in as long as you weren’t a resurrection man. Despite the new laws, Leoden University did not shy away from buying fresh carcasses for their students to dissect and there were always industrious graverobbers to provide them. Sal borrowed a lantern from one of the guards and bought a few candles from them as well before heading deeper into the bone garden. He had taken this path so many times that he could have traced his steps even if blinded. Finally, he arrived at a small gravestone. Children always got the smallest markers.

  Bastian Marcone

  1019-1024 After Eld

  ‘Beloved son’

  Sal lit a candle and placed it on Bastian’s grave with some candy.

  “Hi. Sorry for not dropping by sooner. Been busy.” Sal said and lit his pipe: “Has your mom been visiting?”

  It had become easier to imagine Bastian answering him over the years. It was a more comforting thought than him being just some bones in a cold hole in the ground with only worms for company.

  “I know. Being busy is no excuse to ignore an old friend. Got mixed up in Cassio’s family drama. His brother is a gigantic dick. Luckily, I have a lot of experience dealing with those.”

  Sal took a deep breath of tobacco and blew out a smoke ring.

  “I haven’t forgotten about Luciano Riggi. Or what he did to you. I haven’t forgotten my promise. I’m a Torrini. We do not forget. The bastard will pay.” Sal said before kissing his palm and pressing it on the cold stone: “Blessing of the Wild wherever you are. I’ll drop by again.”

  Sal left Bastian to his rest.

  The next headstone was closer by although there was no body. Only a marker. There were flowers on the grave that hadn’t wilted yet.

  Esteban Juste

  997-?

  “Hello, uncle.” Sal said: “I see mom has dropped by.”

  There was no year of death for Esteban. No epitaph. Just a rifle carved on the stone to prove he had died fighting in the Twelve-Year-War. Sal lit a candle for his uncle, another family member he had never met, and poured some brandy on his grave.

  “Rest well. I’ll visit with mom next time.”

  After paying his respects to his uncle, Sal headed to the older part of the graveyard. Many of the graves there had fallen into disrepair when the loved ones of the dead had joined them in the ground. But he still knew what he was looking for. Two graves resting side by side with a shared stone. The two of them had been inseparable in life and not even death could tear them apart.

  Felix Torrini

  ‘He planted trees he knew he would never rest under.’

  Dahlia Torrini

  ‘Stories don’t teach us monsters are real. They teach us that monster can be beaten’

  Sal took a deep breath from his pipe and placed two candles on the shared grave.

  “Grandfather… grandmother… I have returned.”

  He had never met his grandparents but in a way that was better. The living only disappointed you. The dead became characters in stories. They could be whatever you needed them to be. Heroes or villains. There were too few of the former among the living.

  “It really is you. When I heard, I was sure you were a charlatan but there you are.”

  Not many people could have snuck up on him. There was always something to give an enemy’s approach away. The sound of their breathing or steps. More often than not their scent. This time there had been none of those things and Sal had been caught completely unawares.

  “You.” Sal growled.

  The Ratking was past sixty but still fit. His silver hair that Sal knew was a wig covering his scarred scalp fell on his shoulders in thick ropes. The dark skin hid the lines and wrinkles that made him seem younger than he was. He wore a dark blue pinstripe suit and black leather greatcoat. His brown shoes looked recently polished.

  “Hi, Sal.” The Ratking said.

  Sal looked around him. The graves and darkness gave plenty of places for the Ratking’s mice to hide in. So many knives hidden in the night. He could have called for Gonzo, but he would be stabbed to death long before Gonzo got here.

  “You have some goddamn nerve showing up here.” Sal said.

  “Good to see you too.” The Ratking said and looked at the grave: “Felix and Dahlia were my friends, you know.”

  “Were they now? Then where were you during Black Saturday? Where were you when the Guild of Fire…?”

  “I got lucky.” The Ratking said.

  “You seem to get lucky often. Whenever shit goes down you are nowhere to be seen. Almost like you know of it in advance. It is very… curious.” Sal said.

  It was a pleasure to see a single word make the Ratking’s face curl up.

  “I was hoping we could make peace. If not for our sake, then… for the sake of the next generation.”

  Kill him, Sal thought.

  Did he know? Did the evil old bastard know about Julian? Or was he just talking out of his ass? Sal kept all emotion off his face. In a courtroom you never let the prosecutor see you sweating.

  “I guess I was a fool.” The Ratking said and looked around: “Thank you… for visiting Esteban.”

  Did the Ratking know? He could not take the chance. Even if it meant dying. He could feel the weight of the knife hidden under his coat. He was not as fast as he once had been. Nor would he ever be again but his killing circle was still a lot larger than people realized… and he was a lot faster than you’d expect from a maimed man. All the Ratking had to do was step just a bit closer.

  Just a bit…

  … a bit…

  Enough!

  The knife was in his hand before he even realized it and the Ratking’s eyes widened when he saw the steel flash in the moonlight. The shadows stirred but not fast enough. The mice would see their precious Ratking bleed out before he followed.

  I’m sorry, Julian. I’m sorry, Mya. I’m sorry, Cassio.

  The steel was fast. The shadows were faster. The Ratking’s magic transformed the darkness into a physical force, and it wrapped its tendrils around Sal. Trapping his limbs. Stopping his knife. Forcing him on his knees. Then the mice were around him. With their blades bared. Ready to end him. The Ratking stared at the knife that had nearly finished him and looked… heartbroken.

  “Do you hate me that much?” The Ratking said.

  “Should we kill him?” One of the mice said.

  She didn’t look older than ten and Sal thought about the Lord of the Hunt. Keijo had also surrounded himself with enslaved children. Despite being far from home, Sal tried to tap into the Wyrding’s power. If he could only wield His Savage Highness’s might, he could still end this. The Wyrding was so close… but not close enough.

  “No.” The Ratking said while staring at the knife before dropping it at Sal’s feet: “You play a dangerous game. Do you think you can use their power against them? I played that game too and lost. Don’t repeat my mistakes. This is their game. Once you partake, you have already lost.”

  Even though the shadows were choking the life out of him, Sal could muster enough air to laugh and speak.

  “… do… the mice know… about… your games?”

  The Ratking’s eyes narrowed, and the shadows strangled Sal hard enough for everything to go black for a moment. When colors and shapes returned, he was lying on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. The Ratking was looking down him like a judgmental god. The mice had crept back into the shadows.

  “You should go home now, Sal. I think you are needed there.”

  “What… do you mean?” Sal said while rubbing his throat.

  The Ratking never answered and just disappeared like he was swallowed by the night. Sal could hear rustling in the graveyard when the Rating’s mice took their leave and disappeared underground. Among the dead. Once he was alone, Sal started running. The pegleg was a poor substitute for a real foot but at least he could run again. Sort of. Not as fast as he once could but he made do. Gonzo was waiting for him by the gate and killing time by smoking. When Sal burst through the gate, the cigarette slipped out of his mouth.

  “Sal? You…?”

  “I need to get home! Now!”

  Gonzo didn’t ask for any details and just threw Sal on his back. Whenever Sal left the Wyrding, his powers faded almost instantly but not Gonzo’s. His shape shifted to that of a spider the size of a bull. Even while carrying Sal, Gonzo could jump on the roof of the towering buildings and began skittering towards Primavera Street. What had taken them twenty minutes on the streets, Gonzo cleared in a mere minute from the roofs. Sal’s heart never stopped trying to climb up his throat, terrified that he would find mom’s apartment complex burned to the ground and everyone shot dead. Luciano Riggi’s welcoming gift to him. But he smelled no smoke and found no one dead. Just a party that was finally winding down. Gonzo put him down before disappearing again and Sal ran to his mom’s place.

  “Mom?!”

  Sal found his mother carrying dishes into the kitchen.

  “Sal? What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

  Sal wiped the sweat off his forehead: “I just… thought I was needed here. Did… something happen?”

  “There was a call for you. From doctor Isidoro. He asked you to call him back as soon as possible.” Mom said.

  When doctor Isidoro wanted you to call back right away, he always meant right away. No matter the time. Sal used the phone in the lobby and dialed his number. There was barely enough time to ring when Isidoro picked up.

  “Torrini?” Isidoro said.

  “Alive and well. Hey, I was wondering if you could renew my cocaine prescription. I seem to have lost the old one and…”

  “Shut up. This about Francesca.”

  Sal gripped the receiver tighter: “What… about her?”

  “She’s hurt. Badly. I’ve moved her to the hospital in Leoden. Go and see her. Now.”