Chapter 7
Dr. Walter Mercer arrived before sunset.
Seventy-six.
Thin hands.
Expensive coat.
A man who had delivered Caruso babies, treated gunshot wounds without questions, and signed more family death announcements than Dante wanted to count.
He looked at Lily.
Then at Dante.
Then at Helena.
His face collapsed.
“You found the bells.”
Dante sat.
“Anna.”
Mercer closed his eyes.
“She lived.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“You declared her dead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mercer looked toward the guards.
Dante dismissed them except Anthony.
“Why?”
“Because Anna asked me.”
Silence.
Dante stood.
“No.”
“She did.”
“You expect me to believe my wife asked you to tell her husband and daughter she was dead.”
Mercer’s voice shook.
“She was terrified.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
Dante waited.
“Of the house.”
That answer entered quietly.
“What did she find?”
“Something about Matteo.”
“His daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Name.”
Mercer hesitated.
“Clara Vale.”
Dante stared at Anna’s photograph again.
“Clara.”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“She was when Anna found her.”
“Where?”
“Working under another name in Albany.”
“Why come here?”
“She didn’t.”
Dante frowned.
“Anna went to her.”
“What did Clara tell her?”
Mercer looked toward Helena.
“That Salvatore never ended the bell system.”
Helena whispered:
“He did.”
Mercer shook his head.
“He moved it.”
“Where?”
“Into houses nobody associated with Caruso.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Quiet House.”
Mercer looked surprised.
“You know.”
“Enough.”
Clara told Anna that children continued to be selected for years after Dante’s generation.
Not openly.
No formal numbers displayed.
But the same training.
Listening.
Carrying messages.
Learning obedience through food.
Isolation.
Bells.
Dante felt nausea.
“How many?”
Mercer shook his head.
“Unknown.”
“Who ran it after Father?”
“That is what Anna was trying to learn.”
“Helena?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Someone called Maestro.”
Dante almost laughed.
“A title.”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“I never knew.”
“Anna?”
“She thought she did.”
Dante leaned closer.
“Who?”
Mercer’s face became frightened.
“She never told me.”
Of course.
But he had more.
Anna became ill after meeting Clara for the second time.
Not naturally.
Mercer believed she had been poisoned.
Slowly.
Subtle.
He recognized symptoms too late.
“Who treated her?”
“I did.”
“Why hide survival?”
“Because the night she collapsed, someone entered the clinic.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“Masked.”
“What did they want?”
“Anna.”
“Did they get her?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Clara’s people moved her.”
Dante stopped.
“Anna left willingly.”
“Yes.”
“Then the death story.”
“Protection.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
Everyone used the word.
Protection.
Always meaning someone else lost the right to choose.
“Where did she go?”
“I never knew.”
“You never heard again?”
Mercer looked toward Lily.
“One time.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“What?”
“A message.”
“From Anna?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
Mercer swallowed.
“Keep Lily away from Helena’s bells.”
Everyone froze.
Helena stepped backward.
Dante’s eyes turned toward her.
“You were named.”
Helena looked shocked.
“I didn’t know.”
Mercer continued.
“Anna believed Helena would be used.”
Dante stared.
Not enemy.
Instrument.
Exactly what happened.
“When did you tell Helena?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Anna said if Helena knew, she would overreact.”
Helena laughed once.
Broken.
“She knew me.”
Dante’s expression remained hard.
“What else?”
Mercer looked at him.
“Anna said Maestro had returned to the estate.”
Dante went still.
“Returned.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning he had been here before.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Male?”
“I assumed.”
“Why?”
“Title.”
Dante shook his head.
Assumption.
The family had made too many.
Then Mercer said:
“There is something else.”
Dante waited.
“Anna told me Maestro was one of the seven.”
Silence.
Dante looked toward Helena.
She looked equally shocked.
“One of the children.”
Mercer nodded.
The old bell system had created its own successor.
A child trained by Caruso.
Raised inside obedience.
Now adult.
Back inside the house.
Dante looked at Helena.
“You were one.”
“Yes.”
“Who else survives?”
Helena thought.
“You.”
Dante.
“Me.”
“Gabriel died.”
“Maybe.”
“Matteo died.”
“Maybe.”
Helena looked at the floor.
“There were two others I never knew.”
“And seven empty.”
“Originally.”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“If Maestro was one of the seven, then number seven was not empty.”
Helena went still.
The entire assumption collapsed.
“What?”
Dante held up Lily’s bell.
“If seven already existed…”
Mercer whispered:
“Then Lily wasn’t being assigned a number.”
Dante stared at the mark.
“What was happening?”
May you like
Mercer’s face went pale.
“She was being summoned by someone else’s.”
