The Plague Doctor's Daughter

19. Giacomo

Giacomo watched the girl all throughout his day standing at the door.

He watched as she sat by her father's side while his stomach uncomfortably gurgled. But that was most likely from the musty candied fruits the pretty kitchenmaid slipped him that morning.

He watched as she twirled her long, blonde hair around her finger as chills ran though his body. But that was probably due to the restless, eastward winds blowing under the overcast sky.

He watched as she chased pigeons in the square even though his vision blurred on occasion. But that was a result of being on his feet all day with nothing to drink.

And he watched as she finally left with the setting sun, not having even glanced in his direction, unawares of the increasing scratchiness in his throat. But that was definitely because he hadn't spoken to anyone for half the afternoon. It—and the rest of his ails—had to have such simple explanations because the alternative was unthinkable.

Yet all Giacomo did that day besides intently watch the preacher's daughter just a few dozen meters away in front of the basilica was think about the plague. What else was he supposed to do when one-by-one, his body began exhibiting signs of illness? He could have listened to her father, of course, but he'd heard the proselytizing before. Anyone who'd regularly spent time in San Marco's square these past few months had gotten an earful about the end of days, repentance, and eternal life. Why, the curiosity those emphatic orations exhibited within him were what had originally driven Giacomo to attend the discreet meeting the previous day.

He had left the curious session with more questions than answers, promising himself to get more guidance on the matter posthaste. Tonight, over supper with his uncle, he would do exactly that. As he relinquished his duties for the evening to another boy, Giacomo hoped his decision wouldn't come too late.

Darkness descended quickly as he hurried down the piazza's arcade, his steps echoing off the marble floor. The occasional torch alongside a canal or the brief glimmer of candlelight from a window were all that gave a brief respite from the inky void on this moonless night. But Giacomo knew his route well. Having maneuvered the bridges and alleys between the Santa Croce sestiere and San Marco twice a day for most of the last three years, he could probably make the trip blindfolded without as much as getting his feet wet. It was a good thing, too, for on nights like this, it felt as though he was moving less by sight than through the use of his other senses.

The delicate splash of an gondolier's oar. The pungent aroma of a wood fire. The coarse texture of a brick wall. These were all familiar companions while crossing the countless islands. Yet, tonight, there was something more. Something different. Dare he think, something even sinister.

He couldn't explain the odd feeling, but pulling his cloak tighter around his body, Giacomo hastened his stride. A loud chuckle from inside a nearby building made him jump before he exhaled in relief. It was just a father laughing at his child's silly joke or a husband showing amusement at his wife's daily gossip, both innocent enough to ignore.

So ignore it he did, continuing on.

Crossing a narrow canal briefly brought Giacomo out of the shadows, and he took the opportunity to pause and look back. Behind him was nothing, but the dark alleyway. Ahead of him was the same. With another deep breath, Giacomo resumed his journey. Twenty paces later, footsteps other than his own joined in—first hastily, then unnaturally slow. The boy sped up once more as his heart beat in his throat, its sound reverberating in his ears.

One block further, the cold, crisp air carried with it a low, guttural groan. Giacomo frantically pivoted his gaze, but in the labyrinthine city, the sound could have come from any direction. Then, a shadow—roughly the size and shape of a grown man—flittered between two buildings, causing Giacomo to unwittingly backtrack and turn off his usual path. The footsteps in his wake were now louder, followed by a scream that made him freeze. Taking quick stock of his location, the boy realized too late that he'd inadvertently stumbled down a one-way passage. There was no escape, except from whence he'd come.