Not one of them slept the rest of the night.

With their hands on their weapons and their eyes fixed on the shadows, Ottavia's would-be rescuers kept vigil against an unseen enemy. But thanks in part to the nearby church bell, each strike of the hour brought them closer to the awaited daybreak without further incident.

"It's nearly time," Simone said as the dawn chorus of seagulls—never far away no matter where one went in the lagoon—began their morning ritual of noisy squawking. After standing, Simone propped his sword against the cart and stretched his arms toward the sky with a sleepy yawn. When he turned back around, he addressed Dilara. "Are you sure your brother's ship will be waiting for you?"

"Positive," she said with a nod. "Bring out Ottavia and I will make sure that she leaves these shores safely."

"Very well," he said, picking up his weapon before sheathing it.

Matteo also stood. "Is that a wise move?" he asked, thrusting his chin at the idle sword now dangling on his friend's hip.

Simone innocently turned his palms upward and grinned. "Would you expect me to knock on a convent's door with my blade drawn?"

Matteo slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. "You are right, my friend." Pulling Simone into an embrace, he continued in a much lower voice. "Godspeed."

Simone patted Matteo's back. "Worry not. The sisters don't bite," he joked.

Giovanna stifled a yawn as tears welled in her eyes. The closeness between the two men that their witty banter revealed only reminded her of the bond she shared with Ottavia, one that would soon be broken when the girl sailed off to distant lands. Although her friend's happiness was paramount, Giovanna already mourned her own impending loneliness.

"I see Hakan's ship in the lagoon. You must go, now!" Dilara whispered as she looked down the alley that led to the water. There, in the distance, bobbed a dark spot that hadn't been there before.

The men parted and Matteo returned to the cover the cart provided. Those left behind could only watch as Simone slowly advanced, his figure increasingly blurred in the fog with each step.

Giovanna's heart thumped in her throat as she nearly lost sight of him until Simone suddenly stopped, his black cloak gently swinging from side-to-side the only indication of his presence.

"Who's there?" he asked, the fear in his voice palpable. A brief pause followed. "Oh, signora! You had snuck up on me. Where had you . . . oh!"

As though her own source of air had been cut off, Giovanna held her breath for the question to conclude. It was unfortunate enough that Simone had run into some woman who'd herself ventured out before the curfew had been lifted, but for him to end his inquiry so abruptly felt ominous.

Flexing her gloved fingers around the hilt of her dagger, Giovanna slowly exhaled and looked to Matteo, who'd been observing the same scene from her left, for guidance.

"Wait," he mouthed before his eyes darted back to find his friend, now completely invisible in the thick fog. "Simone!" he called out, barely above a whisper.

Silence.

"Simone!" Matteo exclaimed once more, a bit louder.

The shuffling of footsteps made Giovanna's shoulders relax and she mentally scolded herself for almost overreacting. But when the sound of struggle was followed by an animalistic growl, she gasped.

"What . . . what are you doing?" Simone asked, the panic in his tone evident even sight unseen. "No! Get away! Get away, I said!"

Not waiting any longer, Matteo ran toward the source of the commotion. A beat later, Giovanna and Dilara followed. When they were halfway there, a gust of wind caused the fog around Simone and the stranger to clear.

The woman wore the clothes of an average citizen, her dress made of a heavy fabric suited for the winter season, rather than silks worn in a grand palazzo. Her hair had been in a braid once, perhaps pinned in a crown on top of her head, but now it had become disheveled, the wavy locks flying in all directions. She sported no cloak or gloves, but the most disturbing were her feet. For she had no shoes in spite of the nearly freezing temperatures. And while her appearance was discomforting, nothing could prepare Giovanna for the woman's disturbing actions.

With her dirty and gaunt fingers around Simone's neck, she bore down on him with the passion of a soldier in battle. Her eyes were wide, their whites ominously glaring in the faint light while her mouth gaped open as a hoarse exhale emanated from within.

"Are you mad? Let go of him at once," Matteo commanded, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at Simone's attacker.

As though she didn't even hear, the woman continued her assault.

"She is possessed!" Dilara exclaimed as she circled the struggle with her own dagger firmly in her hand. "Allow me to take care of her before she draws the sisters' attention to us all."

"No!" Simone yelled. "Just get her off me, I beg you."

Matteo sighed, his chest visibly rising and falling from the strain of keeping his composure as he pursed his lips in obvious disagreement. But he complied. After sheathing his weapon once more, he rushed behind the woman, grabbed her arms and twisted them with one, swift motion to not only remove her grip, but also secure them in his own.

Finally free, Simone stepped back and bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. When the woman cried out, he straightened up and delivered a merciless punch to her face.

For a brief moment, she was silenced. Her head drooped and her chin touched her breastbone, the gruesome expressions on her face invisible behind her tangled hair.

"Take her away. Tie her up if you have to," Simone said. "There's no more time—"

The woman's renewed squirming in Matteo's hold—with feet kicking and shoulders twisting to aid her escape—prevented him from finishing the statement. Instead, in a fit of thoughtless rage, Simone took the dagger from Dilara, held it with the blade downward, and thrust it into her heart before anyone even realized what he'd done.

Giovanna gasped. No stranger to death, she'd still only ever seen it brought on by illness or accident. This was the first time she'd witnessed one person deliberately end the life of another. And if the sick feeling she now had in her stomach was any indication, she had no taste to ever see it again.

Those around her, it seemed, were less shocked. Without prompting, Dilara rounded Simone and grabbed the limp woman's bare feet. She lifted them as Matteo continued to hold under her arms, and the two swiftly carried her away. Broken out of her momentary stupor, Giovanna followed just as they deposited the corpse on the ground behind the cart.

"Thank you," Simone said, as he also caught up. Having wiped the blood from the dagger in a kerchief, he handed the weapon back to Dilara with a weak smile. "Now perhaps I can complete what I'd come for."

"But you will not go alone," Matteo said, straightening up. "We cannot have any more mistakes or interruptions. The three of us will watch your back, staying far enough to remain unseen, but close enough to come to your aid, if needed again."

Simone nodded. After pulling out his sword, he turned on his heel and strode into the fog. The rest followed, fanning out at a decent distance behind. But if they had hoped that a single, fanatical woman who'd appeared out of nowhere a few minutes earlier had been an anomaly, they were horribly mistaken.

There were others. Many, many others.

They poured out of the alley, coming with pained limps and uncoordinated shuffles and bumbling staggers, but coming nonetheless. Their eyes looked forward, yet saw nothing. Their mouths muttered sounds, but said nothing. Their hands flailed to-and-fro and still felt nothing.

"Why are they here? What do they want?" Giovanna asked in a trembling voice as she backed up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder between Matteo and Dilara with Simone in the rear, giving them a view in every direction.

Fisted at her side, Giovanna's hands shook. She had feared to admit that she'd recognized the now dead woman's general appearance and mannerisms as soon as she'd laid eyes on her, but now—faced with a horde akin to the one she and Matteo left in the shipyard warehouse—she could deny the connection no longer.

"Dead," Matteo said. "They want us dead. There is no other explanation for such an ambush. I am willing to place one hundred ducats on Niccolo Grimani somehow being behind all of this. And for that, we can show no mercy."

They continued to come and he raised his sword, but Giovanna touched his arm, gently drawing it downward. "Surely you cannot mean to kill them all," she whispered, not believing that he'd be capable of such a thing. "They're our fellow Venetians. They are merely sick or perhaps deluded, under the certain control of something very evil."

He turned toward her even as the indiscernible wails surrounding them grew louder. "It's them or us. Which one will it be?"

The determination in Matteo's eyes was distressing, the harsh look in direct contrast to the gentleness he'd shown her the night before. As a sudden longing to feel that once again ignited within Giovanna from the memory, she realized there was no chance of a repeat unless they survived. Still, all her life she had been trained to save life, not take it.

"Is there no other way?" she pleaded, hoping for a miracle against the uncertainty that now descended upon them. "We could lead them toward the canals, perhaps distracting them enough to give Simone a chance to backtrack."

Matteo shook his head, glancing at the unrelenting mob as it closed in. "I respect your attempt at finding an alternative, I really do, but we don't know what we're dealing with and we can't take any chances. If we fail, Ottavia will marry Nicco. You can count on that."

Giovanna's heart sank. After closing her eyes momentarily, she opened them with renewed fervor. "Them," she whispered with a nod. "It must be them."

"Finally, we are in agreement!" Simone exclaimed as the ominous swarm fanned out, beginning to completely surround them. "But while I am just as ready as you are to shed blood, the girl speaks the truth. Shepherding them out of the convent's vicinity will be worth the effort if it means a smaller chance of waking the whole neighborhood."

Matteo nodded. "Lead the way then."

Sticking together, the four slowly moved toward the only escape that wasn't yet blocked. This took them past the cart again where something—or rather, the lack of something—caught Giovanna's attention.

"Where is she?" she asked, staring at the bare ground where the corpse had left a dark bloodstain just minutes earlier.

Simone came to an abrupt halt, and the others bumped into him. "This is impossible. I had stabbed her through the heart. The dead don't stand up and walk away," he mumbled as though not even believing his own eyes.

"I . . . I wouldn't be so sure!" Dilara exclaimed as she slowly backed up, causing the others to inadvertently retreat a few steps, as well.

Giovanna craned her neck to look past Matteo and nearly screamed. Dilara was right. The woman who had stopped breathing, whose limbs had ceased moving, and whose heart had stopped beating was once again standing in front of them. The crazed look in her eyes was unchanged as she threw herself at the Turkish girl, who managed to avoid collision only with a well-timed duck.

Matteo also didn't hesitate, putting his sword through the already bloodied torso and causing her to collapse once more—hopefully, for the last time. When another wild woman trampled over the one lying on the ground, Simone cut her across the belly with his own blade. Meanwhile, Dilara finally got a chance to use her dagger on a boy who'd tried to bite her in the shoulder.

That was all Giovanna saw of the others' struggles before she had to focus on hers.

A girl no older than herself attacked from behind, catching Giovanna off guard as she stood frozen in indecision. But the threat of mortal harm did wonders for her ability to choose the right course of action. Cutting a deep wound into her assailant's arm proved enough to escape her grip. A well-placed stab into the jugular vein took the girl down completely.

Giovanna had no time for remorse or guilt. With each new threat, the skill of her defenses improved, yet her confidence in survival diminished. But she couldn't give up. Next to her, Dilara, Matteo and Simone all did their part: stabbing, cutting, and hacking until their opponents fell to the ground one-by-one. Their victory was nearly secure, when the unthinkable happened.

Even though they'd gotten a hint of it earlier, all four watched in astonishment when a man wish a slashed throat pushed himself up onto his knees before using the bodies of his fallen compatriots to help him stand.

"Run!" Simone commanded, and they all unquestionably obeyed.

Sprinting down the adjacent alley, they turned east at the water's edge.

"Was that real? Once was unlikely enough, but for two to get up like Lazarus himself . . . ," Giovanna cried as they rounded a corner, grabbing Matteo's arm as much for physical support as an emotional one. "It's as if they would not—could not—die."

"If that's true, does that mean they'll all arise?" Simone answered with a breathless question of his own.

"Perhaps they were already dead, but did not know it," Dilara said as they came to a stop and lined up to face the inevitable clash once their pursuers reappeared.

Matteo scoffed. "Now it is you who sound mad," he replied while nudging Giovanna behind him for protection.

Dilara tipped her head to one side and then to the other, as if limbering up her neck. "We shall see," she said, drawing a second dagger from her belt and walking forward just as the first of the unkillables emerged.

The man had been young when he met whatever unfortunate fate put him on his current path. Dragging a useless leg recently sliced open, he also bore clear signs of the plague in the scabbed buboes over his neck and face yet he displayed no obvious pain or discomfort related to either. His only concern was reaching the Turkish girl who now strolled toward him, casually—and almost gleefully—twirling the blades in her outstretched hands.

"What are you doing?" Giovanna yelled, fearing Matteo was right about Ottavia's beloved's nonsensical state of mind.

Dilara stopped and replied over her shoulder, her profile partly hidden behind her fiery hair. "My grandmother told me a story when I was small about a cursed people who bore their penance by walking the earth for eternity," she said. "I had no reason to think it was anything other than a local legend born in the dusty streets of Constantinople when it was still part of Byzantium. But after what we just witnessed, I am curious as to whether the rest of her tale is true."

Turning back around, she focused her attention on the approaching man. When just an arm's length away, he hissed and lashed out. But even if he hadn't been clumsy and overestimated his reach, Dilara's well-timed dodge would have still guaranteed evasion. Righting herself, she used the momentum to strike, thrusting the dagger in her left hand into the man's eye socket.

He froze in his spot and then went limp, the body crumpling to the ground with a great thud. But unlike before, when no other change had occurred, this time there was a clear sign that something was different. For his skin immediately turned a putrid green and his limbs contracted into the fetal position.

The others remained in shocked silence, but Dilara pulled her dagger out of the corpse's skull and jumped up and down with glee. "I was right. She was right!" she exclaimed before starting her retreat to the group. "Babaa had said the only way Bey Orhan Ghazi's army could defeat the unholy scourge was with a blade through their brains. Anything less just angered them even more."

"Speaking of angry," Simone whispered as others they'd already fought once caught up, coming around the corner.

Matteo stepped forward and raised his sword in preparation. "You heard the signora. Aim for the brain. Through the eyes, ears or chin will be easiest. Let us get rid of them once and for all."

The words of encouragement had great effect, and while they had all been exhausted in combat already, Giovanna and Matteo paired with Simone and Dilara banded together once more.

"Go quickly," Matteo urged Simone as soon as the last attacker fell. "You may still have a chance. Let us hope Ottavia hasn't given up in her vigil quite yet."

When he disappeared down the alley, the remaining three began their awful task of getting rid of the bodies, rolling them into the lagoon's waters with the hopes that the retreating tides would carry them far into the sea. Giovanna was knee-deep in water, washing the blood from her face when Simone returned.

The illusion was perfect and for a moment, Giovanna feared that the petite woman in the fine dress was still Clara Delfini. Only when she removed her mask was she confirmed as her most cherished friend.

"Oh, Ottavia! I cannot believe we have succeeded," Giovanna gushed as the two embraced.

But Simone interrupted. "There is no time. I beg you, Donna Michiel, to go now if you want to sail out of this lagoon on that waiting ship."

"Give them, but a moment, my friend," Matteo said, stepping over to wave Simone away. "This might be the last time they'll ever see each other."

Giovanna nodded to him in thanks even as tears welled in her eyes. Turning to Ottavia, she brushed a lock of hair from the girl's forehead as she whispered, "Go and be happy, dear one. Worry not for us, but pray that someday we may be reunited."

"I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me today," Ottavia said between sobs as she pulled Giovanna close once more. "May you find just rewards for your good deeds. Until we meet again."

She kissed Giovanna on the cheek before running to the waiting Dilara. Linking hands, the two set off along the water's edge toward a waiting rowboat that would take them to the ship bound for Istanbul. Ottavia never looked back.

"We must go, too," Matteo said, grabbing Giovanna by the hand. Turning to Simone, he continued, "And you—"

"I will return to the convent and wait for the sisters to discover our switch so I can retrieve the real Clara," he interrupted, clearly knowing the plan.

"Good," Matteo said with a nod. "And then?"

But Simone was already turning to leave. "Don't worry! You just do your part, and I'll make sure to do mine," he yelled over this shoulder as he ran into the adjacent alley.

Matteo lifted Giovanna's hand and kissed her gloved knuckles. "It's just you and me then. Ready?"

"For what? I thought we were done," Giovanna muttered as he pulled her along in the opposite direction from where the two girls went just moments earlier. Having gotten Ottavia out of the convent and on her way to freedom was the extent of Giovanna's plans.

Matteo's boots thumped on the stone as they ran, the lights of San Marco twinkling across the wide Giudecca canal in the distance. "We've achieved our main objective, but it has opened up a door that last night I thought had gone closed."

"You mean regarding Nicco Grimani?" she asked, breathless from the forced run.

He slowed and looked at her with a grin. "I do. Yet much depends on things out of my hands at the moment, so I cannot tell you how things will go. But come," Matteo led her to another rowboat moored at a piling. "Rest while I take us back to the Palazzo Ducale. There's something there I want to show you."

Giovanna had no guesses as to what would be of interest to her there, but she was too exhausted to want to ask. Sitting on the bench opposite Matteo, she instead quietly watched as he lowered the oars into the water and began to row.

It only took a few strokes for him to visibly wince with the movement.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, recalling that he'd likely cracked a rib or several just the night before.

He gritted his teeth, but nodded. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't. If you know of a capable physician who could give me something to ease my suffering, I'd gladly take the advice," he said with a strained smile.

The disinterested demeanor she'd tried so hard all night to maintain began to crack. Perhaps she'd been too quick to rush to judgement about his intentions with the dress that morning and even his comments afterward. If she found it in her heart to ignore the degradation she had felt, she could easily forgive the slights. And then, they could have more magical nights together . . ..

Lost in a daydream, Giovanna didn't even notice the dark spot in the water ahead until they'd bumped into it.

"Oh, Holy Mother of God!" she exclaimed, recognizing the man floating face up on the water. Less than eight hours earlier, they'd seen him leave the convent with his young daughter.

"What . . . What happened to him?" she asked as she covered her mouth with her shaking hands, immediately suspecting a similar attack as to what they'd encountered.

Matteo held the body steady with an oar to keep it from floating away. "It's impossible to say. I see no evidence pointing to a cause of death. Perhaps it was an accident—"

"Where's the girl? We must find her," Giovanna said with alarm as the likely scenario of a capsize played out in her mind's eye.

Matteo looked around. "There is no boat nearby. If she has not yet also drowned, then we must presume she is safe. But we cannot stay for risk of attracting attention to your friends who themselves are still rowing to their ship," he said. Pulling the man closer, he removed a pendant from around his neck. "We can look for her when our task is done, and if—when—we find her, we will give her this as a final token from her father."

Feeling helpless, but knowing that he was right, Giovanna could only nod as Matteo stuck the jewelry in his pocket. As he began to row once again, a rooster's crow signaled the dawn of a new day.