Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (10 page)

She wanted to see for herself that no one else had hidden in the rocks and
attacked the don, although why it was so important at that moment, she didn't
know. She had to do it, though. It didn't matter that she might discover the
two dead bodies; she had to see for herself. She had to know the don was safe.
A dark compulsion was on her. Nicoletta was drawn to the cove, helplessly
caught in a spell she couldn't resist. Hypnotized, mesmerized, perhaps, trapped
in a web of growing evil—it didn't matter. At that moment, the most important
thing to her was to ensure that Don Scarletti remained safe.

She ran until her injured calf protested too much, forcing her to a more
sedate pace, and then she walked quickly, pausing only to sip some cooling
water from the tiny falls scattered among the hills. She made it to the cliffs
and looked down, wanting to be prepared for whatever she might find before she
descended. The cove was empty. No dead bodies, no blood staining the sand,
nothing to indicate that violence had visited the day before. No proof of the
incident remained other than her memory.

Nicoletta made her way down to the cove, picking her steps carefully on the
steep, narrow path. The ocean mist bathed the tears from her face as she paced
cautiously along the ledge to pick her route over the rocks to the sand. She
searched carefully, but there was no sign of death on the beautiful
semi-circular beach. Moving back into the shadow of the cliffs, she sat and
stared out at the ever-moving ocean. The tide rushed to shore endlessly,
rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. She should have found peace, but the
place seemed more sinister than ever. She could feel the aftereffects of
violence lingering there.

Exhaustion combined with the rhythm of the sea finally took its toll. She
dozed for a time, worn out from her fight to save her friend. The waves
continued to wash back and forth, a lullaby while she slept.

It was the bird that woke her. Its shadow passed over her head as it circled
lazily. The raven drifted lower, its circles tighter and tighter, until he
landed in the sand and hopped over to Nicoletta.

She opened her eyes wide and sighed softly, "So you have found me once
again," she said, resignation in her voice.

The bird stared at her, its beady eyes fixed on her face. She smiled.
"You think I should find you a bit of food and reward you for alerting me?
I am not that fond of you and your warnings." She stood up slowly, wincing
as her muscles protested and her calf throbbed and burned. She stretched, a
long, slow stretch, before reaching into the pocket of her skirt for the bread
wrapped so carefully in Laurena's scarf. "You do not deserve this, but all
the same…" Nicoletta tossed several chunks to the creature. The bird
caught the pieces one by one in its sharp beak and devoured them. The bird
continued to stare steadily at her, gave one squawk, then hopped down the beach
several steps before taking to the air.

Nicoletta's shoulders sagged, and she took her time walking back to the
villaggio.
Whatever trouble was coming would most likely be coming to find her there.

She could feel the excitement in the air the moment she neared the
settlement. People were washing, when it was not washing day, busily cleaning
the narrow streets, sprucing up the homes. She waved halfheartedly to Ketsia
but shook her head when the little girl eagerly signaled her to come and talk.

Before she could enter the safety of her hut, Cristano confronted her, barring
the doorway, cutting off her escape. His black hair was disheveled, and he
looked a bit wild, breathing hard like a rampaging bull. His black eyes snapped
at her. "Look at you, Nicoletta, running around barefoot in the hills! I
have had enough of it. I have been very patient, but I can stand no more. I
forbid this careless roaming of the hills like a madwoman. It is not safe, and
it is most unseemly. You are making me the laughing stock of the
villaggio.
It is time for you to grow up and do as your betrothed instructs. I will insist
the priest marry us immediately. I will inform Signorina Sigmora that we are to
be wed."

"Have you lost your mind, Cristano?" Nicoletta pushed at him.
"Go puff your chest at one of the other girls. I will not have you ordering
me about in such a way." She was small in comparison to his tall, muscular
frame, but she defied him nonetheless. In truth, Cristano was handsome and
bold. She had known him all her life and held some affection for him, but her
fondness was that of a sister, a friend, not a wife. He knew he was handsome,
knew the girls looked at him—all except Nicoletta. She lifted her chin
haughtily at him. "I will
always
run barefoot and free in the
hills, and no man shall dictate to me, Cristano. Certainly not you!"

He yanked her close to him. "We shall see, Nicoletta. The elders know
you need someone to take you in hand. I will seek their permission as I should
have a long time ago." He dropped her arm and stalked off.

Outraged, Nicoletta pushed her way inside, slamming the door shut with
unnecessary force. "Cristano has lost his mind and needs assistance
immediately. It is entirely possible he suffers from brain fever. I am not
jesting."

Maria Pia ignored her caustic comment and caught her arm. "Where have
you been, Nicoletta? You have been gone all night! I was worried for your
safety!"

Nicoletta put her satchel carefully into the corner. "Did you tend to
Lissandra's
bambino?"

"He is fine, strong and healthy, thanks to the good Madonna and your
quick thinking. Aljandro, of course, said you were clumsy in the delivery to
break the babe's shoulder. He says you also caused much pain to Lissandra. You
must be careful,
piccola.
When a man is shamed and guilt-ridden, he
often seeks to shift the blame."

Nicoletta lifted her chin. "I do not care what he says." She waved
a hand in dismissal. "Tell me what is happening. Why all the
excitement?" She crossed to the window and stared out at the bustle of
activity in the village.

Instead of answering immediately, Maria Pia began to heat soup for
Nicoletta. "You must eat,
bambina.
I know that you have not eaten
since you supped last night. Come sit down, and allow me to feed you."

"What is it you do not want to say to me, Maria Pia? It is best to get
it out in the open." Mechanically, Nicoletta put on clean clothes.
"Just tell me. Do not make me wonder." Her fingers curled around the
hem of her blouse. She already knew. It was the don; it could be no other. He
was the reason her heart pounded and her mouth went dry and she was suddenly
very, very afraid.

Maria Pia remained stubbornly silent while she prepared the soup and placed
it on the table with bread and cheese. "Sit down,
piccola"

She artfully wove the same thread of authority into her voice that Nicoletta
had obeyed since she was a child. Nicoletta stilled her trembling hands, sat
quietly in the chair like an obedient little girl, and looked up at Maria Pia.
"Is he coming for me, then?"

Maria Pia fiddled with a square of cloth nervously, every age line plainly
visible on her face. "You are aware of the laws we live by. Our
villaggio
is within the domain of the don. We owe him fidelity and are under his
protection. The land belongs to the
famiglia
Scarletti. Without him, our
people would be homeless, powerless, with no means to make a living or protect
ourselves from invaders. Two centuries or more ago, far before the curse was
put upon the
famiglia
Scarletti, our ancestors made an agreement, which
we have always kept." Maria Pia took a deep breath, her hands suddenly
twisting the cloth into a tight knot. "The don has invoked his right to
the Bridal Covenant."

Nicoletta stared up at her, her eyes huge on her face, not comprehending,
unable to fully grasp what the older woman was saying. The Bridal Covenant. She
had heard of it, of course; all the village women had.

As silly girls they had discussed the stories of the great and handsome
aristocrazia
emerging from his ornate palazzo and whisking one of the maidens off to a
fairy-tale life of luxury and ease. Of course that lucky chosen one would soon
marry off her friends to other young, handsome, rich noblemen. All of the
surrounding
villaggi
and farms owing fidelity to the don had gladly
participated in the Bridal Covenant; it was a cause for great festivity. All
women of marriageable age had bathed and donned their finery, vying with
outrageous flirtations to gain the attentions of the don of the palazzo.

But that was before they all came to believe in the curse. Before the
Scarletti women, and even their attendants, began to die in bizarre
accidents—or were so obviously murdered. Before the palazzo was named, in
whispers,
Palazzo della Morte.
Palace of Death.

"He cannot do that," Nicoletta whispered, her hand going to her
throat defensively. "He cannot."

"He goes to all the
villaggi
, as if to seek a bride."

Nicoletta rested her chin in her hand thoughtfully. "That he must do;
he has no other choice. He cannot show preference beforehand. But it is another
trap he seeks to catch me in." She took a deep breath, then let it out
slowly. "We must outsmart him once again, Maria Pia. I know we can do it.
If it is not so, if it is not me he is seeking, then it will not matter what we
do."

"You cannot think to be absent." Maria Pia looked shocked. No one
could defy an order given by the don. The honor of the village was at stake.
After many generations of the tradition, they could not fail to comply in
presenting their maidens to the don.

Nicoletta said the necessary prayers over her food far too absently for
Maria Pia's liking. The older woman rapped Nicoletta on the knuckles when she
would have quickly broken the bread. Maria Pia recited very long prayers over
the meal, and very devoutly. Nicoletta barely managed to stop herself from
giggling like Ketsia.

"This is no laughing matter, Nicoletta. I believe the current don had
no intention of enforcing the Bridal Covenant. It has been two generations
since one of our girls was demanded. Don Giovanni Scarletti has given no hint
of such a thing, and his decision was so swift, no one has had time to adequately
prepare for it."

"I agree," Nicoletta said calmly. She knew it without Maria Pia's
observations. The raven had warned her of danger coming. She
felt
the
danger. "He is looking for me." She broke off a small piece of cheese
and slipped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "He is still not
certain. That is why he used the demand of the brides. All eligible women are
commanded to show themselves, but he does not have to choose. He can return
year after year and never actually make a selection."

"Perhaps he is like a fisherman without a hook." Maria Pia began
to relax. "Perhaps we can manage to outthink him after all."

"He has a hook," Nicoletta admitted at last. She glanced at Maria
Pia, then averted her eyes, ashamed she had not confessed immediately.
"There is the blood of the
villaggio
running in his veins. He is
also different. I know that he is."

Maria Pia gasped and crossed herself, rushing to the shrine of the great
Madonna to light several candles. After she had prayed avidly, she swung around.
"How is he different'?" She dared Nicoletta to keep any more
information from her.

"I cannot explain to you even how
I
am different. Only I know
things I should not, I feel illness when I touch people, and a warmth rises in
me to heal them. I know how to mix herbs into medicines, and I know which
mixture will help when I touch the ailing one, but I cannot explain how. It is
similar with him. He has not my same ways, but he is'different' all the
same."

"It is whispered he is in league with…" Maria Pia could not bring
herself even to whisper the name of the devil. She went for the holy water and
sprinkled it at the doors and windows, then shook a healthy dose of it onto
Nicoletta. "His home is dedicated to pagan, heathen deities. There is evil
lurking in that palazzo."

Nicoletta shivered. She agreed with Maria Pia about the evil; she had sensed
it, also. Who could not? But she did not necessarily agree that the don was in
league with the devil. The memory of him standing with his arms wide,
vulnerable to the stiletto, and, later, lowering his head with his hands over
his eyes, tore at her heart. "Because he has the 'gift' does not mean he
is worshipping false gods. It is rare for men to carry it but not unknown,
Maria Pia. You yourself told me that when I was but a babe."

"You cannot defy the law, Nicoletta," Maria Pia repeated.

"I would not think of defying the laws of our village." Nicoletta
made the mistake of smiling, her dark eyes suddenly alight with mischief.

Maria Pia hissed at her, slapping her hand. "Take care,
piccola.
You are more than my old heart can stand. The don is owed our loyalty and
fidelity. We live a good life on his land, our bellies are full, and we are
protected from all invaders. Even the good and Holy Church, may the saints be
praised, leaves us alone because of him, leaving off their witch hunts and
onerous requests for tithing so heavily."

"The law states that all
eligible
women must come forward.
Perhaps I can make myself look younger. Too young for marriage. Perhaps your
memory and that of Mirella has faded a bit as to the exact year of my birth. I
am certain I am a year too young to be included. If it isn't me he is looking
for, there is no harm in the charade. And if it is, it was a harmless
mistake." She shrugged. "Many of the girls would willingly take the
chance of becoming the bride of so powerful a man. Mayhap he will find one of
them to his liking."