Dominic's Nemesis (24 page)

“Go on.”

“Until, the summer of mama
’
s fifty-sixth year. She fell low with a
strange malady; mama described it as a moody illness. Papa said the
doctor examined her three times to ensure he had the diagnosis
correct. When he finally came from the sick room to ‘confront the
husband
’
, Papa feared
the worse. The doctor said he
’
d never seen anything like it in all his born days,
but that mama was with child and quite healthily so. Mama was seven
and fifty when I was born. They named me ‘Eden
’
because they said that I
couldn
’
t have been
anything less than a blessing from God.”

As she brought the anecdote to a close she
couldn
’
t stifle her
yawn.

“Your parents were wise people.” He cradled
her against his chest. “Go to sleep now, Eden.”

“You lied.”

He came awake to the sound of her voice, as
well as an exploring hand flitting over his hip. Even
half-conscious he felt himself swelling in anticipation. That was
only until the tone and content of her words sank in. She sounded…
angry.

“You lied to me, Dominic.”

He opened his eyes; curious and confused why
she should be cross with him. What he saw snapped him up, all
thoughts of passion forgotten. Eden hovered over his naked body,
the covers flipped back so that he lay exposed in all his
nightmarish glory. His disfigurement lay visible for her
inspection. Every scar, slice, gouge, and burn he
’
d endure before Ethan came to live in
Italy and meticulously healed him after each “purification”
ceremony. The layer upon layer of rough-healed slits over each
wrist, the textured mesh of ruined skin on his chest, and the
discolored series of parallel slivers at the sides of his stomach.
He even felt the presence of the deep, ugly groves of gouged out
flesh in his back.

When she tried to pull the sheets and
counterpane even lower, he assumed to inspect his legs, he jerked
away so abruptly that he fell backwards off the bed. Landing with
little grace on his bare bottom. Eden followed him over the edge to
pierce his heart with an expression of mingled anger, horror…and
something else. Could it be…betrayal?

He panicked. Bloody Hell! He
’
d let his guard down, but how?
She
’
d seen them…gotten a
good long look. There
’
d
be no convincing her that they weren
’
t really there this time. DAMMIT! He
wasn
’
t prepared for
this. Telling Cael was one thing, but having Eden know. He
couldn
’
t bear it,
exposing his shame, the years of torture and abuse, the demented
things Lillian had subjected him to. Enduring her pity,
revulsion…the shudder that would undoubtedly go through her at
having a disfigured monster in her bed, lusting for her body. Now
she would detest him, never allow him to touch her again. Worse,
never want to see him again.

When she reached down a hand to help him up,
he recoiled, scrambling backwards until his back slammed
none-too-gently into the cider wardrobe. Seeing a method of
escaping, hiding, he stumbled up from the floor and pivoted around
to fling open the doors of the wardrobe. They rebounded hard and
swung back to whack either side of his body.

She called across the room. “Where are you
going?”

He snatched the first garment his fingers
fell on and draped the shirt around his shoulders, then snatched at
a pair of trousers with equal vehement and shove his legs into
them.

Suddenly she was there, not touching him but
in close enough proximity behind him so that he stiffened. “Tell me
how you got the scars, Dominic. And how you
’
ve managed to hide them all this
time.”

“Don
’
t ask me that. Don
’
t, I can
’
t…”

“Why not?!” Her voice snapped at his back,
angrily, like a forgotten child demanding her due. “What is it?
What! Just
what
the devil did you think I
’
d do, anyway… Run? Scream? Faint? Call for
a priest? Dom…look around, I haven
’
t done any of that. Don
’
t you understand? I
’
ve
seen
you and I
’
m
still here.
”

She touched him then, even as he jabbed,
frantic, at the buttons of the shirt to get the infernal thing
closed…hide his shame once again from the world. Her light fingers
tested the waters at his shoulders, putting a whisper of pressure
on them to make him turn.

He gave up on the buttons. His fumbling hands
shook too badly, competing only with the panting breaths shooting
in and out of his lungs like ricocheted bullets. He didn
’
t turn around, couldn
’
t. Not yet. He needed a few more
moments to compose himself. To let the impossible soak into his
heart, and warm the chill of fear beating there. Did he dare
believe her?

Her arms inched around him, like crawling
vines encroaching upon a trellis. He watched as her delicate
bird-boned hands came up to rest palm-side against his chest,
deliberately casting aside the gapping shirt. She moved closer to
him, pressed her front against his back, burrowing in like she was
home after a long holiday. He could tell from the heat of her body
that she wore nothing.

It moved him to speak, her obvious desire to
be this close to him even with what she
’
d seen. “It did not occur to me that they would be
visible when I slept.”

“But, eh, how did you hide them before?” She
hesitated, seemed reluctant, but she rushed on anyway. “I mean,
with other…
women
.
”

“There were no others, cara. Only you.” He
would have liked to see her face to gauge what she thought of
knowing she was his only lover.

“What about your brothers, how did-”

“Ethan already knew. I told Cael yesterday.
He cast up his accounts when I showed him what our mother let them
do.”

He felt her body tense against him.
“
Them?
”

“Long story.” It came out a faint
whisper.

“It
’
s barely dawn.” She rubbed the skin of his chest
gently, speaking into his shirt. He felt the effects of her voice
all the way down to his toes. “There is an eternity of time before
anyone comes asking after either of us. Will you come back to bed,
then, before I catch my death.”

Just then, he caught a flutter at the corner
of his vision. The falcon alit the roost adjacent the window, and
made a show of settling his impressive plumage around his small
powerful body. The bird trained a black, pupil-less eye on him.
Dominic
’
s heart sank.
That could only mean one thing. Gideon needed him in Italy. He
supposed he would have to face his demons sooner or later.

“Dom?”

He cocked his head over his shoulder. Eden
would not take the news well. And he didn
’
t like the idea either, but bringing her
along was out of the question. They weren
’
t married. Both had sinned and would
likely continue to do so, but the brunt of society’s disapproval
would rest on her. He would not have her subjected to ridicule.
Nonna and the aunts could be malicious about family obligations and
propriety.

“Are you coming back to bed?”

“No.”

“You
’
re not going to tell me.” Her hands fell from him.
Her words were a statement, dripping with defeat.

“I need to walk around a bit. Go back to bed
or cover yourself so you don
’
t catch a chill.” He walked out of her arms and
over to the falcon
’
s
roost. The falcon accepted his invitation, alit his forearm, and
then transferred to his shoulder when he lifted his wrist to a
height level to it. Dominic pivoted on the rustling noise behind
him.

“Eden?”

No answer.

She struggled into her multitude of
undergarments, her movements stiff and angry, sleep-messed tresses
haloed around her. He hadn
’
t quite worked out how to start his tale. Should he
pretty it up from what he
’
d told Cael? As long as she understood the gist,
what did it matter. Either way, he
’
d have to say something soon because she looked
about ready to bolt…and then he
’
d be leaving for Italy before the day
’
s end. He might not have the nerve
to revisit the subject upon his return.

“It started when I was five, perhaps six
years old.”

She stilled, the petticoat drifted from her
hand forgotten. He watched her, as realization dawned. His
angel.

“If I looked at her too long or smiled a
certain way, she
’
d
become annoyed, agitated even. It went on like that for a few
months, half a year. I tried to avert my eyes, but I
’
d forget. Or the babies would do
something funny and I
’
d
laugh wrong.”

“The babies?” She plopped down on the bed,
face turned on his, rapt.

“Gideon and Gabriel were just learning to
walk then.” She looked so right, nestled in his bed on her stomach,
palms propped under her chin.

“Where was your brother Ethan?”

“With his father in England. She
’
d had a…relationship…with an
English dandy, which produced Ethan. When Ethan
’
s father discovered that she was already
married, he took the baby and returned home. Ethan only came to
live with us in Italy after his father died. Later, there would be
the American who fathered Cael and Stephan.”

She looked very serious, his cara, a furrow
marring her gentle features. Despite the dire tale he recounted, a
brief smile touched his lips. He wanted to kiss away the frown from
her brow.

“She took to locking me in the cellar when I
was seven, as punishment. Sometimes for days.”

“Where was your father during all of
this?”

“He chose not to involve himself with us:
Gideon, Gabriel and I. Their marriage was arranged, quite
brilliantly. Mama possessed a striking beauty both in looks and
manners. I imagine that is the only reason her family was able to
conceal her… peculiarities. Lucca did not play the fool for long.
Though he forgave her after Ethan, he never forgot. Never truly
believed any of us were his true children. For months, sometimes a
year at a time, he would not darken the same wing of the house as
us. It was as if we did not exist. I went to him for help once or
twice at the beginning but he looked right through me, almost
disconnected. Claiming that Mama knew what was best and that if I
obeyed her like a good little boy, I
’
d fair better. I tried, but she
’
d fly into rages at the sight of me,
saying that I was an evil spirit sent to torment her. Asking where
her sweet little Dominic was, what had I done with him. After a
while, I longed for the serenity of the wine cellar.”

He began to pace, averting his gaze from
hers, knowing what he would find there: dismay, pity, and finally
sadness. All emotions he had once felt about himself and his
situation, only his sadness was more akin to despair. No. He had to
keep the emotions at bay if he had a prayer of surviving the
retelling.

“She called in a mystic of sorts. He was the
first; I called him ‘The Priest’. He declared me to be possessed by
one of Lucifer
’
s
soldiers, and took the religious approach to exorcism. My eyes, he
said, were the mark of the beast. You
’
d think someone had sentenced her to death. She
tore at her clothes; clawed herself until she bled…in penance, she
said, to atone for her sins. For she must have done something wrong
to be cursed with a demon-possessed son who stared back at her with
the devil in his eyes. For the most part the purification
ceremonies the two of them conducted were more frightening than
painful. You see, since I
’
d been declared evil incarnate, the wine cellar
just wouldn
’
t do. They
kept me in a square pit in the dungeons, and held the ceremonies
among the vacant tombs below ground. Castello di Ambrosi is more of
a citadel than anything else, dating back to the 1500s, complete
with turrets, portcullis, dungeons…and catacombs.”

“Oh, Dom—”

He cut off her small anguished voice.
“Don
’
t. Let me
finish.”

“But couldn
’
t you escape? The way you travel, it should have
been easy.”

He laughed, a short bitter sound that upset
the falcon from his shoulder. Dom waited for him to settle his
wings before he spoke again. “My ability did not manifest until my
twelfth year. And mama was not without her own
talents
. She
could…move things with her mind, restrain me physically with just a
thought. They never even bothered to tie me down.”

He dared a glance at her then. She sat up in
the bed with her knees folded beneath her, hazel eyes wild, shaky
hands covering what could only be a mouth gaped in shock. She was
as much affected by the harrowing events as he. Somehow that
knowledge warmed him.

“After the priest was unsuccessful, the
witch, the druid and finally the doctor appeared. The witch and the
druid were gruesome and the things they did unpleasant, but again
not particularly harmful. With the doctor came a new régime,
purification by pain. I lost count of the bleedings, trials by
fire, broken bones, whippings and the like…but they never touched
my face. Always afterward they would check to see if my eyes had
changed, because that would mean the demon had fled. I began to
wish they would gouge the damned things out and be done with it. Or
kill me.