Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (3 page)

Maria Pia clucked her sympathy as she bustled around looking busy. She
conferred with her assistant, watched closely to assure the younger woman mixed
her drafts and powders correctly and insisted on helping the don swallow the
liquid herself. "You must rest now," Maria Pia ordered. "We will
see to the child through the night. Pray we did not arrive too late."

Nicoletta signed with her hand discreetly as she once more went back to
persuading the child to drink small sips of the medicine.

"I must know if others are ill. Did others share the soup?" Maria
Pia asked at Nicoletta's suggestion.

The man shook his head, murmured. "No one else," and ignored the
older woman's nervous gasp as he rose and staggered across the room to a large
chair. "I will stay with the child." He said it firmly, closing his
eyes and turning his head away from them.

Maria Pia looked helplessly at Nicoletta, who shrugged. The room was as
clean as they could make it in so short a time. The child's fever was down
slightly, although she was still quite ill. But the fact that she was keeping
down the potion Nicoletta had concocted, that her stomach was not rejecting it,
was a good sign. The don was likely not nearly as sick as the child. He was much
larger, stronger, and his body more capable of fighting off the ill effects of
the soup they had both ingested.

Maria Pia took several candles from Nicoletta's leather satchel and placed
them around the room. Nicoletta had made them herself out of beeswax and
various aromatic herbs. Their scent at once filled the room, dispelling the
last remnants of the foul odor of sickness. The fragrance was also peaceful and
soothing, aiding in further calming the little girl.

"Mio fratello
awaits news of his
bambina."
It was
another order, delivered by a man accustomed to being obeyed.

Nicoletta was outraged that the man's brother—the child'
s father
—was
outside
the room, leaving his daughter to the care of her sick uncle and two strangers.
She bit down hard on her lip to keep from making a sound. She would never
understand the
aristocrazia.
Never.

Maria Pia opened the door and delivered the news that the don would recover
and that they would continue to battle for the child's life throughout the
night. It was not the dreaded disease the household had thought, and the don
wished them to know.

Nicoletta wished they would all just go away and stop their useless wailing.
What good did such a din create? None of them had come near the child, afraid
they might catch her illness. Poor
bambina,
to matter so little that her
own father refused to see to her! Nicoletta's heart went out to the child.

As a hush finally fell over the household, Nicoletta settled down on the bed
close to young Sophie. The child desperately needed more medicine in her to
counteract the effects of the poisoning. Had it been accidental? Or deliberate?
Nicoletta tried not to think about that as she quietly removed her sandals,
settled against the strangely carved headboard, drew up her knees, and tucked her
bare legs beneath her long skirt. With the glow from the stoked fire and the
flickering candles, she had sufficient light to observe the room.

Nicoletta couldn't understand why anyone would put a small child in such a
chamber. It was far too large, and the carvings in the walls were demonic.
Long, coiled, forked-tongued snakes and strange serpents with fangs and claws
cavorted between the enormous windows. The marble reliefs and a particularly
wicked-looking gargoyle seemed almost alive, as if they might leap off the
walls and attack one. The curtains were heavy and dark, and the ceiling was far
too high and carved with a plethora of winged animals with sharp beaks and
talons. Nicoletta couldn't imagine a child of seven attempting to fall asleep
with these creatures surrounding her in the darkness.

Eventually, Maria Pia fell into a doze slumped in a small chair beside the
fire. Nicoletta covered her with the spare coverlet and reluctantly checked on
the don. He was very quiet, his breathing shallow enough that she could tell he
continued to be in pain but was refusing to acknowledge it. Though almost
afraid to touch the man, she laid a cooling hand on his forehead. A strange
current suddenly ran between the two of them. She could feel it arcing and
crackling beneath her skin, beneath his, and it made her distinctly uneasy. His
fever was down but not entirely gone. With a little sigh, Nicoletta held the
cup of liquid to his mouth. She didn't want to wake him, but he, too, needed
the medicaments to ensure his recovery.

His hand abruptly moved up to trap hers around the cup as he drank, making
it impossible for her to let go. He was enormously strong for a man so ill.
When he had drained the contents, he lowered the cup but retained possession of
her hand. "I wonder how the healer knows which remedy to use. I have heard
of her skills; the healer to your
villagio
is spoken of often with great
respect."

Nicoletta stiffened, her heart thundering in her ears. She tugged, a not-so-subtle
reminder to release her, but this time he tightened his grip, not allowing her
to escape back into the shadows. There was danger here; she sensed a threat to
her. "I… I do not know, Don Scarletti. Her secrets are hers alone."
Deliberately she stammered and hung her head, shrinking into herself like a
not-so-bright servant.

The don continued to hold her still, regarding her through half-closed eyes.
In the firelight he looked a dark and dangerous devil, far too sensuous and
powerful to be trifled with. Nicoletta didn't waver beneath the scrutiny,
although she wanted to tear her hand free and run for her life. He was so much
more dangerous to her than she had first thought.
She felt
it, as she
did everything. Resolutely she stared at the floor.

The don retained possession a few moments longer, then abruptly let her go,
his eyes closing, clearly dismissing her. Nicoletta prevented her sigh of
relief from escaping and moved swiftly to put a safe distance between them,
curling up on the bed beside the child once more. She breathed slowly, calmly,
watching the rise and fall of his chest until she was certain he slumbered once
more.

Several times she attended the child, washing her to keep the fever down,
prompting her to drink fluids and the physic. The child seemed to be breathing
more easily and each time Nicoletta rested her hand on the distended little
abdomen, it seemed to be twisting less, the pain subsiding.

She was finally drifting off to sleep herself when a movement at the far
side of the chamber caught her eye. A bell pull seemed to sway, though there
was no breeze. She shifted her gaze to the wall behind it, watching intently.
The smooth, seamless panel seemed to waver, as if her eyes were out of focus.
She sat up, staring intently. The wall was marble, a beautiful pink and white,
yet it seemed to move in the flickering firelight. Shadows danced and
stretched, and the flames and curtains leapt as if a draft had entered the
room. She shivered as two of the candles suddenly went out.

For one awful moment she though she saw the sheen of eyes staring at her
malevolently from the shadows, but then the child beside her moved restlessly,
breaking the spell. Instantly Nicoletta protectively gathered her close, her
gaze once more straying to the wall. It was as unblemished as a sea-smoothed
stone. The little girl began to cry in her sleep, a soft, pathetic sound.

Nicoletta rocked her gently and began to hum, then quietly sang a soothing
lullaby, a whispered melody for the child. The little girl began to relax in
Nicoletta's arms, clinging to her tightly as if she might never let go. The
words, thought long forgotten, emerged naturally, a ballad Nicoletta's mother
had often sung to her when she was young. Nicoletta's heart went out to the
lonely child, who had no one who cared enough to hold her in the darkness when
the nightmares came.

Nicoletta looked around the cavernous room, taking in the heavy curtains and
hideous carvings, enough to give anyone nightmares. As she rocked, the little
girl snuggled close to her, and they drifted to sleep together, neither
noticing the man sitting in the chair observing Nicoletta through half-closed
eyes.

It was a whisper of movement that woke Nicoletta. She felt the disturbance
in the air, the shifting of currents. She lay holding the child in her arms
while her heart pounded and she attempted to get her bearings. The fire had
died down to a soft orange glow. The last of the candles was spluttering into
its own wax with a hiss, its aromatic scent drifting into the air with a thin
tail of black smoke. The bedchamber was situated on the ocean side of the
palazzo, and despite the thick walls, she could hear the constant pounding and
roaring of the waves as they crashed against the jagged rocks. In a way the
steady, constant rhythm was a comfort.

Nicoletta glanced toward the chair where Don Scarletti had been sleeping.
The seat was empty. Maria Pia still slumbered in her chair, her small, frail
body barely visible beneath the coverlet.

The child in Nicoletta's arms moved, her little hand creeping along
Nicoletta's arm until she clasped her hand tightly. Her rosebud mouth pressed
against Nicoletta's ear. "Sometimes they whisper to each other all
night." Her voice was a shaky thread of sound, her thin body trembling.

Nicoletta tightened her arms around the child, offering comfort as they lay
together in the massive bed. The ornate sculptures did seem to be whispering;
she could hear the soft murmuring, which seemed to surround them, making it
impossible to discern the exact source. The shadows moved and deepened so that
the wings on the carved creatures appeared to spread in preparation for flight.
The curved claws of the wicked-looking gargoyle lengthened and grew, stretching
toward the bedstead, throwing a darker gray across the figures etched into the
ceiling. One talon elongated across the eaves and rafters, a dark shape like
the hand of death. It seemed to be reaching for something, and Nicoletta almost
stopped breathing as the grotesque shadow hovered across the ceiling above the
bed.

Sophie sobbed quietly, the sound muffled against Nicoletta's neck.

"Shh,
bambina,
I will not allow anything to harm you,"
Nicoletta promised in her softest, most reassuring voice. But she was
frightened, watching the shadows play macabre games, hearing the hideous
murmuring. The shadowy talon slowly passed overhead and reached the ornate
chandelier with its heavily layered rows of tapers. The claw curved around the
base, the sharpened talon digging at the fixture.

Unexpectedly she saw the chandelier sway. Felt a ripple of motion much like
the tremor that had passed through the ground up on their arrival at the
palazzo. Nicoletta's heart leapt into her throat. Horrified, she stared up at
the large, heavy circle of candles. It definitely trembled; it was not her
imagination. This time the movement was more pronounced, a shudder that sent
several half-burned tapers spilling to the floor. The waxy missiles failed to
touch the bed, but they struck the chair where Maria Pia slept. The chandelier
creaked and swayed alarmingly, sending more candles spiraling wildly in all
directions through the air.

Nicoletta gasped and attempted to shove the child to safety beneath the
massive, untouched bed. She was forced to use precious seconds prying the child's
fingers from around her neck, and then she dove for Maria Pia, dragging her out
of the chair onto the floor, covering the older woman with her own body.

She heard a terrible grinding sound, and the enormous fixture ripped loose
of the ceiling and slammed into the chair where Maria Pia had been sleeping.
The chair was smashed to pieces, and the chandelier broke apart. Nicoletta
couldn't prevent her cry of pain as the shorn brass sliced into her calf and
other pieces pelted her.

Sophie screamed, a thin wail of terror. Nicoletta ignored Maria Pia's
muffled questions and pushed herself up, shouldering large pieces of the
chandelier off herself to scramble on all fours and drag the little girl to
her. Sophie burst into tears, burying her face in Nicoletta's neck and
clutching her tightly. Nicoletta could feel warm, sticky liquid running down
her leg, and it throbbed and burned. She rocked the child gently, soothingly,
glancing up at the ceiling. The strange shadow had receded, leaving the carved
sculptures nothing but ornate works of art and her own vivid imagination.

The door to the bedroom was flung open, and an old man, a stranger, stood
framed there. "What happened here?" His frame was tall and thinning
with age, his thick hair silver, wild, and untamed, sticking out in all
directions. He glared at them from beneath bushy eyebrows, intimidating after
their recent terror. His fierce gaze took in Nicoletta, the child clinging to
her, and Maria Pia on the floor in the middle of a heap of rubble that had once
been the chair and the chandelier. "What the devil is going on in
here?" It was a clear accusation.

Sophie cringed at the tone of his voice, and tried to burrow closer to
Nicoletta, refusing to look up. Her sobs increased in volume, verging on
hysteria.

The old man came into the room, a towering fury. "Stop that incessant
wailing, you wretched little female!" He loomed over them, his fists
clenched, shaking a stout cane at them. His eyes glittered like obsidian, his
face twisted into a thundercloud. "It is thievery going on in here!
Nothing less than thievery in the middle of the night!"

Nicoletta was uncomfortably aware of the unblinking eyes of the various
carvings and sculptures all around them—silent, taunting faces gloating at
their misfortune.

Maria Pia moaned and pushed herself to a sitting position. Nicoletta kept
her attention on the little girl. It was obvious that Sophie was as terrified
of the old man as she was of the shadowy specters that haunted her room at
night. Nicoletta instantly began whispering soothing words to the child,
knowing it best to leave the old man to Maria Pia, who wouldn't kick his ankle
as he so richly deserved. Nicoletta had been frightened by the odd murmurings
and shadows and the crashing chandelier, but this flesh-and-blood rude old man
was now making her angry. It would not be wise to say or do anything to call a
closer inspection upon herself; she dared not say what she thought. Nicoletta
did her best to resume her role as a slow, frightened servant girl. The last
thing she wanted was for the don to notice her. She didn't want the villagers
to suffer punishment on her behalf. They might be able to go into the
surrounding towns and make a modest living, but she doubted it. They had lived
in the hills all their lives, depending on the tolerance and good will of the
don.