“Questa è l'ultima volta che stai scappando, Valentina!” This is the last time you run away, she had said. I had no clue what she meant.
The girl moaned and twisted her wrist under the woman’s grip.
“Basta!” I said. “Release her immediately or I'll see that you're dismissed!”
Without setting the girl free, the servant took her other hand to her hip. She drew half a smile and raised one eyebrow. Clearly, my threat had wounded her pride.
“So, you would have me thrown to the street, Englishman?” Surprise, surprise… she spoke English.
“If you do not release her, I will.”
“Hmmm...” The servant raised her chin. Her sharp gaze ran over me, up and down. Seconds later, she freed the girl from her grasp and the child ran inside the house.
“Well?” she said. “Come. She'll want to know what the little birbante did this time.”
I followed her to an inner courtyard, unable to part my eyes from the many mosaics' in geometric designs and floral motifs.
“Wait here.” She left me standing in the middle of the room.
Corinthian columns enclosed the atrium, creating an open ceiling which flooded the central basin with light. Stone pots were scattered everywhere around it, filled with red, white, and pink geraniums, their branches entwined around sculptures of intricate detail… Though I took notice of the few stone benches available, I did not sit.
Behind one of the atrium's columns, the girl peeped and smiled at me. I smiled back.
As soon as she heard voices approaching the room, the child disappeared.
“Buonasera.”
The woman walked into the room dressed in a fashionable green gown and wearing an appropriate hairstyle. The house's mistress, without a doubt.
“Sera,” I said, taking notice of the servant who refused to part from her mistress' side. I widened my eyes and discretely suggested she should remove herself from the room, to which she responded by mimicking my exact gestures without the lady's notice.
“My daughter tells me you found our Valentina and brought her home,” she said.
“I did—your daughter?”
The woman nodded. “You've met her. Regina.”
“So, they're both your daughters...” I mused.
“Not exactly,” she said while sitting on the bench and offering me a seat as well. “Valentina is my niece. She's been with us a little less than a year… Since her father died.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“She's been running away ever since,” she said. “Come out, child! Thank the kind gentleman for rescuing you from the streets!”
The girl peeked once again from behind another column and moved closer.
I took out the folded piece of fabric and exposed the child's jewels in my hands. “She was selling these, at Tre Fontane.”
Regina's eyes flew open. “My ring!” She snatched the Topaz ring and slid it on her finger quick. “My earrings, too!”
I folded the piece of cloth and gave it to her mother.
Regina's lips tightened in a grimace of fury. “You little thief!” Her fingernails clawed at the defenseless creature.
“Regina!” the woman said, and her daughter held back.
“And where is the child's mother, if I may ask?”
“My sister?” she said. “The fool... she insisted her husband was alive. Five months ago, she went on his search, to Venice. I have heard nothing of her since.”
“Venice?” I mused as I stared at the child's hazel eyes. They seemed familiar.
“Yes, Venice.”
“Very well.” I rose from my seat. “I've restored what is yours. I bid you farewell.”
“Grazie, signore,” the woman said.
“Prego.” I moved towards the courtyard. Regina hesitated to follow. “No, no. Please, don't,” I said. “I know the way.” However exotic and appealing her beauty, I wanted nothing to do with that detestable woman.
In the courtyard, I stopped before the fountain. With the back of my hand, I cleared a few drops of sweat from my forehead.
“Psst...”
The sound came behind me, from the villa's front steps. I turned but saw no one.
“Pssst...!”
Her face appeared behind one of the courtyard's pine trees.
“Valentina,” I said. “What are you doing? You mustn't run away, child, no matter how devious a cousin you may have.”
She giggled.
I knelt before her. “Tell me, why did you steal those jewels?”
“I must find my mother,” she said, wriggling her small hands together. “I need money to pay my way to Venice.”
“Listen,” I said. “I think it's best you remain here. As it turns out, I'm traveling to Venice in a couple of days. Perhaps I could make some inquiries...” What was I saying?
“Si! Grazie mille, signore!”
“Now, I cannot make any promises. It's possible I may find nothing...”
She nodded.
For reasons beyond my understanding, this girl had taken hold of my heart. The nobility of my genuine intentions astounded me. Who knew I had it in me to play a hero’s part?
“I'll need to know your mother's name.”
“Marietta Mazzilli,” Valentina said as she bit her fingernails.
“And your father? What is his name?”
“Rinaldo Bianchi.”
“Bianchi?” A freezing rush ran down my spine. I almost lost balance. It took me a minute to regain my composure. I feared to utter the words but they had to be said. “Was your father, by any chance, a Master swordsman?”
The girl smiled and nodded. “You've heard of him! Before I was born, Father traveled the world. He lived in England for a long time. And here, when he returned, he met my mother.”
The old woman had said Valentina's father was dead. Dead? Was he truly dead? How could that be?
“How old are you?”
She showed me all the fingers of both hands. “Dieci.”
“This changes everything.” I got on my feet.
“Signore?” she said, confused. “You will help me?”
“Oh, I'll do more than that,” I said. “I'll do everything in my power to see you happy and reunited with your mother. This, I promise you, Valentina.”
12
The Earth Moved
It rose on the horizon, above pure blue rippling waters. Twilight set on la Piazza di San Marco.
The Palazzo Ducale's stood tall in front of us, its strong planar façade tinged with fading shades of orange and reddish hues. And the sudden first sight of its ground-level loggia and imposing colonnade seized my heart in one powerful blow of wonder.
“Venice,” she whispered. Alisa held my hand and pressed it tight.
Her glistening eyes fixed on the colonne di San Marco. Its vigilant winged lion held its stare upon us as the vessel drew near the Venetian shore.
“Yes, dearest,” I mused. “Your Venice.”
La Sereníssima Repubblica di Venezia, the one destination that had unleashed this entire venture months ago.
This entire dream had come to fruition because of a simple sheet of paper torn from an old traveling guide; tattered and wrinkled with multiple folds, it had endured for eight long years. With affectionate devotion, Alisa had held onto it for that long; until that one night, when she had confided her secret wish to me.
Today, the dream was no more. It pulverized into oneiric dust the moment we stepped off the boat and touched Venetian soil. But part of the illusion remained and showed no sign of ever fading away.
The roads to pleasure and perdition. That moment remained engraved in my memory. And every time I summoned it, the warm blood rushing through my veins reminded me how forbidden true paradise could be.
A sudden gust of cold wind enveloped us as we strolled on the Riva degli Schiavoni.
Nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming experience that lay ahead. As I stood in the middle of the piazza, I discovere
d myself insignificant, surrounded by architectural wonders.
Before me rose Saint Mark's Basilica's gleaming façade, with five imposing recessed arches finished in precious mosaics, detailed in shimmering gold leaf. To my right, Il Campanario extended three-hundred feet high, and behind it, the Doge's Palace colonnade lined the precious panoramic from whence we came. Framed between il colonne de San Marco e San Todaro, loomed the breathtaking sight of the peaceful Venetian evening sea.
I turned around. A larger piazza lay before the Basilica, enclosed by the towering buildings of the Procurata. Flights of doves circled the darkening sky—
The earth moved. It bounced ever so slightly, up and down, it swayed. The entire city was nothing more than a collection of islands settled over wooden pilings on a marshy lagoon; so of course, it moved.
Despite my childhood aspirations of becoming a pirate, the sea did not agree with me at all. I leaned against the first surface my body encountered and closed my eyes trying to hold my bearing.
“Are you all right?” A voice spoke in the distance. The soft pressure of Alisa’s hand locked around my shoulder. “Ivan?”
Breathe. Take one deep breath, and then the next. “I will be,” I whispered. “Just give me a few minutes.” I never knew freedom could be so... intoxicating.
After months of travel, the Grand Tour had revealed to me one powerful truth—embracing the world required bravery. It was a howling experience, unparalleled by any other. The many tomes of History and Geography handed by my tutors could never have prepared me for this reality. All I knew, and I knew it well, was that this entire city could disappear by morning with nothing but darkness to meet me in its stead. I wanted to take it all in with large gasps of air, no matter how overwhelming… Perhaps this was the reason for my sudden seasickness?
“Come on, Ivan,” she whispered. “You must lie down. Let's get you home.”
I opened my eyes to an unknown bedroom.
Where am I?
After taking a deep breath, I sat on the bed. My hand ran over my stubble beard. As raindrops, memories poured in my brain, one by one. We had reached our lodgings with Alisa’s help. By the time we arrived, my head was throbbing with unbearable pain. I took little notice of anything else. She led me to my room and I lost consciousness the minute I landed on the mattress.
The room's faint candlelight flickered. With a new candle, I rescued the dying flame.
Holding the light up, I moved towards the double doors; the nautical breeze drifted inside the moment I opened them. The wind's refreshing embrace soothed my anxiety and lured me to the balcony.
Murmuring waters rippled against the palazzo's foundation. The evening's stillness conferred a wild sense of peace upon me. And I welcomed it, relishing in the humid wind as it engulfed me.
With its phenomenal view of the Grand Canal, this balcony immediately became my favorite spot.
A few small boats roamed across, breaking the silent atmosphere. Their lanterns’ luminosity increased as they floated by and diminished the minute they drifted away.
“Feeling better?” Standing by the balustrade, her silhouette moved out of the shadows into the candle's pool of light.
“I think so...” I said, checking into myself. The floating feeling persisted, subtly. The earth was still moving beneath my feet.
“I thought you might want some wine,” she said.
“You thought well...” I took the glass from her hand and slipped onto the wooden bench behind me. She sat by my side.
“Alisa...” I mused.
“Yes?”
“Are you happy?”
“I am,” she said. “Venice is everything I thought it would be... all else pales in comparison.”
I turned and studied her expression. Whether out of shyness or because of the self-possessed demeanor imposed on her by society's restrictive rules, she would hardly ever show any emotion that threatened to break her poise. But tonight, Alisa grew radiant with joy as she spoke.
“I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before...” I whispered.
She clasped her hands together on her lap and smiled with demure. “I agree,” she mused.
Venice completed her heart. It was the missing piece that made it beat once more; it quickened her blood and gave her new life. The possibility of recovering the Alisa I once knew loomed on the horizon.
“We should get you to bed,” she said.
“I know better than to argue with you.” I took one quick drink and for once, obeyed.
When I rose from the chair, the dizziness returned. As long as I made it to the bed, I would be fine. I held the balustrade for a minute until I regained my balance.
“This is ridiculous...” I said under my breath, ashamed and seconds away from unleashing my anger.
“Don't say that,” she whispered. “Let me help you.”
She slipped her arm around my waist.
“Look at us,” she said. “For once, we're doing this with you sober...” A brief giggle escaped her lips.
I frowned. “That's hardly amusing.” Pain pulsed on my temples.
A gust of cool wind rushed into the room, extinguishing the candlelight. In the dark, the dizziness grew stronger. With one faulty step, I stumbled on the rug and clung fast to her waist, pulling her down with me as I fell over the bed.
A stray beam of light filtered inside the room, landing on her bewildered blue eyes as she lay on top of me. Her nearness unleashed every shred of indecency lying dormant in my body. My heart pounded hard against my chest. I tried not to breathe as the warmth of her breath landed on my lips.
The roads to pleasure and perdition.
The air between us grew denser, thicker, charged with an invisible yet tangible energy that pulled me closer to her. With every ounce of my being, I knew how wrong this could be; but in that swift moment of blissful promise, I did not care. I would risk everything for the taste of her kiss... But it was then that something extraordinary happened.
I no longer felt the paced warmth of her breath. Her eyes fixed on mine, and without uttering a sound, her body's weight yielded over me—her lips seconds away from mine.
Before I knew it, my fingers reached her face, barely touching her porcelain skin.
Time stopped. And it resumed the moment she inhaled once more, blinked, and moved away from the bed.
“I—I'll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.
Every step she took back hurt like a dagger plunged into my chest. For the first time in months, misery crept back into my soul.
It was late. I overslept.
With haste, I slipped on my dark green satin jacket as I headed downstairs. Sliding my hand over the marble balustrade, I took the last flight of steps.
A tall slender man stood by the water gate. A statue, dressed in gold and royal blue livery. His gaze fixed on a ghost standing far ahead of him.
With one quick glance, I swept the hall. Burgundy damask-lined walls, marble floors, and Turkish rugs; through four arched windows, daylight poured inside and refracted in the grand crystal chandelier pending high above me, bearing Murano's characteristic floral details.
These were the piano nobile floors. Our lodgings satisfied the snob within me.
“Buongiorno,” I said to the living statue.
“Buongiorno, signore,” he said, waking from whatever trance had kept him motionless. He moved towards the stairway. “My name is Marcello Portelli. I am at your service... We met last night but—”
“I wasn't quite myself last night,” I mused.
“La corrispondenza, signore.” He offered me a silver tray with a small stack of letters. I took them and headed to the parlor.
“Signore?” Marcello said. “There is also a parcel, addressed to Miss Lockhart.”
“I'll give it to her myself.” I reached for it and returned to the stairs.
“Signore, si sarà avendo la prima colazione?”
“Breakfast?” I said. “It's a bit late for that. I would prefer yo
u sent coffee to the parlor, please.”
“Va bene, signore.”
I found Alisa sitting by the hearth with a magazine on her lap but staring away, haunted by the flames. As soon as I closed the sliding doors behind me, she snapped out of the spell. She turned, and when her eyes landed on me, a smile bloomed on her face.
“How are you feeling today?” she said, but I heard something different. What she was actually asking was, “Let us pretend last night never happened.” And I agreed because I knew nothing but misery could come out of dealing with it.
“Much better, thank you.” I slipped the box on her lap.
“A parcel?” She frowned. “For me?” Alisa removed the wrappings with speedy curiosity. She took aside the box's lid and peered inside. “A parasol...” She extracted a small piece of paper from the box and read it in silence.
“Well?” I urged. “Who sends it?”
To my surprise, she crushed the paper under her fist and tossed it inside the box.
“Your lady friend,” she said, “the witch.” Spite came through her voice as sharp as a thistle.
I smiled. The Red Devil was back in our lives. How shrewd of her to discover our whereabouts!
“It's but a warm gesture of friendship,” I said. “Why should it bother you?”
“Alas, Ivan...” Alisa rolled her eyes back. “This is not a friendly gesture, I can assure you. It is presumptuous and arrogant.” She dropped the parasol over my writing desk. “And I shall never use it.” In a fit, she walked away from the parlor.
“Coffee, signore.” Marcello knocked on the door.
“Grazie,” I said, counting the seconds until he disappeared from the room.
His reverential method at serving coffee threatened my frail patience. I had every burning intention of reading the piece of paper which had caused Alisa such irritation... but I could not do it until Marcello went away. Get back to your post near the water gate and turn back into stone!
After pouring the coffee, he made a slight bow and raised his thick dark eyebrows.
Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part One. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1) Page 13