Bequeathed

by Melinda Terranova

  “I don’t care, come and get me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.” Toby’s voice softens as he looks back at me.

  “Katalina.” Dominic’s voice is questioning.

  “It’s…it’s no one,” I reply to Dominic as Toby sits on the ground next to me. “What are you doing? You can’t sit there.”

  “No one can sit wherever he likes.” He grins up at me.

  “You really are irritating, you know?” I scowl at him.

  “Not what you said last night.” Toby continues to stare at me raising his eyebrows.

  I stand up and storm off down the road away from Toby and in the opposite direction of the villa.

  “Who was that?” Dominic’s voice is on edge.

  “I’m sorry about that. That is my aunt’s friend’s nephew who is also here for the festival. He thinks he is funny,” I explain.

  I hear Dominic breathe into the phone. “Which festival is it again? I wonder if I have heard of it.” His tone changes and I can feel it through the phone.

  “The festival is in Craco, some saint is celebrated every year,” I answer feeling a little bad for what Toby just did. “Have you heard of it?”

  Dominic pauses for a moment and I can hear his breathing through the phone. “Where did you say it was?”

  “In Craco. It’s a deserted town now.”

  “Craco,” he repeats.

  “Have you heard of it?”

  There is silence on the other end of the phone. “Dominic?” I say into the phone.

  “Yes, I have heard of it. Although I have never been that far south before,” Dominic finally answers me, his voice strained.

  “Are you working all day?” I change the subject.

  “I’m not sure yet. We don’t have many orders at the moment, so I may get the afternoon off. If only you were here and not there,” he sighs.

  “I know,” I agree.

  “I have to go; something’s come up,” Dominic states.

  “Okay, I will text you later.”

  “Katalina,” Dominic breathes.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t go out at night by yourself.”

  Before I can argue my point, Dominic has hung up. I stand and stare at my phone wondering what exactly suddenly came up. Frustrated, I turn back toward where I was seated to see Toby sitting in the chair playing on his phone. As I approach him he smiles at me, an ear-to-ear proud-of-himself grin spreading across his smug face.

  “You are a pain.” I exhale as I storm past him and head back to the villa.

  The mild air has a bite to it as we approach the gates to the old crumbling town. Sofia is giggling into her phone as Maria speaks to the man standing at the gate. He looks reluctant to let us through as the festival is being set up around us. Maria removes her large sunglasses and leans into him whispering something in Italian. The man nods and hesitantly lets our group of three through, handing us hard hats as we pass him.

  “We won’t be long,” Maria calls out to the man at the gate.

  “How far up do we have to go?” Sofia looks up at the tower in front of us.

  “Up there.” Maria points to the right about a third of the way up the crumbling buildings.

  It is hard to get my footing on the rocky ground as we ascend to the first of the many steps that lead to our destination. The workers are busy setting up lighting; they are positioned throughout the decay. We follow Maria single file up stony steps and through arched doorways, stealing glimpses of the hilly valley through narrow alleyways overgrown with weeds and shrubs. We enter through a small opening—the splintered wooden door hanging by one nail—to be welcomed by a room with furniture strewn throughout. I take note of the unchanged fireplace and imagine the family that lived here many years ago huddled around the fireplace in the harsh winter. We continue through the next doorway through a roofless courtyard that has no railing and a large drop to the ground below.

  “Is it safe up here?” I worry out loud.

  “Perfectly safe, just don’t go too close to the edge.”

  “Great,” I murmur.

  We continue through stone archways and up crumbling stairways until we come to the doorway of a large building. Through the entry I notice light streaming through from the right, and shrubs have taken over the floor of the room. I hear Maria sigh as she steps through the door and stops. Giving her a moment, Sofia and I stand outside the building and wait for the invitation to join her.

  “Come look at the view, girls.” Maria’s voice echoes off the stone walls.

  The whole right side of the wall is missing, lying in pieces throughout the buildings below. The view is breathtaking—rocky hills and scattered houses are seen for miles and in the distance there is a glittering lake.

  “Is this the house your mom lived in?” I look at Maria.

  “Yes, this is where my mother, father, and I lived with my mother’s family. I haven’t been back here for many years.” Maria continues to take in the view.

  Following Maria, we climb a set of stairs and come to a stop at the second story of the old house. A large room with no roof is bathed in the sunshine. As we step through the door a flock of small sparrows fly off in different directions. The weathered room has been subjected to the elements over the past few hundred years, yet it still radiates a beauty and tranquility only something not so old would be capable of.

  “It’s such a shame it is all in ruins now. It is so beautiful and peaceful here,” Sofia says.

  “Ask any of the locals—they feel it is haunted. Eternally marred by the hundreds that died. Not to dwell on the past… Let’s keep moving.” Maria takes one last long look at the room and heads back out the way we came in.

  I want to ask to stay for a little longer. I feel a connection to this place but dutifully follow Maria and Sofia back down to the front gate. Teams of workers are busying themselves setting up for the festival, white marquees are being erected along the fence line, and a dozen trucks are being unloaded. We hand back our hard hats and follow Maria to the car. My stomach growls and I am reminded that my insatiable hunger is worse than before.

  “Can we stop at that coffee place and get food please?” I groan as the pain in my stomach causes me to hunch over.

  Maria looks back at me with alarm. “Are you okay?”

  “My stomach hurts; I didn’t eat much this morning.” I cringe.

  We park across the road from the coffee shop. Maria hurries inside as Sofia and I sit at the tables furthest from the entry.

  “I’m going to die if I have to wait much longer.” I giggle as I hold my stomach.

  “I know that feeling.” Sofia smiles.

  Maria returns with a salami panini and a Coke in her hands. “There’s more on its way.”

  I devour the panini as the rest of the coffee and food comes out. I notice Maria staring at me looking as though there is something on the tip of her tongue.

  “Just say it.” I sit up straight readying myself for whatever is coming.

  Maria leans in and whispers in my ear, “Do you want to take the elixir now?”

  My stomach ends up in my throat as I look at her in shock.

  “I don’t want it to be too late…if this is not the future you choose.” Maria grabs my hand and gently squeezes it.

  I look down at the coffee in front of me, unable to speak. I knew this moment was coming. I was mentally preparing for it for days. I glance up at Maria who is holding a small vial of dark liquid.

  “Is that…?” I gesture toward the small vial.

  Maria places it in my palm and closes my fingers around it. “Yes, sweetheart, don’t dwell on it. You can mix it in with your coffee and you won’t taste a thing.”

  Without thinking I pull the small cork stopper out and stare at it. I study the dark liquid and wonder what my life would be like if I didn’t drink it. I quickly push that thought away and pour the liquid into my coffee. Without looking up I take a big gulp of the steaming coffee. The hot liquid slides down my throat sen
ding warmth into my stomach. I place the coffee back on the table and glance up at Sofia, who is grinning at me.

  “You okay?” She smiles.

  I nod.

  “It’s all done. Don’t think about it again,” she encourages. “Now you won’t have to worry about ripping lover boy’s throat out.”

  I roll my eyes at her and drink the rest of my coffee in silence. The weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders and I feel elated. I lean over and give Maria a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “You’re very welcome, sweetheart. I can see you are already in a much better mood.” She hugs me back.

  “I am.” I smile.

  “What time does the festival begin?” Sofia looks at Maria.

  “At six tonight. I will drive you girls back to the villa as I have to go see someone. I will be back before we leave for the festival,” she explains.

  Maria follows the cars in front as directed by the man with the lit-up orange beaker and parks on the grassy lot. We wander up the road with the crowd toward the main entry point. It seems every window and doorway in the crumbling town is lit up, and the effect is hauntingly beautiful. Spotlights highlight important landmarks with changing colors ranging from white, red, blue, and green. There are people roaming around in aqua-colored capes and others adorning aqua-colored clothing. Amongst the increasing crowd, I spot a few mimes dressed in Renaissance clothing with white face masks. There are stilt walkers, acrobats, balloon artists, fire twirlers, and jesters entertaining the crowds. As we enter through the gate our hand is stamped and we are given an outline of the night’s entertainment.

  “What are the capes for?” I ask Maria.

  “San Vincenzo wore an aqua-colored cloak, and this is all to celebrate him so the Craco people like to honor him by wearing the capes,” Maria explains.

  I notice two long rows of white marquees which house food, souvenir stalls, and tables and chairs. A loud horn sounds and the sea of people shuffle and separate taking Maria, Sofia, and me with it, to form a pathway for the parade that is about to begin. The atmosphere is enchanting, and I am mesmerized by the twinkling lights that are placed throughout the old crumbling town—the town that now seems alive and bewitching sitting as the backdrop for the festival. I hear a band start up and watch in anticipation for the parade. First to go past is the San Vincenzo relic, which sits in a glass coffin, carried by six strong men. Next is a group of school kids dressed in the town’s traditional clothing. Each child carries an item that symbolizes the town. The band is next and their colorful costumes make me smile. We stand and watch as each group marches past the crowds. Once the parade has finished, the crowd disperses and the festivities begin.

  “There’s a band starting on the main stage soon. I am going to get a good spot.” Sofia’s eyes light up as she takes off in the direction of the stage.

  “I’m going to go look at the stalls,” I announce.

  “Have you got a phone on you?” Maria looks at me.

  “Yes. I will call you when I’m done looking.”

  “Be careful,” Maria warns.

  “I will,” I call as I head down the center of the marquees.

  Pushing through the crowds I manage to make it to the stall that sells Nutella crepes and wait patiently in line for my turn to order. I leave the small stall with a paper plate stacked with crepes and strawberries. Balancing the plate on top of my take-away coffee, I devour the sweet desert as I meander between the other stalls. The color aqua is prominent throughout the festival; balloons, ribbons, tablecloths, paper plates, and take-away coffee cups are all the same shade of aqua. There are adults and kids everywhere wearing the aqua-colored capes and I seek out a person who is selling them. The capes are hanging by the dozens from his arms and around his neck. I hand him my five euro and he fastens the cape around my neck. I feel like a kid on Halloween. I decide to find Sofia at the main stage.

  “Nice cape,” she yells over the music.

  “Thanks.” I grab the cape and twirl like a five-year-old. The music transforms into a dance beat and I notice the DJ on the stage. The strobe lighting has an ill effect on the people around us, making everyone seem off color. Sofia and I dance together for what seems like hours, the beat transferring us into a trancelike state.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” I yell into her ear as I mime drinking with my hand.

  “Okay. I’ll be here,” she shouts as she turns and starts dancing with some cute guy.

  I find myself heading toward the unmanned entry that leads to the crumbling ruins. Grabbing a hard hat I look around and sneak through the gate. I climb the first set of brick stairs, duck through a small door, and follow a narrow corridor between two buildings. I stop and admire the view of the festival from this height. There is a faint noise to my left and I listen. It stops. I head through another arched doorway and once again am interrupted by a faint noise, only this time I can hear it more clearly. It sounds like whimpering and the scuffing of shoes on the stone floor. My heart rate spikes and I realize that I should leave at once. I spin on my heels and head back out the archway only to come in full view of two people in the shadows against the wall. At first, I think it is a couple making out; however, one of them senses my presence and snaps their head in my direction. Glowing red eyes stare at me. Blood-stained lips move, but I don’t hear a thing. The ringing in my ears is deafening. I jerk my eyes away from the monster and note the limp body sagging in his arms, head lolling to the side, and blood staining her neck and chest. My nightmares are playing out before my eyes. As I try to scream, the wind is pushed out of my lungs by a forceful impact that hits me on my side. I am moving quicker than my eyes can register; the flashes of the festival lights through the crumbling buildings flicker at an alarming speed. Strong arms cradle me against a muscled chest. Strangely, I feel protected. We come to an abrupt stop in the shadows behind a cold stone wall, my head spinning in circles. I am placed against the wall, grateful for the support, and come face to face with Toby. I let out a gush of air in one big whoosh.

  “What would you do without me?” Toby smirks.

  I eye him for a moment to collect my thoughts. “What the hell was that?” I breathe.

  “That was a vampire feeding.”

  “Shit! I think I’m going to be sick.” I lean over and place my hands on my knees just as the bile rises up my throat and pours out of my mouth, splashing my shoes and the bottom of my jeans. Beads of perspiration trickle down my temples and over my cheeks. I continue to heave until I feel as though the lining of my stomach is being torn from my insides. “I’m sorry,” I murmur wiping the vomit from my mouth before I carefully stand up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. I don’t feel good at all,” I reply closing my eyes as I breathe evenly through my nose.

  “I’m taking you home,” he commands.

  “I’ll be okay,” I protest.

  “I am taking you home.” He leers at me as he takes out his phone and rings someone. I watch him as he speaks in Italian. “Maria agrees with me. Let’s go.” He takes my hand and leads me through the darkness and down past the crowds.

  “Seriously,” I mutter under my breath. We arrive at his bike and he hands me the helmet. “You’re not going to wear one?”

  “No.” He swings his leg over the bike and it roars to life. “Get on,” he calls over the noise.

  Sighing I put the helmet on, hoping I have wiped all traces of vomit from my mouth, and defiantly climb on the back, holding onto his waist. The motorbike takes off and I am forced to wrap my arms around Toby to stop myself from falling off. As we pull up at the front door of the villa, the nausea has returned. I climb off the motorbike and pull the helmet off in time to hunch over and heave my guts up again. Once I am positive no more can possibly come out, I stand up. I notice Toby standing a good distance from me with what can only be described as a squeamish look on his face.

  “I need to lie down.�
� I head for the front door. I pull off my ankle boots, make it to the lounge room, and crawl onto the couch.

  “Do you need anything?” Toby asks as he stands at the end of the couch.

  “Maybe a bucket,” I croak as my eyelids get heavier and I find myself dozing off.

  I am ripped from sleep by a terrible sensation of drowning in the blood I am drinking. Flailing my way out from under the heavy cover, which is transformed into the frantic arms of my victim by the power of my dream, I wake gasping for air. The glaring sunlight hits me full force and I squint as I sit up knocking the empty bucket at my feet onto its side. Sitting disorientated, it takes me a minute to work out where I am. My heart pounds a staccato beat in my chest. The stench of dried vomit wafts up my nose and I am grateful that I keep what is left of my stomach contents in my stomach. I slowly stand and head upstairs for a shower. The hot water is soothing, easing the ache in my joints. My head pounds in time to my heartbeat, and the lethargic feeling once again consumes me. I slowly wash away the last traces of the foul smell from last night and manage to crawl into bed, dozing off after a few nauseating minutes.

  “Kat, wake up,” Sofia calls gently from a distance.

  “Huh,” I mumble fighting to find consciousness.

  “Wake up,” she says again, this time more demanding.

  I struggle to open my eyes and blink furiously until I am sure they will stay open.

  “Happy Birthday,” Maria and Sofia sing in unison.

  I look at them a little perplexed. My birthday is not until tomorrow.

  “You slept for a whole day, sweetheart,” Maria explains.

  “Wow. I must have been really sick.”

  “How do you feel today?” she asks.

  “So far, so good,” I reply as I carefully sit up. My head is not pounding so that is a good sign.

  “We have breakfast and presents waiting for you downstairs.” Sofia grins at me. “Hurry up and get downstairs.”

  They both leave my room, shutting the door after them. I groan as I drag myself out of bed and pull on whatever my hands find. Not even bothering with the bird’s nest that has become my hair, I take the stairs two at a time. Balloons and flowers decorate the entire kitchen and dining room. I am ordered to sit at the table as Maria brings me my presents.