by Ella Bilgrim
Ella Bilgrim
The Crimson Benediction
A teen mafia romance novelette
Run.
That’s what I’ve been doing for a while now, Melody thought. But scurrying across a labyrinth of tunnels, abandoned for centuries under Venice was daunting. Holy mosaics were plastered on decadent walls just as human bones decorated the tunnels.
Melody kept pacing the crypts without much thought on anything but the exit. Left, right, straight? In the end, all that greeted her was a blank wall.
“Stop right there!” A voice boomed in the dark.
Melody abruptly turned around and almost dropped the torch in her hands. She took a good look at the Mafioso henchman. His clothes were ruffled and the earlier attack in the tunnel had left his hair unkempt.
“I got you now!” the man exclaimed. “Your friend couldn’t save you. He’s dead!”
Melody’s eyes grew wide. She couldn’t move. Suspended by fear, she began to panic. Alex died? No! A well of emotions raged through her. Sadness fear, anger, hate… guilt?
“And you’re next,” the henchman sneered.
Anger won out and Melody launched herself at him and the collision knocked them both to the ground. The man made a grab for the knife that had clattered out of his hand, but Melody, much quicker on her feet, jumped up, stomping on his hand before kicking the knife out of reach.
She darted towards the exit, but a firm hand grabbed her foot and she slipped once more to the ground.
The man maneuvered himself above Melody, and tried to pin her to the ground, but she hit him in the face and kicked him in the chest and groin and wriggled free of the Mafioso’s grasp. Melody had just managed to crawl away when she heard the click of a gun being cocked. She turned to see the man standing again, a gun pointed directly at her face.
“Adio, bella,” he sneered.
Melody raised her hands up to her face to shield herself when a deafening gunshot rang out in the tunnel. Instinctively, she closed her eyes.
* * *
The Rialto Market was jam-packed that morning and the heat of the sun sent beads of sweat rolling down her brow, but Melody Geneva didn’t mind as she reveled in the smell of baked cannoli and whiskey bread. Her family knew that the market would be bustling with tourists at this hour, but they pushed on.
The Geneva family had just finished their tour of the Grand Canal and were hunting for knickknacks and souvenirs in the Rialto. The intoxicating place was choked with tourists and locals alike, out for their daily supplies.
Melody inhaled the scent of garlic and berries, hoping she’d remember the aromas of Venice forever, when suddenly she was knocked out of her reverie by a solid bump in her back.
“Hey!” she exclaimed.
Her little brother, Thomas, pushed his way towards their father, Scott, who was trailing after a mime who seemed to hurry away whenever he got close.
“Look at dad! I bet he’s asking for tips on how to be funny and top up puns after puns for tonight’s big joke,” he said.
Melody sighed and shook her head.
True.
After their mom died four years ago, when she was 14, she thought the overwhelming feelings of distress would break their family apart. Thomas was barely eight years old and he needed his mother, but their father felt it the worst.
Night after night, he would go straight to bed without saying goodnight to his kids and in the morning he would get up and leave for work. It wasn’t until she and her brother found their mother’s journal that their dad seemed to come back to life again, and eventually, he was his punny old self again.
“Hey, kids! Whatcha listening to? I have my old Red Scott Chili Peppers with me!” “You are Scott-handed!” “Take a ride on our new Scott-wheel-ride to school.”
They did fly to Venice, Italy because that’s one of the wishes they found in their mother’s diary.
It was more of a bucket-list for the family before their mother passed away due to cancer. Now, they flew to Italy to honor her wishes.
Melody and Thomas called to their father, who was taking his time talking to the mime. He joined them and they walked along to the Rialto Bridge to find more souvenirs to take back home.
The shops of the Rialto bridge brimmed with beaded jewelry, gem-colored scarves, and a faux set of monstrance fit for holy churches.
Amidst the press of visitors, Melody spotted a monstrance, a reliquary decorated with ruby-colored gems. She looked inside and was surprised to find it filled with dust or sand of some sort.
“This would be lovely in the family room next to mum’s photos,” she murmured to no one in particular, as she reached out to touch it. Suddenly cold fingers met her own, and she stopped, turning to face a pair of equally cool eyes. The young stall-keeper had a serpent-like gaze that darted into her soul.
“Non è in vendita, bella,” he said with a playful grin. His voice was a whisper, but Melody clearly heard him despite the crowded market.
“Sorry. Conosco solo il piccolo Italian,” Melody gestured with her hands. “I only know a little Italian,” she translated her own words.
The guy cocked his head to the right, grinning, without taking his eyes off of her. Or his fingers off her arm.
“I said it’s not for sale. It’s mine,” he smirked. “I’m Alex,” he held out his hand.
Melody cautiously took his hand with hers before instilling a handshake.
The young man stood up, grabbed the antiquity, and smiled down on her. He put his other hand in his pocket and still his eyes didn’t move from her.
He is impressively tall, Melody thought. And handsome too. He had shaggy brown hair, and deep gray eyes. He wore a black shirt and the dog tags around his neck caught the afternoon sun, so that Melody couldn’t make out what was written on them.
“And why would you want something like this when you can have those pretty necklaces?” Alex asked.
“Is it wrong to want something like that?” Melody challenged. Probably, she answered herself. When most people wanted to hang out in a bar, she preferred to be in a café. When they wanted cool kicks, she wanted a book. And, where most people liked theme parks, she wanted museums. So, if someone asked her whether she wanted a necklace or a relic, guess what she would say?
“It’s morbidly odd for you,” he started. “You see, this antiquity even though trite from their origin is still valued as a holy, cherished prize by the state and its people. Items such as these should be handled with care and people like –”
“Like you? Like you who mansplain so much to women?” Melody snapped. “I just want to know where it came from, what shop made it, what it is made of, what is that sandy substance over there, and the red glass that looked like dried wine–”
“I didn’t know this was going to be an interrogation –”
“Look, can I just see, pretty please? For a quick second. If you’re still selling… Hey, hello?”
Alex looked over her shoulder with a frown, as if he saw something or someone he didn‘t like.
“You know what, bella? You’re quite right. I’m sorry, I’ll give it to you. I can wrap it and you take good care of it,” he suddenly swung his attention back to her.
“Wait, what are you –”
“And the best of all, è gratis! Take it as a gift,” he hurriedly wrapped the antiquity in brown paper and handed it to Melody.
Alarmed by his suddenness, she responded tersely, “Hey! You know what, I changed my mind. I don’t want it!”
“You can give it to me when we meet again, bella,” Alex smirked. “I’ll definitely see you again.” He shot her
an amused and apologetic smile as he quickly slipped past her and into the crowd.
What was that all about?
“Wait, what is this anyway?” Melody shouted at him. She moved quickly into the crowd, passing by the other tourists talking loudly over vendors and at each other.
“Three for one hundred!”
“I can give you this bracelet for a good price…”
“Dresses! Dresses for sale!”
Finally, she caught a glance of his black shirt and shaggy hair. She watched as he made a sharp right turn and ... punched a man in the throat!
Alex jabbed the man in his chest, spun him around, and twisted his arm, sending the hapless man to his knees. He struck him on his neck again and the latter quickly fainted. At that moment, he glanced up and immediately locked eyes with Melody.
She froze.
He looked at her with hollowed eyes, but they quickly softened into a smile.
Melody tried looking away and thought of crying for help, but for some reason, she couldn’t. It was as if he was pulling her in with his arrogant gaze, his eyes at once both calm and ravaging as the sea.
A group of tourists passed between them, and when the path had again cleared, both men were gone.
Melody looked around for the mysterious youth. Is he a criminal? Did anyone else see that? Should I take this parcel to the police? Melody stood rooted to the spot, clutching the relic close to her chest until she realized there was no point looking anymore, so she turned back towards the stalls to find her father and brother.
She never noticed the man in the shadows, watching her intently until she walked away.
* * *
“So, have you told dad about that thing?” Thomas pointed at the relic in front of him.
Melody shook her head. She told her brother about the incident back at the Rialto and how she seemed to be the only one who had seen the whole episode unfold.
“Couldn’t get a word in edge-ways to tell him. Too excited to meet his former senior accountant. Here in Venice of all places,” Melody groggily said, as she reached for her coffee cup.
Despite his outgoing and fun personality, their father, Scott, worked in an accounting firm back in Florida. That morning, they’d be dragged to meet their dad’s co-worker in a nearby tea room within Dorsoduro.
Melody could hear her father in the other room, humming a happy tune while rummaging through his suitcase. She, on the other hand, had other plans that morning. She looked up at the clock.
6:45AM.
The Accademia will open at 8 a.m., Melody thought. I can still catch up with dad later on. Too bad they weren’t able to enjoy the Accademia yesterday. They had arrived late and the crowds beat them to it.
“You’re not thinking of going back to that gallery, are you?” Thomas asked, breaking Melody’s train of thought.
She ruffled her brother’s hair and teasingly said, “If you can read my mind, you know what I’d do to torture you.”
“Will dad even allow you?” Thomas sighed, unfazed by his sister’s joke.
“He can try. I’m 18!” Melody retorted.
“You better start talking to him then,” Thomas said as he got up and gathered his things from the bed.
“Don’t you want to come with me?” Melody asked.
“What? And miss breakfast? And our second breakfast later on?” Thomas‘ face broke into a boyish grin.
“You goof! You’re such a hobbit!” Melody laughed.
Thomas put his arms around his sister and whispered, “I need my second breakfast. And desserts!”
He released her and bounced into the living room, and Melody walked towards the office-room of the apartment, where they were able to use the computer and printer. Their father pretty much chose this apartment for that room, because he could never not work on vacation.
She knocked on the door and when she opened it at his invitation, she saw him at his laptop and surrounded by files he must have brought along.
“Good morning, pumpkin! Are you hungry already?” Scott asked. His hair was tousled, and his glasses sat askew, resting on his nose.
Here goes nothing. “Morning, Dad. I want to visit the Accademia again. We didn’t get a full look at it yesterday. So, please…” Melody began.
I know that face, she thought as her father’s smile faltered, replaced by a frown of concern.
When their mother died, their father left them to their own devices, until they found a stash of journal pages in the attic. For whatever reason, that snapped him out of his apathy, and he became the doting father they knew and loved again.
“Honey, look, it’s really early and who knows who’s lurking in the dark,” her father began, sounding unsure. “They could pounce right in – especially, since we’re tourists!”
“The Accademia opens at eight, Dad. There will be tour guides and gallery staff by the time I get there,” Melody countered. “I’ll be fine. The gallery is near the café and I can join you guys when I’m done,” she insisted.
Her father looked away wistfully – half thinking, half lamenting that soon his children would be getting on with their own lives.
“I’m 18, Dad. Besides, it’ll take me three to five minutes to walk to the café,” she continued. “I’ll meet you there with Mr...?”
“Mr. Rogers, our former senior accountant,” her father replied.
Scott sighed in resignation. He put his hands in the air and gave them a little jazz shake.
“Fine. The first time I let my daughter go, it’s in a different country,” he chuckled while straightening his glasses on his face.
“Dad, you do that when I’m in school,” Melody teased and gave her dad a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“But, please, promise you’ll message me on Viber to know how you’re getting on?” her father asked.
“I’ll take photos of the gallery and let you know what you guys are missing,” Melody laughed.
* * *
Melody left the apartment at 7:30 a.m. and wandered over to the edge of the Grand Canal. She stopped by a gondola boatyard for photos and basked in the morning sun on the open square beside it. She also visited the small garden space nearby before heading to the gallery.
Dorsoduro had a magical charm all of its own. The district was ideal for travelers who reveled in arts, culture, architecture, and history. It was a quiet district, unlike the crowded streets in San Marco.
And that’s what Melody wanted more of – arts with few tourists around to distract her. Dorsoduro might even help her conjure some artistic inspiration for the community children’s theatre once she’s back in Florida.
Who knew what else Dorsoduro had to offer? The district might be hiding ancient artifacts, hidden tunnels, and an adventure for a lifetime.
Melody was so lost in the romantic notions of her surroundings that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. She should have.
“Buongiorno,” a man nodded in Melody’s direction.
“Good morning,” she replied with a relaxed smile, which dropped from her face when she was suddenly grabbed from behind as a white cloth covered her mouth and nose “Prendi la ragazza!“ said the man who had greeted her a moment ago. Take the girl! “Grab her, but keep her alive, Eulalio, her family could be nearby.”
Melody screamed and kicked the man behind her as hard as she could, but her efforts were to no avail. She tried to squirm out of his grip on her but he was too strong.
The man in front of her looked at his ringing phone and hastily turned away to the direction of the boatyard. “Rufino here. We’re at Trovaso and we got the girl. Her family could be around,” he said into it as soon as he’d hit the answer button.
What’s going on! Melody thought back to her father and brother in the apartment. Did dad bring trouble from work?
“…alright. We’ll be there. No, there’s no sign of Rafael.” The man ended the call and threw the phone into the water. “Alright, let’s load the girl in the boat,” Rufino beckoned
to Eulalio and sniggered as he drew out a knife and waved it in front of her.
Melody’s eyes grew wide with fear. Maybe Dad was right. I’m not ready to be out on my own.
Suddenly Rufino collapsed and Eulalio shoved Melody forward without letting her go. She looked wildly around to see who was responsible for the chaos and there he was again – Alex, the guy from the day before, with his shaggy brown hair and dog tags, rushing towards her with a somewhat disapproving look on his face.
“Who goes out at this time of day?” he drawled.
Eulalio let her go as he launched himself towards the young man. Melody staggered as she righted herself and ran off into the bushes to hide.
Alex blocked Eulalio’s jabs and countered with a couple of punches and kicks of his own. He sent the older man reeling towards a motorboat on the canal.
“That was rough. Hope you don’t work for tips!” Alex yelled after him.
Rufino, now conscious again, followed after his accomplice and tried to get into the boat, delivering a high kick on his way past. Alex managed to block the kick, grabbing and twisting Rufino’s leg and driving a knife he’d grabbed from a sheath on his belt into the man’s shoulder. Both men were now only barely conscious and slumped into the boat, so Alex strapped them into their seats and kicked the dashboard of the little boat, causing the engine to roar to life and lurch off into the distance.
Melody watched the whole episode play out and wondered if she would be able to run back to the apartment or find the local police station where she could report the bizarre experience. Still trying to decide what to do, she was surprised when suddenly the young man was standing in front of her with his hand outstretched. She swatted it away and backed herself up against a nearby wall, hugging herself for protection. Melody suddenly felt very vulnerable.
He stepped towards her, only to pause when Melody held up a finger.
“I have one teeny question,” she pursed her lips. “Who are you, really?” But as she asked the question, a dozen more came flooding into her mind - “Are you following me? Did you do something to my family? Who are those guys? And you have the nerve to look at me disapprovingly when I don’t even know what’s going on?” As she spoke, her voice became more and more shrill until Alex stepped forward and touched his finger to her lips, silencing her instantly.