Dark Symphony (Dark Series - book 10)

by Christine Feehan

  “But exciting,” Justine said. “Toni, I know you’re very angry with me. I know I deserve it, but I don’t want to lose our friendship. This is my family. I love you very much. It was wrong of me. I can’t change what I did, as much as I’d like to, but I’d like to find a way to show you how sorry I really am.”

  “I’m hurt, Justine, not angry. I’m trying to understand.”

  “I’m going to stand up for Toni on her wedding day,” Tasha announced, “so there’s no need to get all buddy-buddy, you two. And Marita can forget it, too.”

  “Well, of course you’ll stand up for me, Tasha, but there’s room for Marita and Justine, too.”

  “You’re really limiting your colors, Toni,” Tasha warned. “Marita looks awful in pastels, and Justine is so pale—”

  “Tasha.” Paul reprimanded.

  Celt suddenly lifted his head from Antonietta’s lap. His entire body tensed alertly. Antonietta moved uncomfortably, her skin itching, her stomach doing a strange flip. Dark dread gathered in the pit of her stomach. A shadow seemed to pass through the room. It was more in her mind than in reality. An ominous warning.

  “Toni,” Tasha rubbed her arms as if suddenly cold. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Do you feel something odd?”

  Paul slumped back against the pillows, his hand in Justine’s, his eyes closed. Justine shook her head for both of them. “Everything seems fine to us, Toni.”

  “The dog is acting funny,” Tasha reported. “He looks dangerous.”

  “Stay with Paul,” Antonietta said. “I want to check on

  Nonno

  . Celt can go with me. He’s a good guide.”

  “Do you really think something’s wrong? I can call Diego,” Tasha offered.

  Antonietta didn’t answer. She didn’t bother to try to use her eyes. She needed speed, and it was so much easier to rely on Celt. He paced at her side, his body maneuvering her around every obstacle in the hall and down the stairs. Byron. She connected instantly with him.

  How far away are you?

  She sent the impression of the dark shadow. Of impending danger. Of dread.

  Stay inside the palazzo. I will come to you immediately, and Eleanor and Vlad are on their way. I have tried to touch Josef, but he is not responding or is incapable of it. Vlad says the same. He was with

  Nonno

  in the courtyard. Stay inside, Antonietta.

  “As if I would,” she muttered rebelliously. “Franco!” She raised her voice, something she seldom did, hating to interrupt what she knew was an important talk, but needing him. “Helena! Come out to the courtyard and help me find

  Nonno

  .” She leaned down toward the dog. “Celt, I’m counting on you. We don’t want anything to happen to

  Nonno

  or young Josef.” She pushed open the French doors leading to the terrace that opened into the courtyard.

  Celt didn’t growl, but a nearly inaudible sound rumbled in his throat. His body seemed to vibrate with tension.

  Antonietta inhaled deeply and caught a pungent odor. Something wild. Something deadly. She hung on to Celt. “Find

  Nonno

  , Celt. Show me where he is.”

  “What is it, Signorina Scarletti?” Helena asked, coming up behind her.

  “Have you seen my grandfather?”

  “Don Giovanni was out in the garden as he is most evenings. That young man, Josef, was with him. They must have walked into the maze.”

  “Please tell Franco to follow me. I’m going to look for

  Nonno

  .”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll tell him immediately. Do you need me to help you?”

  “If you would get Franco and tell him to be careful,” Antonietta said, “that would be wonderful.” She didn’t want Helena exposed to any danger. Cautiously she stepped down the terrace stairs into the courtyard. “Find him, Celt, find

  Nonno

  .”

  The dog fairly shook with the effort to contain his need to hunt. He started off toward the maze, but just feet away from one of the entrances, he stopped and swung back toward the palazzo.

  Antonietta released her hold on the dog and opened her eyes very slowly. It was dark enough and with the glasses, the terrible lurching and flashing lights didn’t intrude. She looked up toward the battlement, trying to focus on one of the gargoyles, just to get her bearings. It took a few moments for the image of the sculpture to clear. She saw the wings spread wide as if about to launch into the air, teeth bared, eyes wide open and staring. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the body of young Josef lying motionless, his beret hanging off the gargoyles’ wing tip. Crouched over him was a large spotted cat. The cat turned its head and looked down at her, malice in its eyes.

  Byron. Quickly, I need the image of an owl. Hold it for me.

  Antonietta waited a heartbeat, an eternity, and then the image was there for her. Thankfully, Byron didn’t make the mistake of asking questions or chastising her. He caught the terrible sense of urgency and provided the data she needed. Her skin prickled, her body compressed. She closed her eyes tightly as she shifted into the shape of the night predator.

  It was much more difficult to launch from the ground, but she managed. As she leapt, a great gust of wind swept under her to aid her in rising. She flew straight up to avoid having to open her eyes until the last possible moment.

  Link with me.

  The command was impossible to ignore. There was a mixture of fear and anger tinged with respect, but Byron’s tone held a compulsion Antonietta had to obey. She felt him take her mind completely, force her eyes open. She waited for the strange, disorienting sickness, but it didn’t come. She realized he was using her eyes and making the connections himself. He understood what he was seeing, and he instantly translated.

  Fog rolled in, unexpectedly, from the sea. It was so thick, wisps seemed to hang in the sky like a barrier. The owl flew silently, stealthily, using the fog as cover. It took only seconds to make its way over the battlements and drop like a stone at the cat as it bent its head to Josef’s exposed throat.

  Antonietta was startled when she heard a far-off scream of anguish followed by the echo of a male voice crying out his promise of retribution. Razor-sharp talons ripped at the eyes of the jaguar, slashing and digging, driving the cat backward away from its prey. The wind howled, nearly drowning out the snarl of the beast. It spat and swiped with its paws, then whirled and ran, leaping easily over a multitude of gargoyles to race along the banister toward the far side of the tower.

  The owl settled down close to Josef, shifting back into human form. Antonietta bent over the young man. There was a terrible gaping wound on his throat. He had bled profusely. She couldn’t get a pulse.

  Byron. Is he dead?

  Black threads swirled and spun overhead. Lightning raced across the sky. Thunder boomed, shaking the palazzo. Dark cauldrons of clouds boiled and seethed, spitting out rage and anger and a terrible grief that was hardly to be borne.

  Antonietta fought past the weight and intensity of the storm of emotion raging in the heavens. Her hands covered the wounds as she attempted to assess the damage done to his body.

  Josef shut down his heart and lungs when the blow was struck.

  Byron hoped he was telling her the truth. Josef was young for their people. Shutting down completely after suffering a mortal wound was not an easy task.

  Eleanor and I have him now. His life force is weak. Holding him to earth will slow us down.

  Byron heard Vlad’s voice, filled with fear and determination.

  I cannot help you track the cat and hold our son to us. I will get the cat, Vlad, just keep him alive. Where is the jaguar now?

  Antonietta sought for a way to close the wound. Nonno

  is in the courtyard, and Franco is coming to look for him. Hurry Byron. The cat came here with the intention to kill.

  Byron burst out of the darkness, a creature of power,
hurtling past Antonietta to follow the cat. She felt the brush of his hand on her face.

  You know what to do.

  His voice was very soft. Filled with complete faith.

  She had to take the boy to the ground below. She needed the soil and her own saliva. Byron didn’t tell her, but somehow she gleaned the knowledge from his mind. She was up on the battlements.

  Do you see Celt or

  Nonno

  ? Or even Franco? Franco could carry Josef down to the garden.

  Byron flew out toward the cove. The cat would go for the water to cover its scent.

  I do not see any of them.

  He reached for the dog, a connection he had established weeks earlier. For a brief moment, Byron caught glimpses of shrubbery, a bench, Don Giovanni sitting on a bench, trapped and unable to leave, with Celt pacing around him. Byron sent the reassuring image to Antonietta and dropped down closer to earth under cover of the fog.

  The danger hadn’t passed. Antonietta wanted to rush to Byron, make certain that he was safe. Her skin was crawling with the need for change. Inside the pit of her stomach, darkness spread, every bit as black as the clouds spinning over her head. She sighed Byron’s name, wanting to warn him of the danger, afraid she would distract him at the wrong moment.

  Antonietta caught the whisper of cloth brushing against one of the sculptures. She turned her head toward the sound and inhaled. “Helena. Thank the good Dio. Please find Franco at once. We need to get this poor boy some help. He was attacked by a wild cat. The same one that made a kill the other night.”

  “Are you certain it’s the same one, Signorina Scarletti?”

  Antonietta opened her eyes cautiously, trying to focus on her housekeeper. The woman continued to move toward her. Antonietta couldn’t tell how close she was. The body was distorted, rippling in a sickening way. Spots leapt at her eyes, flying at her face. Colors shimmered. Reds, yellows. A dark blue. She dug her fingernails into her palm for an anchor and kept her eyes trained on Helena, willing herself to see. “I doubt there are two cats, Helena. Please get Franco. We need to save this boy’s life.”

  Helena just kept coming. Faster now, her face lengthening until she appeared to have a muzzle, her body contorting, bending, until she was on all fours.

  Antonietta waited, timing the cat’s leap, throwing herself to one side, using her new abilities to take her over the jaguar and land on the edge of the battlement. The jaguar snarled, shifted into half-human form. Helena bent over Josef, all the while keeping her eyes focused on Antonietta. There was hatred there.

  “Why would you do this, Helena?” Antonietta asked, her voice gentle. The wind lashed at them, ruffled the fur on the large cat, and tore strands of Antonietta’s hair loose from her braid to whip across her face.

  “Signorina Scarletti.” Helena spat the words at her. “How I hate that name. Your precious family. It should have been my family. I belonged, but none of you wanted to see it. I was right there under your noses, but you all refused to see.”

  Antonietta strained for sight. Helena was shifting her weight, rumbling with rage and hatred. One clawed hand reached down to push Josef’s body toward the edge of the battlement. Antonietta didn’t stop to think; she launched herself, kicking hard, connecting with Helena’s startled face. Her momentum carried her beyond her housekeeper. She tucked and rolled, coming back onto her feet facing Helena, shocked at her own agility. She didn’t hesitate, leaping back toward Josef, planting another kick squarely in Helena’s face, knocking her off the battlement.

  Helena twisted in midair, shape-shifting completely, landing on all fours on the rolling lawn. The jaguar lifted its muzzle toward the palazzo and snarled. The cat immediately leapt into a nearby tree, using the branches as a highway, rushing toward the ramparts with deadly purpose.

  Antonietta dragged Josef from the edge of the battlement, picking him up, cradling his leaden body to her as if he were a baby. As the jaguar gained the first-floor balcony, Antonietta jumped from the battlement to the ground below, landing in a crouch, in the shadow of the palazzo. She sprinted, under cover of the thick fog, to the garden. She knew how many steps it took, and she counted as she ran, her eyes closed tightly.

  “Toni? Are you out here? Where’s

  Nonno

  ?” Tasha called from the terrace overlooking the courtyard. “Can you believe this fog? It was supposed to be clear tonight.”

  “Tasha, hurry, get over here,” Antonietta said softly. Her voice sounded strange and muffled in the swirling mist. She laid Josef in the garden bed, uncaring that she squashed her grandfather’s flowers. There would be only minutes to do what needed to be done. Scooping up handfuls of the rich soil, she mixed her own saliva and packed the wounds carefully.

  Tasha came out of the eerie fog, looming over them. “What in the world are you doing, Toni?” She crouched down, saw the thick congealed blood shining black in the mist, and covered her mouth. “Good God, are you crazy? You’ll kill him putting dirt in his wounds like that.”

  “Don’t ask questions, just help me. The jaguar did this. It’s hunting us now.”

  Tasha dropped to her knees, scooping up the dirt, glancing around warily. The fog was too thick to see much. “Shouldn’t we get him inside?” She kept her tone low.

  “His mother and father are coming to help him. I just have to keep the jaguar off of him.

  Nonno

  is in the maze with Celt.”

  It didn’t make sense to Tasha, especially with Antonietta’s sight problems, but she leaned over Josef protectively. “He’s a nice kid, a little young for his age.” She shivered in the howling wind.

  “It’s Helena.” Antonietta rose, placing her body between her cousin and the expanse of lawn. “The jaguar is Helena. She can shape-shift.”

  “That’s not possible, Toni.” Tasha spoke very distinctly, as if to a child.

  “Yes it is. I’ll explain later, but I saw her. Why would she hate us so much? She said she belonged, and we didn’t see it. I don’t understand. How could she be a Scarletti?”

  “She was the one. It had to be Helena.”

  “The one that what?”

  “Don’t you remember? When we were children? My father carried on with every woman in sight. Helena was so beautiful. Of course he would have chased after her. She must have been the woman who became pregnant. Remember she was gone for months taking care of her father when he was ill. She could have been pregnant then.”

  “She was friends with our mothers,” Antonietta protested. “She was family to us.”

  “I was never friends with your mothers.” Helena limped out of the fog, her face bloody, her nose crooked. Her eyes glowed strangely, much like a cat. She was across the lawn, and the mist clung to her, curling around her legs and body. “We were lovers. He should have married me. We could have had it all. With Antonietta and her parents out of the way, he would have inherited so much. He talked to me about it, but I was the one who did something about it. What did he do to repay me? He refused to get rid of his wife. He despised her, a weak woman, but she clung to him. I had to take care of her, too. He knew I loved him. I had his child inside of me. I would do anything for him, but he wanted me to get rid of it. He called my son a bastard.”

  “That was wrong of him,” Antonietta said. “Very wrong of him. He should have been proud of his child.” Her hand behind her back, she signaled Tasha to silence.

  “He deserved to die. Out with his whores, refusing to many me, refusing to claim his son, even when I freed him from his miserable marriage. It was so easy with him drinking the way he did. I didn’t even feel bad about it.” Helena’s voice vibrated with a strange, raspy growl.

  Lightning ripped across the sky, slammed to earth very close, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The howl of a predatory cat accompanied the sound of thunder. Helena smiled. “My son. Esteben. He is killing Don Giovanni. Soon there will be no one left to inherit but my son.”

  The cat screamed again. An
orange-red fireball broke off from a dancing whip of lightning overhead, streaking to earth, disappearing in the thick fog. The silence was deafening. Antonietta strained to keep Helena in focus. “You sold Scarletti possessions, didn’t you?”

  “Esteben is a Scarletti. We took what belonged to us. What should have been ours. If he had done as I said, in the kitchen, we would have been rid of most of you, but he wanted accidents. Poison works just as well, and we could have blamed Enrico.” She moved slightly, her body contorting.

  “Enrico found out, didn’t he? That’s why you killed him.” Antonietta forced her eyes to stay focused on Helena. Her arms were becoming mottled, fur racing over her skin, the spots dancing and leaping at Antonietta.

  She took a breath, let it out.

  Byron? You killed Esteben, didn’t you?

  Nonno

  and Celt are safe? So are you, my love. Stay away from her. It’s easier for me to fight with my eyes closed and rely on my other senses. There is no need.

  Tasha gasped in alarm. Antonietta didn’t dare take her eyes from Helena’s body, now half human and half cat. “What is it, Tasha?”

  “Aside from the fact that our housekeeper is a demonic murdering psychopath, and is, at this moment turning into some kind of possessed, twisted half-human killer, I would say Byron’s sister and brother-in-law appeared out of thin air and startled me.”

  “Step back, Antonietta,” Vlad cautioned. “We need you here, to save our son. Byron will handle the cat.

  Grazie

  , for protecting Josef.”

  “Tasha, maybe you should go back inside.”

  “And miss all the drama? Not a chance. I can spit as well as the next person. I think.” Tasha tugged on Antonietta’s hand until she knelt beside her. “Tell me what to do to help.”

  Chapter 17

  Byron walked out of the fog, a tall, dark figure with flowing hair and power clinging to him. Mist curled around his legs, touched his broad shoulders. The wind whispered to him, carrying a million secrets. In the distance the sea rose up, crested and foamed, crashing and booming in a rhythm as old as time. He seemed part of nature, his features timeless, his eyes old. Antonietta saw him clearly in spite of his moving. He raised his hand to the sky, and lightning forked, jumped from cloud to cloud.