by S L Zammit
Descending farther, her grip on the box becomes tighter and doubt fills her mind. What if Andras is not willing to make the exchange? What if he decides to take the invaluable artifact and still keep Graziella in that horrible cocoon?
She banishes the thoughts from her mind.
“I have to do my utmost to make things right,” she reiterates to herself.
By the time she gets to the bone gate, Aurora is drenched in sweat. The hot, dry wind makes a moaning sound as it blows in her face. Noticing Andras’ key in the lock, she carefully places the torch in a holder on the wall and steps into the gloomy Arid.
“Andras,” she calls, “I’m here for Graziella. I brought the box you’ve been looking for.”
The howling wind rises to a deafening pitch, and swirling around her, thickens with the gray dust it collects, blowing and whipping her skin.
“Put the box down on the ground,” the deep voice comes out of nowhere, shaking Aurora to the core. She recognizes it as Andras’ but he’s nowhere to be seen and seems to be speaking through the strong wind.
As soon as the gold artifact touches the parched earth, a seismic shift instantly shakes the ground. A pervading suctioning force gradually building to a crescendo of strength and sound.
Terrified and unable to move, she observes as the ground beneath her shifts again, the gravel sliding under her feet like quick sand. The endless gloomy space, parched ground and hanging sky, move in towards the box like heavy darkness.
The entire space, in the form of an oppressive ugly color, is swallowed within the gold frame. As the darkness whirs past her, she gets caught up in its great power. Screaming, she crouches and covers her face in an attempt to protect herself from its overwhelming force.
Everything around her becomes deathly still and silent. Slowly lowering her arms, Aurora opens her eyes.
Her vision adjusting to the pitch darkness, Aurora realizes that the gold box is gone. Looking up, all she can see is Andras’ huge frame cloaked in black standing in front of her in the empty space, a look of desolation clouds his features.
“What happened?” she asks frantically. “Where is the box I brought?”
“That box is gone forever,” he says sadly. “Right there I just caught a glimpse of everything I so foolishly gave up. I had completely forgotten its contents and simply expected its possession would further restore my serenity in my current existence. I got so caught up in this body that I lost sight of what’s important. All I had to do was follow my path. I have experienced so much over the millennia. I’ve followed the revolving existences of many a man, going through the many repetitions of life, replicating the same errors, only to come back and have to do it all over again with only marginally improved results. Yet I still let myself become blinded by the world. I lost my way. How could I have been so blind?”
“I’m sorry I kept the box from you for so long,” says Aurora sincerely, moved by the unbearable sadness imprinted on his handsome face. “I apologize for not telling you that I had it last time I was here. I don’t know why, but I simply couldn’t bring myself to mention it.”
“All this is of my own doing,” he says gravely. “I was enlightened, I was given everything. I knew my course, but still managed to stray so far.”
“My father stole that box from the church when I was young,” she tells him. “I kept it from you all this time.”
“What was special about that box apart from its material value?” she asks. Then picturing the demonic-looking man at Club Débauche, “Why is everyone so hell-bent on getting their hands on it?”
“The last divine mission I was commissioned to undertake before I went off course, was the one in connection with giving enlightening power to the Knights of St. John in their operations to oppose the expansion of the Turkish Empire. I became quite close to Jean de Valette, the valiant grandmaster of the knights. The gold box enshrined some of my father’s divine power and helped him in the defense of the Christian religion across Europe and the Holy Land. When I passed the box on to his beloved daughter Isabella, before I disappeared from the scene, I believed that it would protect both her and her father throughout life. The gold box became Isabella’s most cherished object. Unfortunately, my deviation from the primordial path caused the gold box to lose its divinity, with its ensuing vacuum attracting evil spirits. Thus Isabella and her reincarnations were henceforth condemned to a miserable end.”
“This creepy-looking man, whose name I don’t even know, sought me out and claims to be my father. He told me never to part with the box or your book which is still in my possession,” insists Aurora.
“Don’t believe that evil entity, ever,” says Andras wretchedly. “He’s the deceiver. All he does is lie. His only purpose is to derail humans. That fiend compelled Stefano to murder Isabella. Likewise those nobles when they brutalized that innocent girl, who was Isabella’s reincarnation, in this palazzo and entombed her in a subterranean wall. All because he wanted to show me his power on earth compared to my dissipated state. Destiny brought me beneath that house on Charity Street to help a young, innocent child and with the great possibility of locating the gold box and redeem myself. So focused was I on my own selfish needs, that I withheld my protection, and thus exposed you to the worst evil. I’m responsible for all the suffering you endured up to now! You were in such dire need and I ignored you.”
“I made my own choices,” says Aurora firmly.
“You’re so strong,” says Andras looking at her intently. “There is so much light in you. They will come after you and try to mislead you from the course that’s already unraveling before you. Stay strong.”
“I have to admit that the only reason I returned your box is to retrieve Graziella,” says Aurora. “Zia Marie is very ill and wants to see her.”
“Of course,” says Andras in a small voice. “I will let her go. I cared for and protected multitudes of humans since the very beginning of time. I’ve cherished every single being. That archfiend is ever so powerful in this world, and will try to destroy everyone who ever gave me solace. Now more than ever, his intentions are clear. I was led to believe that I could escape my path and lead an unrestrained existence. But this was never just about me, my actions affect my protégés, everything connected to my essence.” Andras pauses then says, “Just give me time to say goodbye.”
“I’m going straight to the hospital from here,” concedes Aurora. “You can drop her off there later.”
Andras nods. “All I want now is to make my way back to that place I lost,” he says. “There are so many things I need to set right. I have to redeem myself.”
From his demeanor, it’s clear to Aurora that whatever Andras has just experienced, has had a truly riveting effect upon him. He looks like he’s been through a ringer.
“I’ll be on my way now,” she says softly, backing away from him.
“Yes,” he says. “Go to your Zia Marie, she needs you.”
“I’ll return your book as soon as I can,” promises Aurora.
“Aurora,” he says softly as she’s walking away, “please take care of Graziella for me.”
“Of course I will,” she reassures him. “Always!”
Making her way quickly up the stairs and across the basement, into the hallway making sure not to look at any part of the mural, Aurora makes her way onto Inguanez Street. Feeling finally relieved and uplifted as if some heavy physical burden had been removed from her shoulders, she makes her way towards her car.
She doesn’t notice the piercing stares of the otherworldly creatures crowning the palazzo as she walks towards the square. Before she leaves the small alleyway, the gargoyle around the waterspout shakes free from its stone shackles and leaping from one building to the next follows her course. Finally arriving at St. Paul’s cathedral, the creature climbs the bell tower and crawls next to a big bear of a man.
The man has gray eyes, a bulbous nose and grim mouth. He raises his large, hairy hand and strokes the stone creature’s ugly
head.
“Don’t worry little one,” he whispers. “She won’t be going far.”
The monsignor and the gargoyle watch intently as Aurora walks out of the square and is swallowed in the shadows of a narrow street.
PART FOUR
GRAZIELLA
A life Revisited
Chapter 24
It all comes Tumbling Down
1
The mechanical sounds of the ventilator and the beeping of monitors fill the room. Zia Marie has tubes coming out from every part of her body. Aurora sits across from me, on the other side of the hospital bed, her face pale and tired.
“Her condition is stable,” the nurse says, smiling reassuringly as she changes one of the drip bags. “This is the last antibiotic dose for the pneumonia. We’ll be extubating her soon, and the feeding tube will come out. She’s looking really good, the worst is over.”
“That’s great news,” I say, although looking at Zia Marie, she doesn’t look so good to me. Her skin has a green tinge and her lips are bluish around the tube in her mouth.
“Let’s go get lunch somewhere,” says Aurora as soon as the nurse leaves. “I can’t take this hospital smell much longer.”
Although the air is indeed saturated with the strong smell of scrubbing solution, and there is not much I can do for Zia Marie right now, I am reluctant to leave the room.
Aurora has been hounding me with questions about Andras, and the only upside to Zia Marie’s condition is that I’ve been able to divert my thoughts from the subject.
But Aurora has been obsessing over every detail of my last few days at the palazzo, awakening debilitating sentiments that I don’t feel equipped to deal with at the moment.
The very mention of his name raises such strong feelings. Yesterday afternoon I drove to Mdina, and from a discreet spot on the street, watched through a haze of tears as Half-naked-fawn-eyes and her full set of gorgeous LV luggage, moved back into the palazzo.
This morning, I woke up soaked in sweat from a nightmare that had me tossed naked in a dumpster among the litter and filth, and I had to claw myself out and escape while being hoisted by the garbage truck. So real was the dream that I woke up smelling stale pizza and rotting milk.
Every moment spent away from Zia Marie’s side is inundated with feelings of helplessness and unbearable heartache. I spent a whole hour crying in front of the mirror after I showered. A part of me wishes that I were the one unconscious in a hospital bed.
Considering that I never inquire about Aurora’s romantic life, I’m pretty annoyed that she seems to be so very keen on knowing every word exchanged and every detail of my last days with Andras.
“The last time we spoke you seemed okay with keeping the whole thing casual,” she says, her tone accusatory. “What made you change your attitude?”
“It wasn’t me,” I say for what feels like the thousandth time, my voice shrill. “On one of the nights at the palazzo I broke a fever and he looked so sincerely concerned about me. The next morning he confessed that he was in love with me and said that I was the one he wanted by his side. I did have my reservations since he had been so adamant about wanting to be free and open to other people, but the next few days were so magical. We danced around the house and watched movies and took long moonlit walks at night and cooked together and talked for hours. Our connection felt so strong. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels as if there has always been this bond between us. Like we’ve known each other for the longest time and I belong with him in that old house. I feel so comfortable with him and happy beyond anything I can explain.”
“During the time did you feel cocooned or in any way constrained?” she asks, her brow knotted, a suspicious look on her face.
Regarding her, I wonder if the fatigue and stress from work and Zia Marie’s illness have driven her insane. She has been asking me all kinds of strange and untoward questions about coffins and hounds.
A couple of nights ago, Aurora barged into my room in the middle of the night and asked me to stay up with her, claiming that she didn’t want to fall asleep since she was being hunted.
“I really think you should try and get some sleep Aurora,” I say looking at her bloodshot eyes and feeling concerned. “You look tired.”
“So nothing strange happened during this love fest you’re describing?” she asks, ignoring me completely.
“No,” I say sadly. “It was the most fun I’ve ever had with a man. The only strange thing is how quickly he got over his feelings for me. How eager he seemed to get rid of me. It was as if I had spent time with a completely different person. The only thing he seems concerned about is our confidentiality agreement. When I mentioned our time together, he looked at me as if I had imagined the whole thing. I find myself questioning if maybe I did. I feel so worthless and dumb.”
“Was there any time you felt entrapped or confined somewhere strange?” she insists callously.
Sighing, I ignore her question.
“I drove to Mdina yesterday,” I admit. “I don’t know what I was thinking. His feelings towards me seemed so real. Part of me wanted to knock that door down and demand an explanation.”
Aurora’s eyes are wide and crazed, but I continue before she can interrupt me.
“Instead I hid on the street and watched the house. Which was a good thing too. A moving van drove up and I saw her,” I whimper. “Half-naked-fawn,” I stop myself. “Haifa, moving back in with him. I felt a part of me die right there. It’s only been a few days and he’s already moved on. I feel so hurt Aurora.”
Aurora moves closer to me and grabbing my arms, her voice frenzied, “Never go back to that place again,” she yells, taking me by surprise. “Do you hear me? Stay away! Forget that guy, and thank your lucky stars you’re not a moth!”
Studying her appearance, I notice the shadows under her eyes. Her hair is disheveled and her overall look is uncharacteristically messy. Something is off. With so many things going on, I haven’t stopped to take notice.
With all the crazy things Aurora has been saying, the nonsense she has been harping about the past days, I’m seriously considering asking one of the nurses about whom to consult regarding her mental state.
2
Soft music plays in the candle-lit room. Andras is looking at me through his beautiful blue-green eyes, those eyes I know so well. I run my fingers through his black hair. His mouth is turned up in a smile, and his adorable dimple grooves his left cheek.
Reaching over, he caresses the side of my face with the back of his hand. His angular jaw and pointy chin, he is so handsome, his face is just perfect. Reaching for my hand, he helps me off the couch, and moving close leads me into a slow dance, his body pressed against mine as we move against each other.
Then I hear it, a noise creeping in from the distance getting incrementally louder and more insistent. Although I will it away, the candles blow out and the music fades and I feel myself crudely pulled away from that blissful place.
Opening my eyes, I realize that it’s almost five o’clock in the evening and I’d fallen asleep on the couch after my morning visit with Zia Marie. Then I remember my horrible reality, and sadness fills my heart.
Someone is knocking at the door, the thumping urgent and incessant. Hoping that it’s Andras coming to save me from my misery, I rush to open.
To my dismay, there are two strangers in the hallway of the apartment. The man and woman show me their badges, and identifying themselves as police detectives, ask for Aurora.
Certain that it’s something work related, and feeling somewhat guilty about the obvious disappointment with which I greeted them, I invite them inside to wait for her since she’ll be home shortly.
Exchanging trivial chitchat, I offer them a cup of tea, which they both accept gladly.
“Things have changed so much these days,” says the woman in passing, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Gone are the days when people left their keys in the front door or felt safe with their house u
nlocked.”
“The death of that university professor in Valletta has only augmented people’s fears,” adds the man nonchalantly.
Although I had heard about Profs’ unfortunate demise, I’ve been so distraught lately, that I haven’t really given much thought to it.
“That is such sad news,” I say. “He was one of my favorite professors at university and I went to his house very recently. He was so helpful and knowledgeable, it’s horrible that his life was cut short.”
“His sister did mention that he was recently very excited about an antique he had in his possession,” says the male detective. “So far we haven’t been able to account for any stolen items from his shop.”
“Aurora and I took an old book for him to restore, but Aurora returned it to its owner a couple of days ago,” I say. “I’m pretty certain that the book I’m mentioning wasn’t one of the stolen items.”
The woman detective steals a glance at the man, an odd triumphant look on her face.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks. “The sister of the deceased claims he was working on an antique manuscript the last time she saw him alive.”
“It must be some other manuscript,” I insist. “I was until recently in the employ of an antiquarian in Mdina and was staying at his palazzo for some time. I’ve since moved back here and have been very busy with my great aunt in the hospital. But just a couple of days ago, I saw Aurora leave with the old book and she said she was going to return it to its owner, the Marquis Andras Valletta.”
“Here she is,” I say, hearing Aurora’s key at the door. “You can ask her about the book yourself.”
“Oh we will,” smirks the female detective.
Aurora stops at the doorway of the kitchen, an inquisitive look on her face when she sees that I have company. I notice a flicker of recognition on her face when the detectives turn around to greet her.
“Hi Aurora,” I say. “These police detectives are here to see you. I invited them in.”