by Rita Vetere
The idea of spending the evening alone certainly held no appeal, not after having seen the apparition again this afternoon. And, aside from her physical attraction to Alejandro, she genuinely liked him and enjoyed his company. Maybe she’d even find a way to bring up the subject of what had happened over dinner. “Sure, I’d like that.”
“Good. I could meet you in the lobby of the Gritti at, say, eight?”
She caught a flicker of something in his hazel eyes—anticipation? Anna felt something stir inside her. She remembered how surprisingly gentle he’d been while tending to the cuts on her arms earlier. His frank look sent an unspoken message that did not go unnoticed.
“Yes. I’ll see you at eight then.”
She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away in the direction of her hotel and a smile crossed her lips. It had been a long while since a man had elicited this reaction from her. Even so, images of the island kept intruding on her pleasant thoughts about Alejandro, making her uneasy.
Once upstairs in her hotel room, Anna cracked open a large window in the sitting area and lit a cigarette from the pack of Nazionali she’d purchased on the way back. Although annoyed with herself for picking up the habit again, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. She took a deep drag, savoring the hot, familiar smoke as it filled her mouth and lungs.
She tried to rationalize what, exactly, she had seen—twice now. After today’s sighting of the apparition on the island, she no longer believed she’d had a nightmare the previous night. What had appeared to her, first in her hotel room, then on the island, could not have been the result of the trauma of her childhood rape and pregnancy. For one thing, the corpse-like figure of the girl had, on both occasions, been garbed in clothing that, even though tattered and filthy, appeared to be from another era, centuries old. For another, after both sightings, the apparition had disappeared in the blink of an eye. Only one explanation seemed logical to her. She arrived at the conclusion she’d seen a ghost.
And yet, she told herself, she had seen this ghost twice, once in her hotel room and once on the island, two locations fairly distant from each other. Ghosts, she had always assumed, haunted places, but this one appeared to be haunting a person—her.
A chill ran through her as she recalled its face, and the way it had appeared to be grinning at her with its ruined mouth. Her skin crawled just thinking about it.
The sightings of the phantom aside, she also could not shake the notion that there was something not right about the island. Their discovery of the crematorium might have contributed to the feeling, but her thoughts kept returning to the eerie stillness of the place and the fact she’d not seen another living creature, not even an insect. She remembered, too, the oppressive atmosphere in the field—a heaviness that seemed to seep into her bones. Not to mention the strange lethargy she’d felt before passing out for almost three hours in the field. It didn’t make sense.
She crushed out the cigarette and, seeing it was after seven, headed for the shower to get ready for dinner with Alejandro. She had pretty much decided she would find a way to mention all this to him tonight.
* * * *
An hour later, Anna stepped off the elevator into the lobby, outfitted in a sleeveless black dress that hugged her tiny waist and fell to just above the knee. Her hair, freshly washed, cascaded in shiny waves down her back. She looked around for Alejandro, ignoring the stares of the men milling about in the lobby, and spied him standing next to the front doors. In the few seconds before he spotted her, she found herself once again admiring his strong build, noticing the way his biceps bulged at the sleeves of the neatly tailored suit he wore.
He gave her a slow, lazy smile as she approached him.
“You look amazing.”
“Thanks. You clean up pretty nice yourself.”
“There’s a place that looked interesting just off the square I thought we might try.”
She followed him outside into the warm night. The rain had stopped and they took their time making their way along the wet streets through the throng of tourists and locals. At Piazza San Marco, they turned down an alley and entered an inconspicuous, narrow building. The restaurant took up three floors, but they chose to enjoy their dinner in the umbrella-covered garden.
The house Proseco arrived as they nibbled on antipasto—tidbits of crayfish, octopus, baby squid and scallops. For the main course, they settled on risotto and charcoal-grilled grouper. Anna could not believe how much better everything tasted here than back home, and enjoyed every bite. For afters, Alejandro ordered a black-and-white soufflé and a glass of Mosacto d’Asti, a dessert wine, for each of them.
As they lingered over dessert, their conversation, which had remained generic until now, turned slightly more personal.
“Have you ever been married, Anna?”
“No,” she replied, “never.”
“But there must be someone special back home.”
“No, not at the moment.”
“Hard to believe,” he said, giving her an appreciative look.
“Work keeps me pretty busy.” Anna shifted the conversation back to him. “And you?”
“Divorced,” he said. “Five years now, a serious case of incompatibility. At least there were no children, no one to pay for our mistake except ourselves.”
Anna took a sip of wine, more pleased than she had a right to be to learn of Alejandro’s divorce. A tiny alarm sounded inside her, telling her to tread carefully. The man sitting across from her could easily get under her skin if she allowed him to.
After a moment, Alejandro said, “I hope I’m not overstepping myself here, but I have to ask you again... What happened to you on the island today? I saw your face as you were running. You looked absolutely terrified.”
Anna concentrated fiercely on the soufflé in front of her. She didn’t want to spoil what was turning out to be a very pleasant evening, but if she planned on saying anything, now would probably be a good time. She lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you won’t think me crazy.”
He grinned. “Now you’ve made me curious. I promise not to judge. Tell me.”
She took a deep breath. “All right. I know how this is going to sound but... I think I saw...a ghost.” She scanned his face, but didn’t detect any sign of ridicule, only a flicker of surprise in his liquid eyes. “And,” she continued, “I’ve seen this...apparition, or whatever it is, twice now—once in my hotel room last night and once on the island this afternoon.”
Alejandro leaned toward her from across the table. “What did you see, exactly? What did this apparition look like?” he asked, as if what she had just told him was nothing out of the ordinary.
Anna breathed a tiny sigh of relief. He had not scoffed at her. She had been right to trust him.
“It looked like a young girl, but...”
“But?”
“She looked...diseased would be the best way to describe it, I suppose. Her skin was riddled with sores. And her eyes were all black and filmy. Still, I had the impression she was seeing me. She had on a tattered dress, but it looked like something from another era, centuries ago.”
“And you say you saw this ghost twice since arriving here in Venice?”
“Yes. The first time was in the middle of the night in my hotel room. I thought I’d had a nightmare. But when I saw her again near the grove of poplar trees on the island this afternoon, I knew I hadn’t dreamt it. Both times, she—it—vanished within seconds.”
Alejandro appeared to ponder what she had told him. Finally, he said, “l don’t pretend to know what you saw, but Venice certainly has a long history. I imagine there are places here that might be haunted. Could be you picked up on something that’s manifesting itself to you. I can’t say I believe that one hundred percent, but... I suppose it’s possible. Believe me, I’m the first to admit things happen in this world that we don’t understand and maybe never will. I honestly don’t know what to make of it, though.”
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br /> “No,” Anna said. “Me either.” She played with the remainder of her dessert for a moment, then pressed on. “Did you happen to notice how quiet it was on the island today? I didn’t see or even hear any birds at all. Seems strange with all the trees there wouldn’t be any.”
“Can’t say I saw any either, now that you mention it. Although I was working quite a distance from the trees, so I may not have noticed.”
Now that she had begun talking about the island, Anna couldn’t seem to stop. “Do you know,” she said, “I think the old hospital on the island was actually an asylum.”
“Oh? Why do you think so?”
“I happened to go into the small building near the construction trailer. It used to be an office of some kind. The furniture’s still in there and the shelves are lined with books, all of them to do with the treatment of the mentally ill. And I couldn’t help noticing the windows in the main hospital were reinforced with lead.”
“Sounds like you might be right.”
“And the field...” She stopped short of telling him. “I don’t know. It just felt...odd.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. She let him.
“I can see how much all this is bothering you,” he said. “Would you feel better if we stopped in to see Falcone tomorrow morning before setting out again? He purchased the island from the city. If there’s any history associated with the place, he’d know about it.”
“Actually, I was thinking the same thing myself. And I’d be happy if you came along with me.”
“Then we’ll do it.” After a moment, he said, “One thing I did notice about the island is the unique composition of the soil—whitish, looked more like ash than earth. I think I’ll bring my kit tomorrow to take a sample. I didn’t see any soil analysis among the paperwork Falcone provided. One will to have to be done at some point soon, in any case.”
Anna had noticed the peculiar color of the soil as well, when she’d been on the ground in the field, hunting for her camera. “Good idea,” she said.
The waiter arrived, and Alejandro turned to her. “Would you like to take a stroll around the Basilica? We could take our coffee in the square.”
“Yes, that sounds good. And Alejandro?”
He turned back to her after getting the waiter’s attention.
“Thanks for listening.”
He smiled. “Any time.”
* * * *
A few hours later, Anna reluctantly tore herself away from the spectacular Basilica San Marco. She could have spent days admiring the opulent design, domes and spirals of the magnificent example of Byzantine architecture, but around midnight, she and Alejandro left the square.
When they arrived back at her hotel, she said, “Well. Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time.”
He made no move to leave and the two of them stood staring at each other for a moment.
He cleared his throat. “I should tell you, Anna, it’s been a long while since I’ve enjoyed a woman’s company this much.”
Anna met his gaze. The chemistry between them was undeniable. Even so, she hesitated in taking her cue. Why did she have to be like this? Here she was in one of the most romantic cities in the world with a man she genuinely liked and to whom she was clearly attracted, and yet... That same old feeling returned to haunt her, the sense that she was not meant to be happy. She wrestled with it for a moment, telling herself she deserved some happiness in her life, and in the end decided not to let those old feelings get in the way.
“I enjoyed your company too...very much. Maybe we could spend time together again tomorrow night. If you’d like to, that is.”
He gave her a smile that promised she wouldn’t be disappointed. Before she realized what he was about to do, he dipped down and brushed his lips lightly against her cheek. She could smell the fresh scent of his skin beneath his aftershave and her heartbeat quickened in response.
He pulled back and brushed away a strand of hair from her face. “I’ll look forward to it, more than you know. In the meantime, I’ll meet you in the lobby at eight tomorrow morning. We can walk over to Falcone’s office together before traveling to the island.”
As she watched him walk away, Anna knew in her heart she had not made a mistake. Alejandro, she felt strongly, was going to be someone special in her life.
Chapter 14
Poveglia Island
1576
Isabella stared into the black night, hovering over the mass grave where her mortal remains rested, astounded by the changes death had wrought in her.
Who she had been in life, her physical appearance and her memories, had traveled with her to the other side, but they had thinned to nothing more than a veneer, a covering for the dark entity now residing within her. In death, she felt no pain, no sadness, only an all-encompassing black energy and the intensity of the sinister power she now contained. Only her strength of will remained, and her newly found thirst for vengeance.
On awakening, Isabella discovered she was not the only inhabitant of the island. Many other souls roamed here, hundreds of them, victims of the plague whose mortal remains were buried in the pit, like hers. They were the angry dead, those who had not been able to find or enter the light at their hour of death. Isabella did not fear the tormented and confused souls surrounding her. She quickly understood she was different from them. They had merely been unable to find their way. Isabella, on the other hand, had chosen to remain, and the choosing had imbued her with great power.
She seethed with dark forces she did not fully comprehend, but which she embraced nonetheless. Death had transformed her. Death had changed everything. From a helpless child, a potent force had emerged—a force to be reckoned with.
Isabella reveled in her newfound authority, knowing she had the means and the will to wreak her revenge, to fulfill the curse she had inflicted at the moment of her demise. There were scores to be settled. And there would be blood.
The other spirits crowded around and Isabella sensed they had been waiting for one such as her. They lowered their disfigured faces in supplication, acknowledging her primacy. Or perhaps it was the other residing within her whom they worshiped. It made no difference—she and the dark force inhabiting her were as one now.
Isabella smiled a terrible smile at the grotesque souls. She would help them remember what they wanted, even though they had forgotten. What the dead remembered could never really be put to rest, she knew. She was here now, to remind them, to help them, as they would help her when she required it.
“Speak to me!” she commanded. “Raise your voices. We are the dead. And we will be heard.”
The night air filled with the savage screams of the plague-ridden spirits as they found their voices, their energy made concrete in the physical world at Isabella’s command. The sound of their shrieking split the darkness and spilled across the black waters of the lagoon.
Isabella’s rotting lips formed a secret smile as she listened to the howling dead, knowing her reign on the island of death had begun.
* * * *
What had once been Isabella stood hidden in the shadows of the forest on the island, watching men digging a new pit in the field close to the one in which her mortal remains had been buried. The sight of the fresh excavation elicited unfamiliar but pleasurable sensations in her altered state of being. It meant the pizzicamorti would soon return, bringing more dead. There was one in particular with whom she had unfinished business.
It had taken some practice, but Isabella soon discovered she had the ability to dematerialize and rematerialize in another location at will. It required her complete concentration but, eventually, she’d learned to teleport herself, albeit only short distances. Twice she had managed to transport herself from the island to seek out her prey, the man named Tomaso, on the mainland. On the second occasion, she had found him and stalked him to where he lived. On neither occasion had she shown herself to him, although she had been sorely tempted to kill him on sight. She had wanted only
to see his face, unmasked, to look into the eyes of her executioner. It would be more fitting to watch him die here, in the place where he had ended her life. He was, after all, the first―the first fulfillment of the curse. And the first, she decided, must be special.
She had remained patient. As it turned out, that patience was rewarded. She did not have to wait long. The evil man, Tomaso, appeared on the island the very next day.
* * * *
He wailed as he hung suspended by bound wrists from the limb of a poplar tree in the forest on Poveglia. Tomaso kicked wildly, his feet about a foot off the ground, his body swinging like a pendulum. Warm urine trickled down his leg as he studied the grim, decomposing faces of the corpses surrounding him. When they advanced on rotting legs, forming a tight circle around him, he became insane with terror and screamed loudly again. Tomaso kicked violently in an attempt to keep them away. Suddenly, the dead parted, and—
No. Oh, no... No!
He saw her, and understanding dawned.
No, it cannot be, his mind screamed at him. The girl could not possibly have survived. And yet... It was her. The same child he had... Fear encased his heart like ice as he studied the dead child standing before him, her eyes as black as damnation.
Tomaso yelled at the top of his voice, screaming for help, even though he knew the others were long gone, having turned tail and run when the island creatures had shown themselves. The cowardly bastards had taken the boat, leaving him here alone with the dead. And with her, the girl he had...
“Please,” he whispered to the tiny corpse.
Something in her dead, obsidian eyes flickered for a second.
“Forgive me. Have mercy on me,” he babbled, his fear growing even more enormous.
The dead child covered what was left of her mouth with a decaying hand and tittered, a sound that sent prickly chills racing up his spine. His eyes bulged as he took in the malevolence stamped clearly upon her ruined face. When she spoke, her voice sounded gravelly, as if the dirt with which he’d buried her still filled her throat.