Secret Worlds (612 page)

“Or open a gateway to curse someone,” he said heavily.

She nodded. “Their number varies depending on the culture of the person writing the account. On average there are seven. I had initially thought to choose the one just below,” she said, moving her hand down her stomach with a tightening of her cheeks. “It’s the one usually associated with sexual release, but after doing more reading, I decided the one above it would suit us better.”

She turned away hastily to organize a few things around the circle, a series of flat white stones. Once they were in position, she grabbed another box with a fine grey powder and drew lines between the stones.

“Are you sure? The one associated with...being amorous certainly sounds like a fine candidate,” he said awkwardly.

Turning back toward him, she nodded quickly. “I thought so too at first, but the one above is tied to your personal will, and yours has been overpowered by this other being. I believe it will serve us better. Besides, we don’t want to damage you…lower. I’m still hoping to have a family someday.”

The last was said in a lighthearted tone, but it made his throat tighten. “I’d like that, too.”

It was hard to stifle the rush of warm optimism that was running through him now. His wife was a brilliant woman, who possessed a great deal of raw talent and power. If anyone could get him through this, it was her. And he would spend the rest of his life thanking her for it.

“You sit here, but don’t disturb the salt. We can’t break the circle,” she instructed, gesturing to it with a sweep of her hand.

Sucking in a deep breath, he stepped carefully over the line of salt and lowered himself into a seated position. Isobel did the same, taking extra care with her skirts. She reached for the brown bottle.

“You have to drink this.” She handed him the bottle, her face pale. “Don’t do so until I say, and then brace yourself because it will cause a lot of pain. You must take care to bear it as best you can. The circle must not be disturbed, so you mustn’t move, at least not overmuch.”

He nodded and took the brown bottle.

“Not yet,” she admonished with a finger before reaching out for a large piece of wood from the kindling.

Next she placed her hand on the lantern and closed her eyes. It sounded like she was whispering, soft words he couldn’t make out but sounded vaguely like Latin. With a spill of bright sparks, the length of wood began to smoke and then flared into a blazing orange flame.

He swore. It was the damnedest thing he’d ever seen. Peeking from behind her lashes, Isobel squinted at the torch before relaxing and smiling at him.

“I’ve been practicing,” she said with a nod at the flame. “It won’t go out until it’s over. It’s charmed.”

“Impressive,
bella mia
,” he said, slightly out of breath.

“Don’t compliment me yet.” She sighed, almost vibrating with tension.

“It’s going to be all right,
mi amore
.”

“I’m supposed to be telling you that.”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. She gave him another anxious glance, then nodded at the bottle.

He looked down at it, breaking the seal of the wax stopper with a twist. The smell of the liquid inside was overpowering, a strange mixture of metal, earth, and cloves. Coughing slightly, he raised the bottle in a toast before downing the contents in a quick pull.

For a long moment nothing happened. He parted his lips to ask Isobel if something had gone wrong. The blinding wave of pain took him by surprise. It rolled through his abdomen, burning like acid as it went. In seconds the pain radiated to his extremities.

It was as if he was already on fire. Every single part of his body was crying out. He could feel a fierce shaking and knew he was having convulsions. Opening his eyes with effort, he checked the line of salt around him to make sure he hadn’t broken the barrier.

He’d managed—only just—to stay in his half of the circle. Catching a glimpse of his love through watery eyes, he saw her face was deathly white.

“Matteo, I’m going to begin now. Please try to hold on!”

She was barely beginning
now
?

Marshaling all his strength, he nodded, his neck rigid. The movement was a mistake. It was as if his head was going to snap off. He didn’t attempt it again, focusing his concentration was on staying as still as possible. Then his beautiful wife made everything a thousand times worse.

Heat. Excruciating. Unbearable. All of it was focused on his torso, the space directly above his stomach. He looked down, expecting to see a mass of blistering burning flesh—or a gaping hole—where his chest used to be. But his skin was intact. Terribly red, but otherwise normal.

Isobel was holding the torch against his middle, but the flame wasn’t touching him. And it
should
have been.

There was a hairsbreadth of space between him at the fire. But the flame was kept from direct contact with his skin by an invisible wall. It shaped the fire into a near perfect circle. As he trembled and jerked closer to her, the unseen barrier adjusted, following his movements.

There was something else too. A crawling sensation in his veins, like mercury running through them. It circled through his body like a rat trying to escape a flood.

It was the demon.

Aware of soft murmuring, he squinted at Isobel. She was saying something, more Latin words. He didn’t try to understand what they were. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gritted his teeth, trying not to crush them with the force he was exerting, trying to keep his body from flying apart.

Through all the chaos, a new sensation became apparent. It was as if something was pulling at his core, drawing on him like a sucking leech.

And then all hell broke loose.

“What the hell is this?” Aldo Garibaldi roared.

Isobel’s head flew up, her concentration breaking. The fire made contact with Matteo’ skin. His skin blistered and the hair on his chest begin to burn. Pulling the torch back, she turned to the
Conte.

“No! Stay where you are!” she yelled, fighting the urge to jump up to slap him. “You’ll ruin everything.”

The
Conte
walked closer to the circle. “What are you doing?”

“What you wanted me to do,” she hissed. “Stay there. Don’t move and be quiet!”

Aldo’s face contorted at the sight of Matteo, who’d crumpled over on his side. “You will release my son. You’re killing him!”

Bloody stupid idiot.

“I’m trying to save him,” she said in shocked disbelief as the
Conte
raged at her. “And don’t you dare breach this circle!” She scrambled to her knees to grab a second piece of kindling, brandishing it in the count’s direction.

“I know you’re trying to kill him. Nino told me everything.”

What fresh hell was this? “He was
wrong
. Now shut up and stay away.”

“Don’t tell—”

“Father, stay away.”

Isobel gasped, turning back to her husband. Matteo’s voice was low and raspy, strained beyond all reason. She didn’t know how he had managed to speak. His body was being wracked by deep bone-shaking tremors and his face was nearly purple.

Tears running freely down her cheeks, she reached out to touch him again.

“Matteo my love, please hold on,” she cried, sitting back down. “We can still do this. Don’t move!”

“No, you
can’t
!”

Dizzily, Isobel twisted her head to the door. The last had been yelled by someone else. Another man had intruded on her ritual. He had to step closer to the lantern light for her to recognize him. And the gun he was holding.

“Nino, what the bloody hell is going on?” the
Conte
yelled. “You said she was going to kill my son, that she was planning on running away with all of his money.
My
money.”

Nino advanced, completely ignoring the count. The gun was pointed directly at her. “You weren’t supposed to get this far. You weren’t supposed to be here at all,” he said hoarsely.

“Please let me finish, Nino. I can save him,” she pleaded.

He leaned forward, his face contorting in anger. “I know that, but you’re not going to. You’re going to let him die.”

Isobel’s heart sank.

“What the hell are you saying?” the
Conte
asked in a strangled voice.

The true horror of it all was finally becoming clear. “He’s saying he did this,” she whispered. “He’s responsible for the curse.”

It was a guess, but one Nino didn’t contradict. He approached the circle instead, frowning down at it.

Isobel gasped. “Don’t even think it!”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I won’t break the circle. I know the demon will escape then. No other innocent will be harmed. There’s been enough death already. But you’re not going to finish. Stand, right now, and walk away. You can escape. No one will blame you.” He swung the gun at the
Conte
and Matteo respectively. “These two will stay here and die.”

A small move from Aldo distracted Nino, who swung the rifle at him in response.

“I don’t understand,” Aldo said, bewildered. “Why are you doing this? You’ve been a loyal servant throughout this whole ordeal.”

Nino laughed. “I’ve been a loyal servant far longer than that actually.” His face was lit with an unwholesome excitement, as if he’d been waiting for this confrontation. “And you didn’t even recognize me, the senior game warden from your Tivoli country estate. But why would you? You prefer indoor pursuits, don’t you?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Aldo said.

Hefting the gun higher, Nino threw him a look full of hatred. “It means I know what you did to my daughter, you bastard! You and your friends.”

“What daughter? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Nino gave a choking laugh. “The sad part is that I believe you. You’ve ruined and murdered so many girls over the years. Why would my Gina stand out in your memory?”

“I’ve never killed anyone, let alone a woman!”

“Then where is she,
figlio di cane?
”

The
Conte
shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Shaking with rage, Nino raised the gun again, his finger beginning to squeeze the trigger.

“Stop!” Isobel yelled. “At least tell him when your daughter disappeared. And what she looked like! Maybe he’ll remember.”

Nino paused, turning to look at her. “It was three summers ago. She was a beautiful girl with rosy cheeks and light golden brown hair. Gina favored her mother.”

Behind him, the count’s expression changed. He did remember the girl. But the guilt on his face told her knowing the full story would only make things worse.

“Nino, please explain something to me,” she said. “If you think the
Conte
is responsible, why are you punishing Matteo? Or do you think he harmed your Gina as well?”

“Matteo wasn’t even home that summer,” the
Conte
interjected. “He was traveling the continent with his friends.”

Nino said nothing.

“Is that true, Nino? If it is, why are you doing this?” She gestured at her fallen husband who was still writhing and panting for air in quick tortured breaths.

“He took my only child...so I’m going to take his.”

“But why this way? This curse, the way he was before I met him—all of those deaths. There were so many innocents lost. He couldn’t stop. Why harm so many others, vulnerable women just like your daughter?”

A flash of pain passed over Nino’s face. “What did I care after my Gina was gone?” he cried.

Isobel stilled. He was lying.

“There weren’t supposed to be any innocents, were there? The first demon didn’t kill indiscriminately, did it? It was supposed to kill Aldo and any of his peers.”

“I don’t understand,” Aldo rasped.

She swung around to face him. “Matteo’s first bad spell happened unexpectedly. You said you were going to have a gathering that weekend—a party. And the first victim was one of your friends.”

Mouth dropping open, Aldo nodded and Nino made a choking sound.

“I should have known better than to ask for what I did,” Nino said. “It was stupid of me not to realize that the
Conte
would gladly sacrifice those beneath him to feed the demon’s bloodlust. The best I could do was seek employment as one of Matteo’s minders and wait till he self-destructed. At least the
Conte
would have to watch his paragon of a son, his pride and joy, deteriorate into madness. It was only a matter of time. I knew how the curse worked, what the signs of the demon’s emergence would be.”

It made a twisted sort of sense, and she found herself acknowledging his story with a nod.

“And so it was safe enough for you to be near Matteo, watching and waiting to make sure your plan succeeded. But you didn’t cast the curse did you? You said you asked for it...”

Nino acknowledged her words with a tilt of his head. “It took every cent I had, and months of waiting for the witch to do the work. He came all the way from Sicily, but it was worth it. In the end, he even gave me a discount. Aldo Garibaldi has destroyed many lives with his rapacious business practices, overcharging tenants and pushing people off their land. It was only a matter of time to find a connection the witch would care about. He was happy to help. I never expected the
Conte
would find another with enough skill and power to undo it all.”

Isobel cast a helpless glance at her husband. He was trembling violently now, and the hole in his aura she’d made had expanded into a gaping wound. Nothing else could invade since he’d fallen in the circle of salt, but he couldn’t survive like that for long. She needed to finish and close the hole.

She drew Nino’s attention back to her. “You wanted me to run away.”

His first words to her had been about Ottavio falling asleep during his watch and he’d paid close attention to everything she did in the conservatory. He’d probably spied on her notes in the library as well, else he wouldn’t have known that she had finished formulating her purge ritual.

Or that you were brewing a tea to prevent pregnancy
. Ottavio must have learned that detail from Nino.