Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

remember the way, but he was moving very quickly. Maria Pia was nearly running to keep up. The spiral staircase they ascended was wide and ornate, the banister shaped like a golden snake curled around a long, twisting, golden branch. Maria Pia was afraid to touch it, muttering a multitude of prayers as she climbed. Ordinarily Nicoletta would have found Maria Pia's superstitions amusing, but being in the don's arms, tight against his chest, unnerved her.
    The nursery was along another long, vaulted hallway, but the room had a smaller, less intricate interior.
    No sculptures of mythical creatures, no sinister gargoyles preparing to do battle threatened here.
    However, dark, heavy tapestries covered the wall from ceiling to floor behind the bedstead, and the room was cold, with no logs on the hearth. The don placed Nicoletta and her tiny charge carefully on the bed. He patted Sophie's head rather absently, his attention still centered on Nicoletta.
    "Look at me." He said the words very softly. His voice was a weapon, seductive, tempting, an invitation to something beyond her comprehension.
    She was uncomfortably aware of her own body, how soft and curved it had felt against the hard strength of his. And then there was that strange current that ran between them, arcing and crackling with a life she didn't understand. She only knew that his voice was soft and could move over her skin like the touch of his fingers, and that if she dared look into his eyes, she might be trapped there for all time.
    Nicoletta stubbornly shook her head, her eyes averted, looking resolutely down. The don, clearly exasperated with her defiance, caught her chin in firm fingers and forced her head up so that her dark eyes met his gaze. For a moment they stared at one another. His eyes were beautiful, black as obsidian, glittering like gems. Hypnotic. Fathomless. She felt a curious sensation, as if she might be falling. The feeling was so real, her fingers curled around the coverlet to anchor her to safety.
    She felt a stirring in her mind, a warmth. She was losing her resistance, helplessly drowning in the seduction of his eyes. In her lap, Sophie squirmed, already worn out by the brief activity. From somewhere down the hall, Nicoletta heard a door close with a soft thud. For some reason the sound seemed sinister in the gloom of the nursery. It was enough to break the spell. With a supreme effort she pulled her gaze away from his and looked around the chamber, blinking rapidly to bring the room into focus. It felt as if she were waking from a dream. The flame from one small candle gave off so little light, every corner seemed filled with shadows.
    Nicoletta sighed softly. As high as the ceilings were, as large and spacious as the palazzo was, as ornate and luxurious, she preferred the outdoors, the sea and the mountains, the small huts. There was something very wrong in this house; she could feel it. And the don was much more dangerous than anyone had thought. She turned her attention to the child, slipping her into the bed beside her, fussing as she tucked the coverlet around her. She was aware of Don Scarletti towering over her in frustration, but she steadfastly refused to look up again. She held her breath as he turned on his heel without another word and strode from the room.

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    The moment the don left them alone, Maria Pia collapsed on the bed with them in relief, conversing in whispers. "I never saw such a brazen thing," she admitted, "the way he touched you, made so free with you. The man must be heathen. I have heard the rumors, but I did not believe them."
    "I saw a shrine to the Madonna in the great hall," Nicoletta disputed, for some reason feeling the need to defend him. "If he is truly without God, he would not have such a thing in his home. And he often meets with the village priest and elders."
    "The old man, his grandfather—he is a heathen, that is certain. May the good Virgin protect us from such a man." Maria Pia was solemn. "Look at his home. Did you see the creatures in every alcove? The ancient dons worshiped many gods and built this palazzo in defiance of the Holy Church. They held back the armies of the invaders, some say with the power of many demons behind them, but this palazzo is indeed cursed. For years there have been rumors of murders, assassinations. Once, an invading army trapped the famiglia Scarletti here in the palazzo. When the