Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

at their clothing, biting cold, so ferocious that it whistled through the mountain pass like the wailing of ghosts gathering for a wake. Nicoletta clutched at Giovanni's arm. "We must go the long way," she cautioned, tugging at his wrist. "This feels wrong. I know you feel it, too. We are not supposed to enter this pass."
    He swept her close to him, putting his lips to her ear so she could hear him. "You are such a child of nature, piccola. The winds always whip through here from the sea. It is no warning for us."
    But she knew it was. She always knew. Yet Giovanni was already in motion, daring the angry sea gods, a mortal unimpressed by their frightening display of power. A Scarletti who boldly claimed his bride though he lived under a curse that could soon see her killed. A don who dared to live a life of deadly intrigue and political unrest while holding his people together. Nicoletta tightened her grip on his hand, wanting to pull him to her, to keep him safe, but she knew he would press onward. It was his nature to meet danger and conquer it. And she loved him. The realization came at that awful moment, with her hair whipping around in a frenzy and her body shivering with cold. With the wind shrieking angrily at their defiance and with robbers or worse stalking them. She loved Don Giovanni Scarletti, curse or no curse.
    And she would follow where he led.
    The trail was strewn with rocks, and Nicoletta's feet hurt as she dashed blindly over them. She heard a rumbling sound, low at first, then louder, coming from above them. Giovanni yelled something to her, but the wind whipped it away. He thrust her in front of him, shoving her hard. Then she felt it, the pelting stones coming from the cliffs looming over them. A rockslide. Her heart in her throat, she began to run, her hand slipping out of Giovanni's. A figure loomed up in front of her even as the shower of pebbles and rocks thundered around her.
    Nicoletta heard her own involuntary scream faintly as the wind whipped it back into her face. She dodged the lunging figure and was nearly thrown against the cliff face as Giovanni literally shoved her aside. She saw the two men come together amid the raining rocks and the swirling fog. Off balance, she fell against the cliff, scraping her arm but fortunately missing being crushed by a boulder that fell mere inches to her left. She heard Giovanni moan in pain and saw his attacker's arm rise to stab him again. The man shouted his triumph.
    Nicoletta recognized the voice. Aljandro. He had come out of the night to exact his revenge, waiting, stiletto in hand, someone starting the rockslide from above to aid him. She flung herself at him from the side, leaping with enough force that she knocked into him and spoiled his aim. The sharp stiletto had found Giovanni once but not the second time.

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    Aljandro threw her away from him, and she landed heavily on the rocks, the wind knocked from her lungs. For a moment she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Giovanni was on him again, two combatants fighting fiercely to the death. She could hear their blows, but their figures were obscured by the swirling mist and a fresh shower of stones. The missiles fell from above, bouncing off the cliffs to hit the trail and roll in all directions. One of the men was hit; she heard his grunt of pain. And then another sound echoed, rivaling the howling wind. A rolling thunder, deep and cavernous, a terrible grinding noise that heralded unprecedented danger.
    Run! Giovanni's command was in her mind, sharp and vehement. "Run!" he shouted aloud, the wind carrying his voice away from her.
    Huge boulders were crashing to earth, so many of them, they were burying the narrow pass. Aljandro and Giovanni still struggled. Run! he commanded again. Finally, she turned and ran toward the palazzo, and help, with the sound of the world coming to an end in her ears. The pass was now blocked off behind her by the tumbled boulders, and Giovanni, on the other side of the barricade, was in grave danger. He faced Aljandro and another killer, above, who had sprung the trap.
    The rockslide stopped as abruptly as it had started, plunging the night into eerie silence. Fine grains of dust mixed with the swirling mist, turning the white fog a dull gray. Nicoletta stopped and turned back, now in the open, staring at the great pile of boulders blocking the narrow pass. She could not get back to