Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

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    shadows. It was whispered that the great halls held many secrets and that hidden passageways could lead one directly to the sea should there be need.
    The palazzo was many stories high, with gables, turrets, lofty terraces, and the infamous tower, rumored to be a prison of sorts. The tracery overlooking the cliff was carved of slender, intersecting stone segments that formed unusual intricate patterns, seeming to signify something rather than simply dividing the stone walls with large windows. Those portals and their unusual patterns always caught her attention—and also made her feel as if she were being watched. Sculpted into the castle's eaves, gables, turrets, and even the tower were silent sentinels, frightening gargoyles watching the surrounding countryside with hollow, staring eyes and outstretched wings.
    Nicoletta shook her head, not daring to linger any longer. She felt an urgency in her; the need to keep moving must be great. She turned her back on the palazzo and began to walk quickly along the path winding away from the sea back toward the interior countryside. The first houses came into sight, small, neat farms and dwellings scattered among the hills. She loved the sight of those homes. She loved the people.
    An elderly woman met her as she entered the settlement's main square. "Nicoletta! Look at you! Where are your shoes? Hurry, piccola, you must hurry!" The woman calling her "little one" sounded scolding, as she often did, but already she was gently pulling the twigs and leaves from Nicoletta's long hair. "Quickly, piccola, your shoes. You must fix your hair as we go."
    Nicoletta smiled and leaned toward the woman to press a kiss on her lined cheek. "Maria Pia, you are the light of my life. But I have no idea where I left my sandals." She didn't, either. Somewhere on the trail, perhaps by the stream.
    Maria Pia Sigmora sighed softly. "Bambino, though you are our healer, you will be the death of us all."
    Nicoletta was the joy of the villaggio, its lifeblood, its secret. She was impossible to tame, like trying to hold water or the wind in their hands. The older woman lifted an arm and waved toward the nearest hut.
    At once they heard the sound of laughter, and a small child raced out carrying a pair of thin leather sandals, the thongs dragging on the ground.
    Giggling, the dark-haired little girl thrust the shoes at Nicoletta. "We knew you would lose them," she said.
    Nicoletta laughed, the sound as soft and melodious as that of the clear running water in the nearby streams. "Ketsia, you little imp, skip along now and stop tormenting me."
    Maria Pia was already starting down the narrow path back toward the cliffs. "Come quickly, Nicoletta, and plait your hair. A scarf, bambina —you must cover your head. And take my shawl. You cannot draw attention to yourself." She was clucking the orders over her shoulder as she walked briskly. She was old, but she moved as one still young, well accustomed as she was to traveling the steep hillsides.
    Nicoletta easily kept pace, her sandals slung around her neck by the thongs while she deftly bound her hair into a long, thick braid. She then wound it carefully and covered her head with a thin scarf. "We are going to the Palazzo Della Morte?" she guessed.
    Maria Pia swung around, scowling fiercely, emitting a slow hiss of disapproval. "Do not say such a thing, piccola. It is bad luck."

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    Nicoletta laughed softly. "You think everything is bad luck." She wrapped the tattered black shawl around her shoulders to cover her bare arms.
    "Everything is bad luck," Maria Pia scolded. "You cannot say such things. If he should hear of it…"
    "It isn't bad luck," Nicoletta insisted. "And who is going to tell him what I said? It isn't bad luck that kills the women who go to work in that place. It is something else."
    Maria Pia crossed herself as she looked around carefully. "Take care, Nicoletta. The hills have ears.
    Everything gets back to him, and without his good will our people would be homeless and without protection."
    "So we must deal with Il Demonio and pray the price isn't too high." For the first time Nicoletta sounded bitter.
    Maria Pia paused for a moment, reaching out to take the young woman's arm. "Do not harbor such thoughts, piccola, it is said he can read minds," she cautioned gently, lovingly, with sorrow and pity in her eyes.
    "How many more