Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

others she left alone. Ketsia observed her closely, unable to discern exactly what she was doing. Although they both laughed about it, Ketsia was clever enough to know that something she couldn't see or understand was happening. The plants really did seem to respond to Nicoletta's voice and ministrations. And sometimes she did sing to them, her beautiful voice rising on the wind.
    Overhead a dark-winged bird swooped low over the pair. Nicoletta lifted her head to look at the raven, a faint frown on her face. She stood up slowly, moving away from the plants to turn her attention to the wind. It whispered continually to those who could interpret it's murmurings. She stiffened slightly and caught at Ketsia's shoulder. Very quietly she put a finger over her lips to signal to the child to be quiet.
    "Stay right here, piccola. Do not move until I come back for you."
    Ketsia's eyes widened, but she nodded dutifully. No one would ever really want to defy Nicoletta. She could heal the sick; she could do things no one talked openly about. Obediently, Ketsia sank into the bushes and remained as still as a stone.
    Nicoletta went back toward the cliffs, moving quickly, every sense alert. Far below she could see the figure of man moving in a furtive manner, skulking from bush to boulder, his body bent as if seeking to hide. She scanned the cove, could see no other movement, but knew something was not right. Her heart began to beat fast. The sun was beginning to set, staining the sky a pinkish orange. The sea grew angry, the water dark, waves climbing higher as they rushed at the shore and splashed at the rocks.
    Her hand went to her throat protectively. Something terrible was about to happen. She was too far away to prevent it; she could only stand on the cliff watching helplessly as the drama unfolded on the beach far below her.
    The wind rushed off the sea, a low, keening moan that seemed to rise into a howl of warning. She couldn't take her eyes off the scene as the sea rose up, pounding the rocks relentlessly in anticipation.
    She saw him then, Don Giovanni Scarletti. He moved swiftly, fluidly, like a powerful hunter, his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    shoulders straight, his head up. His body rippled with sinewy muscles beneath his elegant clothing. The wind tugged at his wavy black hair, leaving it tousled like that of a small boy. Yet he looked every inch a man, ruthless and dangerous, far more powerful than any other she had ever encountered.
    Nicoletta turned her attention to the fellow now crouching behind a rock. He hadn't moved at all. Don Scarletti glided unknowingly past the hiding place, his attention fixed on something she couldn't see. From off to the right, where she knew the caves were, another man emerged, calling out a greeting, a smile on his face. Nicoletta couldn't hear him, but the two men seemed to be friends. It was obvious that Don Scarletti trusted him.
    She could barely breathe, and her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear its frantic rhythm. The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, and by the time she had captured it and held it back tightly, the two men were shaking outstretched hands. It was then that the one hiding behind the rocks moved.
    Slowly. Stealthily. He inched his way along until he was directly behind Don Scarletti. She saw the last rays of the sun glint off the stiletto in his hand. The sun plunged into the sea, and the sky went bloodred for a second time, the terrible portent of death.
    Nicoletta cried out a warning to the don, but the wind whipped her voice from her, back into the mountains and away from the roaring sea. But even though it was impossible that he could have heard, something alerted the don, and he swung around to catch his assailant's wrist. He moved so fast, he seemed a blur, somehow swinging the man around in front of him so that, when the one he had been speaking to plunged his knife deep, it was buried in the don's assailant instead of the don himself.
    Don Scarletti allowed the man to crumple helplessly to the beach. Nicoletta could see that the shocked assailant's mouth was wide open, as if he was screaming, but she could hear nothing. His body writhed for a moment, contorted, then lay still. The don looked from the dead man crumpled in a heap at his feet to his betrayer. Nicoletta's heart went out to the don. She could almost feel his sorrow, see it in the droop of his shoulders. For one awful moment