Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

it?"
    she whispered. Her voice was muffled against his chest. "It is bad. Someone is in terrible danger." It was more than that. She felt the presence of evil as if it were a living entity.
    "What is she saying?" Vincente demanded.
    "Grazie, Vincente, for your offer. We will both go and see what the danger is. Ride with us," Giovanni said to his brother.
    "I cannot wait," Nicoletta insisted, trying to pull free of the don's restraint.
    His arms retained possession, refusing to allow her to get away from him. "They are bringing the horses, cara. Signorina Sigmora is here with your satchel. Grazie, Sophie, for bringing her so quickly through the palazzo. She would have gotten lost without you."
    "What is wrong, Zio Gino?" Sophie asked bravely. "Will you bring Nicoletta back to me?" She was looking up at him with childlike trust.
    It struck Giovanni that she had never looked at him or anyone else that way until Nicoletta had entered their household. "Yes, of course," he assured her as he took the bag and led Nicoletta to his horse. He swung up in one fluid motion, then reached down for her hand. He was enormously strong, easily pulling her up in front of him. "Bring the boy, Vincente. Signorina Sigmora will ride with the guards."
    Nicoletta gripped Giovanni, grateful for his reassuring presence, tears burning behind her eyes. She felt the danger, knew that whatever she was facing was bad. Very bad. Aljandro had not sent for her despite the gravity of the situation, and perhaps it was all her fault, because she had allowed him to see her deep dislike, her contempt for him. And now Lissandra might pay for Nicoletta's careless show of temper with her life.
    The horse's hooves pounded the ground with a rhythm almost like a heartbeat. It drummed in her ears, an incantation. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. The hills were dark, the tree branches ominously still. The fog was thick, rolling in from the sea, a white veil that shrouded them in an eerie, disembodied world. She glanced back but could not see the other riders. The thudding hoofbeats were muffled by the fog and the constant roar of the waves crashing against the rocks below them. Nicoletta buried her face against Giovanni's Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    neck, uncaring what he thought, uncaring that she had unmasked herself in front of him and his family and they might name her witch.
    The urgency was strong in her, and somewhere, far off, she heard the terrible hoot of an owl. Once.
    Twice. Thrice. A portent of death. When the sound died away, a wolf gave a mournful howl, the sound rising and falling in the dead of the night. A second wolf answered. A third. Silence reigned once more.
    Her hands gripped the don's shirt. She was shivering but not from the cold mist or the night. Rather, from deep within her, an icy death knell was freezing her, and she felt she might never be warm again.
    As if sensing the terrible urgency, the dread welling up inside her, the don leaned forward to urge his mount to greater speed, a dangerous undertaking when they were riding nearly blind in the thick fog. One misstep and the horse could break a leg. Nicoletta prayed to the good Madonna, but the feeling of death was so strong, she could not find a spark of hope in her.
    The moment they arrived at Aljandro's farm, she was off the horse, her fingers clutching her bag of herbs and medicines, racing up the steps to tear open the door of the house. Laurena's white, tear-stained face was the first thing she saw.
    "What happened?" Nicoletta demanded, hurrying past Laurena and into the bedroom where Lissandra lay. She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the pool of bright red blood on the floor beside the door and the trail of droplets leading to the bedstead. The coverlet, too, was wet with blood. "Lissandra," she whispered softly, forcing herself to the bedside.
    Lissandra was so pale, she looked transparent, as if she was already gone from the world. Her eyes were wide open and fixed on Nicoletta's face in desperate, hopeless pleading. Nicoletta took her limp hand, stroked back her hair soothingly. Lissandra's eyes were sunken in, and there was a bluish color around her mouth. Dark bruises marred her face and neck, her bare arms.
    "He was angry because the babe was crying," she said. "He called me lazy because I did not get up. I wanted to get up, Nicoletta, but I was so weak. Laurena left for only a short time to attend her famiglia.
    She was coming