Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

the palazzo, and despite the thick walls, she could hear the constant pounding and roaring of the waves as they crashed against the jagged rocks. In a way the steady, constant rhythm was a comfort.
    Nicoletta glanced toward the chair where Don Scarletti had been sleeping. The seat was empty. Maria Pia still slumbered in her chair, her small, frail body barely visible beneath the coverlet.
    The child in Nicoletta's arms moved, her little hand creeping along Nicoletta's arm until she clasped her hand tightly. Her rosebud mouth pressed against Nicoletta's ear. "Sometimes they whisper to each other all night." Her voice was a shaky thread of sound, her thin body trembling.
    Nicoletta tightened her arms around the child, offering comfort as they lay together in the massive bed.
    The ornate sculptures did seem to be whispering; she could hear the soft murmuring, which seemed to surround them, making it impossible to discern the exact source. The shadows moved and deepened so that the wings on the carved creatures appeared to spread in preparation for flight. The curved claws of the wicked-looking gargoyle lengthened and grew, stretching toward the bedstead, throwing a darker gray across the figures etched into the ceiling. One talon elongated across the eaves and rafters, a dark shape like the hand of death. It seemed to be reaching for something, and Nicoletta almost stopped breathing as the grotesque shadow hovered across the ceiling above the bed.
    Sophie sobbed quietly, the sound muffled against Nicoletta's neck.
    "Shh, bambina, I will not allow anything to harm you," Nicoletta promised in her softest, most reassuring voice. But she was frightened, watching the shadows play macabre games, hearing the hideous murmuring. The shadowy talon slowly passed overhead and reached the ornate chandelier with its heavily layered rows of tapers. The claw curved around the base, the sharpened talon digging at the fixture.
    Unexpectedly she saw the chandelier sway. Felt a ripple of motion much like the tremor that had passed through the ground up on their arrival at the palazzo. Nicoletta's heart leapt into her throat. Horrified, she stared up at the large, heavy circle of candles. It definitely trembled; it was not her imagination. This time Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    the movement was more pronounced, a shudder that sent several half-burned tapers spilling to the floor.
    The waxy missiles failed to touch the bed, but they struck the chair where Maria Pia slept. The chandelier creaked and swayed alarmingly, sending more candles spiraling wildly in all directions through the air.
    Nicoletta gasped and attempted to shove the child to safety beneath the massive, untouched bed. She was forced to use precious seconds prying the child's fingers from around her neck, and then she dove for Maria Pia, dragging her out of the chair onto the floor, covering the older woman with her own body.
    She heard a terrible grinding sound, and the enormous fixture ripped loose of the ceiling and slammed into the chair where Maria Pia had been sleeping. The chair was smashed to pieces, and the chandelier broke apart. Nicoletta couldn't prevent her cry of pain as the shorn brass sliced into her calf and other pieces pelted her.
    Sophie screamed, a thin wail of terror. Nicoletta ignored Maria Pia's muffled questions and pushed herself up, shouldering large pieces of the chandelier off herself to scramble on all fours and drag the little girl to her. Sophie burst into tears, burying her face in Nicoletta's neck and clutching her tightly. Nicoletta could feel warm, sticky liquid running down her leg, and it throbbed and burned. She rocked the child gently, soothingly, glancing up at the ceiling. The strange shadow had receded, leaving the carved sculptures nothing but ornate works of art and her own vivid imagination.
    The door to the bedroom was flung open, and an old man, a stranger, stood framed there. "What happened here?" His frame was tall and thinning with age, his thick hair silver, wild, and untamed, sticking out in all directions. He glared at them from beneath bushy eyebrows, intimidating after their recent terror.
    His fierce gaze took in Nicoletta, the child clinging to her, and Maria Pia on the floor in the middle of a heap of rubble that had once been the chair and the chandelier. "What the devil is going on in here?" It was a clear accusation.
    Sophie cringed at the tone of his voice, and