Lair of the Lion

understand your wanting to kill Don Rivellio, but it's impossible. He'll have guards, Theresa, even if he comes. How could you possibly think you would be able…" She trailed off as it all began to fit together like pieces of a puzzle in her mind. The shredded coat and gown in her closet. The female voice calling to her, luring her up the stairs to the balcony. A voice like Francesca DeMarco's. The woman in the marketplace with long black hair, with DeMarco features. Like Francesca, only not Francesca. The lion following her through the narrow streets and staring at her with hate-filled eyes. The lion tracks in the snow surrounding the servant's body. The lion pacing after Rolando Bartolmei. Francesca DeMarco could become the beast. And Theresa was a first cousin to Nicolai and Francesca.
    Isabella shook her head. "Theresa, think what you're doing."
    "I'm doing what should have been done when he took my little sister against her will and used her the way he did. Nicolai should have sent out assassins to kill him." Theresa's voice hissed with hatred. "She was a bambina! Rivellio destroyed her. She's an empty shell now.
    It's hideous that he could get away with such a thing."
    "He had mio padre murdered," Isabella said softly. "He tortured mio fratello and would have executed him." She lifted her tied hands and pushed at the hair tumbling around her face. When she looked up, her stomach did another somersault, her heart began to pound loudly, and she tasted fear in her mouth.
    Through the gray mist she could see soldiers riding in tight formation around a single imposing figure. "Go, Theresa. You can still get away before he gets his hands on you,"
    Isabella whispered, the blood draining from her face. She struggled to her feet. She would never meet an enemy cowed and shrinking. Without conscious thought, she placed her body protectively in front of the other woman. "They haven't seen you yet. Run. You can get away."
    Isabella kept her eyes fixed on the man riding in the middle of the group. He looked a devil to her. He was evil incarnate, every bit as twisted as the entity feeding the hatred and jealousies in the valley. Isabella felt the rush of cold, felt a strange disorientation as the malevolent being eagerly reached out to embrace Don Rivellio, deserting all others now that it had an evil mind to control.
    Behind her, Theresa moaned softly. "What have I done? What's happened to me?
    Rolando will never forgive what I've done." She reached around Isabella, a sharp blade slicing cleanly through the ropes. The stiletto was pressed into Isabella's palm. "When I allow the beast free reign, you run, escape into the woods. It's all I can give you." A sob welled up, but Theresa held it back, fighting for control.
    The soldiers had spotted them. Several kicked their horses into action, rushing toward the two women. Isabella didn't bother to run. She lifted her chin and assumed her haughtiest expression.
    "I'm sorry," Theresa whispered. "You had no right to lie with my husband, but this was wrong of me."

    "If we both die here today, Theresa, I want you to know, Rolando has never given me any indication that he wanted more than courtesy between us," Isabella said sincerely.
    The soldiers scouted the area surrounding the two women, leery of finding the two alone so far from the protection of the castello. Don Rivellio sat astride his horse, his eyes crafty and greedy as he looked at Isabella. The mist turned to a fine drizzle of sleet, the clouds darkening the skies overhead.
    "I can't do it," Theresa murmured in fear. "I can't bring forth the beast. I've tried, but it's gone."
    Isabella's heart was so loud, it was matching the throbbing in her head. She kept the stiletto hidden in the folds of her skirt.
    "You look a bit the worse for wear, Signorina Vernaducci." Don Rivellio smirked at her, his lecherous gaze running deliberately over her. "Has Don DeMarco already sampled the goods? I do hate seconds." His eyes narrowed. "If I find it's so, I shall punish you severely.
    That can be quite delicious… for me."
    The surrounding guards laughed aloud, leering at the two women. Isabella lifted her chin a little higher. She kept Theresa behind her by holding her in place with her free hand, not liking the look on Don Rivellio's face.
    Somewhere in the distance came the screams of men in the throes of death, of terror. The sounds cut through the dismal sleet to send a chill through all of them. The men looked at one another in