Lair of the Lion

shelter of the rows of columns and buttresses. Shaking with cold, her legs weak, she leaned against the wall and tucked her hands inside her cape. He was within the walls of the castello. She knew he was home. She felt him. Dark. Dangerous. A monster lying in wait… He was watching her. She felt eyes on her, malevolent, malicious, venomous eyes. Something evil lurked in the bowels of the palazzo, and with her peculiar sensitivity, she felt it like a fist around her heart.
    The compulsion to run back into the fury of the storm was strong. Self-preservation told her to stay in the shelter of the large castello, but instead, everything inside her rose up in rebellion. She couldn't make herself knock again. Even her tremendous willpower seemed to desert her, and she actually turned toward the lashing wind, ready to take her chances there. Then Isabella clamped down hard on her wayward imagination. She was not going to panic and run back to her horse. She actually grasped the heavy doorframe, her fingernails digging in hard to hold her in place.
    The creak of the door warned her. Soft. Ominous. Forbidding. A portent of danger. The interior beyond was dark. An elderly man dressed in severe black stood looking at her with sad eyes. "The Master will not see anyone."
    Isabella froze where she was. Seconds earlier she had wanted nothing more than to run back to her horse and ride away as fast as she possibly could. Now she was annoyed. The storm was growing in a frenzy, sheets of ice slamming to earth, white crystals covering the ground almost instantly. As the door began to swing closed, she thrust one booted foot into the crack. Jamming her ice-cold hands into her pockets, she took a deep breath to calm her trembling body. "Well, he will have to change his mind. I shall see him. He has no choice."
    The servant stood impassively, staring at her. He neither moved out of her way nor opened the door wider to allow her entry.
    Isabella refused to look away from him, refused to give in to the terrible warnings shrieking at her to run while she still had the chance. The storm was full-fledged now, the howling wind hurtling pieces of ice that felt like spears even into the shelter of the covered entryway. "I must put my horse in your stable. Please direct me immediately." She lifted her chin and stared the servant down.
    The manservant hesitated, glanced into the darkened interior, and then slipped out, closing the door behind him. "You must leave this place. Go now." He was whispering, his eyes restless and his gnarled hands shaking. "Go while you still can." There was desperation in his eyes, pleading. His voice was a mere thread of sound, almost unheard in the bitter shrieking of the wind.
    Isabella could tell that his warning was genuine, and her heart stuttered with fear. What was so terrible within that this man would send her out into an icy blizzard to take her chances with raw nature rather than have her enter the palazzo? Where his eyes had been blank before, they were now filled with trepidation. She studied him for a moment, trying to judge his motives. He had a quiet dignity about him, a fierce pride, but she could smell his fear. It oozed out of his pores like sweat.
    The door opened a crack, no more. The servant stiffened. An older woman poked her gray-haired head out. "Betto, the master has said she must come in."
    The male servant sagged for a fraction of time only, his hand shooting out to the doorframe to steady himself, but then he was bowing low. "I will see to your horse myself."
    His voice was flat, revealing no emotion at all at his being caught in a lie.

    Isabella looked up at the high walls of the castello. It was a fortress, nothing less. The great doors were large and thick and heavy. Her chin rose, and she nodded at the older man.
    "Grazie tanto for going to so much trouble for me." To warn me. The unspoken words hung between them.
    The man lifted an eyebrow. She was clearly an aristocratica. Women such as this one rarely even noticed a servant. He was shocked that she didn't berate him for his lie. That she seemed to understand he was desperately attempting to help her. To save her. He bowed again, hesitated slightly before turning toward the icy storm, then squared his shoulders in resignation.
    Isabella stepped across the threshold. Alarm triggered her heart to thud wildly. A thick stench of evil permeated the castello. It was a cloud, gray and somber and edged with malice. She took a deep, calming