I move to the outdoors for a walk in the fresh air.
The gardens are lit with the silvery light of the moon. I can smell the earth, moist with evening dew, as I walk through the dimly lit paths. I move quietly through the fragrant blooms to the terrace. I sit on a nearby marble bench, staring absently at a bubbling fountain in front of me, trying to allow the soft blue light in the water to lull me to a sleepier place.
It doesn’t work.
“You couldn’t sleep, either?”
Adrian’s low voice interrupts my solitude and I turn to find him standing behind me. He’s dressed casually, in sweats and a t-shirt and it looks like he has been in bed. His hair is slightly rumpled. I shake my head.
“No. You?”
Adrian shakes his head. “Nah. Fucking full moon.”
He rolls his eyes and I lift mine to the sky. There is a full moon tonight. I hadn’t noticed it until now. Huge and yellow, it hangs low in the sky, barely visible on the edge of the horizon. It’s a beautiful sight, Mother Nature at her finest.
“So the moon’s at fault for your shitty sleep patterns now?” I scoff.
Adrian shrugs. “Why not? Everything else is blamed on it. Child birth, bad behavior, crimes, epileptic seizures. Why not my insomnia?”
I shrug. “As you like.”
He sits next to me and hands me a flask.
“Night cap?”
I take it from him wordlessly and take a gulp.
Scotch. Adrian always knows what I like. Of course, I hooked him on the stuff years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept this flask in the glove compartment of the Mercedes. I mention that and he smiles without incriminating himself.
“What’s going on with Eva?” Adrian asks instead, his blue eyes focused on me. He doesn’t beat around any bush. He never has. I sigh.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Luca, you’ve moved her into your estate. You disappeared with her on the jet all day. And since you didn’t fill me in, I know that you’re doing something that you know I wouldn’t approve of; something you know that you shouldn’t. For all I know, she’s in your bed right now.”
I don’t confirm or deny that.
“She is,” Adrian says, his eyes widening as he watches my face.
“No, she’s not,” I answer. Because she’s not. I was in hers. And Adrian correctly guesses that next.
“Then you were in hers,” he says firmly. I stare at my hands, my jaw clenched so tightly that I can feel it twitch. Adrian rolls his eyes.
“Luca. I don’t want to rain on any parade, but you know this isn’t a good idea. And you know why.”
I take another slog from the flask and set it on the table, then turn a hard gaze to my friend.
“I’m not a child, Adrian. And the last I knew, you worked for me, not the other way around.”
A stain of red flashes on Adrian’s cheeks and I feel instantly guilty.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “That wasn’t called for. I’m sorry, Adrian. I’m on edge.”
“It’s alright,” Adrian says, laughing it off as he always does. “I get it, Luca. She’s gorgeous. And smart. And has it all pulled together. She is the total package. But it’s not a good time for you.”
“It will never be a good time for me,” I point out, dejected. Adrian stares at me, his thoughts hidden. I arch an eyebrow at his expression. “What? It won’t.”
I’m grumbling now like a spoiled child, but I can’t help it. This is my life we’re talking about. And at this particular moment when there is a beautiful woman sleeping in the house who by all logic is unattainable to me, I’m feeling like life is a little unfair. In fact, life is sometimes a raging bitch whom I would like to punch in the face.
“It is what it is, Luca,” Adrian says quietly.
“I know.”
I reach for the flask on the table one more time and take a gulp. I’m finally starting to feel sleepy.
“Thanks for the drink,” I tell him.
“Thanks for the shitty company,” he tosses back. I smile.
“You’re welcome.”
Adrian shakes his head and tucks his flask back into his pocket. I nod at him.
“Good night.”
“’Night.”
He goes in one direction for his room and I go in the other to Eva’s. I find myself once more thankful for him. He’s been there for me since I was a kid. We grew up together and he’s talked me into as many things as I’ve talked him into. I know that he means well. And more importantly, I know that he’s right.
And I hate that.
As I make my way through the quiet house, I feel significantly sleepier and I silently praise the effects of the Scotch. But as I enter Eva’s rooms and latch the door behind me, my mind starts to fog and cloud and I curse.
Fuck.
Not now. Please not now.
But the inky black fog still curls around my conscious thought, threatening to eradicate it, blurring the edges of logic, quickly absorbing any cognizant thought. My shoulders slump.
Fucking full moon. If the situation weren’t so dire, I would laugh that I had just blamed my darkness on the full moon like Adrian. I’m not a werewolf. But I am cursed and it is coming.
Right now.
I lean against the wall for a moment, trying to breathe deeply and stave it off.
I feel different than normal. My mind is a blur, but not blackness. I’m puzzled and confused, but remain still for a moment, trying to breathe through it, to figure it out. I should be slipping away at any moment, but instead, I am remaining in a static foggy state.
What the hell? Why are things changing?
“Luca? Is everything alright?”
I glance up to find Eva sitting up in bed, her sheets pulled tightly around her shoulders. Her face is anxious and beautiful in the moonlight.
“It’s coming,” I tell her brusquely. “Now.”
She leaps from the bed and rushes to me, naked. Her hands are on my flushed face, her cool fingers brushing the hair away from my forehead.
“It will be okay, Luca,” she tells me calmly. “Focus on my face. Look into my eyes. We can do this.”
“You don’t understand,” I growl. “I’ve got to get out of here. Now.”
I start to leave, to turn away, but she clings to my elbow. “Do you trust me?” she asks. “You won’t hurt me. I know it. Trust me now, Luca. Don’t leave.”
I’m still able to think logical thoughts, although the clouds are building in my mind. Perhaps I can remain sane tonight. Perhaps she can help me. It’s a possibility. All things are possible, right? I know that I’m beginning to think like a lunatic, but I don’t care. All I know is that I want to stay with Eva. I don’t want to leave this room.
I don’t want to hurt anyone.
I turn to her and fold into her waiting arms. But even as I do, the fog begins to overtake me and turn to red. My vision tunnels and I gasp. I can see through the fog, but my thoughts are sluggish and growing slower by the moment. I suddenly feel sexuality raging through me; a fierce and aggressive need and I am hard against her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Her gray-green eyes are turned toward me, confused and anxious.
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” I mutter, trying to turn away, but she holds me fast and my thoughts aren’t coming as they should.
“This isn’t right,” I tell her helplessly. “This isn’t right. I’m not myself.”
The light fades away and the blackness comes, as it always does.
The last I remember, I am pulling her back to the bed and my hands are on her neck, her eyes closing.
Then nothing.
When I open my eyes again, it is light. And I am in the stable. I sit for a moment, alone, trying to remember what happened, what I have done.
But nothing is there.
I catch glimpses of things; of Eva’s frightened face, of my fingers around her neck, my tongue on her body, my hard thrusts into her.
<
br /> I raped her.
I am aghast, appalled; filled with hatred and repulsion. Of myself. I’m a monster. I don’t deserve to remain alive. This has to end. I can’t do this anymore. The desolation of it all has finally pulled me under. I cannot continue to exist in such a way.
I sit with my head in my hands until I feel Eva’s presence. I feel her before I see her, but when I look up, she is here.
She found me.
And then I realize that there is blood on my hands and my stomach turns over.
“It happened again,” I tell her needlessly.
Her face is tortured and sad as she nods silently.
There is no need for words.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eva
Luca doesn’t remember anything that happened last night, but he insists that his episode came on differently than before. He was cognizant for longer than normal, then there was absolutely nothing but fog. No memory whatsoever. He’s insistent that his curse is changing, that he will not live in such a way. He wants to go to town and turn himself in to the polizia, but I was able to talk him out of that for the time being.
I don’t know why.
The ethical side of me knows that that is the right thing to do.
But the side of me that is in love with Luca can’t bear it.
I’m in love with Luca.
I swallow hard as I label the vial of his blood that I took from him this morning. I love him. He has broken through the barriers that I have surrounded myself with and he stole my heart. He holds it unwillingly in his hands, because he doesn’t want me involved with him. But I cannot do anything else. I love him.
I write his name on the label and wrap it around the tube of crimson blood, dropping it into a padded envelope. I give the envelope to a maid to send out with a courier. Luca relented so easily this morning, allowing me to take his blood even though he is certain it won’t reveal his problem. He truly feels that he cannot be helped and that breaks my heart.
He is secluded now, closed away in his cave. He doesn’t want me there. He wants to remain there alone until he sees that his curse isn’t returning today, until I can try and figure out how to help him. The bruises that he left on my neck filled him with such anger and self-loathing that he couldn’t even look at me. I tried to tell him that he didn’t rape me, that I could have stopped him.
But truthfully, if I had wanted to stop him, I don’t know that I could have. But I didn’t tell him that part. I didn’t have to. He already knows and it is tearing him apart. I picture him, alone and chained in his cave and my heart splits into two. I cringe and my eyes grow hot. But I push that away. I can’t help him if I fall apart. And I know that in order to help him, I need to speak with someone who has been there all along, even longer than Adrian.
I have to speak with Melina.
I find myself at her door, a tiny tape recorder in my hand.
I knock and Sophia answers, her face surprised.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Talbot,” she tells me politely, her body blocking the entrance to Melina’s rooms. “But we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow. She’s not even dressed.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “I’ve just had to rearrange my schedule. I’d like to see her now.”
I practically push past her. Nothing will deter me.
“Very well,” Sophia says, allowing me to pass. “She more lucid in the mornings, anyway. You will probably be able to help her more this way.”
Her words don’t surprise me. Most people with dementia are this way. But since Luca wanted me here in the evenings with her, to help diffuse difficult situations, that is what I did. Someone with dementia truly can’t be helped, their disorder can’t be healed. It can only be controlled as well as possible with medication and therapy. There was no way that I could heal her by meeting with her during lucid mornings. But I can glean information that I can possibly use to heal her son.
I find Melina seated at her dining room table, an elegant shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders. She looks up in surprise.
“Dr. Talbot,” she greets me. I am surprised that she remembers me. She hasn’t yet done so in any of our other sessions. “Please sit, have breakfast with me. You are here quite early today.”
She is acting as though nothing is out of the ordinary, even though she seems as lucid as I am. I am flabbergasted as I sit across the table from her and inconspicuously push the button on my digital recorder to “Record.”
“Mrs. Minaldi, you seem bright eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” I tell her with a polite smile. She looks up at me, intrigued.
“Is that an American saying, dear?” she asks, as she butters an English muffin. She offers one to me, but I shake my head.
“Yes, it is,” I answer. “It’s an idiom that means you are full of energy and ready to face your day.”
She smiles at that.
“Of course I am,” she tells me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She proceeds to eat her breakfast, oblivious to the fact that I am astounded by her clear state of mind. It is normal for a person with dementia to be clearer in the morning. It is not, however, normal for that person to be completely lucid, a night and day difference. That is not normal at all.
I don’t point that out. Instead, I observe her and plan how to get crucial information from her. The woman that Luca had described from his childhood would most likely not offer that much up voluntarily. I watch her eat for a moment more before I speak.
“Mrs. Minaldi, do you remember much from Luca’s childhood?”
She stops what she is doing and lowers her hands to the table. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
I consider my next words carefully as she watches me with a hawk-like gaze. Gone are the clouds of delirium. I’m sitting in front of a person who is as sharp as they come. I feel slightly like I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole.
“When did you know that he was different?”
Melina stares at me.
“Different? You mean, when did I realize that he walks in his sleep?”
She isn’t going to tell me anything. I can see that from the determined set to her jaw.
“Yes,” I reply limply. “When did Luca first start walking in his sleep?”
Melina picks back up her roll and takes a delicate bite. After she has chewed and swallowed, she answers, “From the time he was small.”
“How small?” I choke out. I’m finding this situation a little overwhelming.
“Very small,” she levels a gaze at me. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Because I’m trying to help him with his sleepwalking problem,” I answer, still playing by her rules. If she wants to call it sleepwalking, so be it.
“You can’t,” she answers calmly. “There’s nothing to be done.”
But we’re interrupted by Sophia now, as she enters with a tray.
“It’s time for your tea, ma’am,” she says to Melina. Melina smiles at her.
“Thank you, dear.” She takes the delicate china cup and pulls the bag from the steaming liquid, placing it on a fragile saucer. She takes a sip, closing her eyes. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Sophia nods, then backs quietly away.
Melina is a perfect lady now, with exquisite manners and I know that I’m getting a glimpse of the dignified person that she used to be.
“Did you really used to tie him to his bed?” I ask, unable to stop myself. The images of Luca as a little boy, scared and alone, have tormented me since I first heard of it. Melina’s gaze practically stabs me now, impaling me through the heart.
“Of course,” she answers simply. “How else could I keep him from hurting himself?...or someone else?”
I suck in my breath because her voice has changed now. It’s not the pleasant, normal voice from a bit ago. It’s now the icy, strange voice that I have grown accustomed to from her. I look up quickly to find her slightly unfocused gaze upon me, inky black.
“Don’t poke around
where you shouldn’t,” she tells me eerily. “You can’t help my son. No one can. And you can’t help me, either.”
She pauses, one bony finger pointed at me. “Unless you want to help me,” she adds. “Do you?”
I am frozen, my eyes on hers as I nod. “Of course I want to help you,” I tell her. My heart is pounding hard now.
“Then help me end it,” she says. “Just help me end it.”
She slumps against the back of her chair and I am appalled at the sudden change in her demeanor, of her mental state. How can she go from completely and utterly lucid to completely and utterly out of it in one moment? It defies logic and medical explanation. Does the curse somehow affect her, as well?
I am somewhat sheepish that I am referring to it as a curse. I know that there is no such thing. But I am unsure what to call it. The affliction, I guess. That’s what I should call it.
“Are you afflicted too?” I ask her. She looks at me as if I’m foolish.
“Of course not,” she answers croakily. “Am I a Minaldi man? I am afflicted only in that I’ve had to watch these goings-on for years. And I’m weary of it. End it for me, Dr. Talbot. You can end it for me. Just give me a triple dose of my evening medication. That should do it. End. It. For. Me.”
She is lucid, yet insane now as she spits the words at me. I have chills running down my back as I push away from the table.
“I can’t do that,” I whisper, shaking my head. Her eyes are glued to mine.
“This won’t end unless it ends with us,” she tells me. “Luca and his brothers and me. We’re the only ones left. It must end with us. The Minaldi line must end. It has to.”
Her words are chilling, the meaning of them even more so.
She wants to die. She wants her sons to die. She believes so strongly in a curse that she wants to die to end it. And she is willing to sacrifice her children. It is unfathomable.
Her eyes are burning into mine and I find that I have to turn away. I can’t take it anymore. As I leave the suite, she is still calling from behind me.