"The last thing I need is another Cosimo in my life to vex me," Marcella said and sipped her wine. The promise of book sharing was the perfect bait to lure her. Her hunting and all her research had ground to a halt in the past few months. She was stuck, and Cosimo Greatdrakes could have the answers she needed.
Marcella was looking for the impossible, and he would have to convince her that finding it for her was in his power. He was related to fae and elf royalty and would have access to knowledge and resources she could only dream about.
The real problem was what Cosimo was asking ofherin return. It would be dangerous and painful to open up the old connections around Forli. Her ex-husband's family had been the leaders of thestreghein that area for years. It had cost her everything to be free of Carlo and his controlling mother, Renata.
Marcella's hand rested on her stomach, the memory of old pain tearing into her. Forli was her ancestral home, and she hadn't been back there in ten years. She had been exiled when she had chosen her freedom, and it had taken her a long time to stop feeling like her spirit and magic weren't a shredded mess.
Now, Cosimo Greatdrakes wanted her to reopen all those wounds. It would expose her all over again to Renata's scorn and hercongrega di streghe.
Marcella straightened her shoulders. She wasn't the beaten-down girl they had treated like shit and cast out. If she returned to Forli, it would be someone confident in her power and body.
Marcella moved over to a tall wooden cabinet and opened the doors to her altar. A Black Madonna, Our Lady of the Underground, sat as the centerpiece. Portraits and statues of her family's patron saints, angels, gods, and goddesses surrounded it.
A picture of her mother and father on their wedding day sat to one side. They had both passed away before she was thirty, and the ache of their absence had never eased. Neither of them had liked Carlo because they were much better at seeing through his bullshit than she had been.
Marcella lit candles and incense, the ritual of it centering her. She picked up her deck of tarot cards from beside La Madonna and sat down at her desk.
If Marcella was going to open herself up to her past, she needed to know if she could trust Cosimo and the promises he made.
She whispered a prayer over the cards before she began to shuffle them. The cards were soft and familiar in her hands. It had been a deck she painted herself, and they never lied to her or led her astray.
Thinking of Cosimo and their possible future partnership, she laid out four cards. She sipped her wine and flipped the first one:The Magician. She huffed out a laugh. She had painted Cosimo Medici as the magician. He was an older man with piles of books and scrolls around him representing the magical knowledge and resources he cultivated.
"I'm talking about Cosimo Greatdrakes, not Medici, thank you," Marcella said, tapping her nail on the next card before flipping it.The Devil.She had painted it as a roaring dragon. Her eyes narrowed. The card had multiple meanings from feelings ofentrapment to problems with addiction. Often it meant the loss of control and obsession.
Marcella knew the stories of his family being involved with dragons...
"I'll come back to you," she told it and turned the third card. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Seriously?"
The card wasThe High Priestess. She had used a picture of her mother as a model for it because her mother had been her teacher. As Marcella aged, she could see her own face in the card more and more. She quickly turned the last card:The Lovers.
"Cazzo," she swore, heat streaking over her body. She couldn't deny that Cosimo Greatdrakes had an aura about him that suggested he would be very good at… No, no, no. She wouldn't let her mind go there.The Loverscould also mean strong partnerships. They would work well together if she decided to help him. That was all it meant.
Marcella shuffled her cards again. "What will I get if I agree to help him?" she asked before flipping the top card. On it was painted a large table set for a family meal.Ten of Cups.It was a card representing security, happiness, and domestic harmony. She couldn't remember the last time she had pulled it. Happy families hadn't been a part of her life in a long, long time.
Marcella glanced over at the picture of her parents on her altar. She had tried to fill the loss of them with Carlo and had learned not all families had the same love in them that hers did.
Marcella picked up the Devil card and stared at the dragon. Shutting her eyes, she slowed her breathing and whispered a prayer, "Sant'Antonio, show me what he is hiding..."
Marcella was considering petitioning someone else when her inner eye widened and she saw a dragon. She grabbed hold of the vision, drawing it to her. No, it wasn't one dragon; it wassixdragons. Their roars shook her right out of the vision and backinto her apartment. Marcella's heart pounded, sweat dotting her brow.
"Mio Dio, you really are dragons," she whispered. Her hands shook as she dropped the card and picked up her wine. She drained her glass and let the alcohol calm her. Real dragons changed everything.
After a few minutes, a small smile appeared on her lips. If she were forced to deal with Carlo the Stronzo again, then returning with a dragon would ensure that no one would fuck with her. There hadn't been astregaallied with a dragon in Italy for centuries. It might even ensure that she could go back to Forli when she wished without worrying about being bothered by anyone.
Marcella's smile widened. She would get more out of the bargain with Cosimo Greatdrakes than she thought. She was reaching for her phone when she thought of that knowing, sexy smirk of his that said, 'Of course you will help me because I'm amazing.'
Marcella put her phone down again and stared at the Magician card. She wasn't about to forget all the times he had messed with her research, and maybe it would do him good not to get his way immediately.
Marcella stroked the dragon on the other card. "I'll help you, but I am still going to make you wait." She knew it was petty, but she didn't care.
She was a witch, not a saint, after all.
6
It had been three days since Cosimo had met with Marcella Sforza, and each day he became edgier. He was pacing the white stone paths through the garden, muttering and obsessing, because he was caged inside the villa.
Cosimo had called Henry as soon as he had gotten home from the meeting at the Uffizi to accuse him of luring him into a trap.
