Brando looked, narrowing his gaze. “I don’t see him.”
“He’s here,” I said. A few seconds later, I pointed. “Look. He’s standing next to Eva and Gabriel.”
Brando paddled harder, sending us faster toward shore. Gabriel’s face was pinched, listening to whatever Ettore had to say. Eva’s face made me stare. She was pale, as though she had seen a ghost, her eyes frozen on his face—
“She’s dreamt of him,” Brando said, finishing my thought.
“H-how do you know?” I stammered out.
“I’ve seen that look on her face before. When she had a dream about you.”
* * *
“Go change for lunch,” Brando said, after he helped me out of the boat. “Guido will go with you and Lou.”
Brando fixed Guido with a look that meantno questions asked. I knew, because before he fixed it on Guido, he had fixed it on me when I went to protest.
He wanted to get Ettore alone so he could escort him out of the party. Ettore was worse than a gator on shore, joining the guests and demanding that we give him a human sacrifice.
Nephew and uncle’s eyes met from across the lawn. Brando nodded once in acknowledgment.
Eva’s frozen face seemed to burst out of the ice mold. It wasn’t a slow thaw either. It was a massive crack, freeing her from whatever she had been seeing, but leaving a mark.
Like me, Eva had been “touched” by something that neither of us could totally explain. That was enough to fuse our bond—stronger than most. Instead of feeling, having too much empathy, she dreamt of things to come.
Guido huffed and puffed as he led us toward the house. He wanted Ettore gone. Most of the Faustifamigliain our circle did. After Ettore had accidentally killed his own father, attempting to kill Brando, vengeance grew stronger the longer he was on the run.
Add that to the fact that he had threatened Lou—the vibes coming from Guido were lethal.
For the first time, Lou took the initiative and grabbed Guido’s hand. The change was subtle, the creases of his eyes softening, but she had gotten to him. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it warmed my heart to see. Guido had been lonely too long, and he had gone through a really rough time after his cousin Thomas had been killed in Positano, along with Santina.
Signaling to Eva that we were going into the house to change, she nodded and then held up her hand—give me five. Good. I could’ve used ten.
I had worn a tank top and cut-off shorts on the boat, and my clothes were plastered to me from sweat. I had packed us a change of clothes, anticipating this situation. Eating in dirty clothes that reeked of fish and body odor wasn’t all that appealing to me.
Inside, the house was much cooler. The air clung to the dampness of clothes and skin and made me shiver. The core of all the mouthwatering food scents was found in the kitchen. The rich roux of gumbo and the tangy aroma of hops meandered in the air. It gave the spacious house a homely vibe.
People loafed in here, too, taking respite from the heat. Juliette saw me and waved. Then she handed me a cold beer and pointed us upstairs, directing us where to get changed.
Romeo hovered by the window, a beer in his hand, looking outside. I didn’t even have to look to see what he was staring at. Ettore and Brando. They stood close to the pirogue, away from the crowd, talking to each other. From the way their mouths and hands moved, they spoke to each other in Italian.
I had no idea what was going on, or how Ettore could hate Nemours more than Brando all of a sudden. For years, the man’s main objective had been to destroy Brando Fausti, and thenbam, he wanted to destroy Nemours before taking out his own blood. Nemours was the one who had included the Faustis in this mess in the first place.
Brando disagreed with Ettore’s logic, butonlybecause he wanted Nemours first.
In their family, if you wanted your nephew dead, it would happen, but the enemy that wantedhimdead would go first—then matters could be settled amongst blood. It was that “family can talk about family but outsiders can’t” mentality.
Was it any wonder that people existed inside of my head?
Given the current state of affairs, it was little wonder that voices seemed almost normal compared to the insanity of it all.
I wasted no time guzzling the beer. It was crisp and cold and had a subtle hint of strawberries. If I was going to crack, better do it while in a haze. Less painful.
Guido pointed me to one bathroom, while Lou found another to freshen up in. I almost expected my clothes to peel away from me with a sticky, sucking noise once I started to undress.
A knock came at the door and I whisked it open, thinking it was Brando. It was Eva.
“Here,” she said, opening a cabinet and digging inside it for a minute. She came out with two towels and two washcloths. “You probably want a shower. Brando too.”
