“Your men do not feel comfortable here,” he said.
I nodded. “They do not feel comfortable not having the edge,” I said. “It is hard to fight against someone you cannot see.”
His wife stared at me. I met her eyes.
“Tell Signore Fausti,” Samuele said to her.
She wanted to send him a sharp look, but since I was watching her, she sighed instead.
“It is not our ghost causing this havoc, Signore Fausti. The woman who is of your blood.”
I nodded, as if to say,go on.
She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “The song is wrong. Our ghost is looking for her lover, lamenting how lost she is without him.”
“This ghost is different.”
“Sì,” she nodded, her face serious. “This ghost is not lost from her lover, but here with him. She is not lamenting how lost she is without him, but how she will always be close to him, and will be the face he sees when he enters the other world. Together forever, ah?”
“The candelabra,” Samuele said. “It was thrown with force. The new ghost did not like the woman being here.”
“Check the walls,” I snapped.
“The men have already,” Vincenzo said, his tone respectful.
“Men who are not afraid,” I said.
Vincenzo turned to find the entrance to the secret passageways behind the wall. Mac squeezed my shoulder, and we followed behind Vincenzo.
This villa was built during the golden age of piracy, during the 16thcentury. My ancestor had wanted to keep his wife and children safe from any intruders. And it was as if the main villa was built inside of another villa. Flames lined the walls, hissing and swaying, and in the slick darkness, Vincenzo’s face dripped with sweat as he led the way. The villa did not have any record of building plans, but I would speak to Dario about it in case we were missing passageways and rooms. In some areas, I could even hear the rush of the tide.
Dario must have inherited our ancestor’s gift of architecture.
In some spots, we should have been looking out of windows at the sea, but they were only added to give the villa another layer of realism. The secret walls were sandwiched between outside and inside.
We searched for an hour, the three of us saturated with sweat by the time we made it out the exit. The air was humid and hot and trapped behind the walls. Eufemia and Samuele waited for us, expectant looks on their faces.
Mac shook his head. We hadn’t found anything solid. But the woman, Eufemia, looked at me. I said nothing as I turned and left. I had found something.
The spicy scent of Rosaria Caffi lingered in the secret passageways. Sharp laughter echoed from behind me, as clinging as the perfume, as chilling as a grave with waiting, open arms.
The promise of it was as true as her voice had been.
Chapter 17
Forgiveness takes Time
Two days later, on a Sunday, I’d been invited by Scarlett to attend the island church, Santa Maria delle Stelle, or Stella Maris, with the family, then lunch after. My symptoms had mostly passed, but Scarlett insisted on staying close in case I needed her, just as she had done for every bath or shower I took after being released from the hospital. I didn’t ask her why Rocco hadn’t returned, but I had a feeling she knew I was curious. She kept giving me knowing glances, a sly grin on her face.
I took cues from how the group was dressed to choose my outfit, even though I stayed true to myself. Nonna had left me a dress that had belonged to her sister before she had inherited it. Her sister was a good bit older than her and had died in World War II when she was in her early twenties. She was in Italy when a bomb was dropped on her shelter. Nonna came from a long line of seamstresses, and her sister was no exception. She had sewn the dress by hand right before the war began.
Nonna had cherished it, even though she told me after she gave it to me, “Wear it, Amora! Be respectful of it but wear it. This is what my sister would have wanted, for it not to be hidden but to be shown to the world from time to time. You are so muchlike her.” Then her face would cloud over, and she would busy herself doing something else for a while.
The dress was done in the popular style of that time. The fabric was a light burgundy color with a delicate white flower print. I loved the cool feel of it against my warm skin in summer. The hem landed right above my ankles. It had always been a little snug, but it fit perfectly after I’d lost some weight. I paired it with sling-back, open-toe heels. I felt it brought the dress into the future, but also respected its roots. My hair was done in soft waves that I pulled away from my face with a burgundy bow, though I’d gotten curtain bangs before I left New Orleans, and they framed my face. I went light on the makeup and then spritzed some of my signature perfume on, the sweet and citrusy scent drifting like a subtle melody in the heat. I felt for the lion’s heart. It was still there, still warm and a little wet from the shower.
I sighed, then stopped short.I almost forgot!I dug in my dresser drawer and pulled out the white lacemantelloNonna had made for me. She was traditional in that sense. She had made a black one for me for after marriage and a few other colors for different seasons.
I walked out to find the sudden explosion of people in my life. I smiled at that. I didn’t mind people, for the most part, if they didn’t drain me. This bunch didn’t. If anything, I felt more alive when I was around them. Especially Scarlett and Mia, since I felt nothing from them. Brando, too. Most of the people who I’d met through Scarlett rarely gave me feelings on way or another. I wondered if maybe they had learned how to school their feelings around her? Maybe she told them I was…gifted, as she was, and that they should guard themselves around me too?
