Part 1 (2/2)
He could not feel his hands, his arms. He toppled and would have hit the ground had Ysa not caught him. Staggering, she lowered him to the gra.s.s, his head and shoulders pillowed by her white-skirted legs. ”Vitale!”
Ysa clawed at his chest, pulling his s.h.i.+rt off. Pandolfo's knife protruded from a wound around which bright red blood flowed. Vitale gasped as ice seemed to creep along his veins.
”Vitale, my love,” Ysa sobbed. ”Don't leave me!”
Vitale tried to focus on her face -- her beautiful, once-innocent face -- but a gray fog obscured his vision. From a long way off, he heard a familiar, laconic voice say, ”He should not have loosed the arrow.”
The gentle hand stroking his brow faltered, and even in his muddled state, Vitale winced as his betrothed gathered breath for a tirade.You'll feel the lash of her tongue now, Pan . Vitale chuckled, but the sound became a gurgle as something warm and coppery filled his mouth.
”You.” Ysa's voice was deep, filled with rage. Herstrega voice. ”You knew it was Vitale when you threw the blade. Youmeant to kill him.” Her controlled tone made Vitale s.h.i.+ver. Ysa's anger could shrivel the leaves on a mature oak to ash. He would not want to be in Pan's position right now.
Some small part of him realized he was dying. That actually, being in Pan's position would be much preferable to where he was now. But his thoughts were muddled. Foggy. Still, hewas lying in Ysa's lap, her upper body poised over him. s.h.i.+elding him, and offering a very enticing view of the b.r.e.a.s.t.s that had worked free of her bodice. A wave of sorrow washed over him, then a violent urge to laugh.Shock , he thought, even as he gave in to the urge and started to chuckle. The sound turned into a moan as pain lanced through him.
Pan's expression was calm as he straightened his breeches and tucked his s.h.i.+rt inside them. ”Perhaps now you'll dispense with your romantic notions of life as the wife of Orphieto's eldest son, and come to Genoa as the mistress of one with true power.”
She can't be your mistress, she's going to be my wife. Vitale struggled to speak, and managed only a grunt. Immediately, Ysa bent her head over him, her ear close to his mouth. ”I --”I love you , he wanted to say, but a shaft of darkness swept toward him, and he tumbled in before he could finish.
”Vitale?” Ysa sat up, registering for the first time the incredible amount of blood surrounding his body, staining her dress. Fear clutched her so tightly she couldn't breathe. She looked up at Pandolfo. One sandy lock tumbled across his forehead like a scar and he watched his cousin with empty eyes, his lips turned up slightly at the corners. An eerie calm settled over her. Looking up at Pandolfo, she spoke in the husky, atonal voice her grandmother had taught her, her gypsy lilt adding a strange singsong quality to her words.
Reaching out with a steady hand, she dipped her fingers in Vitale's blood and shook them at the man she confronted. Pan started involuntarily as the red fluid dotted his leggings. ”I curse you, Pandolfo Villani.” Ysa struggled to remember her grandmother's teachings -- things learned as a young girl, and only half-believed.Three times will invoke the power of the G.o.ddess, and bind the spell , her grandmother's voice whispered in her mind. Ysa dipped her fingers in her betrothed's blood again. ”I curse you, Pandolfo Villani.” And again. ”I curse you, Pandolfo Villani, in the name of the Maiden, the Mother, the Crone. For as long as a single descendant of the Orphieto bloodline walks this earth, the family Villani will have no happiness, reap no gain, andyou will never have that which you desire most.”
The sky darkened, the muted gold light of dusk turning to the angry green-gray of a bruise. The air stilled and seemed to thicken, the drawing of each breath becoming a challenge. Ysa felt a surge of satisfaction as Pan s.h.i.+fted uneasily, his mocking gaze beginning to show a hint of fear.
A dark cloud coalesced above them. Swirling, elongated, the roiling mist resolved into the form of a young maid of ethereal beauty. Beside that visage Ysa felt plain, even ugly, for the first time in her life.
Pandolfo's features brightened, lighted by a l.u.s.tful grin. ”Oho! What have we here?” He made as though to reach for the vision, but her eyes turned to meet his, blazing with anger. The color drained from his face, and he began to tremble.
”As our Daughter has spoken, so shall it be. Let the curse of the Villani begin.”
”What are you talking about, witch?” Pan's cheeks flushed with anger, though Ysa knew him well enough to see that he was truly frightened by this apparition. ”I'll show you a curse.” He raised his hand as though to strike the maid.
A muted crack pierced the unearthly silence surrounding them, accompanied by a bolt of lightning. Pan roared, doubling over, holding his right forearm against his stomach. The stench of burned flesh permeated the air.
A howl sounded in the distance, and the Maiden's gaze flickered. ”Run, Pandolfo Villani. They are coming.”
Pan's eyes widened in terror, yet he had never been one to bow to the will of any man, and certainly no woman. He sneered. ”They will not harm me. I am a son of one of the richest families in Genoa.”
The Maiden's cold features began to change. Her cheeks became rounder. Her hips widened, her body becoming plump and ripe, and her flowing golden locks wrapped around themselves as though worked by a dozen phantom hands, settling against her back in a matron's braid. Her dark eyes flashed. ”I would rid this world of you now, Pandolfo Villani, if there were not other G.o.ds who had some use for you.” She waved a hand. ”Run, I say.”
He started to laugh, but his expression changed to confusion, then horror, as his feet began to move, jerking as though he were a puppet on a string. ”Run!” An awkward marionette, he crossed the clearing, fighting all the way.
The Lady watched him into the woods, her gaze sharp and scornful. Then she turned those shrewd eyes to the woman on the ground before her.
”Mother.” Ysa bowed her head in respect.
”What would you ask of me, Daughter?”
Ysa raised her eyes. ”Let himlive .” She hugged Vitale's body tight, swallowing tears as his shallow breathing faltered.
The G.o.ddess gestured, and Vitale shuddered in Ysa's arms.
”Vitale de Orphieto.” The Mother's voice rang out, clear and commanding. ”I offer you a choice. Open your eyes.”
Vitale's eyelids fluttered.
”Open them!”
Vitale obeyed, his gaze locking onto the vision.
”You may pa.s.s on -- into the realm of Light, as is your reward. Or remain, and become Guardian -- a hand of the G.o.ds here on earth. Protector, and Judge.”
”I'll --” Vitale coughed, choking on his own rapidly congealing blood. ”Live?”
”Not as you do now. You will change, into a form better suited for carrying out our purpose.”
”What --”
Ysa took Vitale's hand in hers, the heat of her flesh like a hot coal against his cold palm. ”Please, Vitale. Live. I cannot lose you.”
Vitale looked into the pleading gaze of the one he loved. The hysterical confusion that had gripped him earlier was gone, leaving an unwelcome clarity in its place. His betrothed, now pleading for his life, had betrayed him with another. He had loosed the arrow in haste, thinking that Pan was raping her. The haunting reality was that when she had turned to his cousin the expression on her face had been one of pleasure. Hunger. Eagerness.
Ysa cried out, as though she read his thoughts in his eyes.
”Vitale, please! I am still for you. I love you. He never touched that part of me meant only for you.”
Vitale shook his head, not understanding.
”Please, my love.” A tear trembled on her lashes, then dropped, wetting his mouth. Vitale licked his lips, drank her sorrow. ”Please. I do love you. I do.”
Despite his doubts, he could not refuse her. He had loved her all his life, and he would love her even after he and this earth parted. If he lived, perhaps there would still be a chance for them. ”Yes,” he croaked.
The Mother eyed him with approval, yet Vitale detected a trace of pity in her regard. ”I will be Guardian,” she prompted. ”You must speak these words three times.”
”Three times to bind,” Ysa whispered.
”Yes.”
Though filled with a great sense of foreboding, Vitale repeated the words three times in an awful, gurgling croak. In the old tales, bargains with the G.o.ds were never quite what they seemed to be. He could not help wondering what hidden disaster would befall him.
Before the last whisper faded from his lips, agony seared his limbs. Vitale screamed, thras.h.i.+ng violently. Ysa scrambled away as his body shook.
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