Part 5 (1/2)

Dragging himself out of the bed, he padded over to the fireplace. Picking up the pitcher of water, kept warm in the ashes near the banked coals, he filled the wooden bowl on the washstand. Bending, he splashed warm water onto his face, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with rough palms.

Grabbing a rag from beside the bowl, he dried his eyes and opened them. He started back, yelping. Diamante's sardonic gaze peered out at him from the water.

”h.e.l.lo, Pan.” Her lips curled into a hungry smile, the tip of her forked tongue peeking out from one corner.

Pan grasped the top of the washstand.

”A fortnight has pa.s.sed, Pandolfo.” Diamante's mahogany eyes glowed bright red, and despite himself, Pan flinched. ”You have a single fortnight left in which to decide.”

She tossed her head, the sleek black hair in her reflection rippling, and Pan stepped back as water splashed over the bowl's edge. When she looked at him again, her eyes were black as a starless night, and Pan struggled to breathe as he drowned in their dark depths. ”Do you still believe the curse is not real?”

He shook his head, unable to speak.

”I am the only one who can save you, Pan,” Diamante whispered. ”The Guardian is immortal. As long as he walks this earth, you are cursed.”

”Is... is there no way to destroy him?”

Dia chuckled. ”There is always a way, Pan. The question is who will help you?” She raised her eyebrows.

Pan glanced at the bed. ”Ysa... she is not mine to give.”

”She will be.”

Pan's heart beat painfully at this p.r.o.nouncement. To have her, finally and completely...

”Become mine, Pan, and you will have everything your heart desires.” Dia's eyes gleamed. ”Eventually.”

Pan didn't even register the qualification. ”How?” he breathed.

Diamante's voice became a sibilant hiss. ”I will transform you, Pandolfo. You, too, will be immortal. And other gifts shall be yours, if you submit to my will.”

”What gifts?”

Diamante chuckled. ”Silly boy. Those secrets are yours only if you submit.” Her gaze became womanly again -- sultry, seductive. ”I am the only one who can mitigate the curse, Pan. The only one who can offer you a chance to triumph in the end.”

Her gaze bored into him. Wispy remembrances of the night's dreams drew together in Pan's mind, forming smoky gray tentacles that wrapped around his heart and filled him with icy fear. He knew this was Diamante's doing. She was using the remnants of his dreams to manipulate him. For all he knew, she'd sent them. Yet she was right. If Vitale was immortal, and Ysa's curse was real, he had no hope of overcoming either without the G.o.ds' a.s.sistance. He took a deep breath, then met her eyes boldly, consciously submitting to her will. ”Done,Diavolo . I am yours.”

Diamante's eyes blazed with triumph. ”Again, Pan.”

”I am yours, Diavolo.”

”Again.”

”I am yours!”

Pan gasped as his nose began to bleed, dripping into the clear water. The liquid began to spin, thick streamers of blood twisting into the depths of a matchless silver sea.

The red coalesced. Thickened. Became a writhing, slavering tongue that reached out of those depths and caressed Pan's cheek.

He screamed as his skin hissed, the forked tongue burning. Ysa stirred behind him, murmuring his name sleepily.

Excruciatingly slowly, the tongue slid away. Pan peered into a bowl of clear water again, clear save for Diamante's shadowy face. ”You are Marked now, Pan. Mine. Forever.”

Pan s.h.i.+vered. He had wanted so desperately to have help. Hope. Why did he now feel so desolate?

Her voice faded as the vision dissipated. ”I will meet you in Sicily.”

A fist pounded the door. ”Pandolfo! Are you all right?” Heriberto shouted from outside. ”Pandolfo!”

He hurried over and threw back the bolt, holding the door open so 'Berto could enter. When his brother saw him, his face paled. ”What has happened?” He stared in horror at the mark on his cheek.

Pan winced. ”When I set the pitcher down by the fire, I sent a stick buried in the embers flying into my face.”

'Berto stepped forward to study the injury. ”A strange mark for a stick to make, brother.” His gaze took in the pitcher, still perched on the washstand beside the bowl, but he said no more. ”I will send Savia up with a salve.” He turned back to the door. ”She will bring breakfast as well, and when you are finished, I will take you to Etuard.”

Chapter 12: A Sense of Evil.

Vitale lived and breathed the city of Genoa.

And searched.

Often, he found darkness. The kind of darkness that lurks in the hearts of discontented men and women and starts them down the path of demons, but does not make them one... yet. He judged and punished three such men, when they accosted a young girl hurrying home down an alley in the dead of night.

Even before she screamed, he sensed their intentions and launched himself into the sky. Hovering above the alley, he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he truly had the right to intervene. The Lady's blessing -- a soft, silent sense of benediction, released him from his indecision. Landing among them, the reek of their soul's taint sharp in his nostrils, the urge to rip their groping hands from their bodies tempted him sorely. He could not bring himself to do it. Instead, he reached into their minds as they backed away. Burned an image within them of what their torment would be if they ever tried to take a woman again without her consent.

Wide-eyed, babbling, they stumbled back to the alley's mouth, then scattered like frightened rats. Vitale turned to the girl. She pushed herself up, her dress dirty, her hands smudged, but with no other damage. Trembling, she reached out a hand and touched his forearm tentatively. ”Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes huge in the moonlight.

Vitale strained to make his harsh, gravelly voice soft and low. ”The kisses of your young man are not worth the possibility of losing yourself to such as those.” He hoped he looked stern, but not frightening. ”Promise me you will not sneak away to see him again in the night. You are betrothed. You will have many nights together, after you are wed.”

The girl's eyes widened. ”H-how did you know?”

Vitale had no idea what to say. Could he speak of himself to mortals? The Lady had not forbidden it, so he gave her the truth. ”I am a Guardian. I watch over all who dwell in this city.” He crouched a bit lower, looking deep into those eyes. ”Promise.”

The girl swallowed nervously. ”I-I promise.”

”Go.” Vitale straightened, flexing his wings. ”I will follow until you are home.”

She nodded again and turned, scurrying down alleys and across streets until she reached the vine-covered trellis below her window. She hesitated just before climbing inside. ”Are you a G.o.d?”

Vitale hovered above her. Shook his head. ”I am a Guardian.”

She considered that for a moment, her face very serious, then smiled. ”I'm glad to know you are watching over me.” Quick as a vole, she scampered up the trellis and slipped through the open window, waving as the wind lifted him toward the stars.

The next morning, he couldn't stop thinking about that girl. Though fair of face and skin, in thought and deed she reminded him of Ysa. With his spirit spread throughout the city, he had sensed dimly the moment the young woman sneaked away from her house, to meet her betrothed in a dark corner of his father's gardens. A great yearning dwelt within her -- an ember that threatened to burst into flame with each kiss, each forbidden touch from her young suitor. That flame burned in the boy, as well.