A Dance of War

by Ellie R. Hunter

  What the fuck did she dream about? What’s spooked her enough to bring this on?

  “Mila—”

  “No.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she steps away from me. “Our prophecy said we would bring peace to Vita, but nothing about us finding peace ourselves. We’ll have to pay for our many, many sins. You have to go. Please, just leave.”

  I can’t tear my eyes away from her, and because of that, I see how shaken she is. I don’t want to cause her anymore pain, and it’s clear she’s feeling a lot of it.

  Collecting my clothes, I keep my mouth shut as I dress.

  Sitting on the bed to tie my laces, a sob bursts from her lips. I look up, startled, to see there’s a serious fight warring inside her head.

  “I don’t know what’s spooked you, but our feelings for one another are real. It was destiny that brought us together, but it’ll be down to us to fight for each other. And I will fight for you, Mila.”

  She turns her back to me, and as much as I want to stay and make her see she’s wrong, I go to leave, but warn, “This isn’t over,” before closing her door.

  At the top of the stairs, I hear her throw something across the room, where it smashes against the wall.

  I haven’t slept since leaving the Camarco estate, and I can’t sit still longer than a few seconds. I’m worse than a child with a sugar rush.

  Back in the car, I take advantage of the empty streets, I floor it, pushing the speed until I’m parking at the nursing home. Cristian is back at the house, trying to figure out what the hell is going on now. I could tell him, but I don’t want to share my moments with Mila together with anyone.

  After signing in at the reception desk, I make my way to Father Luke’s room and stop in the doorway, finding him sketching away in his bed.

  I clear my throat to get his attention, and when he looks up, he smiles broadly.

  “Raphael. I was hoping you would come back and visit alone.”

  Crossing the room, I drag over a plastic chair and set it at his bedside and take a look at his sketches. Every drawing is of the tunnel, with the two figures at the far end.

  “Why? Is there something you needed to tell me?” I ask.

  “No, nothing like that. It’s been a long time, that’s all. I’ve missed our chats.”

  I’ve missed them too, but it’s not what I want to hear today.

  “But you’re here because you want to see if I can tell you more about the tunnel vision. And don’t you condescend me by lying.”

  “You know me so well, Father. Is there anything you can tell me?”

  He drops the piece of charcoal on his lap and holds up a sketch. “Nothing has changed. I see this tunnel, and you and Mila passing through it.”

  “You said you sensed the calm before the storm. Do we run and come back stronger?”

  “If that’s what occurs, then yes.”

  “Father,” I growl, losing the thin thread of patience I have left. “Can you for once give me a straight answer?”

  His voice is rough as he chuckles. “There are no straight answers, as your decisions change all the time. No one knows the ending before it happens. Human nature is fickle, and it’ll never change.”

  “Why do you have these visions if you can’t help us?”

  “I am a messenger of God, Raphael. It’s my duty to pass them along, but it’s up to you how they come about.”

  He’s absolutely no help. I hang my head in my hands as a roaring ache takes root in the back of my head, spreading down my neck and into my shoulders.

  “Raphael, you have had to fight all your life because of who you are. Though it’s not been fair, you’re still here. You’re strong, and your will has never wavered. You know what you want, but you also know the cost will be a high price to pay.”

  “Are you talking about Mila?”

  “Mila is Vita, and Vita is you both. The two go hand in hand, just like you with her. Everything that’s happened has been for a reason, yet you must understand, the path I led you to never indicated a time frame. It’s you and her who can end this, but you have to work with her, no matter how many times she pushes you away.”

  “We’ve been… together, the last few nights, and it’s been everything I’ve missed. Last night, I think she had a bad dream, and when I tried to talk to her about it, she asked me to leave. Could she have had a vision of her own? Did she see something that shook her to the core?”

  “It’s possible. And if it’s true, I would guess the vision was of you. She was a broken mess after her mother was murdered, but she mourned the loss of your relationship even more. Even before you bent the knee, she still mourned you, and I would say you’ve been mourning for her too.”

  “Every day, Father.”

  He reaches out his hand and settles it over mine.

  “You gave up once, and I don’t advise you to do it again. Not if you truly want peace for Vita and Mila’s love once again. If you do, there won’t be a third chance for you, and Vita will be truly lost, forever.”

  Rising from my chair, I return his hand to his lap, place the chair back by the door, and straighten my jacket.

  “The people will get their peace, but you and Mila will get so much more. Have faith.”

  Have faith? As a sixteen-year-old boy, I had faith. I had so much of it, I didn’t see any curveballs coming my way. It’s been hard these past ten years to keep my faith when nothing ever seems to work out.

  On my way back to the house, my blood boils when I drive by the church where DiMarco is keeping himself safe and protected. It’s one thing for Camarco’s and Marocchi’s to fight amongst each other, but another family inching their way in is a different breed of taking the piss.

  Bloodstains blemish the sidewalks and roads as I pull away from the church, looking forward to a day when joy fills the streets instead of death.

  Cristian is sitting at my desk when I walk in, and jumps up to his feet.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” he demands.

  Instead of responding, I inform him, “I want to meet the Ghost. I don’t give a shit how he works, I want him here, standing in my office before me.”

  “Y–You want the Ghost here?”

  “Did I stutter? Make the call, and make it impossible for him not to show his face.”

  Ever the loyal soldier, he picks up his phone from the desk and makes the call. Pouring myself a drink, I listen as he relays my message, and surprisingly, it doesn’t take as much persuasion as I thought it would.

  Hanging up, he tosses his phone back on the desk, asking, “Why do you want the Ghost here?”

  “It’s about time I know who he is, and I want him to find a way into the church to kill DiMarco.”

  There are plenty of tunnels leading inside, and we’re going to use them to our advantage.

  “And get Mila here.”

  Remembering the way I left her, I add, “Tell her, if she wants to keep her precious church intact, she’ll do well not to keep me waiting.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jamila

  The floor plans for the tunnels running underneath the church are laid out across my desk as Trey’s phone rings. Taking the call, his mood immediately sours.

  “Put it on speaker,” I instruct.

  Cristian’s voice filters through the receiver before Trey informs him, “You’re on speaker. You can tell her yourself.”

  “Mila?”

  “I’m here. What do you want?”

  The line is silent for a second. “Raphael expects you at the house as soon as you can get here.”

  “Does he now?” I mutter. “Tell him I’m busy at the moment.”

  “You should get here. He has a plan, and if you want to have your say in how to save the church, you shouldn’t waste any time.”

  Ending the call, I slam my palm down against the table.

  “You’re letting him order you around now?” Trey murmurs and I turn on him.

  “You forget your place once again.�
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  “I forget nothing. He bent the knee to you. You should’ve put him in his place weeks ago.”

  “And what place is that?”

  He shrugs. “Not at your side, that’s for sure, and definitely not in your bed.”

  Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. I need every man at my side right now, so I bite my tongue.

  “I’m not explaining myself again, Trey. Grab the plans, and if you can keep your opinions to yourself, join me in the car.”

  I don’t wait around for his answer, knowing he’ll follow.

  In the confines of the car, I welcome the stuffy warmth and lean my head against the headrest.

  Every time I close my eyes, I’m reminded of my dream. It should be no surprise that Raphael and I will have to pay the price for peace. Our family’s karma has been building for two hundred years, and with it, an overbearing level of pride to be the most powerful.

  Trey, sliding into the back seat, slams the door shut, and the driver pulls away from the house.

  “All I was trying to say is, you shouldn’t let Raphael bark orders at you. If people don’t see you asserting your command over him, it’ll confuse them, and loyalties will be questioned.”

  Ignoring his advice, I watch the city pass us by and try to exhale the foreboding the dream has left me with. It felt so real, so confusing. Just as real as this moment of us driving through the gates of the Marocchi property.

  I don’t bother knocking, and walk straight through to his office where I hear Raphael talking with Cristian.

  He looks up as I enter, motioning for me to sit opposite of him. Rolling my eyes, I dump the church plans on his desk before taking a seat and crossing my legs.

  “Do not order me here again. If you have something to share, Cristian can relay the message as he could’ve done today. Continue to test me, and I’ll have to exert my power.”

  Now he’s the one who rolls his eyes.

  “We all do what we need to do, and what I need is to be rid of DiMarco. I’ve called the Ghost in, who should be with us soon. He’s going to sneak into the church and assassinate DiMarco.”

  “The Ghost?” Trey asks.

  “He’s someone we use when we want a job done quickly, efficiently, and without error,” he explains, narrowing his eyes at my second.

  Like with Father Antonio, perhaps? My anger rages at the thought of him placing me in the same room with my friend’s murderer, but I keep my mouth closed on the matter and move on, for now.

  “We were thinking the same. On your desk is the plans for the church and the tunnels beneath,” I inform him.

  He leans forward in his chair and spreads the paper out over his desk, with Cristian placing weights down on the corners to stop them from curling over.

  “This Ghost, was he the one who killed Father DiMarco?”

  “He was hired, yes. He’s the best, and we need him,” Raphael says coolly as an elder man is brought through.

  The butler says, “He says has an appointment with you, sir, though he won’t tell me his name.”

  Raphael stands. “It’s okay, Alfred. You can leave.”

  Standing myself, I study the man who looks like he’s seen better days.

  Raphael strides toward him and shakes his hand. Keeping my purse strap on my shoulder, my hand slips into my purse and grabs hold of the gun Trey made me carry.

  “Thank you for coming. It’s good to put a face to the number we have for you.”

  His chest shakes with a silent snort, but he tips his head accordingly.

  “We have a job for you. If you’re successful, you’ll never to have to work again,” Raphael continues as I move slowly around the furniture, getting close to the two men.

  “Speak,” I order him.

  He narrows his eyes. “I’ll speak when I have something to say.”

  “Then tell me, did you enjoy killing the priest in St. Mary’s church?”

  “I take pride in every job I do, the priest no exception. I feel nothing for taking a life if I’m paid well enough for it.”

  I ask, “What were his last words?” moving even closer to him.

  He shrugs. “Nothing of importance.”

  My blood runs cold. Not because of him, but because I know what I’m going to do and why I have to do it. I just need to hear the words from him first.

  “It’s important to me.”

  My voice sounds as cold as I feel.

  “He said, ‘Jamila Camarco will avenge me.’”

  “And yet here you stand before me, not a tremble of fear.”

  “When death comes for me, I won’t fear it. And I don’t fear you because you need me.”

  I’ve had enough. I don’t need anyone, let alone a man who refers to himself as a ghost.

  Pulling the gun from my purse, I raise it up and press it to his forehead.

  “Come on, Mila, I think you’ve made your point,” Raphael scolds from somewhere behind me.

  Funny, I haven’t made a single point yet. The Ghost is a liar, saying he doesn’t fear his death, yet his eyes tell a different story. There’s fear mixed with regret, as well as a pleading for me to remove the gun.

  These are the same eyes Father Antonio saw as he was viciously murdered. Eyes I would bet weren’t remorseful, showing him no pity as he carried out his order.

  Pulling the trigger, Ghost’s blood splatters across my face before he falls to the ground, dead.

  Inhaling deeply, I exhale slowly and look up to the heavens.

  “I have avenged you, Antonio. Rest in peace now, my friend.”

  Spinning on my heels, I face the men still breathing in the room. Trey is smiling, while Raphael and Cristian stare at me, their mouths hanging open, and shock burning in their eyes.

  “What have you done, Mila?” Raphael asks.

  “What needed to be done, Raphael,” I grate out his name like a curse, handing the gun to Trey.

  Pulling a tissue, and then another, from the box on a small table by the couch, I wipe over my face and discard of the bloodied tissues into the trash can.

  “We needed him.”

  “I don’t need him. He was no more of a ghost than our men. Although, I guess he gets to live up to his name now,” I say with a smirk. “I’ve already sent somebody to sneak into the church and attack.”

  He’s now well and truly a ghost, I’ve made sure of that. Walking around the desk, I sit myself in Raphael’s chair and cross my legs.

  “He’s the one who would’ve killed your brother if we had gotten to him first. He would’ve been the one to take out your cousin here as well if you hadn’t tried to blow me up that day.” Swivelling in the chair, I face Cristian. “You should be thankful I went into hiding, because it was that night your death was planned while you visited that whore of yours, Clara. How is she holding up in her two-bedroom apartment? The one with that awful butterfly wallpaper?”

  His lip curls in anger, and I smile cheekily. The Marocchi’s aren’t the only ones who’ve kept an eye on their enemy’s movements.

  “Anything happens to her, I’ll personally rip your head from your shoulders.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Laughing, I turn to Raphael. “Put your dog on a leash so we can discuss our next move.”

  He stands there, fatigued, his hands on his hips, but says nothing.

  “You wanted me here, and so I’m here.”

  Trey edges his way around the desk, and it breaks the spell over Raphael.

  “I want to talk with Mila alone. You two, leave.”

  Cristian does as he’s told, but Trey hangs back.

  “It’s okay. Go warm the car up, as we’ll be leaving soon.”

  Trey purposefully, no doubt, leaves the door open on his way out.

  “Something changed in you last night. Tell me what it is.”

  Everything.

  “Nothing. This is me, Raphael. You should be thankful I haven’t put a bullet in your head for ordering Antonio’s murder, but Ghost will do for now.”


  Shaking his head, he rounds the desk and swings the chair so I’m looking up at him.

  “It didn’t faze you when you pulled the trigger just now. How many men have you killed yourself before?”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “Because, no matter who you say you are now, you were never that person.”

  “People change. Some have to, and some because others make it impossible for them not to.”

  Pushing up from the chair, I come face-to-face with him.

  “Whatever you thought was happening, isn’t. You surrendered to me, and as such, you will follow my orders, you do not give them. You want to speak with me, you come to me, you don’t bark for me.” Chuckling, I run my finger down his chest. “Bark. I guess you do, actually.”

  Pushing past him, I snatch up my purse up from the back of the couch and head for the door.

  “I know you dreamt of me—of us—last night. Father Luke reckons you had a vision, and I agree. It’s obviously scared the living shit out of you, but you pushing me away won’t change or stop anything.”

  I freeze. He visited Father Luke? Taking a shaky breath, I turn back to him.

  “I dreamt of nothing last night, but awoke gaining clarity. I see the future now, and it’s mine for the taking.”

  “Bullshit. Ten years apart, and I can still tell when you’re lying. And may God strike you down if you lie to me again.”

  “You’re letting yourself be blinded by the past, forgetting we’re at war. A war I don’t plan on losing. So, be careful as you go, Raphael. The streets are dangerous.”

  Turning for the door, I swallow thickly and leave. I won’t for one second entertain the possibility of us coming out of this together, nor happy. It’s easier to go forward alone, as it will keep my heart intact.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Raphael

  Her stubbornness drives me crazy. We’ve shared her bed for the last few nights, leading me to believe we were getting somewhere. Leaning over the desk, I look at Ghost’s dead body. I stood back and did nothing because I didn’t think she would pull the trigger, believing she was just making a point. My actions having the priest killed was the sole reason she murdered a man. I’m not a fool. I know she’s had men killed under her orders over the years, but I guess it was presumptuous of me to think that her own hands were clean, so to speak. If this was the first man she’s killed, it didn’t affect her whatsoever, and that shocks me more than the act itself.