The Last Etruscan

by Lyn Brittan

  Every move she made pushed him closer and closer to the edge of sanity. Her body gyrated, but her eyes remained fixed on him with promises of a thousand nights of passion. Luca didn’t fight the urge to wink back at her. He would enjoy making sure those promises were kept. Of course, he made a few silent promises himself. Beyond the obvious, he also had to get her into one of the Roma traditional dancing outfits. The music accelerated, along with her body. She twirled so fast that the lines of her curves became a blur. Then, without warning, she stopped and collapsed at Luca’s feet. Agonizing seconds passed before her arms snaked up his legs and lifted the rest of her body until her face was flush with his.

  “This is payback for our first dinner,” she whispered.

  His little minx landed in his lap and with lung rattling exhaustion, curled around his waist effectively ending the dance. The audience lost its collective mind. Luca remained in the chair, cradling a collapsed, sweaty, and trembling Fanchon Marie in his arms.

  Next up, his turn, with one final ritual before the proper reception could begin. The one and really true Rom Baro, his father, stepped to the center of the circle, carrying what Luca knew to be a full goblet of Sigur Ros, sweet plum wine made by him and his mother on the day of their own wedding. The bottles were only to be opened on the marriages of their sons, it was a treat that all of them looked forward to.

  “May this wedding symbolize the union of our peoples and our cultures,” the great king started. “We all know how unconventional it is for both of our peoples to marry outside our own magical lines, but never was there any doubt of a more perfect union. Foretold by Vodou mambo asogwes and Roma tellers from the moment of their births, this day will bring fortune to us all.”

  He then turned to face his son and new chavi. “We welcome you to our family. This glass holds the wine of the union between me and my wife. We pass it to you. Have from us our communion, and as you go forward, make your own.” The king served the couple, pouring wine into their mouths, causing the crowd to again whoop and cheer.

  “Now, move you fools. Part the circle and let not another one be made until a child is born. Which,” he added with a wink, “I hear from a very good source that a grandson is well on his way.”

  Luca felt Fanchon Marie try to dig a hole into his side to jump in. “Give the old man a break. He’s only done this three times. He’s already lamenting the fact that he’ll only get three more chances. Well, four, if you count Gregorio.”

  Fanchon Marie shook her head. “Seven sons.”

  “We mustn’t forget my two sisters.”

  “Don’t you and your ‘strong like bull seed’ go getting crazy ideas.”

  Luca tightened his grip. “It is a little late to decide you don’t want a family.”

  “Family, yes. A full on country of little Lucas? Not so much.”

  “So, fourteen then. Tut, tut, tut, don’t answer. They’re waiting for us to cut the cake.”

  Fanchon Marie didn’t look to happy about it. He knew she’d been upset over not having the cake she’d planned on. He kept his eyes on her and watched her look change from one of dignified resignation to unchecked shock. He turned and felt his own jaw drop. A nine-tiered monstrosity dominated the table. Each layer alternated between a circular and square white cake with a black damask pattern. Deep red, almost brown/black confectioner roses cascaded down the front.

  “Perfect!” Fanchon Marie jumped and clapped like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, Luca, thank you.”

  “I cannot take the credit for this.” Though he sure wished he thought of it first. “Judging by Callie’s grin over there, I wager that she is the responsible party.”

  The wolfette worked her way to front of the crowd and bore a smile wide enough to make a Cheshire jealous. “Guilty as charged. Sean knew someone who owed him a favor. I sorta helped design the thing though. Like it?”

  “How? I mean, you didn’t have any time at all to pull this off.”

  “You’d be amazing at how convincing I can be,” Sean said. He’d materialized out of nowhere, as always. Luca nodded his thanks. The little shit had done good for once. When Fanchon Marie’s eyes watered, he’d decided that Sean had been baptized by her tears. As far as Luca was concerned, this stunt brushed a whitewashed paint of forgiveness over all his crimes.

  “Well, pup, you get to live another day.”

  “Oh, I’ll live long enough to piss on your grave.”

  “Sean! Sorry, guys. ” Callie dragged him off by his ear. The last thing Luca heard her say was, “Way to ruin a moment,” before Sean squealed at an unseen assault. He smiled towards his wife, but she still stared, crying at the cake.

  “Let’s cut it, hmm?”

  “Yeah.”

  After the wedding cake, they were meant to go sit at the head table. Fanchon Marie headed in that direction, but Luca had other plans. He led them out to the stage for the first dance.

  “New husband?”

  “Yes, new wife?”

  “What are you doing? We’re not supposed to do this part yet.”

  Luca nodded to the band, who immediately let loose a slow, sensual tune. “I know, but once we sit at that table, all eyes will be on us for the rest of the night.”

  “So?”

  “So, this way, we dance, others will join in. My people know how to entertain themselves, so do yours.”

  “Again, so?”

  “Thus, we are given the chance to exit unnoticed for a more private celebration of our fruitful union.” His head lowered to nibble on her ear.

  “Luca! We can’t leave! You’re not allowed.”

  “Says who?” Righteous indignation entered his voice. “Really, says who? This is my city.”

  “You love to think you can get away with anything, don’t you?”

  “L’etat c’est moi.” That earned him an eye roll and an earful.

  “If you think, my sweet,” Fanchon Marie said with a bit too much saccharine. “That I’m going to miss my wedding, think again.” He decided to not mention the fact that a few hours earlier, she wanted to cancel the whole damned thing. Didn’t seem terribly wise.

  “And if you make one more ear biting, boob staring, lecherous move on me in front of all these people, you can forget any love making for the next two weeks.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She couldn’t be. Not really, but he wasn’t one to chance it. Instead he tried to concentrate on the dance and not the woman pressed against him. He’d faced easier challenges in life.

  By the time the dance ended, just as he’d predicted, the dance floor filled with people. His father swept Fanchon Marie in circles around the outdoor stage, while Luca was gripped a little too tightly by an old woman with a yellowed, but genuine smile. He couldn’t tell which had more bristles, a brush, a broom, or her chin, but the woman could move. Despite the flaming death of his plans with this bride, he was enjoying the reception. If this was any indication of his new life, he’d be a happy man.

  He lost sight of Fanchon Marie every so often, but when he found her, she was almost always with her youngest sister, Gregorio, or Callie. Lord bless that one. His bride danced with her, yipping and skipping in wild, frenzied circles amongst the crowd. He watched them both and smiled. Then looked up to see Sean doing the same thing.

  And Gregorio.

  Hmmm, maybe the little wolf could be convinced to stay. If, he thought, looking from one man to the other, the right gentleman won.

  The party dragged on until the moon shone high overhead. Everything was heavy tonight: the food, the singing, and the magic. It’d been so long since he’d felt so much power. Had he ever? In one place? It surrounded them all in a tight and pleasantly warm cocoon. Most spells had been forbidden tonight, but he heard of few. Luxitaxia to strengthen the drink. Eluxios for tiny sparks of light. There were some he didn’t know either-- strange words he knew he’d one day learn from his wife.

  “Little brother!”

  Luca stopped dancing when Tomas pressed a mug into
his chest. Liquid was inside to be sure, but also small beams of light, shot from one side to the other. “Luxitaxia?”

  “What else? Drink up and come on. They’re waiting. This is our last night together. You know what we must do. Besides, you want to impress your wife, yes?

  Luca downed the cup in one full gulp and instantly felt the world tip, much to the delight of a laughing Tomas. He shook his head to clear it, unsuccessfully, but hobbled over to the stage the held his waiting brothers. All of them, to a man, played the guitar. However, each brother also specialized in another instrument – the kanun, the darbuka, fiddle -- Luca’s was his grandfather’s accordion. The wooden sides of it were inlaid with gold, silver, and green leaves. It groaned as he warmed it up, and the crowd stilled. It was often said that those who’d had the pleasure of hearing the brothers rarely forgot and were eager for one of their rare group performances.

  As Luca played on, he shot up a quick thanks to the powers that everything had gone well during his wedding. He sent up another, longer thanks for the happiness he felt. His family was finally whole. Luca looked down on the crowd and grinned. On and on they played to the swaying bodies. Young children and old men, passed out together on pillows, benches and beneath mighty trees. Luca caught Fanchon Marie yawning several times but the little trooper marched on, never missing a step or a chance to smile. He’d let her enjoy the day until she dropped.

  Finally, he and Fanchon Marie were called again to the center of attention. Time for the last tradition, The Gifting. They lined up and each group presented their wedding presents according to tradition. The Roma handed the newlyweds envelopes and books stuffed with cash. As for those representing the Vodou camp, they presented the couple with gris gris, knuckle bone dice, and yellowed stacks of old charms and recipes for potions.

  “Babe, I’m not sure I can hold my head up much longer.”

  Silently, Luca waved to the crowd, turned and carried Fanchon Marie out the gardens and into the house. By the time he reached his bedroom on the third level of the house, his wife was completely out. “You awake?” A light snore sounded as response. He felt more than a twinge of guilt at that. Violence, pain, death, and hurt claimed her life these last few days. She’d been through so much, and none of it had been her fault.

  Gentle arms laid her on the oak bed. Using light from the smiling moon through the windows, he started to remove her wedding dress. He left the garter on her thigh though, and smiled, thinking of how much he would enjoy removing that when she woke up.

  “Hey you,” a sleepy voice said. “What are you grinning about?”

  “My nearly naked wife.” Luca kissed her still flat tummy. It wouldn’t be for much longer. He delighted in the thought of how her body would change with his child. “Thank you for today. For going through with it. For giving us a chance.”

  “Hmmm.... If I’m not careful, I might really fall in love with you. Best to avoid that at all costs. So stop talking, put me under the covers, and hold me while I sleep.”

  “And you will dance for me in the morning?”

  Fanchon Marie’s sleepy grin widened. “I may even be in love with you by then.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Oh, she danced for him in the morning. She also moaned, screamed, clawed, nibbled, and took them both to the gates of heaven. Life-long commitment, eh? If this was prison, she’d happily be chained to the walls. “I love marriage.” She especially loved marriage to her husband with the exquisitely mismatched colored eyes, wicked tongue, and divine fingers.

  The satisfied man lazily lapped at her nipples. “Yes, the holy state of matrimony does not suck. Unless asked. May I?”

  “Yes, you may. So you don’t mean to replace me with your new girlfriend?” Fanchon Marie raked nonexistent stubble on her chin to indicate to whom she was referring.

  Luca grimaced at the memory and released the nipple between his teeth with an exaggerated “pop.” “Ahh yes, her. Jealous? She is a whole lot of woman, you know.”

  “She’s a whole lotta man, too.”

  The two burst into laughter. Luca’s unbound hair grazed the red, Roma wedding sheets as he tried unsuccessfully to compose himself. She loved at the look of him like this. Relaxed, peaceful, beautiful. Between her and the Morlena, his life had been one misery after another. She’d do her part to make it better. “Come here.” Luca leaned in to shoot her a look that curled her toes. His eyes made her feel, all at once, sexy, cherished, worshiped, and adored.

  “I am the luckiest man in the damned universe.”

  Fanchon Marie felt the head of his recently and hilariously dubbed, magic stick enter her body for the second time this morning. He was rougher, more demanding this time, forcing her to take every inch of him in. Fingers roughened by guitar strings and accordions swirled around her most sensitive spot, until she cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

  Luca flipped her over then, and not for the first time, Fanchon Marie wondered if he had a little wolf in him. “More. That’s it, Fanchon Marie. Mine.”

  He certainly growled like he did. And bit, too. Bit, slapped, ground, pulled. He used her. It was disgusting, and she loved him for it.

  Didn’t get more Alpha Male than that. She made a promise to herself to ask him later.

  “Ughhh.”

  When she was better able to formulate whole words.

  ****

  “So, you and the wolves – what’s the story there?”

  Luca’s inky hair spilled over his eyes as he looked down at her from one shoulder. “Callie, I do not hate. Sean, I do not kill because of her.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Tell me.” An inquisitive brow begged for answers.

  “Clarify.”

  “Tell me about them,” she added with enough emphasis for a child to catch her real question. “And your connection to them.”

  “Fanchon Marie, what do you know about the Etruscans?”

  She pouted her mouth a bit, trying to recall ancient history lessons from years ago. “Well, as best I can remember, they were the forefathers of Roman culture. According to legend, descendants of an escaped Prince of Troy.”

  “I see someone paid attention in school. Very good, and do you know the tale of Romulus and Remus?”

  Fanchon Marie nodded her head, though uncertainty peppered her face. “Twin boys suckled by a she-wolf. But what’s the connection to the Etruscans?”

  “Famous story that one, but history and legend, both have it altogether wrong. Those twins were descendants of the last true Etruscan. Somewhere along the line though, someone intermarried with the wolven ones who lived along the Po River, ones like Sean and Callie, thus, the shape shifting gene along was passed along.”

  It would explain a lot from last night. Fanchon Marie popped up in the bed, narrowly escaping knocking her own head with his by millimeters. “So you’re a—”

  “Not exactly. That was a long time ago, Fanchon Marie, though the condition of ‘lycanthropy.’” He added with air quotes. “Is a bit like magic. Traces of it linger. Never mind the fact that every few generations someone would marry a bitch and.” Luca paused to stare at her.

  “And what?”

  “Sorry. Got distracted there. The parallels are—”

  That earned him a punch in the chest. “Oh shut up!”

  Luca held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. At any rate, the gene that causes the shift is mostly dormant, though I did have a cousin once marry a woman who, unbeknownst to him, carried the trait as well. This was in the 80’s, but I will never forget it. He didn’t find out until she had five kids...in the same day. Every time they cried or needed a diaper change, they – and I mean this as literally as any human can – freaked out. Morphed right there in their cradles. Wolves in diapers. Creepy stuff.”

  She hoped to God he was kidding. She would have asked, but was interrupted by Evil Bones. She arrived to bring breakfast in bed, per Luca’s familial customs. A little weird when you’re naked with a ne
w husband, but crazy convenient.

  “Good morning, Rom Baro, and to you, Beluni, good morning. Here’s a hearty breakfast and I’ve prepared a nutritious tea, Beluni. You’ll want to have that for the baby. ” She peeked over to Luca. “Oh, I see that he’s asleep. We’ll have to speak softly as not to disturb him.”

  Asleep? Her head snapped back and sure enough the fool was laid out and slack jawed. Sonofabitch.

  “Beluni, here’s your tea.”

  The old witch had a smile on her face. Hmph. “Please, Sophie, call me Fanchon Marie.” She hated formal titles, especially from her elders, even when that elder was The Evil One.

  “There is no other title for the Rom Baro’s wife. Tell me, did you sleep well, Beluni?” Kindness. From Sophie. Riiiight. Fanchon Marie sent up a quick prayer – somewhere, the Seventh Seal was just broken and the gutters ran red with blood. Absolutely skeeved out, Fanchon Marie nodded, unable to do much else.

  “I went ahead and laid out your traveling clothes for today. Also, your luggage is packed, labeled and ready for your flight. The tickets are in the zippered side of the Rom Baro’s carry-on bag. I believe I have everything, but if you can spare a moment, Beluni, to give it a look over, we can all be sure of it. There is nothing worse than being away from your home without what you need.”

  Bizarro World. Fanchon Marie had to get her out of there before the woman composed poetry in her honor. “Thank you, Sophie, we’ll be down in a minute.”

  “I am sorry, Beluni. I am. However, I refuse to leave until you drink the tea for the baby. That’s our future wrapped up in there.”

  Fanchon Marie turned to a possum playing Luca. A rather shitty possum playing Luca. Though his eyes were closed, the idiot’s lips curved in a foolish little half-smile. Fanchon Marie threw her pillow at him before she took the tea Sophie carried. The woman left as soon as she placed down the empty teacup. She even inspected it, to ensure all the contents were gone. “Good, good, Beluni.”