Dominic's Nemesis

by D. Alyce Domain

  “Oh.” She felt silly again and knew the instant the blush gave her away. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

  “Sleep now, cara, I feel I have robbed you of enough for one evening.”

  “Not yet.” She did not want the moment to end. This time with him was precious to her, a rare gift. Dominic had never been so relaxed and forthcoming around her, carefree almost. They were chatting like…lovers, true lovers who held a genuine long-term affection for one another. She frowned at the thought, her affection was genuine, but what of his? The question begged to be asked, but she held back not sure if it was proper for a lady of gentle breeding to demand declarations from a gentleman. Of course, having surrendered her virtue to a man she wasn’t married to, she could hardly claim a close acquaintance with propriety. Still, the question would not dislodge from her mouth. Instead, she heard herself asking him more about his family.

  “Are all your brothers…blessed with gifts such as you and he?”

  “Blessed is not the word I would use in Stephan and Gabriel’s circumstance but yes, all except for Cael.”

  “Tell me more about your eyes. I thought there was just a color difference, but before, the blue one appeared…bigger.”

  He nodded. “According to Ethan and Cael, my left eye lacks proper pigmentation, which is why it is an unnatural shade of blue when it should be grey like the right one. My left eye also has a slow-closing pupil. Under bright light, the additive disparity of both size and color is…freakish.”

  “They’re odd, yes.” She agreed, guessing her best course of action would not be to placate him with false assurances but to tell him what she really thought. “But not grotesque or freakish as you assume. Honestly, I think it all depends on you…your expressions. When you were upset before, they made you look vulnerable, younger. I wanted to hug you. And then while we were…eh, ahem…they were fascinating…the way you looked at me was flattering. But, if you were angry or shouting, I imagine it would be a bit off-putting to look you in the eye.”

  When she opened her mouth to saying something else, he shushed her with an index finger against her lips. “May I ask you something?”

  Her brow shot up in surprise, but she smiled letting him know she didn’t mind.

  “Why did they name you ‘Eden’? Its lovely, but uncommon.”

  His was an easy question to answer, and one of her favorite stories. She remembered her parents fondly whenever she told the miracle of her birth, particularly now when memories were all she had left of them. “Mama and Papa always planned to have a brood of children. Years passed, and they weren’t blessed with even one child. Papa consulted with doctor after doctor, but they could find no obvious impediment. When both mama and papa passed out of their fourth decade they gave up hope, content in their love for each other.”

  Eden paused and looked up from toying with his nipple to gauge his reaction, both to the story and her playfulness. He’d closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillows as he listened, much like Stephan had done when she read to him. His hand continued to stroke her cheek.

  “Go on.”

  “Until, the summer of mama’s fifty-sixth year. She fell low with a strange malady; mama described it as a moody illness. Papa said the doctor examined her three times to ensure he had the diagnosis correct. When he finally came from the sick room to ‘confront the husband’, Papa feared the worse. The doctor said he’d never seen anything like it in all his born days, but that mama was with child and quite healthily so. Mama was seven and fifty when I was born. They named me ‘Eden’ because they said that I couldn’t have been anything less than a blessing from God.”

  As she brought the anecdote to a close she couldn’t stifle her yawn.

  “Your parents were wise people.” He cradled her against his chest. “Go to sleep now, Eden.”

  Chapter 24

  “You lied.”

  He came awake to the sound of her voice, as well as an exploring hand flitting over his hip. Even half-conscious he felt himself swelling in anticipation. That was only until the tone and content of her words sank in. She sounded… angry.

  “You lied to me, Dominic.”

  He opened his eyes; curious and confused why she should be cross with him. What he saw snapped him up, all thoughts of passion forgotten. Eden hovered over his naked body, the covers flipped back so that he lay exposed in all his nightmarish glory. His disfigurement lay visible for her inspection. Every scar, slice, gouge, and burn he’d endure before Ethan came to live in Italy and meticulously healed him after each “purification” ceremony. The layer upon layer of rough-healed slits over each wrist, the textured mesh of ruined skin on his chest, and the discolored series of parallel slivers at the sides of his stomach. He even felt the presence of the deep, ugly groves of gouged out flesh in his back.

  When she tried to pull the sheets and counterpane even lower, he assumed to inspect his legs, he jerked away so abruptly that he fell backwards off the bed. Landing with little grace on his bare bottom. Eden followed him over the edge to pierce his heart with an expression of mingled anger, horror…and something else. Could it be…betrayal?

  He panicked. Bloody Hell! He’d let his guard down, but how? She’d seen them…gotten a good long look. There’d be no convincing her that they weren’t really there this time. DAMMIT! He wasn’t prepared for this. Telling Cael was one thing, but having Eden know. He couldn’t bear it, exposing his shame, the years of torture and abuse, the demented things Lillian had subjected him to. Enduring her pity, revulsion…the shudder that would undoubtedly go through her at having a disfigured monster in her bed, lusting for her body. Now she would detest him, never allow him to touch her again. Worse, never want to see him again.

  When she reached down a hand to help him up, he recoiled, scrambling backwards until his back slammed none-too-gently into the cider wardrobe. Seeing a method of escaping, hiding, he stumbled up from the floor and pivoted around to fling open the doors of the wardrobe. They rebounded hard and swung back to whack either side of his body.

  She called across the room. “Where are you going?”

  He snatched the first garment his fingers fell on and draped the shirt around his shoulders, then snatched at a pair of trousers with equal vehement and shove his legs into them.

  Suddenly she was there, not touching him but in close enough proximity behind him so that he stiffened. “Tell me how you got the scars, Dominic. And how you’ve managed to hide them all this time.”

  “Don’t ask me that. Don’t, I can’t…”

  “Why not?!” Her voice snapped at his back, angrily, like a forgotten child demanding her due. “What is it? What! Just what the devil did you think I’d do, anyway… Run? Scream? Faint? Call for a priest? Dom…look around, I haven’t done any of that. Don’t you understand? I’ve seen you and I’m still here.”

  She touched him then, even as he jabbed, frantic, at the buttons of the shirt to get the infernal thing closed…hide his shame once again from the world. Her light fingers tested the waters at his shoulders, putting a whisper of pressure on them to make him turn.

  He gave up on the buttons. His fumbling hands shook too badly, competing only with the panting breaths shooting in and out of his lungs like ricocheted bullets. He didn’t turn around, couldn’t. Not yet. He needed a few more moments to compose himself. To let the impossible soak into his heart, and warm the chill of fear beating there. Did he dare believe her?

  Her arms inched around him, like crawling vines encroaching upon a trellis. He watched as her delicate bird-boned hands came up to rest palm-side against his chest, deliberately casting aside the gapping shirt. She moved closer to him, pressed her front against his back, burrowing in like she was home after a long holiday. He could tell from the heat of her body that she wore nothing.

  It moved him to speak, her obvious desire to be this close to him even with what she’d seen. “It did not occur to me that they would be visible when I slept.”

  “But, eh, how did yo
u hide them before?” She hesitated, seemed reluctant, but she rushed on anyway. “I mean, with other…women.”

  “There were no others, cara. Only you.” He would have liked to see her face to gauge what she thought of knowing she was his only lover.

  “What about your brothers, how did-”

  “Ethan already knew. I told Cael yesterday. He cast up his accounts when I showed him what our mother let them do.”

  He felt her body tense against him. “Them?”

  “Long story.” It came out a faint whisper.

  “It’s barely dawn.” She rubbed the skin of his chest gently, speaking into his shirt. He felt the effects of her voice all the way down to his toes. “There is an eternity of time before anyone comes asking after either of us. Will you come back to bed, then, before I catch my death.”

  Just then, he caught a flutter at the corner of his vision. The falcon alit the roost adjacent the window, and made a show of settling his impressive plumage around his small powerful body. The bird trained a black, pupil-less eye on him. Dominic’s heart sank. That could only mean one thing. Gideon needed him in Italy. He supposed he would have to face his demons sooner or later.

  “Dom?”

  He cocked his head over his shoulder. Eden would not take the news well. And he didn’t like the idea either, but bringing her along was out of the question. They weren’t married. Both had sinned and would likely continue to do so, but the brunt of society’s disapproval would rest on her. He would not have her subjected to ridicule. Nonna and the aunts could be malicious about family obligations and propriety.

  “Are you coming back to bed?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not going to tell me.” Her hands fell from him. Her words were a statement, dripping with defeat.

  “I need to walk around a bit. Go back to bed or cover yourself so you don’t catch a chill.” He walked out of her arms and over to the falcon’s roost. The falcon accepted his invitation, alit his forearm, and then transferred to his shoulder when he lifted his wrist to a height level to it. Dominic pivoted on the rustling noise behind him.

  “Eden?”

  No answer.

  She struggled into her multitude of undergarments, her movements stiff and angry, sleep-messed tresses haloed around her. He hadn’t quite worked out how to start his tale. Should he pretty it up from what he’d told Cael? As long as she understood the gist, what did it matter. Either way, he’d have to say something soon because she looked about ready to bolt…and then he’d be leaving for Italy before the day’s end. He might not have the nerve to revisit the subject upon his return.

  “It started when I was five, perhaps six years old.”

  She stilled, the petticoat drifted from her hand forgotten. He watched her, as realization dawned. His angel.

  “If I looked at her too long or smiled a certain way, she’d become annoyed, agitated even. It went on like that for a few months, half a year. I tried to avert my eyes, but I’d forget. Or the babies would do something funny and I’d laugh wrong.”

  “The babies?” She plopped down on the bed, face turned on his, rapt.

  “Gideon and Gabriel were just learning to walk then.” She looked so right, nestled in his bed on her stomach, palms propped under her chin.

  “Where was your brother Ethan?”

  “With his father in England. She’d had a…relationship…with an English dandy, which produced Ethan. When Ethan’s father discovered that she was already married, he took the baby and returned home. Ethan only came to live with us in Italy after his father died. Later, there would be the American who fathered Cael and Stephan.”

  She looked very serious, his cara, a furrow marring her gentle features. Despite the dire tale he recounted, a brief smile touched his lips. He wanted to kiss away the frown from her brow.

  “She took to locking me in the cellar when I was seven, as punishment. Sometimes for days.”

  “Where was your father during all of this?”

  “He chose not to involve himself with us: Gideon, Gabriel and I. Their marriage was arranged, quite brilliantly. Mama possessed a striking beauty both in looks and manners. I imagine that is the only reason her family was able to conceal her… peculiarities. Lucca did not play the fool for long. Though he forgave her after Ethan, he never forgot. Never truly believed any of us were his true children. For months, sometimes a year at a time, he would not darken the same wing of the house as us. It was as if we did not exist. I went to him for help once or twice at the beginning but he looked right through me, almost disconnected. Claiming that Mama knew what was best and that if I obeyed her like a good little boy, I’d fair better. I tried, but she’d fly into rages at the sight of me, saying that I was an evil spirit sent to torment her. Asking where her sweet little Dominic was, what had I done with him. After a while, I longed for the serenity of the wine cellar.”

  He began to pace, averting his gaze from hers, knowing what he would find there: dismay, pity, and finally sadness. All emotions he had once felt about himself and his situation, only his sadness was more akin to despair. No. He had to keep the emotions at bay if he had a prayer of surviving the retelling.

  “She called in a mystic of sorts. He was the first; I called him ‘The Priest’. He declared me to be possessed by one of Lucifer’s soldiers, and took the religious approach to exorcism. My eyes, he said, were the mark of the beast. You’d think someone had sentenced her to death. She tore at her clothes; clawed herself until she bled…in penance, she said, to atone for her sins. For she must have done something wrong to be cursed with a demon-possessed son who stared back at her with the devil in his eyes. For the most part the purification ceremonies the two of them conducted were more frightening than painful. You see, since I’d been declared evil incarnate, the wine cellar just wouldn’t do. They kept me in a square pit in the dungeons, and held the ceremonies among the vacant tombs below ground. Castello di Ambrosi is more of a citadel than anything else, dating back to the 1500s, complete with turrets, portcullis, dungeons…and catacombs.”

  “Oh, Dom—”

  He cut off her small anguished voice. “Don’t. Let me finish.”

  “But couldn’t you escape? The way you travel, it should have been easy.”

  He laughed, a short bitter sound that upset the falcon from his shoulder. Dom waited for him to settle his wings before he spoke again. “My ability did not manifest until my twelfth year. And mama was not without her own talents. She could…move things with her mind, restrain me physically with just a thought. They never even bothered to tie me down.”

  He dared a glance at her then. She sat up in the bed with her knees folded beneath her, hazel eyes wild, shaky hands covering what could only be a mouth gaped in shock. She was as much affected by the harrowing events as he. Somehow that knowledge warmed him.

  “After the priest was unsuccessful, the witch, the druid and finally the doctor appeared. The witch and the druid were gruesome and the things they did unpleasant, but again not particularly harmful. With the doctor came a new régime, purification by pain. I lost count of the bleedings, trials by fire, broken bones, whippings and the like…but they never touched my face. Always afterward they would check to see if my eyes had changed, because that would mean the demon had fled. I began to wish they would gouge the damned things out and be done with it. Or kill me.

  That’s when Ethan came. For some reason—a fine thread of sanity left in her, the new baby—I don’t know but the ceremonies stopped for a while. She even allowed me back into my old room. I took care not to look at her though. Even still, things slowly went back to the way they were. I was around ten or eleven. Ethan would always come…to heal what they had done…sooth the pain. I was so afraid, despite Gabriel’s guiding him, that he’d get caught or mama would somehow find out about his ability and do to him what they’d done to me. By then, you see she’d begun locking Gabriel and Gideon in the cellar so I knew she was capable of it. Gideon is phobic about enclosed pla
ces to this day.”

  “How did you-” Her voice cracked. “-finally escape?”

  Dom collided with her tender expression, and he longed to wipe away the tears streaming unchecked down her face.

  “When I manifest my traveling ability, I gained a decisive advantage. It took me a few months to exercise a higher level of control, but I was proficient enough to evade mama and her coven of exorcists. We plotted, Ethan, the twins and I, but by then we had a new complication. Cael…and Stephan, who was just born. We all agreed that they shouldn’t be left with her, but we could not think of a way to escape with them. Ethan brought up the fact that she’d only begun to act weirdly toward us once we were five or six years old, so maybe Cael and the new baby would be safe until then. That bought us two years. We went to England, to Ethan’s uncle who took us in. I was unwilling to share what was done to me so it took us a while to convince Ethan’s uncle of what kind of woman our mother truly was.”

  “Didn’t you have any family in Italy besides your parents?”

  “My grandmother, several aunts still in the schoolroom and Uncle Fausto. Uncle did not endear himself to us so we would not have sought refuge with him in any case. And the women….You need to understand. The rights of women are severely limited, even more so than in England. Even if they’d known, they could not have interfered unless Lucca, Conte Ambrosi, allowed it. Ethan’s uncle was a man of rank and wealth and he backed our claims.

  When we arrived to save Cael and Stephan—almost exactly two years later—we found that Mama had absconded with them and married their father. At the time, we knew little about him. Lucca was a bitter drunk by then and could tell us nothing. Several months later, we tracked down mama in Bedlam…a raving madwoman. We did not see Cael again for another ten years. All I remembered of him was a little blonde boy with a crooked smile. Back then we still called him ‘Michael’. Stephan, we wouldn’t meet until he was twelve.”