* * *
It’s a little after one in the morning. Brice sits at our dining room table with a cup of tea steaming in front of him. He is sweaty. His eyes are bloodshot. He looks like hell.
My grandmother sets a plate of prosciutto and sliced mozzarella on the table. “How many times have you transformed?”
Brice shakes his head. “Never. This has never happened before.” His voice is hoarse.
My grandmother leans over the table, getting in Brice’s face. “Listen to me, boy, lying to me is not going to help you one bit.”
Brice pulls away from her. “I’m not lying.”
“He’s in the play with me, Nonna.” I am sitting across the table from Brice. “We were at the opening night party tonight. I don’t think he knew it would happen.”
Nonna gives me a look, and mutters something under her breath in Italian. I should learn to speak Italian so that I can understand her mutterings. She pulls out a chair and sits between us. “So you bring him here to me, then?”
“To help him,” I say.
“Does it look like I’m running a hospital for berserkers?”
It’s better not to answer questions like that from Nonna. I grab a piece of prosciutto and shove it in my mouth.
Nonna waves a finger in my face. Her hair is still in curlers because she was sleeping, and she is not wearing any makeup. She is a little bit terrifying. “You listen to me, Olivia. I don’t want you running around with boys like this.”
Brice looks down at the table, ashamed.
Nonna turns to Brice. “You buy those magic charms, yes? You buy lots of them, don’t you?”
Berserkers most often contract the virus through the magic charms sold by jettatori families like mine. The spells we use to tie the magic to the objects are unstable. If people use the charms too often, they get the virus. It’s not particularly great from a business standpoint, considering it depletes our customer base. It’s also something I’m not proud of. But the people who buy the charms know what they’re getting into. They could choose not to use them. It’s their vanity that destroys them, ultimately, not my family.
Brice is shaking his head. “No. I’ve never used one. My family is Benedicaria, like you.” He gestures at Nonna.
Nonna practices magic in the old way. Her spells are combinations of folk magic and prayers to the saints. Most women who have any talent turn to Benedicaria. They are called benedette. If men want to use their talents, however, they aren’t allowed to train. Benedette believe that magic is not for men, only for women. They feel that men are too swayed by lusts for power and money. They may be right, considering the only men I know who use magic are jettatori. At any rate, there’s a divide between families like mine, whose men are jettatori, and families like Brice’s, whose men aren’t magical at all. The benedette look down on the use of charm magic. They say it calls down the Evil Eye. Having seen Brice’s transformation, I can’t help but think they’re somewhat right.
Nonna leans forward. “Don’t lie to me, boy. You come into my house like a beast, and I will not forget it. So do not think that you can impress me anymore.” She points at me. “She is not for you. Not now.”
“I’ve never used the charms,” Brice insists. He stands up. “I can walk home now. It’s not that far.”
I get up. “I can drive you.”
“No,” says Nonna to me.
I sit back down. Sometimes, she’s tough to argue with.
Nonna folds her arms over her chest. “If you never use the charms, then there is only one other way to get the virus. Fornication.”
I cringe. I wish she didn’t have to be so biblical about it.
Brice squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Calabrese.” He walks out of the dining room.
Nonna gets up and follows him, so I follow too. “I am not a Calabrese,” she calls after him. “I have nothing to do with those sinners. I am Graziani. Benedetta. You are corrupting my granddaughter.”
Brice is in the hallway, heading for the door. He snorts.
That makes me want to punch him, but he’s been through enough tonight. Still, I don’t want Nonna to ask why he snorted. Sometimes, it’s better to keep Nonna in the dark about my life. She doesn’t understand everything. I rush forward and stop Brice. “Wait. You need herbs, and you need an incantation. For at least the first week. If you don’t, the transformations will get worse and—”
“I know about it,” Brice cuts me off. “My family is Benedacaria, remember?”
Right. I nod. I step back. “I can still drive you.”
“Absolutely not, Olivia,” says Nonna.
“It’s fine,” says Brice. “I’d like to be alone, actually.” He opens the door and leaves.
Nonna shakes her head disapprovingly at me. “Olivia, I worry about you.”
I roll my eyes. Not this speech again. Nonna is wonderful, and I love her, but she expects a lot of me. Of everyone.
“I’m only glad your mother didn’t see this.”
That gets to me. It always does. My mother’s dead. Nonna knows it bugs me. She’s trying to let me know she thinks this situation is serious. I go back into the dining room. There’s good prosciutto going to waste. “It’s not like you think, Nonna.” I eat a piece of prosciutto. “Brice is just a friend from the play. I wanted to help him. I wouldn’t...be with a berserker.”
Nonna takes a piece of prosciutto too. “Girls your age do lots of stupid things because they think they’re in love. Your mother married your father, didn’t she?”
I sigh. I take another piece of prosciutto. “I’m going to bed.”
The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One Page 2
