Arcadia Burns

by Kai Meyer

  LYCAON’S CURSE

  “MATTIA IS DEAD,” SAID Alessandro that evening, before Rosa could say a word about her conversation with Trevini.

  She was holding a steaming double espresso, not her first of the day, and her whole body felt as if creatures of some kind were scrabbling under her skin.

  They were standing on the terrace of the Palazzo Alcantara, with its panoramic view over the olive groves and out to the west. The tall palm fronds rising to the sky in front of the stone balustrade rustled in the darkness, and the pump of the swimming pool gurgled quietly, the light of the underwater lamps bathing part of the west facade in wavering brightness. The mild evening air was filled with the song of the cicadas.

  “They found his body yesterday,” said Alessandro. “Burnt, lying in a Dumpster.”

  “In Crown Heights.”

  “You know about it?”

  “Trevini called. He told me.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “And of course he tried to pin the blame on me.”

  Rosa emptied her cup of coffee in a single gulp, and placed it on the top of the balustrade. “Is he right? Did you have anything to do with it?”

  “You’ve already asked me that question. And I answered you.”

  “Were you telling the truth?”

  “Would you sooner believe Trevini than me?”

  “Oh, come on. I can’t just leave it hovering in the air between us.”

  He sighed gently and looked out at the plain again. The countryside was almost immersed in night. Miles away, the lights of a village glinted. Up in the starlit sky, the signal beams of a solitary airplane blinked on and off as it flew silently north.

  “When I told you that I had nothing to do with the assassinations, you said—”

  “I said it was too bad. I know.”

  “Did you mean it?”

  She nodded without hesitation. “Do you think I’ve never wished them dead? I’ve hoped, often enough, that they’d perish miserably.”

  “It’s possible that Mattia was still alive when they set fire to him.”

  She took his hand, and gently drew him close. “He wasn’t there. Mattia wasn’t one of them.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Could she be sure? What would she see on the second video? Who would she recognize? Only Michele and Tano? At the moment, she wasn’t certain if she would ever watch it.

  Alessandro’s gaze was grave and dark. “Did you ask Mattia? Or did he deny it on his own?”

  “Neither.”

  “Then you don’t know that he was innocent.”

  “He saved my life!”

  “And I’m not responsible for his death. Whatever Trevini claims.”

  Had she really thought that Alessandro was lying to her? She fought down her guilt. “Okay,” she said after a while. “Who was it, then?”

  His expression told her that he was reluctant to give her the truth. Rosa saw the trouble in his eyes. She stroked his hair and kissed him, just because all of a sudden she felt like it.

  “The Hungry Man,” he said.

  “I thought he was still in prison.”

  “As if that ever stopped any capo from handing out death sentences.”

  “But why would he do that? What business of his are your American relations?”

  “His business is mainly to do with me.”

  She stared at him. The grief in his eyes, the sorrow in his voice touched her. And slowly, she began to see where all this was going.

  “The Hungry Man will soon be out of prison,” he went on. “That’s not just rumor; it’s only a matter of time. Someone in high places—very high places—has seen to it that the inquiry into his appeal was reopened. And everyone can guess the outcome.”

  The Hungry Man—everyone called him that; no one used his true name—had been the predecessor of Salvatore Pantaleone, the capo dei capi whom Rosa had known. For decades he had ruled the Sicilian Mafia with an iron fist, until he was brought to trial and imprisoned almost thirty years ago. He had been as good as forgotten for a long time, and then, a few years earlier, new rumors began circulating. Ever since, it had been said that the return of the Hungry Man was imminent, that he had influential allies in all the European centers of power, people who ensured that the verdicts condemning him for the worst of his crimes were overturned and sentences for the other charges shortened. Pantaleone was dead; the position of capo dei capi was vacant. Who would be the new boss of bosses? Power struggles were going on within Cosa Nostra, but no one had nominated himself for the post. They all seemed to fear the Hungry Man, and no one wanted to risk standing in his way if he really did come back to Sicily to reassert his old claim.

  He had given himself the title of the Hungry Man, proclaiming that he was the reincarnation of the ancestor of all the Arcadian dynasties—King Lycaon, the tyrant who, according to legend, had been turned by Zeus, father of the gods, into the first to change between human and animal form. With him, all the other inhabitants of Arcadia had been condemned to the same fate. And so the Panthera were born, the Lamias, the Hundinga, and all the other shape-shifters who had been dispersed around the world after the downfall of Arcadia, but maintained the sunken empire’s heritage to the present day.

  The Hungry Man, so it was said, wanted to restore the rule of terror of the old Arcadian dynasties. He promised his followers a return to the bloody excesses of antiquity, when the shape-shifters ruled the kingdoms all around the Mediterranean and feasted to their hearts’ content on human flesh.

  Rosa took Alessandro’s hand. “What sort of business does he have with you?”

  “He hates my family. For a long time, the Carnevares were closer to him than anyone else, until someone betrayed him, and he blamed us for it.”

  “And did your family betray him?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, and I don’t think it makes any difference. He swore to take revenge on us more than a quarter of a century ago. And now it’s time for him to demonstrate his new strength. He’s gradually decimating my family—or what’s left of it—beginning with the American Carnevares. With every murder he’s coming closer, and someday it will be my turn.”

  How long had Alessandro known about this? What he and she had between them was still too fragile to withstand so many secrets. When would the moment come when the strain was too much for it?

  “You’re right at the end of his hit list?” she asked, her voice husky.

  He nodded. “At least that’s what I assume.”

  “How many people has he had killed already? Only Michele’s brother and cousins, or others as well?”

  Maybe he was sorry now that he had told her the truth. But she gave him credit that he hadn’t tried soothing her with evasions. Another reason why she was so attracted to him.

  “One of my second cousins was shot in Catania the day before yesterday,” he said. “And two more in Palermo. Unless there’s someone else behind that, his killers have reached Sicily.” He rubbed his nose, but it wasn’t the knowing gesture with which he sometimes riled her; this time it seemed to be nervousness. “He wants me to panic. Maybe strike out blindly around me, as my father or Cesare would have done. He’d probably like it if I tried to blame other families for the murders and started a clan feud. That would suit him very well. He’d only have to watch us weakening each other, and then he could seize power over all the clans.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “The obvious thing would be to summon all the Carnevares. But I’d sooner die than ally myself with someone like Michele. Not after everything he did to you.”

  Maybe she should have asked him not to take her feelings into consideration. But instead she kissed him again, this time harder, and for a while neither of them said a word, not even when their lips parted and they looked at each other.

  “It’s not my turn yet,” he said. “He’s probably enjoying the idea of the murders spreading fear and terror among the Carnevares too much for that. He’ll
take his time before his killers turn their attention to me. But that’s not what worries me.”

  She raised one hand and stroked his cheek and throat. She just wanted to be close to him, very close.

  “I’m afraid for you,” he said.

  “I’m not a Carnevare.”

  “Word of our relationship has spread. There’s a hotbed of rumor seething, and we haven’t gone to any trouble to counter that. I still thought danger loomed from the other clans and our own people. But now…” He stopped, kissed the palm of her hand, bent her fingers into a fist, and closed his own hand around it. “Now it’s possible that the Hungry Man has you in his sights.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “If he wants to get at me, if he’s really hell-bent on injuring the capo of the Carnevares, then he’ll have to take you away from me. He’ll try to kill you, Rosa.”

  “Nonsense,” she contradicted him, but even as she spoke, she realized that he was right. There was a long tradition in the Mafia of attacking an enemy by murdering all his loved ones. Obviously she would be on the Hungry Man’s hit list herself.

  “So now?” she whispered.

  “I don’t want you going anywhere without bodyguards,” he said. “And I don’t mean those rustics from Piazza Armerina. You need a security service. Specialists who know what they—”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” she gently interrupted him, putting a finger to his lips. A smile stole over her face. “I don’t want gorillas around me day and night, never mind where they come from.”

  “But—”

  “Where are your bodyguards?” she asked. “I don’t see any of them around here. You don’t like going around with a bunch of apes in black suits any more than I do.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed the end of his nose. “We’re Arcadians. We’ll manage by ourselves.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  “Totally senseless.”

  “All this is totally senseless. That was obvious from the very first day. Did it stop us?”

  His hand was on the back of her neck. He drew her to him again. Her breasts gently brushed his chest, and she felt the nipples harden—as they always did before disappearing and turning to scaly snakeskin. Infuriating.

  “I know what we’ll do now,” she said.

  At last his radiant smile came back. “You do?”

  “To take our minds off it.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “The basement,” she said. “Those furs.”

  THE SERUM

  WITHOUT SAYING A WORD, Alessandro followed her down the central aisle between the linen-wrapped bundles that dangled from the rails. Now and then he touched one of the bags, then ran his fingers down it as he walked along, but he didn’t open any of them. Before they reached the rampart of plastic containers, Rosa took his hand.

  At the sight of the containers he stopped walking. “So many,” he whispered. In the cold air, the words came out of his mouth as white vapor. “Are there any Panthera among them?”

  “Let’s just say they’re not only mink and sable.”

  She led him around the stacked containers to the metal safe on the back wall of the freezer. Everything was exactly as she and Iole had left it. The metal doors were open; the two fur coats lay on the floor in front of them.

  Rosa went up to the safe. “Did you bring what I asked you—” She stopped herself when she turned to Alessandro.

  He was crouching down beside the coat that Iole had been wearing. Only now did Rosa noticed a faint pattern of leopard spots shimmering through the dark brown of the fur. Alessandro had picked up one sleeve from the floor and was stroking it, lost in thought.

  She swore quietly. “Panthers are—”

  “Black leopards.” He didn’t look up at her.

  She knelt down beside him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, taking his face in both hands and making him look her in the eye. “If there were any way I could undo it…”

  “I know.”

  “Our families have been at odds forever. More people have died than…” She paused for a moment. “Than these,” she finished.

  “That’s all right.”

  “No, nothing’s all right.” She jerked her head at the metal safe. “There they are. God knows how many vials.”

  He stood up and went over to the shelves with the little glass flasks lined up on them. The liquid inside shone golden. In the lowest compartment lay plastic syringes in sterile wrappings and bundles of sealed cannulas, along with two syringes like the kind used by diabetics for their insulin.

  “Do you have it with you?” she asked.

  With a nod, he put his hand in his jeans pocket, brought out a little leather case, and opened it. Inside, there were several vials that looked exactly like those in the cupboard. “This is one of the vials from the Castello. Cesare had his men inject us with the same thing back there. And I had a few with me at boarding school in the States, for emergencies.” He had already told her that, months ago, and she had remembered it after Iole led her to the cupboard.

  “You said at the time that the prescription was handed down by the first Arcadians. At the time of their downfall.”

  “That’s what Tano always said, anyway.”

  “And he was given the serum by Cesare?”

  “No, the other way around. Tano got hold of it somewhere. I always assumed it came from a dealer. Cesare kept it in a safe in his office, but Tano had a key of his own. I found it among his things.”

  “Michele injected me with a dose of it that night in Central Park. He said the stuff came from Tano.” Rosa took one of the vials out of his hand. “May I?” She placed it beside the others in the metal cupboard. Outwardly there was no visible difference. A yellow fluid in a transparent vial.

  “There’s a laboratory that used to work for Florinda,” she said. “It supplied immunizations for the refugees she trafficked into Europe from Lampedusa. We should be able to find out from that lab if it’s the same serum.”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “You think so, too?”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  She took Alessandro’s ampoule off the shelf again, went over to the containers, and looked back at the rows of furs in their linen bags. “If they wanted to take their furs, they had to make sure that they didn’t—”

  “Change back into human form,” he quietly ended her sentence. “They had to see that they stayed in animal shape even after death.” He seemed pale, but perhaps it was the chill in here. “The video that Cesare showed us, all the Arcadians in cages and unable to change back again…he said that was the doing of TABULA.”

  “Trevini claims that a man called Apollonio supplied furs to my grandmother. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “Never heard it before.”

  “He thinks this Apollonio may have been one of the members of TABULA himself. Or was at least in close contact with them. Could be that TABULA sold the skins of the Arcadians they’d abducted for their experiments to Costanza through Apollonio. Anyway, I guess she also got the serum from him.”

  “But if it comes from TABULA…” Alessandro began. He stopped, then asked, “Do you think Tano got it from them as well?”

  “Cesare hated TABULA,” she said doubtfully.

  Alessandro gave a bitter laugh. “He was terrified of the organization. All the same, I wouldn’t put it past Tano to be making deals behind his father’s back.”

  Rosa leaned against the ice-cold plastic containers. “Let’s assume that Tano really was secretly in touch with TABULA. Then he could have gotten the serum from them and passed some of it on to Cesare and maybe also to Michele. You said you thought it came from a dealer. But suppose, instead, he was the dealer himself. Suppose Tano sold the serum under the table to Arcadians like Michele, so that they’d be able to stop their own transformations—and other people’s.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Did he ask you for money? For the serum that you took to the States with you
?” Alessandro shook his head. “I just had to promise not to tell Cesare about them. Or my parents.”

  “And did you do as he asked?”

  “Sure. Tano was the first person to tell me about the transformations. I was actually grateful to him at the time.” He obviously wasn’t happy with the memory. “I really wish I could…wash myself clean of them all. Can you understand that? Tano, Cesare, my father…all the lies, all the things they did. I wish there were some way simply to eradicate it all.”

  “I feel the same way. Florinda lied to me; even Zoe did. You and I have been used for other people’s purposes all along. And it never stops.”

  He put his arms around her again. “If it gets to be too much…if we can’t take any more of it…we can get out of here. And then I won’t mind what becomes of all this in Sicily. None of it matters as much as you.”

  His kiss warmed her, even in the chilly air of the freezer. They held each other close, she smelled his hair, his skin, and at that moment she’d have gone anywhere with him, even to the end of the world. Corny and sentimental, sure, but right now that was what she needed. The biggest, stickiest, sweetest helping of corny sentimentality since the invention of dessert. She wouldn’t have minded if it rained rose petals, or if Iole came out from behind the containers playing a violin. Plenty of time for indigestion tomorrow.

  Only now did she realize that she was still holding the serum he had brought with him. Slowly, she raised the vial to face level, and as she paused for breath, she glanced at the syringes in the cupboard. His eyes followed hers, and then the corners of his mouth twitched.

  She could feel her pulse beating faster in her throat. “Well, it must have its uses, right?”

  His hand stroked the back of her head and stopped gently at the nape of her neck. “For a quarter of an hour?”

  “Sometimes it lasts twenty minutes.”

  “Not exactly a long time.”

  “Better than nothing.”

  Alessandro’s laughter was like a bright flame leaping into the air.

  AT SEA