Arcadia Awakens

by Kai Meyer

  Zoe looked at her expectantly, more anxious than curious.

  “In Rome, at the hotel,” Rosa began, “when you were out and about in the morning with Lilia…” She hesitated, and then told her about Judge Quattrini.

  Zoe compressed her lips. “Did she ask you questions about our family?”

  “Yes. I didn’t say a word, and finally she let me go again.” She scrutinized her sister. “Did they try that with you, too?”

  Zoe shook her head. “Not so obviously. Sometimes at first, when I went out, I had a feeling … well, that people were throwing themselves in my way, people I thought were new friends. I figured it was because of all the money at first, and I told Florinda about it. She warned me against the police, undercover officers who’d try to pump me. But for a judge to approach anyone so openly and so soon… Are you sure you didn’t tell her anything?”

  “Absolutely sure.” Rosa didn’t mention that the conversation in the hotel room had been all about Alessandro and the Carnevares. She was afraid that Zoe would tell Florinda, and then her aunt really would move heaven and earth to make sure Rosa didn’t see him. “She lectured me for a while. Why it was important to oppose the Mafia, the whole works, drug trafficking and contract killing and so forth.”

  Zoe took her hand. “We should have prepared you for something like this.”

  “She seemed to know a lot about Alcantara business. And she wasn’t just talking about wind turbines.”

  “No,” said Zoe quietly, “of course not.”

  “Florinda’s flights to Lampedusa … they have to do with people trafficking, the judge said.”

  “Refugees from North Africa coming to Europe of their own free will.” Zoe sighed. “They try to cross the Mediterranean in tiny boats, and if they’re lucky they make it to Lampedusa. Anyone who lands on the island can’t be sent back. One of the largest reception camps for refugees is there. And Florinda sees to it that a number of them get a reasonable chance of—”

  “Nonsense,” Rosa interrupted her. “Florinda picks the strongest men and sends them to building sites all over Europe, where they work for starvation wages.”

  Zoe avoided her eyes. “You’ve always known wind turbines aren’t the only way we earn our money.”

  That was true. And she had never felt like a criminal. No one who saw their modest apartment in Brooklyn could have thought that they or their mother had profited from the Alcantara wealth. But here she was today in this palazzo, with the fast cars, and the bags full of designer clothes from Rome waiting for her in her room.

  Zoe was staring at her in astonishment. “She didn’t really manage to do it, did she? Give you a guilty conscience? My God, Rosa, you never used to have problems with that kind of thing.”

  “I told her to go to hell and leave me in peace, that’s all.” She looked Zoe in the eye. “You have to promise me something.”

  Zoe swore under her breath. She clearly guessed what was coming.

  “You can’t tell Florinda and Pantaleone anything about this,” said Rosa. “Not a word. I don’t want them thinking I’m a risk to them. Or sending me home again.”

  Zoe looked at the ground. Rosa’s hand shot out and seized her arm, forcing her to look up again.

  “Promise, Zoe.”

  “That—”

  “You owe me. I know about the transmitter in that cell phone. It was a mean trick to play, and you know it.”

  Guiltily, Zoe bit her lower lip before she uttered another sound. “Florinda—”

  “As if I give a damn. And it’s okay. Once it’s okay. But not again. I didn’t have to tell you all that. But … well, you’re my sister.”

  Zoe nodded slowly. She didn’t seem to be happy about it, but she looked Rosa in the eye again. “I can keep my mouth shut when it matters.”

  “You swear?”

  “Oh, come on, you want me to spit on my palm, turn in a circle three times, and—”

  “I want to have you on my side, that’s all.”

  Zoe swallowed, then threw her arms around Rosa. “I won’t say a word, I swear. And I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

  Rosa hugged her back. “Missed you, too.”

  They stood beside the fountain for a little longer, close together, saying nothing, and only when the limousine rolled out of the courtyard gate and turned on its way to the garages did they let go of each other, as the beam of the headlights moved past them, and the rumble of the engine drowned out the sounds of the Sicilian night. They walked back to the house together.

  That was the night she first dreamed of the panther’s kiss.

  KISS OF DARKNESS

  SHE KNEW FROM THE first moment that it was a dream.

  She was lying in her bed, and the bed was surrounded by jungle. Moisture dripped from fleshy leaves. Orchids flowered in the twilight, the glowing eyes of the flowers watching her. Gigantic pod-shaped fruits pulsated in the shade like lungs, swelled, and then collapsed. A breath of hot air wafted through the undergrowth, stroking her hair back from her bare shoulders.

  There was something missing, and only after a moment did she know what it was. Animal noises. The jungle was almost totally silent. Only the swollen lobes of the pods rattled and rustled, while a quiet squealing and cheeping came from among the leaves. It was a few more minutes before she realized that it came from the orchids as they discussed her with one another.

  Something stirred behind the nearest trees; a black outline moved through the thickets, soundless, prowling quietly on soft paws. Rosa watched him, waited for him, because she knew he wanted to find her.

  As he came closer she was amazed by his supple beauty. He moved out of the shadows like a blot of ink, and only in the twilight did he take on the shape of a panther. Keeping low as the big cats do, he prowled once around the bed before stopping at her feet and placing one black paw on the snow-white bedclothes. The orchids whispered faster, in frenzied excitement.

  She was sitting upright now, the bedspread a high white cloud. She could hardly see over the edge of it. The panther’s eyes were glittering, and there was a silvery sheen on his black fur. She noticed everything about him: his quivering whiskers, his gleaming teeth, the pink tip of his tongue.

  With a fluid movement, he jumped up on the bed and pushed himself under the bedspread at the foot end. It seemed much longer now, surely a good sixty feet long, and the panther was moving under it, a slight mound under that white cloud. Only now did she see that the jungle had vanished, and the bed had grown even larger, reaching to the horizon in all directions. The mound was coming closer, perhaps ten, perhaps a hundred steps away from her now, a wave that would soon reach her bare legs.

  She was breathing faster, and the hoarse sound that the plants had been uttering a moment ago now came from herself, came warm and rhythmically through her lips. As she sat she braced her upper body on her arms, the palms of her hands firmly on the bed. Her blond hair fell from her shoulders as she laid her head slightly back, eyes half-closed in expectation of his touch. She felt him approaching under the covers, felt the mattress shaking slightly, as big as the whole world, and senses she had never guessed at stirred in her.

  She dared not look down at herself, because she was afraid of waking up. Afraid that he might suddenly be gone, leaving her alone. But the shaking of the bedspread was more marked as he made his way toward her.

  First there was a new kind of quivering, very close to the soles of her feet, then a gentle touch on her toes, her ankles, moving up her calves. He was there, very close to her, and the bedspread rose even higher, pushed up from below into her field of vision, although she was still looking up, and her eyes had become narrow slits.

  She had to fight the impulse to pull back the covers and look at him, the growling, hissing beast of prey pushing himself toward her. His fur touched her skin, and every single pore sensed that he was close. He filled her with his presence.

  Enormous warmth radiated from the panther as he lay on her, robbing her
of air. Sweat stood out on her brow and ran into her eyes. Her lips tasted salty; muscles and sinews stretched taut on her neck. His breath had reached her hips; its hot vapor was creeping over her stomach, pressed through her rib cage, touched her breasts and her collarbone, then her throat.

  She had closed her eyes long ago, sensing him only through his touch. His paws brushed along her thighs, his claws punched holes in the sheet.

  Very slowly she lowered her head again, looked down at her body leaning back and at the edge of the bedspread. It had risen, forming a dark cave above her torso. Cat’s eyes flashed in it.

  He ran his tongue over her, rough and warm and supple, licked the sweat off her skin, licked her up to her armpits and then down again, over every part of her.

  She shifted her weight to one hand and pushed the other under the bedspread, felt the soft, silky fur between his eyes. Slowly, she raised her arm, carefully pushed the covers aside, and saw him crouching over her in all his impressive elegance, a shadow that had become a beast with glowing eyes.

  He pricked up his ears, seemed to wait, only for a couple of heartbeats. Then he lowered his panther’s head, licked the white human skin off her body like milk, and revealed the golden scales of her serpent self.

  HEART OF A CAT

  “IOLE’S SAFE,” CALLED ALESSANDRO, jumping out of his red Ferrari in the inner courtyard of the palazzo. “For now, anyway.”

  Rosa ran down the stone stairway from the terrace. She was relieved, but also surprised to see him suddenly turn up on Alcantara property. “What are you doing here?” she said. “If Florinda finds out—”

  He had stopped on the bottom step. “She knows already. The guards at the end of the drive told her.”

  “That’s not possible. Florinda isn’t here. She won’t be back until later.”

  Alessandro shrugged. “Well, they called the palazzo, and someone told them to let me through. So if it wasn’t you—”

  A window opened above them. Looking up, Rosa saw Zoe.

  “Hurry up,” she called down. “If Florinda gets back and sees the two of you together, it won’t be fun for any of us.”

  Rosa gave her a smile. “Thanks.”

  Zoe winked and closed the window. The blue sky was reflected in the glass, so they had no way of knowing whether she was still watching them.

  “That was nice of her,” said Alessandro.

  “Zoe’s always surprising me.” She looked into Alessandro’s eyes. “So what about Iole?”

  “She’s at the castle with us. Cesare really did have her removed from the island just before we got there. He knows what happened. He’s furious, but he doesn’t dare move openly against me yet.”

  “Did you speak to Iole?”

  “Only briefly.”

  “And Tano hasn’t hurt her?”

  “Cesare seems to be keeping him on a tight rein. Right now he’s more cautious than usual. I’m sure Cesare is planning something, but he’ll wait until it suits him before letting trouble break out between his supporters and mine.”

  Rosa was exhausted. After waking up from her dream she’d had difficulty even getting out of bed. Her skin felt hot and irritated, and she had muscle cramps. She’d also bitten her lower lip, and it throbbed slightly.

  “Looks like a cold sore,” she said awkwardly, when he looked at her mouth, “but it isn’t.”

  “You had a bad dream,” he commented.

  To change the subject, she pointed to the gate. “Let’s get out of here. If we take two cars you don’t have to bring me back later. Drop me off outside our garages and then I’ll follow you.”

  “Where to?”

  She smiled. “To the end of the world,” she said. And thought, What the hell do you think you’re saying?

  But before she could change her mind, he was holding the door of the Ferrari open for her. She sank into the black leather upholstery.

  Alessandro let her out when they reached the palazzo garages. One of the boys from the village came in regularly to wash and wax the six sports cars that were lined up side by side. None of them was brand-new—Florinda had obviously lost interest in her expensive hobby over the last few years. Rosa didn’t know much about cars, so she opted for a black Maserati Quattroporte. Aside from Zoe’s Porsche, it was the only automatic. The boy looked a little nervous as he handed her the key, and went white as a sheet when the engine howled as she drove away.

  Forty-five minutes later they got off the A19 at Agira and continued north along dusty country roads. This time Rosa made sure to memorize the way. The hills they passed showed no sign of life, and in another thirty minutes they reached the barricaded access road to the unfinished expressway. Here they drove side by side—they had all four lanes to themselves—and Rosa adjusted the speed of the Maserati to Alessandro’s Ferrari.

  The steep ravine where the expressway ended was just coming into view when Alessandro slowed down, driving in the middle of the highway. It was another half a mile to the fallen bridge, but he switched off the engine and got out. Rosa slipped out of the driver’s seat of the Maserati and looked at him across the roof of the car, through the flickering heat haze.

  “Let’s go the rest of the way on foot,” he suggested.

  She looked around. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but she locked the car anyway. The car was too old to have a remote control, and for a moment she wondered whether her father had driven it. The idea moved her more than she liked to admit.

  After a few steps, Alessandro bent down near a dandelion that had fought its way through the cracks in the road surface.

  “Oh, don’t pick it,” begged Rosa. “It’s tried so hard to reach daylight.”

  Alessandro shook his head, cautiously reached out his fingers, and picked up a beetle from the shady side of the plant. He gently placed it on the palm of his hand. As the insect explored his skin with its feelers, its wing case shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow.

  “Look at that,” he said, “it isn’t at all afraid of me.”

  Rosa looked up and met his eyes.

  “So why are you?” he asked.

  “What makes you think I am?”

  “You’re trying to hide something from me. Exactly what,” he said, smiling, “well, I was only guessing.”

  “Maybe you guessed wrong?”

  “What is it, then?”

  “This whole thing—this place, the island, you, being here with you—it makes me nervous. But I’m not afraid.”

  He put the beetle carefully back on the ground, watched as it scuttled away into the shade of the solitary dandelion, and walked on.

  Just then a single cloud covered the sun, and the hilly ochre landscape on both sides of the empty expressway lost its brilliance. Under the shadow of the cloud, they walked over the asphalt, kicking aside pebbles. Tiny lizards ahead of them scurried off.

  “I’ve looked at the files from the studio,” he said. “My mother’s notes, the documents, all of it.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s exactly what I thought. She knew all about the way Cesare went behind my father’s back. Obviously she even tried talking to my father about it, more than once.” There was a note of bitterness in his voice. “But he wouldn’t listen to her. He wouldn’t hear a word against Cesare; he’d trusted him and his advice all his life. My mother hadn’t wanted me to go to that boarding school, either, but Cesare told my father that getting a good education in the States was important for my future as capo of the Carnevares. So that got me out of the way, and Cesare had only my mother to deal with.”

  As they walked she surreptitiously looked at him: his perfect profile, his supple way of walking. It reminded her of her dream, and this time she let herself enjoy the memory without feeling ashamed.

  “In the end she must have withdrawn almost entirely to Isola Luna. She spent more and more time alone at the villa. Clearly my father didn’t mind. She says in her notes that he told her she was out of her mind if she thought Cesare was a threat. He jus
t refused to see it, the idiot! Didn’t want to see what kind of game Cesare had been playing all those years.”

  “And finally she gave up?”

  “No, she kept trying to convince him. In the end she had all the evidence she needed to expose Cesare. Evidence that not even my father could have ignored. Copies of secret agreements, even recorded conversations between Cesare and politicians in Rome and Brussels… In the notes she wrote not long before her death, she says she called my father and asked him to come out to the island to see her. In those last weeks she seems to have been afraid to leave Isola Luna herself. She barricaded herself in the villa—and he couldn’t have cared less.”

  She touched his hand with her fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

  “But she also writes, on the very last page, that he did at least agree to come and look at what she had. My God, she was so proud of that. Thinking that he would finally have to believe her, that she hadn’t gone to all that trouble for nothing…”

  “But Cesare went out to the island instead of your father.”

  “She must have suspected something. She hid the important documents in her paintings, and left a few harmless papers in the safe for Cesare to find. But she didn’t write anything else about that. Her last few sentences sound…” He swallowed. “They sound almost happy. She still loved my father, in spite of everything, and she writes about me … she writes…” He fell silent, and turned away for a moment. Rosa waited. She longed to put her arms around him and comfort him. But then she saw the line of black fur creeping up the back of his neck, and she hesitated.

  A moment later he was in control of himself again. He gave her the ghost of a smile and took her hand to walk on.

  The cloud moved past the sun, and sunlight flooded the dry landscape again. In the distance, the edge of the asphalt turned to a flicker of silver.

  “I can’t help it,” he said, after a short silence. “I mean, sometimes the change just happens….”

  She knew what he meant. At that moment it was all clear to her. There was something in his voice. And the feel of his hand. The little hairs she suddenly felt beneath her fingers.