“Where? Can we go there? Maybe my father lives there still?” Pita fired excited questions at Dorina. But at the same time thought, what are the chances of coming from the same general area as Sasha’s family? It’s just too weird, or one helluva coincidence. Hmmmm…strange. A shroud of doubt descended upon Pita.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach. Does Sasha know this? Has she and her parents kept this information from me all these years? And Mom and Dad, why did they keep something like this from me? They shared the fact I’d been adopted. Why not tell me everything? Plus, there’s the added fact that Sasha’s mother would have known Petru, if he dated her sister…
She got up and paced back and forth to settle the nervousness and the sudden onset of doubt. Her thoughts reeled, not all of them positive.
She turned back to Tomas and Dorina, who sat quietly waiting and watching her. Nausea took over the jitters. She felt the color drain from her face. Was everything about her life one big lie?
“I think I’ll go lie down. Suddenly, I don’t feel so well.”
Tomas stood and came to her. “Pita, sit. Here, I help you.” He took her arm guiding her back across the room. “You look like a ghost.” He guided her to the chair he’d just vacated. “What is wrong?”
“I don’t know…” She leaned her head down toward her knees to ease the feeling of blackness that threatened to overtake her. “I guess I got too worked up. Nerves, you know?”
“When you are better, I help you to room.”
“Yes, Tomas, take Pita upstairs, I make nice tea.” Dorina got up and went into the kitchen.
Tomas squatted before her, a concerned frown on his face. “Better?”
She nodded and gave him a weak smile. “I’m okay. Sorry, I just got over excited is all.” Well…maybe not excited, Pita thought, more like anxious.
Doubts and fear wormed their way into her psyche, halting her enthusiasm. Too many weird things were happening. The wolf, Petru connected to Dorina—who coincidentally, was Sasha’s aunt, and Sasha bowing out of the trip due to her father’s sudden illness, or would that be feigned illness? The dreams, the vision at the castle, and then the wolf-her wolf showing up in Romania. How was that possible? Too many questions and not enough answers.
“Earth to Pita?” Tomas broke into her thoughts. “I say correct?” He smiled.
She couldn’t help herself, she had to laugh. “Yes, you said that perfectly.”
“You go upstairs now?” He stood offering her his hand.
“Yes. Thank you. I think I’ll just go to bed early. It’s been a long day.” She stood. “You don’t have to go up with me, I’m fine now. Good night.”
“Mama will bring you tea. Good night.” He said stepping aside so she could pass.
****
Pita washed up in the bathroom at the end of the hall. When she returned to her room, Dorina had placed the tea tray on her nightstand and folded the bed down.
She felt physically and emotionally exhausted. The bed beckoned to her promising comfort and oblivion from her over-active insecurities. Retrieving her novel from her travel bag, she climbed in and bunched the pillows behind her. Laying the novel on her lap, she poured tea in the delicate cup with its hand-painted cottage rose design edged in gold plating. The cup and saucer set spoke of old-world charm. She admired the delicate images and intricate artwork, as she blew on the steamy liquid to cool it before taking a sip.
The tea soothed, an herbal concoction, perhaps chamomile and helped to calm her taunt nerves. Pita’s thoughts drifted back to all the questions, all the odd things that had suddenly taken place in her normally quiet life.
“No,” she whispered. “No more tonight.”
Closing her eyes, Pita cradled the teacup in both hands comforted by its warmth, and Niko came unbidden to mind. She knew why. He represented a pleasant portion of the trip. Once again, she wondered if she’d ever hear from him again.
Well…he had given her his number, but he hadn’t been going home when they parted company. As good excuse as any to call and leave him a message, but she didn’t need an excuse because she knew she’d never call him. As much as she liked him, she’d never be that forward. Just not my style.
Pita closed her eyes, sighed, and called him from her memory. His gorgeous face waivered in her mind’s eye, and she could hear his voice smooth and rich with its husky timbre. He spoke perfect English, though with a sexy touch of accent. He’d been born in Hungry and raised here in Romania. She remembered his touch and that odd awakening stirred again, an insatiable need deep within her being. Desire mixed with a primal lust she’d never experienced before.
Oh! Shaking off the strong sensation, she put the cup and saucer on the night table before she dropped them. Get a grip! Horny is not helping.
Suddenly emotionally spent and very sleepy, Pita settled down in the bed pulling the feather comforter up. The dull thud of an object as it dropped to the floor pulled her from slumber. Peeking over the edge, she saw the novel lying on the floor.
“I forgot about you,” she chuckled, but left the book where it lay and turned the light off.
Surrounded in soft, cozy warmth of the goose down comforter, her thoughts still held Niko close, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty
A long mournful cry severed the dark recesses of Pita’s sleep-fogged mind. She stirred, but didn’t immediately awaken. Another cry broke the silence of the early morning hour.
Pita rolled over, opened one eye a slit, and peered toward the window. The silvery light of a full moon slithered past the sheer curtains that covered the panes. She’d forgotten to pull the drapes, but the sight of the full moon was breathtaking. It shone diamond-like against the velvety blackness of the sky.
What woke her? Oh yes, a sound. A solemn cry in the night. Had she dreamed it? As the question ran through her mind the sound came again.
The sluggishness of sleep slipped into awareness, and she recognized the sound. It wasn’t a cry at all, but the howl of a wolf. The sound, though haunting, was beautiful. She pushed back the quilt and untangled herself from the coverlet and sheets, got out of bed, and walked over to the window. Moonlight whitewashed the landscape illuminating the hills and forest with an old movie quality, that of black and white filmography.
Another howl broke the stillness, this time joined by others off in the distance. Pita scanned the pre-dawn panorama and zoned in on a lone wolf on a hilltop not far from the property. Its silhouette appeared black against the silvery backwash of moonlight. Pita didn’t know how, but sensed, no, she knew, this was not her wolf. She felt no connection, no sense of oneness.
As Pita watched, it stood, howled once more, then disappeared into the night followed by a chorus of distant answering howls echoing over the mountains. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and a chill shivered up her spine. She felt no fear, quite the opposite. The baying filled her with a sense of kinship with the animal. The song of the wolf bestowed a beauty that seemed to touch her soul.
Not sure how long she’d stood gazing out the window, she returned to the bed and sat on its edge, debating whether to go back to sleep or go wash up and get dressed. Dawn wasn’t far off now. She gazed at the small, old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. Hmmm…5:37… she debated going downstairs and starting a pot of coffee, but should she presume to wander the house on her own? After all, I’ve only been here a couple of days and well…I’m not that comfortable...but, I’m sure Dorina wouldn’t mind.
Pita shook her head negating the idea, went to the chair by the window and made herself comfortable. She sat quietly with her chin on her drawn up knees and waited for dawn to kiss the darkness and begin a new day.
As the sky lightened, Pita caught movement off to the left of the wooded border of the yard. She strained to see into the shadows of darkness that still etched along the forested hills. Keeping a watchful eye in the general vicinity she first caught movement, she continued to scan the area.
A
gasp caught in her throat, “What…?” she whispered. “What is he doing out there at this time of the morning?”
Tomas cleared the tree line at a jog, his feet bare and chest shirtless. The only thing he wore was skin-tight, black jeans. As he got closer, Pita noticed his disheveled appearance. Dirt and grime covered his exposed, lean-muscled, body.
“What the hell?” she said aloud, but continued to stare out the window as Tomas passed below and entered the house through the kitchen door at the back.
She waited.
A long silence prevailed.
Pita got out of the chair and crossed to the bureau. She gathered her things and was about to open the bedroom door to go down the hall to wash up when she heard someone coming up the stairs. Pausing for a moment, her hand on the doorknob, she listened to his footfalls. Timing it perfectly, she swung the door open as Tomas passed in front of her room.
They stood staring at each other a moment. Pita broke the silence.
“Morning,” she said, not sure whether to acknowledge his disarray. It was really none of her business, though she felt the need to challenge him.
His face registered surprise. “Good morning. Why up so early?” His mouth forming a gentle smile- not at all uncomfortable.
“I could ask you the same,” she returned his smile. “I was awakened by the wolves howling. Did you see any while you were out? It was awesome. I saw the wolf, Tomas, right off the property on the hilltop. You must have seen it, since you came out of the forest not soon after.”
Pita met his eyes, effectively masking her curiosity at his appearance. Again, she wondered what he’d been doing in the woods so early.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Tomas explained. “Running. I like to run in the forest early before dawn.” He said, giving no indication of further explanation, though his smile was kind, and he waved her past. “You go. I will clean up when you are finished.”
Pita passed him and continued down the hall. Running? No shoes? It looks more like he was rolling around on the ground with the wolves he’s yet to acknowledge. She shrugged as entered the bathroom and closed the door, shutting Tomas and the morning mystery out of her mind.
Chapter Twenty-One
The rest of the morning passed quietly. She and Dorina busied themselves with the morning chores, and Tomas went into Bacau, where he would remain for the duration of the week. Pita found that he worked as a custodial supervisor for a large firm in the city. Routinely, he was only at home on the weekends.
After clearing the midday dishes away, Pita decided to go out and explore the neighboring area. The afternoon sun dipped in and out of high wispy clouds and the temperature stayed unseasonably warm, but not too hot.
She changed into a light pair of khaki walking shorts and a white cotton tank top. Sitting down on the bed, she pulled on soft cotton slouch socks, then tugged on her hiking boots and laced them up. Grabbing her camera, she hurried out of the room, jogged down the stairs, into the kitchen, and called a hearty “See ya, later” to Dorina who called an acknowledgement from the pantry where she was taking an inventory of household supplies.
Stepping outside, Pita slid her sunglasses on and headed south out of the rickety little garden gate. Dorina told her that she would come upon a small scenic village if she ventured far enough. She also advised Pita to stay to the road and not to wander too far. Pita smiled. Dorina reminded her of Grandmother Lily, on her adoptive mother’s side of the family. She’d been cautious and protective, but in a sweet loving manner.
The street consisted of a thin layer of asphalt and appeared a step above a dirt road. No curbs, not a sidewalk, nor many other houses graced the simple little road. Rolling hills, clotches of evergreens, and golden hay obelisks painted a vivid backdrop in the afternoon sunlight. Along the roadside and across the fields, bursts of wildflowers in an abundance of colors swayed in the light breeze.
Pita took in an appreciative breath, sweet with the earthy scent of pines. Sunshine poured warmth on her arms and legs. She’d slathered on sunscreen lotion before she’d left the house, though she rarely burned. Her mother had lived by the old cliché ‘an ounce of prevention…’
Pita walked about fifteen minutes and moved off the road onto a little path into the woods that beckoned to her curiosity. She caught sight of a weather-beaten sign nailed to a tree at the end of the footpath. The only word she could read was ‘Tsepesh’.
“Hmmm…”Try as she might, she couldn’t make out any of the other words. For one thing, they were too faded and another they didn’t seem to be English. The word rang familiar. Then it hit her. It’s the actual name of... “Tsepesh, as in Dracula? No way.”
She pushed past the sign and encountered thick vine-like foliage as she forged further into the wood. Her mind drifted back to earlier in the morning.
Dorina had given Tomas instructions to check into whether any of Petru’s family still lived in the general area. Alexsi had died several years ago and his wife moved soon after to be with her family in Southern Romania. That was as much as Dorina recalled since she’d not had contact with the family after she’d married Tomas’ father.
A sharp brightening of her surroundings startled Pita out of her reverie. She realized she’d stepped out of the forest and now stood at the bank of a lake. Sunlight glittered off its smooth surface. In the very center of the lake was a tree-covered island, then further off to the other side of the island on the opposite bank stood yet another castle, black with age and in crumbling disrepair.
She noticed something else as she stood on the bank.
Silence.
No birds, not even the light wind rustling in the trees.
Nothing.
Like she’d fallen into a vacuum.
A shadow moved across the surface of lake in an eerie slow dance as a huge cloud passed over the sun. At the same instance, Pita felt the gentle brush of fur touch her legs. She resisted the urge to jump out of her skin and swallowed a scream. When she looked down and then around, nothing was there.
The moment passed, the sun pierced its golden rays across the lake once again, and the sky brightened. Pita sucked in a shaky breath and turned to move back the way she had come. Spooked, her primary goal was to get back to the road.
Though the sun once again warmed her skin, she felt chilled. Her nerves seemed over sensitized. The air itself had an electric-like quality, a disturbance of sorts. Her skin felt tight and her mind became fuzzy, no…more like overwhelmed with a sense of power as if she was a conductor, funneling an energy she did not understand. However, she sensed the surge was overwhelmingly strong, even dangerous. Her body seemed to be…shifting?
Something wormed and twisted deep inside her. It grew and as it took more and more space within her, she became more frightened. Just when her skin threatened to split wide open and the thing within her would burst out; she folded to the ground in a dead faint.
****
Pita awoke to an insistent nudging at her shoulder. A heavily accented female voice prodded her back from oblivion.
“Wake up.”
More prodding.
Pita opened her eyes. Confusion settled over her like a heavy mist, clouding her perception. Why am I lying on the ground? She attempted to push herself into a sitting position. When she had fallen, she’d ended up on her left side. Her fuzzy mind finally wrapped around the fact that the arm had gone numb from laying on it.
Giving her gentle support, the stranger helped Pita up and then cradling an arm around her back guided her into a sedentary position. Pita rubbed the blood back into her dead limb.
“Thank you.” She mumbled. Every muscle ached as if she’d been beaten. “What happened to me?”
“Do not know, Miss. I walk home from village, and I hear scream. Find you on ground.”
Pita looked into the eyes of her elderly rescuer. “I screamed?”
“Yes. You Dori’s visitor.” She stated the words. “I see you arrive. I live not far.”
“Dori?
” Pita rubbed her temples. “Ahhh…Dorina.” The fog that blanketed her mind began to clear.
The woman nodded her head, “Yes. Come, I help you stand. We must get you home.”
Pita’s legs wobbled like rubber and threatened to collapse. She put an arm around the woman’s broad shoulders, but tried to keep most of her weight off her rescuer. The tiny woman, however, proved surprisingly strong. She supported Pita’s weight with little effort and helped her to stand.
“What’s your name?” Pita asked trying to focus. She felt as though she looked through fogged glass, and a nasty headache pounded in her temples, running down to the base of neck.
“Silvi Cesaeu. I friend of Dori.” She smiled a wide toothless grin. If she were a day under 75 years old, Pita would be surprised. Her round face crinkled and her dark eyes sparkled with her smile.
Once she deemed Pita secure enough to hold her own, Silvi bent and picked up her sack. Pita figured the woman had been to the market from the loaf of crusty bread and fresh vegetables she noticed sticking out the top.
Silvi hoisted the sack, then asked, “We go?” She looked expectantly at Pita. “Come. I walk with you to Dori’s.”
****
True to her word, Silvi managed to get Pita to Dorina’s and the two helped Pita to her room. After a brief explanation from Silvi as to what had happened and some clucking of tongue from Dorina about her warnings to Pita before she’d left, she was tucked neatly into bed, and the women left her to rest.
Closing weary eyes, she tried to remember what had happened. Too sore and exhausted to deal with it, Pita gave in and allowed herself to relax. The distant ringing of the phone, the last thing she heard as she fell to sleep…
Groggy and not feeling at all like herself, Pita stretched. Ahhhh… First her legs then… Was she kneeling? No. She was on … four legs…and still stretching. Ummmmm… feels so good. A quiver ran along her entire body, and she shook like a wet dog, beginning at her head and working all the way through her hind legs.
Curse Of The Marhime Page 9
