Heat. Excruciating. Unbearable. All of it was focused on his torso, the space directly above his stomach. He looked down, expecting to see a mass of blistering burning flesh-or a gaping hole-where his chest used to be. But his skin was intact. Terribly red, but otherwise normal.
Isobel was holding the torch against his middle, but the flame wasn’t touching him. And it should have been.
There was a hairsbreadth of space between him at the fire. But the flame was kept from direct contact with his skin by an invisible wall. It shaped the fire into a near perfect circle. As he trembled and jerked closer to her, the unseen barrier adjusted, following his movements.
There was something else too. A crawling sensation in his veins, like mercury running through them. It circled through his body like a rat trying to escape a flood.
It was the demon.
Aware of soft murmuring, he squinted at Isobel. She was saying something, more Latin words.
He didn’t try to understand what they were. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gritted his teeth, trying not to crush them with the force he was exerting, trying to keep his body from flying apart.
Through all the chaos, a new sensation became apparent. It was as if something was pulling at his core, drawing on him like a sucking leech.
And then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“What the hell is this?” Aldo Garibaldi roared.
Isobel’s head flew up, her concentration breaking. The fire made contact with Matteo’s skin. His skin blistered and the hair on his chest begin to burn. Pulling the torch back, she turned to the Conte.
“No! Stay where you are!” she yelled, fighting the urge to jump up to slap him. “You’ll ruin everything.”
The Conte walked closer to the circle. “What are you doing?”
“What you wanted me to do,” she hissed. “Stay there. Don’t move and be quiet!”
Aldo’s face contorted at the sight of Matteo, who’d crumpled over on his side. “You will release my son. You’re killing him!”
Bloody stupid idiot.
“I’m trying to save him,” she said in shocked disbelief as the Conte raged at her. “And don’t you dare breach this circle!” She scrambled to her knees to grab a second piece of kindling, brandishing it in the count’s direction.
“I know you’re trying to kill him. Nino told me everything.”
What fresh hell was this? “He was wrong. Now shut up and stay away.”
“Don’t tell-”
“Father, stay away.”
Isobel gasped, turning back to her husband. Matteo’s voice was low and raspy, strained beyond all reason. She didn’t know how he had managed to speak. His body was being wracked by deep bone-shaking tremors and his face was nearly purple.
Tears running freely down her cheeks, she reached out to touch him again.
“Matteo my love, please hold on,” she cried, sitting back down. “We can still do this. Don’t move!”
“No, you can’t!”
Dizzily, Isobel twisted her head to the door. The last had been yelled by someone else. Another man had intruded on her ritual. He had to step closer to the lantern light for her to recognize him.
And the gun he was holding.
“Nino, what the bloody hell is going on?” the Conte yelled. “You said she was going to kill my son, that she was planning on running away with all of his money. My money.”
Nino advanced, completely ignoring the count. The gun was pointed directly at her. “You weren’t supposed to get this far. You weren’t supposed to be here at all,” he said hoarsely.
“Please let me finish, Nino. I can save him,” she pleaded.
He leaned forward, his face contorting in anger. “I know that, but you’re not going to. You’re going to let him die.”
Isobel’s heart sank.
“What the hell are you saying?” the Conte asked in a strangled voice.
The true horror of it all was finally becoming clear. “He’s saying he did this,” she whispered.
“He’s responsible for the curse.”
It was a guess, but one Nino didn’t contradict. He approached the circle instead, frowning down at it.
Isobel gasped. “Don’t even think it!”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I won’t break the circle. I know the demon will escape then. No other innocent will be harmed. There’s been enough death already. But you’re not going to finish.
Stand, right now, and walk away. You can escape. No one will blame you.” He swung the gun at the Conte and Matteo respectively. “These two will stay here and die.”
A small move from Aldo distracted Nino, who swung the rifle at him in response.
“I don’t understand,” Aldo said, bewildered. “Why are you doing this? You’ve been a loyal servant throughout this whole ordeal.”
Nino laughed. “I’ve been a loyal servant far longer than that actually.” His face was lit with an unwholesome excitement, as if he’d been waiting for this confrontation. “And you didn’t even recognize me, the senior game warden from your Tivoli country estate. But why would you?
You prefer indoor pursuits, don’t you?”
“What the hell does that mean?” Aldo said.
Hefting the gun higher, Nino threw him a look full of hatred. “It means I know what you did to my daughter, you bastard! You and your friends.”
“What daughter? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Nino gave a choking laugh. “The sad part is that I believe you. You’ve ruined and murdered so many girls over the years. Why would my Gina stand out in your memory?”
“I’ve never killed anyone, let alone a woman!”
“Then where is she, figlio di cane?”
The Conte shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
Shaking with rage, Nino raised the gun again, his finger beginning to squeeze the trigger.
“Stop!” Isobel yelled. “At least tell him when your daughter disappeared. And what she looked like! Maybe he’ll remember.”
Nino paused, turning to look at her. “It was three summers ago. She was a beautiful girl with rosy cheeks and light golden brown hair. Gina favored her mother.”
Behind him, the count’s expression changed. He did remember the girl. But the guilt on his face told her knowing the full story would only make things worse.
“Nino, please explain something to me,” she said. “If you think the Conte is responsible, why are you punishing Matteo? Or do you think he harmed your Gina as well?”
“Matteo wasn’t even home that summer,” the Conte interjected. “He was traveling the continent with his friends.”
Nino said nothing.
“Is that true, Nino? If it is, why are you doing this?” She gestured at her fallen husband who was still writhing and panting for air in quick tortured breaths.
“He took my only child…so I’m going to take his.”
“But why this way? This curse, the way he was before I met him-all of those deaths. There were so many innocents lost. He couldn’t stop. Why harm so many others, vulnerable women just like your daughter?”
A flash of pain passed over Nino’s face. “What did I care after my Gina was gone?” he cried.
Isobel stilled. He was lying.
“There weren’t supposed to be any innocents, were there? The first demon didn’t kill indiscriminately, did it? It was supposed to kill Aldo and any of his peers.”
“I don’t understand,” Aldo rasped.
She swung around to face him. “Matteo’s first bad spell happened unexpectedly. You said you were going to have a gathering that weekend-a party. And the first victim was one of your friends.”
Mouth dropping open, Aldo nodded and Nino made a choking sound.
“I should have known better than to ask for what I did,” Nino said. “It was stupid of me not to realize that the Conte would gladly sacrifice those beneath him to feed the demon’s blo
odlust.
The best I could do was seek employment as one of Matteo’s minders and wait till he self-destructed. At least the Conte would have to watch his paragon of a son, his pride and joy, deteriorate into madness. It was only a matter of time. I knew how the curse worked, what the signs of the demon’s emergence would be.”
It made a twisted sort of sense, and she found herself acknowledging his story with a nod.
“And so it was safe enough for you to be near Matteo, watching and waiting to make sure your plan succeeded. But you didn’t cast the curse did you? You said you asked for it…”
Nino acknowledged her words with a tilt of his head. “It took every cent I had, and months of waiting for the witch to do the work. He came all the way from Sicily, but it was worth it. In the end, he even gave me a discount. Aldo Garibaldi has destroyed many lives with his rapacious business practices, overcharging tenants and pushing people off their land. It was only a matter of time to find a connection the witch would care about. He was happy to help. I never expected the Conte would find another with enough skill and power to undo it all.”
Isobel cast a helpless glance at her husband. He was trembling violently now, and the hole in his aura she’d made had expanded into a gaping wound. Nothing else could invade since he’d fallen in the circle of salt, but he couldn’t survive like that for long. She needed to finish and close the hole.
She drew Nino’s attention back to her. “You wanted me to run away.”
His first words to her had been about Ottavio falling asleep during his watch and he’d paid close attention to everything she did in the conservatory. He’d probably spied on her notes in the library as well, else he wouldn’t have known that she had finished formulating her purge ritual.
Or that you were brewing a tea to prevent pregnancy. Ottavio must have learned that detail from Nino.
Nino’s eye twitched. “I’m sorry you got involved in all of this. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought it was just a fluke that you survived, but then it became obvious what you were. You survived because of your power. Then the demon changed. In time it would kill the son, but you delayed that. And then it looked like you were finally figuring out how to remove the curse,” he said, gesturing to the ritual circle. “Which is why I sent Ottavio to you.”
It felt like the room was spinning. Isobel felt sick. “You had him attack me?” she whispered.
Nino squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, either! You were supposed to run away with him. Women always liked him, and he wanted you. I thought you would jump at the opportunity to escape. But you were so stupid-another fool woman.
You’d already given your heart to the monster,” he spat, lowering the barrel slightly as he sneered at her.
It was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. She flew up from her kneeling position, holding the burning torch with a death grip. She swung it a Nino as hard as she could.
The blow struck him in the shoulder, making him drop the gun.
She should have expected what happened next. The fire was no normal blaze.and she was very angry. As soon as it came in contact with Nino’s clothing it exploded, running over him like a wild creature. His shriek of pain was enough to shatter glass. He fell to his knees, clutching blindly.
Isobel scrambled forward, crawling toward him. She had to try and control the fire enough to pull it away from him. But she didn’t get the chance. Nino pulled a blade from his boot and sprang up with a blood-curdling scream.
He was almost on her when he was thrown to the side. The Conte was pushing him with his forearms, kicking him hard. Nino landed face down, wheezing with a horribly wet sound. Using his booted foot, Aldo turned him over.
The blade was sticking out of his chest. He had landed on it when he fell. Aldo leaned over him, obscuring him from view.
“Matteo,” she whispered, dragging herself to her feet. Twisting, she reached for the fallen torch, but it wasn’t there.
She turned back to the circle, dismayed to find she’d disturbed her half’s salt boundary. But that wasn’t the worst thing that met her sight.
Matteo’s long arms had been enough to reach the torch. He was holding it to his chest exactly where she had, his whole body wrapped around it.
“No! Matteo, let go,” she said, falling to her feet in front of him.
Using all her strength, she tried to pry it out of his hands but he had a death grip on it.
“It’s too late,” he whispered. “Going to finish it now.” He turned to cradle the fire underneath him-out of her reach.
“No, no. Don’t do this. Please give me the torch,” she cried tearfully, stepping into his half of the circle and throwing herself on his back. She embraced him from behind and begged with a sob.
“Please don’t leave me.”
He shuddered and didn’t answer as he tried to push her away. Isobel held on tighter, wrapped around his back like a limpet. Looking inside him with her other sight, she pushed down with all strength, finding the taint and directing it to the hole in his solar plexus.
The demon scrabbled inside him, tearing at Matteo’s aura as it tried to hang on. Using all of her will and every ounce of her strength, she kept going until it lost its grip and was forced down into the fire burning underneath her husband.
A rending sound filled the air. The count shifted looking around wildly for its source, but what had made the noise wasn’t visible. The painful clatter died away and Isobel’s ears popped, as if the air had shifted dramatically around them.
“Let go, my darling. It’s over. I swear it’s over. Please!” she said, rolling her husband onto his back and throwing the burning wood away.
Nausea rose up when she saw his hands and abdomen. They were a raw mass of blistered meat, black and red. The smell of cooked flesh filled the air.
Sobbing, she gathered Matteo’s large body to her as best she could, cradling him in her lap.
Closing her eyes, she began to chant, trying to bind the ragged edges of his aura back together.
But it had been ripped and exposed so long, it had splintered and cracked in other places. Trying to force the edges closed tore open others.
Isobel refused to let go. She covered him with her body and her mind, instinctively trying to hold him together. Giving everything she had, she clung to him, past reason and all endurance.
The world around them spun into black. She fell into the void, still holding on.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Isobel cracked open an eyelid in the bright sunny bedroom. Everything hurt. She felt like she’d been passed through a meat grinder. Her aura probably had been.
A noise made her turn. It was Aldo, shifting impatiently in a chair.
When he saw she was awake, he nodded at her. “It’s over now. I told him the truth before he died.”
Isobel burst into tears. “Matteo’s dead?”
Aldo flinched and gave her an apologetic glance. “No. He’s…sleeping. I meant Nino. About his daughter.”
She sat up and crossed her arms. “You do remember her.”
It was a statement of fact.
The Conte nodded. “And she is dead, but I never harmed her. Gina died in childbirth.”
Understanding dawned. “And the babe was yours.”
“Yes. I never let any of my friends share her. She didn’t want that and I respected her choice.
And I didn’t force her either. I made sure Nino knew that. And about the child.”
Surprised, she narrowed her eyes. “The child lived?”
Aldo inhaled, drawing himself up. “Yes. It’s being taken care of.”
Out of sight and out of mind, she thought. What a mess.
“Does Matteo know?”
He looked away. “He has enough to worry about.”
That was more than enough to get her out of bed. She stood up stiffly. “Where is he?”
He gestured to the connecting door, and she hurried through it to Matteo’s
bedroom.
Her chest squeezed her heart when she saw him. His aura was intact-mostly. A few glints of green, the distinctive shade of her own aura, could be seen here and there. She picked up her hand and examined the shimmering haze surrounding it. A few prominent streaks of red ran through it.
Somehow she’d blended their auras, weaving hers over the tears in his. In turn, some of his had been transferred to her.
We’ll always be tied together now.
Unfortunately, Matteo’s hands and chest hadn’t fared as well. They were wrapped in white gauze, but badly. Bits of burned flesh were visible between the strips. And it was starting to seep.
If she didn’t clean the flesh and change the bandages, it would grow infected.
“I didn’t really know what to do and neither did the staff,” Aldo murmured “We sent for a physician, but the sawbones was soused and could barely stand. I didn’t let him near my son. I was going to send for another doctor, but I think you can do better.”
Isobel walked up to her husband, inspecting him closely. She nodded in agreement. “Go fetch me clean gauze and scissors. I’ll need the crates in the greenhouse, as well. The one’s holding all of my supplies.”
“Will he live?”
Leaning over, she put her hand on Matteo’s chest. His breathing was shallow, but even, and his heart was steady. His aura looked bad, but it would mend.
“Yes, I think so,” she whispered.
“What about his hands?”
She glanced down at them. They were curled into claws, likely a reflex to all of the damage.
Whether or not he would be able to use them again was doubtful.
“I don’t know, but we can’t go waste any more time. My things, please,” she said, waving him away.
Once he was gone, she sat on the bed. To her relief, Matteo’s lids fluttered and opened. Despite the pain he must be suffering from, he smiled weakly at her.
“Still alive, bella, and all alone.”
Isobel frowned, and was about to assure him she wasn’t going to leave him when what he meant became clear. There was no “other” in his body anymore, and he could feel it.
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 51
