The Devil's Song

by Silvana G Sánchez

  “And now that we are friends, my dearest Letizia…” The corner of her lips curls in a sinister smile. “Let me give to you a word of advice concerning our beloved Duke Contarini.”

  “I am listening,” I say. My heart fills with uncertainty.

  “Before you pursue his friendship any further, ask him what his name is, my dear,” Bella adds, holding my hands.

  “I already know it,” I reply, confused. “His name is Lorenzo.” She had made sure that I heard it from her own lips the minute I stepped into this room.

  “Ask him what his True Name is… and be quick about it.” Bella releases my arm.

  His True Name? I cannot fathom the entirety of Bella’s words. If her intent is set on shaking my grasp on what I perceive as reality, she has succeeded.

  “Would you be so kind as to perform for us in my house this weekend, dearest Letizia?” Bella asks as if nothing more had been said between us. “I am good friends with the Bonnemaison’s and they will be there. They throw an annual ball in their Parisian estate—to raise funds for a charity of some sort. I believe they will covet you, my dear. And who would not? The treasure that you are…”

  “I will,” I blurt out, my mind still whirling, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words: Ask him what his True Name is. I could care less about accepting Bella’s invitation.

  “Meraviglioso!” she says, pleased. “Lorenzo may give you the address, I hope I will see him there too.” She curtseys and I respond the same way, surely unable to conceal the effect her poisonous words have cast over me.

  “Signorina?” the footman stands beside me, offering the tray where three glasses of red wine survive. I take the glass and take a quick swig.

  The night is spent far too quickly. One by one, the small assembly grows smaller still until the last guest walks out of the hall. Only Lorenzo and I remain.

  Exhausted, he lies on the bench, glass in hand. He pours the last remnants of wine down his throat, sets the cup aside, and gets on his feet.

  I sit behind the table where the last hand of the card game is set between empty glasses. From this spot in the corner of the room, I study him intently as he draws closer.

  “You did well, Letizia…” he muses. “You will be saying your farewells to the Scuola’s theater not before too long…”

  “Since you say so, I suppose I must believe it to be true,” I mutter.

  Lorenzo seems confused by my words, but dismisses them quickly. “It is late… Shall I walk with you to your room?”

  I nod. Hours ago, I would have looked forward to a private promenade with Il Diavolo—even if it only extended to a few minutes of conversation. But tonight, I cannot escape Bella’s poisonous advice; it spins in my mind again and again, like an ongoing warning that prevents me from enjoying Lorenzo’s company as we climb the grand stairway and move down my bedroom’s hallway.

  “Buonasera, tesoro mio…” he whispers as we stand by the doorway. The flickering candlelight fills his eyes with an amber gleam.

  Have I drunk too much? Mayhaps. I am drunk enough to summon the courage to speak bluntly, drunk enough to believe that there is no better idea at the moment.

  “You’ve lied to me,” I muse. Stepping back, I enter the room.

  Il Diavolo widens his eyes. “Lied? What do you mean?” He follows me inside.

  I step back once more and steady my weight against the bedpost, fearing I might stumble otherwise. “You appear in my life one day with promises that no man would care to make without expecting something in return.

  “With a single word, you turn my life around and set it on a path of fortune and fame…” I cannot stop now, determined as I am to get an answer.

  “Letizia…” My name on his lips is a sensual and dangerous plea.

  “You’ve cared for me enough to make me think that you could love me, and when those feelings are returned, you turn me away… And all of this without ever giving me your name.” I stop and take one hard look at him. “You, who lives in a grand palazzo and hosts exclusive dinners, who has great influence over the Serenissima…”

  “This is not you, tesoro mio,” he whispers, smoothing his hand on my jawline. “This is the wine talking.”

  The touch of his hand instigates me to put aside my doubts, but I am adamant. “Who are you?”

  He sniggers, apparently relieved. “Have you not heard? I am Lorenzo Contarini… a duke.”

  “That song you made me sing… It did something to them. I do not know what it was, but your guests—what I saw in them was not human!” Perhaps I dare to speak the words because of the wine’s encouragement.

  “Letizia, you are drunk. We should get you to bed…” He wraps me with one arm.

  “Tell me your name,” I insist, warmth rising to my cheeks.

  “You already know my name…” he says with a velvety voice, noticeably shaken.

  Bella’s words echo in my mind. I cannot yet understand the meaning behind them, and still… “Tell me your True Name.”

  Il Diavolo steps back, appalled as if I were a monster, a vampire revealing its fangs for the first time to his victim.

  “Where did you hear that?” he all but hisses, holding my arm. “Who told you to speak such things?”

  “Your True Name…” I demand, holding his stare. “Say it.”

  Il Diavolo’s neck muscles tighten, vexed somehow in this confrontation. He clenches his strong jaw, defiant as his green eyes fix on me. “Know that I am compelled to give you an answer and that I do so unwillingly…” he mutters.

  “Go on.”

  “First I must address the charges you have laid against me,” he says, taking a step back. “Would you allow me that?”

  I nod.

  “Since the moment I met you I have done nothing but offer you my endless support because I hold you in the highest esteem… My encouragement, my protection—if it can be called so—have been and will always be yours.” He pauses. “When I discovered your feelings… I never planned to reject you. Please understand I did it to spare you from any further pain. I would never wish to hurt you, Letizia.”

  “I understand.” The word reject stings my heart even though it comes with no intention of cruelty. And I sigh, counting the seconds until this uncertainty vanishes from my mind once and for all.

  “I will answer your question now,” Il Diavolo says, clasping his hands behind his back.

  Whatever words follow will forever change my life.

  I am ready.

  “My True Name is Samyaza,” he muses, turning his back on me. He lowers his chin. “I am a demon, an immortal creature that has lived for thousands of years.

  “From the moment mankind came into the Lord’s Creation, I fell in love with it. I cherish their company. Their joy is my bliss, their pleasures are my delight.

  “But the Almighty disapproved of my infatuation. My love for humans outshone my adoration for Him. So he cast me away from his Glory… shunned me from His presence as he did with many of my brothers for distinct reasons.” He stops to take a deep breath. “And now I am here, enslaved to mankind. I will go to all lengths to make them happy, but the joy I bring always comes with a price. The Lord has designed it that way, so that in my passion to serve mortals, I also destroy them… Therein lies my curse.”

  “And… the others?” I ask, barely able to pronounce the words.

  “Demons like me… Set loose in the world to fulfill the dreams of Men,” he answers dismissively. “Riches and glory, every material gain is attained by their hand.” Il Diavolo purses his lips. “Now you know what I am. You have seen the darkness that pollutes my wretched soul… Would you have me still?”

  Where he sees darkness, I find the purest beauty. A demon he may be, a fallen angel regardless… May God forgive me. “I would.”

  “Tesoro mio…” he whispers. His hands smooth on the sides of my face. His strong body yields against mine. Inches away from my lips, our eyes lock in the most powerful stare. Desperate desire fills the
dark ponds of his widened pupils. His soft lips part, and the warmth of his breath lands on my cheek.

  Samyaza draws closer. His lips touch mine. For the first time in my life, I am grateful. Grateful for my father’s debauchery and his gambling, grateful that my parents died in a reckless accident at sea, grateful that their poor decisions led me to a miserable living that would sting my pride enough to fulfill my dreams… Grateful, for every sad chapter in my life up to this day delivered me into Il Diavolo’s arms.

  His hands climb down to the small of my back and from there, lower still. He lifts my body effortlessly, as though I weighed no more than a feather. His kiss turns deeper as he carries me to the bed, searing and enticing, a glimpse of the pleasure that has yet to come.

  Prudence and decency wither inside me when his warm body presses against mine. His mouth travels up my jawline and stops for a second to nibble my ear, spreading lightning through my body.

  “Letizia, I must know,” he groans, smoothing his fingers through my hair. “Do you want this?”

  My heart beats hard against my chest, a thousand thoughts race within my whirling mind, but one look of his deep green eyes is enough to bring solace to that turmoil. Gently, I nod. “I want you.”

  A faint smile curls on his lips. He leans close to me once more, and the seconds that pass until our lips meet again seem to last an eternity. When the moment comes, I welcome his kiss with feverish hunger. His tongue slips between my lips and enters my mouth. Samyaza cries a low moan that makes me tremble with desire.

  Our clothes are shed quickly. His firm body lands over me, and we are now one flesh. His hardness slips between my thighs. One rough thrust and he enters me, igniting every inch of my body. I moan and arch against his chest.

  Samyaza slips one hand to the small of my back and the other to the nape of my neck, holding me in a firm grip. He takes command and cradles me back to him. In another impulse of passion, he claims me his in shocking waves of the purest ecstasy I have ever known.

  He groans and tightens his grip. I cry in delirium. His body convulses and he moans. And as his body slowly relaxes, I hold him in my arms and draw close to his ear.

  “Samyaza,” I whisper. “Sei tutto per me.”

  Gently, he pulls away from me until our gazes meet. “It is the other way around, tesoro mio,” he says in a raspy voice. “You have given meaning to my life. I have walked this Earth for thousands of years, hopeless until this day.”

  “Have I restored your hope?” I lay my ear against his chest, pleased to hear the tempo of his heartbeat—molto vivace.

  Without looking, I can tell that he smiles.

  “You have done more than that,” he says, holding me with one arm. “Your voice has shown me a glimpse of Heaven. The first time I heard you sing I thought my ancient mind played tricks on me, taunting me with a reminder of my lost home.” His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. “Faith is a fickle thing. I once thought it lost to me forever, and yet, that faith beats hard again inside this accursed body… And that is all because of you. So no, my love. It is you who means everything to me.”

  Love. The word on his lips makes my stomach flutter. Is this love? It is my ruin, that much I know. But I am willing to pay the price for enjoying the glory of his nearness.

  Samyaza, my fallen angel. I love you.

  The words begin to form in the back of my mind. They gather into a single thread that echoes in my head. The question starts as a low murmur, but as it ripples in my mind, its voice grows louder: can my love spare him from damnation?

  Can the purest evil be redeemed?

  The hearth’s flickering amber light licks the chamber’s walls. His body’s warmth lingers beside me, but he no longer lies on the bed.

  I am alone.

  Dawn is fast approaching.

  Next to the nightstand, there’s a luxurious robe embroidered in wool with floral patterns. I slip off the bed and into the warm robe.

  A pale beam of light filters through the windows as I move to the doorway. Moted dust floats in the air. For a second, I question reality. Is this a dream? Have I actually spent the night with Lorenzo Contarini, and is he a Fallen Angel of God?

  Little by little the details of our time together seep into my mind. And no matter how remote and mysterious it all seems, this is real.

  Where am I going? The thought comes to me as I explore the palazzo’s entrails through a narrow corridor. The answer is simple, I need to find him—Samyaza. I miss the warmth of his strong arms as they embrace me, the solace of his comforting words… It aches to be away from him now.

  I wander through this ancient palazzo like a child, feeding my eyes with every precious painting, every intricate tapestry hanging on its stone walls… There is silence and stillness as my bare feet tiptoe up the spiral stairway that I follow led by pure instinct.

  Samyaza’s words echo in my mind: I have loved you from the very first time I heard you sing. When was that? How many times had he stood beyond my doorway without my knowledge? Those thoughts accompany me on the way upstairs to the tallest part of Palazzo Contarini.

  Cold and moist, the darkened passage reminds me of a medieval tower.

  I reach the end of the narrow landing. A tall arched door stands before me. The door’s vertical oak planks are studded and seem fairly weathered. A tree forged in iron spreads entwined branches across the frame. The branches themselves are carved with ancient symbols that remain a mystery to me.

  My hand glides over the blunt surface. Here I am. The highest room in the castle’s tower… Will I find my prince on the other side of this door, waiting for me?

  Samyaza. The name grants him more beauty than any title of nobility could ever bestow upon him. And although he claims to be a demon, my heart cannot envision him a being so cruel.

  Evoking his sole name awakens in me an overpowering desire to have him once more. I long for his intoxicating kisses, the gentle touch of his rough hands drawing every curve in my body, his utter lack of restraint as he invaded me until I shuddered in ecstasy… I blush and blush again as those memories play in my mind.

  The rusted hinges give a low squeal as I push the door open all the way.

  Another realm lies before me, a jungle with wild trellises climbing every wall, exotic flowers in multicolored bloom, dense green foliage swallowing all remnants of the old palazzo’s furniture. But the sight that makes me lose my breath is that of the myriad creatures tinged in bright blue with black-rimmed wings, stirring into sudden flight the second they notice my presence.

  In the midst of this magical jungle, hundreds of butterflies sway, their batting wings gleam against the moonlight.

  “I have never seen so many of you gathered in a single room…” I whisper in awe of their magnificence.

  One of the creatures lands on my hand. As its dark eyes fix on me, I cannot help but wonder, what does it see? A curious human, an invader to its home?

  “You should not be here,” a voice says with urgency.

  Startled, I turn. My heart fills with ease the minute I set eyes on him. He wears a dark red silk banyan embroidered with golden leaves. The exquisite morning gown grants him a regal quality.

  “This is a beautiful sanctuary…” I say, meeting him at the doorway.

  “Sanctuary…” he muses, sweeping the room with a quick glance. Impressive as is the beauty that surrounds him, Samyaza remains unaltered, almost indifferent—perhaps habituated to it.

  His fingers smooth on my waist. “We should go,” he whispers in my ear, pulling me close to him with awakened desire.

  The robe glides off my shoulder. “I would have you here if needed be…” I say, excitement coursing through my veins.

  “No…” Samyaza holds my hand. He gives one more look at the room, where piercing beams of moonlight slowly begin to fade. “Not here.” Wrapping his arm around me, he leads me through the doorway, into the darkened corridor.

  “This room is kept away for a reason…” he whispers, lockin
g the door. Samyaza turns and his green eyes fix on mine with the most earnest stare. “Promise me you will never come back here.”

  “I promise.” I nod.

  With a quick tug, the robe glides off his shoulders and lands on the floor, revealing his bare chiseled chest.

  “I will hold you to that promise,” he whispers in a sultry voice, cupping the side of my face with his hand. As he draws closer, I long for the touch of his lips pressed against mine.

  “I want to know everything there is to know about you, Samyaza,” I whisper, inches away from his lips. “Every story, every secret… I want to see you for who you truly are.” My hands lock on the nape of his neck.

  “Are you certain?” he replies in the same sensual voice, his body leans against mine. “You may not like what you see.”

  “That is for me to decide.” I press my lips against his in a passionate kiss to which he responds with the same hunger.

  Samyaza’s arms glide below my hips, he lifts me with little effort. “Oh, Letizia…” he moans between feverish kisses. “I want you.”

  His voice is a powerful spell that compels me to do his bidding. I am ruined, ruined and in love with a demon. The smooth touch of his fingers raises my anticipation and I let myself be guided by his desire.

  Can evil spring out of the purest of emotions?

  The glimmer of kindness in his eyes says more to me than any of his stories. He’s a man and I a woman, that’s all that matters. The day may come when the toll of my sins will catch up to me, but it is not today. And with this in mind, I’m free to savor the rapture of his lustful kisses.

  “What shall become of me when you are gone?” Samyaza muses, rolling on his back on the bed.

  “I suspect life will go on as normal…” I say. Not the most comforting response, but truthful, nonetheless. “You will carry on with your several obligations, you will host dinners and banquets, you will continue to be the great Duke Contarini, patron of the arts.

  “And I shall continue to sing. I will climb La Serenissima’s social ladder until my family’s riches are restored, and I will reap fame and glory along the way.”