The Ancient Curse Read Free Page A

director himself and Mario, but the security guard wouldn’t have had a very clear idea of what it was all about anyway. Fabrizio didn’t know what to think, and the impossibility of instantly finding a reasonable explanation behind this apparently inexplicable event annoyed him tremendously.
    Could there be a rational explanation? Might one of the library clerks have heard about his research and spoken about him to some impressionable soul, one of those fanatics who live on pseudo-scientific New Age hype? Obsessed with the pyramids or – why not? – with the Etruscans. After all, the Etruscans were second only to the Egyptians in their legendary fascination with the afterlife, and famous for being soothsayers and sorcerers.
    The person on the phone must have seen the light filtering from the windows of the second floor of the museum, and that meant they must be somewhere in the immediate vicinity. Without opening the shutters, he sneaked a look outside to check the buildings opposite the museum and to the sides, but he didn’t spot anything worthy of attention.
    As he was scanning the vicinity, another sound – even more alarming than the phone ringing and the creepy voice of the woman warning him off – broke through the still of night, invading his ears and even more so his imagination: the long, deep howling of an animal, a fierce cry of challenge and pain. A wolf. In the centre of the city of Volterra.
    ‘Christ!’ Fabrizio burst out. ‘What the hell is happening?’
    For the first time in his adult life, the panic and fear he’d felt as a child came flooding back, the sheer terror that had kept him nailed to his bed when the screeching of an owl tore through the night air outside the mountain house where he’d lived then.
    A wolf? Wait. Really, though, why not? Fabrizio remembered reading somewhere that recent environmental protection policies had allowed certain predators to extend their territory along the Apennines, all over Italy. But his logic was shattered to pieces as he heard the ear-splitting howl echo again, closer this time, more threatening. It trailed off finally into an agonized rattle.
    He gathered up his things, turned out all the lights, one after another, and rushed down the stairs towards the lobby. He set the alarm and went out into the street, triple-locking the door behind him. As he walked away, he thought he could hear the phone ringing again inside, shrill and persistent, but there was no way he was going back in. There was no trusting where his imagination would take him.
    His car was parked in a little square not far from the museum, but the distance on foot down the silent, deserted streets that separated him from his ride home seemed never-ending. How could no one have heard? Why weren’t people turning on their lights, looking out of their windows? He stopped more than once, sure he’d heard a pawing sound behind him, or even an uneven panting. Each time he spun around, then picked up his pace. When he reached the square, his car was not there. A surge of panic sent him running from one street to the next, this way and that, with his heart in his mouth and his breath coming in short gasps. He could hear that atrocious howling echoing against every wall, from every archway, at the end of every street.
    He forced himself to stop and to control the panic that was overwhelming him. It took all his willpower to lean against a wall, take a deep breath and make an effort to think clearly. He realized that he must have parked his car in another spot and he tried to remember his movements with some degree of clarity. He started walking and, as his thoughts eventually sorted themselves out, he found himself in the square where he had actually parked his car. He got in, started it up and began driving fast towards the farmhouse in Val d’Era. He was starting to feel that living in such an isolated place, buried, practically, by the vegetation all around it, was perhaps not the ideal