The Scarletti Curse Read Free Page B

their noses.
    Maria Pia hissed softly at her, scowling fiercely to remind her the don was
watching. Nicoletta and Maria Pia went to work. While Maria Pia bathed the
child to bring down her fever and clean her, Nicoletta scrubbed the room and
the bed. Maria Pia consulted with her "assistant" in whispers quite
often. Seemingly under the older woman's watchful eyes, Nicoletta combined
various potions, ensuring the medicaments were mixed properly. It was Nicoletta
who assisted the child, pulling the small body into her arms, rocking her
gently while she fed her tiny sips, coaxing and soothing with whispers of
encouragement as the devil in the corner watched them with a steady, relentless
black stare.
    Only when the child made a feeble attempt to drink on her own did he finally
stir, sagging against the wall as if his legs could no longer support his
weight.
    Maria Pia went to him at once, helping to ease his large, muscular frame
into a sitting position. "He is burning up," she said with a nervous
glance at Nicoletta.
    Nicoletta lay the child carefully on the bed, drawing up the coverlet. The blanket
caught her attention. Neat little stitches, beautiful workmanship, the pattern
so dear and familiar. For a moment she could hardly breathe, her throat clogged
with painful memories. She traded places with Maria Pia, as if the older woman
needed to examine the child while her assistant took care of the basic needs of
the second patient.
    Nicoletta used the excuse to run her hands over the don's hot skin, to
examine him and "feel" his illness. Don Scarletti was all roped,
sinewy muscle, as hard as a tree trunk beneath her gentle, exploring fingers.
She skimmed over him lightly, soothing him with her touch.
    Suddenly his fingers circled her wrist like a vise, holding her still while
he examined her hand. He stared down at it curiously.
    Those pain-filled eyes saw far too much. Nicoletta tugged to get her hand
back, her heart slamming uncomfortably in her breast. She jerked away from him,
moving out of range, back into the shadows, drawing her shawl more tightly
around herself. There was danger in his close scrutiny. Maria Pia and Nicoletta
had perfected their illusions, the reversal of roles that ensured Nicoletta's
safety, guarding her "differences" successfully from the eyes of
those who might suspect her a witch and call upon the Holy Church—or Don
Scarletti himself—to have her investigated… or worse.
    Maria Pia clucked her sympathy as she bustled around looking busy. She
conferred with her assistant, watched closely to assure the younger woman mixed
her drafts and powders correctly and insisted on helping the don swallow the
liquid herself. "You must rest now," Maria Pia ordered. "We will
see to the child through the night. Pray we did not arrive too late."
    Nicoletta signed with her hand discreetly as she once more went back to
persuading the child to drink small sips of the medicine.
    "I must know if others are ill. Did others share the soup?" Maria
Pia asked at Nicoletta's suggestion.
    The man shook his head, murmured. "No one else," and ignored the
older woman's nervous gasp as he rose and staggered across the room to a large
chair. "I will stay with the child." He said it firmly, closing his
eyes and turning his head away from them.
    Maria Pia looked helplessly at Nicoletta, who shrugged. The room was as
clean as they could make it in so short a time. The child's fever was down
slightly, although she was still quite ill. But the fact that she was keeping
down the potion Nicoletta had concocted, that her stomach was not rejecting it,
was a good sign. The don was likely not nearly as sick as the child. He was much
larger, stronger, and his body more capable of fighting off the ill effects of
the soup they had both ingested.
    Maria Pia took several candles from Nicoletta's leather satchel and placed
them around the room. Nicoletta had made them herself out of beeswax and
various aromatic herbs. Their scent at once filled the