Of Blood and Bone (3 page)

Dangerous. 

The word pops unbidden into my mind and I try to shake it off.

He killed a spider, not a person or a puppy.   I have no basis for thinking that he is dangerous.  But as he turns his eyes toward me, there is something there, something in the dark depths that I can’t define, something
dangerous.
 

And so I reluctantly add it to his list.  This is just my first impression after all.  It remains to be seen if my instinct has any validity whatsoever.  I can just as easily take it off the list as I put it on.  I look up to find him staring at me with his dark and fathomless eyes. Those are eyes that a person could lose themselves in. 

Why does it seem like everything has turned tense?   I didn’t mean for that at all.  I was just surprised by the turn of events.  So I tell him that.  And then I hold out my hand.

“It was really nice to meet you, Luca.  Thank you so much for taking care of the spawn of Satan.  I really appreciate it.”

He nods, relaxed once again.  “Anytime.  I’m a spawn of Satan specialist.  I’m just happy that I was nearby and heard you scream.”

“Yes,” I agree.  “That was very lucky for me.”

“Hmm,” Luca says, drawing out the sound.  “Let’s leave that verdict out for now, shall we?”

I stare at him, wondering what that means and why he seems so mysterious when he suddenly turns and walks out.  I trail weakly behind him, trying to figure out what I had missed.

And then he is gone. 

He is such a commanding presence that his absence is noticed immediately.  The air around me lightens and the charged atmosphere is gone, like a thunderstorm that has abruptly moved on.  I stand at the front door, watching him jog lightly down to the beach where he continues running in the wet sand.  I watch his broad shoulders ripple as he moves until he is gone from my sight. 

And I’m holding my breath.  I realize it in an instant and inhale deeply.

Luca Minaldi, whoever he is, is intense.

I add that to the list and then examine it in my head.

Rich

Formal

Gentleman

Jaded

Unafraid

Intense

Mercurial

Dangerous

I have no way of telling at this point if these descriptors are accurate.  In order to know for sure, I’ll have to interact with Luca Minaldi again.  Luckily, as part of my research, I have vowed that if I have meaningful interaction with anyone this summer, I must follow-up with them in a second or third meeting so that I can ascertain if my initial theory on his or her character was correct. It’s the only way I can test my hypothesis in a practical sense.  

But something deep inside of me tells me that my hypothesis should be damned in relation to Luca. I shouldn’t pursue another meeting with him.  There’s something about him, something secretive and troubling, that I know I should steer clear of.  My trained intuition is shouting at me. 

And although I don’t have any basis other than my own intuition for it, I add
secretive
to the list.  Because one thing is clear.  Luca Minaldi is an enigma.   I shake my head and lock my door before going back to bed. 

Chapter Two

The Beast

My vision tunnels as it always does when I lose myself.

I only have a split second, a moment, really; before I am overtaken by the basest of instincts, by the blurs of reds and blacks.  I can’t fight it.  I have tried before and it is useless. 

My periphery is vanished now, absorbed by the darkness.  I can focus only on what is in front of me.  My subconscious is gone, my guilt is gone, my logic is gone.

There is nothing left.

Except for a driving need.

As always, I succumb to it.

I can do nothing else.

My feet thump onto the twisted path to the beach and my head snaps to attention in the breeze.  Someone in the near distance is cooking dinner.  

Oregano, oil, beef.

I pivot and move into the shadows where I belong. 

My nerve-endings are standing at attention.  I can smell everything, see everything.  I can feel
everything.
  It is exhilarating and smothering at once.  I breathe deeply and attempt to harness it.  And then I charge ahead into the night, through the trees.

A house comes into focus.  Small and neat.  I pad lightly up the path and the ocean crashes behind me as I linger at the door.  Dinner smells drift from the window and I inhale, allowing the breeze to wash over my skin as I stand still. 

I am only hungry for one thing.

There is not the bustle of family from within these walls.  There is no noise at all. 

I don’t knock. 

I move silently through the rooms until I find what I am looking for.

She turns, startled. 

But she doesn’t scream.  She looks curious; wondering why I am here, what I want from her.  I don’t hesitate to show her.

I cross the room in two strides.

Her throat is in my hands.

My tongue is in her mouth, her teeth scrape against mine.

She is screaming now because she can see what I want, but my mouth quickly muffles the noise. 

I enjoy the vibration of the sound against my lips, the heat of her breath against mine.  Everything is visceral now, an explosion of sensations and my vision blurs.

She is soft and I am hard and I rage against her, taking her over and over until her eyes glaze and her screaming stops. 

Her heart is pounding against my chest and her body is so very fragile.

So I break it.

Chapter Three

Eva

A knock on my cottage door wakes me from sleep.  I lie still for a moment longer, clearing my mind from sleep-induced fog. There is another knock and I climb from the bed, only just now remembering that I am still fully dressed, as I answer the door.

An elderly man is on my stoop with grayed hair and warm brown eyes. 

He looks at me and grins. 

“Dr. Talbot!  You look just like your papa!  But for your eyes and red hair.”

I shake my head.  This is something that I’ve heard my entire life. I do resemble my father with my straight Roman nose and delicate features.  My father has dark eyes though, and I have inherited my mother’s instead, as well as her pale skin and red hair. 

“You must be Tomas,” I observe.  He grasps my hand and squeezes it while he nods. 

“Yes, bella mia.  I’m so sorry that I was unable to meet you yesterday.  I’m an old man and I had a doctor’s appointment to keep.  I do hope that my friend Alanzo didn’t ramble too much with his stories.”

I laugh and shake my head.  “No, Alanzo was charming.  Thank you for sending him.”

Tomas smiles.  “I’m so happy to finally see you again.  You probably don’t remember me, but I knew your papa very well when you and he lived here so many years ago.”

I laugh.  “I don’t remember much from that long ago, Tomas.  But I’m very happy to meet you now.”

Loyal, friendly, open.    

I begin my mental list of Tomas’ traits. 

“Your bags arrived,” he tells me, motioning to a stack of luggage outside of the door. “You must have been sleeping.”

“I was very tired,” I explain as we begin lugging the bags through the door.  He clucks as he hands me a heavily loaded crate. 

“I know,” he tells me. “I was here earlier and saw you sleeping through the window.  I didn’t want to wake you because you seemed very tired.  You will have to take care of yourself, bella,” Tomas says as he eyes me.  “Your papa wants me to look after you.  I promised him that I would make sure that you slept enough and that I would keep all of the boys away so that you could finish your research project.”

I laugh again.  I’m still tired enough that everything seems funny, particular when he refers to men my age as ‘boys’.   At twenty-nine, I’m just a minute away from thirty.  If boys aren’t men by this point, they never will be.

“I’m not too worried about the boys, Tomas,” I tell him.  “I’m not here to find a husband.”

I decide to get that out of the way right off the bat.  Like their close neighbors, the Italians, family is very important to the Maltese.  I know that I will be prodded the entire summer by well-wishing people who want to see me married off and happy. 

I sigh at the thought because right now my only wish is to finish my dissertation and start my career.  I’ve worked long and hard for it and I’m right at the cusp. Just this summer and I will be done with all of the academic red tape.  It’s almost surreal. 

Tomas shakes his head. 

“You’re a pretty girl, bella.  You will not have a problem finding a husband. I don’t worry about that one bit.”

I refrain from telling him that I’m not worried, either.

My stomach growls loudly, rudely interrupting our conversation, and I suddenly realize that it has been hours and hours since I have eaten.  I look at Tomas.

 “Tomas, where is the closest place to eat?”

“Now you’re talking,” he beams.  “Your father also made me swear that I would make you eat this summer.  He’s afraid you are growing too skinny.”

I self-consciously wrap my arms around my waist.  It’s true.  While I was finishing up my residency this year, I worked many, many twelve and sixteen hour shifts in the Psych unit at the Oregon Health and Science University in Portland.  There were times that food just wasn’t that high on my priority list.  Sleeping became the most important thing in the world, second only to breathing.

“If you walk down the road about one and a half kilometers, you’ll find a little bistro on the beach.  You will love it.  Marianne owns the place.  Just tell her that I sent you and she’ll take special care of you, because she holds a special place in her heart for me.” His faded eyes are twinkling now.   “Would you like for me to take you right now?”

He looks at me with kind eyes and I would love to go and eat with him because I get the feeling that he is lonely.  But I’m still so tired. 

“Tomas, I’ll take a rain-check on that.  I still feel pretty exhausted and I want to unpack a little and shower before I eat, but I would love to have dinner with you sometime soon.”

He nods understandingly.  “Of course, Eva.  I’ll get out of your hair now and let you settle in.  But I’ll check in on your from time to time. And of course, you will owe me a dinner date.  I’ll come around to collect on that.  Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

I smile and agree and walk him to the door where he kisses both of my cheeks in the European fashion before he leaves.

Regardless of my rumbling tummy, I find that I am simply too tired to be of much good.  The jet-lag has gotten to me.  I grab a crocheted blanket from the back of the couch and curl up for a nap.  To my complete surprise, I don’t wake up for six hours, when it is once again evening. 

Jet lag has truly wiped me out, I decide as I sit up and stretch, then drag myself from the small couch. 

I make my way into the tiny bathroom to shower and brush my teeth.  Traveling around the world does tend to make a person happy for the small things in life.  I have decided that clean teeth and clean underwear are two of the most important things in the world. Without them, I feel less than human.

I put my clothing away in the little dresser in the bedroom and then set up an office area in the little kitchenette.  It is dark outside but my stomach is rumbling louder than ever and I find myself wondering how long the little bistro that Tomas told me about will stay open tonight.  Since I am famished and don’t have any food in the house yet, I decide to find out.

Despite my long nap, I’m too weary to walk so I examine the little scooter.  Figuring out how to work it is a challenging feat in the dark, especially since there isn’t a porch light.  But once I figure out the various buttons, I roll down the curving road in the direction that Tomas had pointed earlier.  At just around the kilometer and a half mark, just like Tomas said, I find a small path that leads down to the beach and I nose the little scooter downward. 

When I get to the sand, I park it and walk since I know there is no way that the wheels would make it on the beach.  As I walk along, a scream emanates from the dark. 

I stop still in my tracks and glance around nervously, as the hair raises on my neck.

There’s no one here but me. The only movement is the sea sliding back and forth along the foamy lip of the shore, and the trees rustling quietly along the craggy cliffs above. 

It’s quiet now.  And I wonder if perhaps someone was playing.  Maybe a child?  It sounded like a woman, but I can’t really be sure.  And it’s gone now. So it must’ve been nothing.  If it were something, she’d still be screaming.  And like usual, I am over-analyzing the situation.  I smile to myself because that’s an occupational hazard and keep walking because I can see a little café a hundred yards or so away.  Its welcoming light shines onto the beach around it like a beacon, drawing me to it. 

I step inside and find that it is empty.  There is not a soul seated among the little tables and cozy booths.  A candle flickers at each table, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere and I am instantly in love with this place.  I already know that I will spend many evenings here because I am not much one for cooking.

I walk to the front and stand by the cash register, waiting for someone to notice me. It doesn’t take long for a tiny woman to emerge from a swinging door.  She can’t be any taller than five feet tall, her white hair cut into a fashionable bob.  Her ice blue eyes meet mine and she smiles welcomingly. 

“Welcome.  Table for one?”  She looks past me questioningly.

I nod. “Yes. Table for one.  How late are you open?”

“Oh, we’re open until midnight,” she answers warmly. “Don’t worry about that.”