Chapter 16
Marcella pulled on her favorite oversized knit sweater and wrapped it snugly around herself.
It was made of soft sheep's wool, dyed a rich purple, and it had belonged to her mother, Amalia.
Her warm Sicilian blood had taken time to get used to the wet, dark winters.
It had been knitted by her when she had been suffering through her first December in the north.
The weather in Florence was dreary, so Marcella had dug out the jumper.
It still carried a faint scent of her mother's old perfume, and Marcella only wore it on days when she wished she could talk to her and get her advice.
It had been a hell of a night. She was struggling with her growing feelings for Cosimo, and she wanted her mother to turn up at her door, feed her sweet treats, and pull tarot cards until Marcella felt better.
Now that Carlo had a contact number for her again, he hadn't stopped with just messaging her a location for a meeting.
At midnight, when he would have no doubt been drunk, her phone had started to light up over and over again.
She ended up turning it off because she couldn't handle reading every bit of nonsense he decided to send her.
It had ranged between longing diatribes about wanting to try and fix their marriage, to abusing her for leaving him, to a picture of his dick to 'show you what you're missing.' She engaged with none of it, but she was exhausted by the barrage nonetheless.
Marcella had woken at 2 a.m., her heart pounding, as Carlo's magic slithered maliciously against the new wards Valentine had put up.
Marcella thought all the years that had passed in relative peace would mean that he had moved on. Opening a way of connection to him had been worse than opening Pandora's box. All his disgusting and abusive behavior had only been building up.
Marcella needed to steady her racing heart and emotions, so she got out cloths, hot water, and oils to clean her altars. She had moved the items to another table and was about to light her first stick of incense when there was a knock at her door.
Only people who lived in the building could get in if they weren't buzzed in from an apartment. Marcella looked through the keyhole and saw three smiling faces. Correction, no one could get in unless they were magicians.
Marcella opened the door and tried not to be embarrassed by her makeup-free face and her hair bundled up into a messy bun.
"Hello. What are you three doing here?" she asked.
Bridget beamed at her and thrust a bouquet of flowers toward her. "Just came to say hi while we are in the city," she said a little too brightly.
"And we have food!" Yelena said, holding up a large shopping bag.
Marcella looked at Charlotte, the only one not acting suspiciously. "Out with it."
"Cosimo was worried, so we are here to check your wards and mental well-being," she said, and the other two glared at her. "What? I'm not going to lie to her. We wanted to see you, too, because from the looks of that message you sent Cosimo, you aren't telling us the whole story."
Marcella couldn't help but laugh at their eager faces.
They weren't her mother, but she sensed when La Madonna was at work.
She knew Marcella yearned for the company of women and sent her some.
"Okay, come in. There had better be something filled with chocolate in that bag.
I'll find some water for these flowers."
The women followed Marcella into her apartment, all wide-eyed and eager to exclaim over paintings and antiques.
"What's all this for?" Yelena asked, staring at the dining table covered in objects.
"I was cleaning my altars. I like to do it once a week and give them a new arrangement. Who wants something to drink?" Marcella asked, moving into the kitchen.
"If I get you to make me tea, will you read my leaves?" Bridget asked, studying the statue of San Lorenzo before lighting his candle with a snap of her fingers.
"I don't read leaves, but I read coffee grinds," Marcella replied.
Charlotte called. "I want coffee too."
"I want to help clean your pretty statues. Are they your gods? What happened with Carlo?" Yelena rattled off.
Marcella laughed and filled her kettle. "Mio Dio, one thing at a time. Let's start with coffee and go from there. It's been a long night."
"I can sense dirty fingers have been pulling on the wards," Charlotte said disapprovingly. "Cosimo was right that your ex has been an asshole."
Marcella huffed out a breath. "Is Cosimo ever wrong?"
"Not often," Bridget said and rummaged in the bag, pulling out an almond croissant. "He's worried about you. All of us are, because you are our friend, and we really don't like bullies."
"I give in. Here," Marcella said and pushed her phone across the counter to Bridget. Charlotte and Yelena crowded in to look over her shoulders.
Marcella got busy making a French press full of coffee while they became a chorus of snorts, giggles, and gagging sounds.
"That dick isn't something he should be proud of," Bridget commented, turning the phone this way and that. "He didn't even pose it right to try and make it look better."
"Is this big for a human man?" Yelena asked, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe dragons just have bigger dicks."
"Do they ever. Or it could just be Greatdrakes dicks," Charlotte said, surprising Marcella and setting the other girls laughing. It wasn't something she expected the more reserved Charlotte to say, but perhaps she just needed to get to know her better.
"Dragons are big, eh? Fae, too?" Marcella asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"In general, they are all over big. Same with the wolf shifters. Big Viking dudes who love to get naked and turn into wolves? You see it all whether you're looking or not," Bridget replied and waggled her eyebrows.
Marcella was still laughing as she poured them all coffee and arranged the pastries on a plate. She snagged the chocolate croissant before anyone else could.
"Bas baking again?" she asked.
"Oh, no. He was too busy trying to get Cosimo to leave Florence to bake. These aren't bad, though," Bridget replied. "So you are a witch. Can't you like, hex Carlo's dick to shrivel up or something?"
Marcella shook her head. "I'm not that kind of strega. I could do it, but I won't. It's not worth the magical price for a moment of pettiness. Ignoring Carlo costs nothing, and it pisses him off more than anything else. His ego is astounding."
"Probably a good thing you didn't share all these with Cosimo," Yelena said, chewing her lip. "He wouldn't hesitate to hex Carlo, that's for sure. If he stopped at hexing and not dismemberment."
"He offered to castrate Carlo for me, and I have to be honest, this morning I was tempted to take him up on the offer," Marcella said and rubbed her shoulder. "Carlo will be worse in person, so I'm happy you are all coming."
Charlotte pushed a flake of pastry about her plate. "Why is he being like this now? He's had years to try and get you back."
"It's a control thing. If he can't have me, no one else can," Marcella said with a shake of her head. "I'm not with anyone now, but just knowing I'm working with a magician like Cosimo has fired up his machismo bullshit."
All three girls looked thoughtful, and silence stretched out in the kitchen.
"He might get worse when he actually sees you with Cosimo," Charlotte said, after a few long moments.
Marcella chewed her croissant. "I like to think he will shut his mouth when dealing with another man, but I doubt it."
"Yeah, he's probably going to sulk. You and Dad kind of…sparkle at each other," Bridget said, waving her fingers about.
Marcella tried not to choke on her pastry. "We argue. We don't sparkle."
"Kind of do," Yelena said. "It's nice that you get along and can argue about books and things. Magicians need that, and you aren't just a normal witch, are you?"
"What makes you say that?" Marcella asked, straightening her shoulders.
Yelena pointed to her bracelet. "You are wearing a spell that shields how powerful you are. We all know it. We just don't know why you would. Also, why did Carlo's mother want you to make babies so much? What's up with your bloodline?"
"Steady on. This isn't an interrogation," Bridget said.
"Yet," Charlotte added, a steely look in her eyes. "We only want to be sure we have no surprises when we get to Forli tomorrow."
Marcella touched the bracelet. "It's not malicious. I'm not trying to deceive you all. Quite the opposite, in fact."
"We never said it was," Bridget replied, her tone softening. "You can trust us. We aren't some moral police. We all have dark shit going on in the family. We aren't going to turn away from yours."
Marcella swallowed the lump of tears in her throat. She was always taught to hide, not to show it, not let anyone feel it. These girls, this family…maybe they wouldn't judge her.
"It might be easier to explain things before I show you." Marcella got up and lifted a carved statue. "This is the patron god of the Sforza family. To the Greeks, he is Hermes, but in Forli, he is known as Téramó."
"God of magicians," Bridget said with an approving nod.
"And thieves, crossroads, trade…" Charlotte rattled off for Yelena's benefit.
Bridget frowned. "How did you keep a patron pagan god with all the Christians about?"
"Very carefully. Don't get me wrong, like it is similar to a lot of today's folk magic practitioners, we prayed to and revered God, La Madonna, and Jesus like good Catholics.
The saints and the old gods are more like…
" she struggled to find the right word, "helpers.
They would also be comfortable getting angry at their saint or patron god by threatening to stop worshiping them if they didn't come to their aid. "
"I've heard about saint punishing," Bridget said and looked at the few at the table in front of her. "Does it work?"
Marcella shrugged. "Sometimes. I've never felt the need to do it, but my patron gods have been on both sides of my family for a long time. They look after us. We look after them."
"And who was your mother's god?" Yelena asked and pointed to the Black Madonna. "It's her, yes? I can feel her pulsing a little. Like your Hermes."
Marcella reverently touched the carved Madonna.
"My mother was from Sicily, from a place called Agrigento.
It has a lot of ancient temples to the old gods there.
There are legends that say that Persephone returns there when she comes back from the Underworld to bring the spring, among many others.
The cult of Demeter and Persephone was very strong there because of it.
When Christianization happened, the goddess took the face of a Madonna so the people could continue to worship her.
This Madonna was carved by one of my mother's ancestors, whose patron goddess was always Persephone.
She is Our Lady of the Underworld, Megala Thea, the Great Goddess. The Etruscans called her Persipnei."
Yelena studied her carefully. "You pray to them, and they help you? Like deity magic?"
"Yes. Do dragons have a goddess that you like to pray to?" Marcella asked.
"There are Celtic ones the Fae revere like Dagda and Danu," Yelena replied. "I didn't know if they would listen to a wild dragon like me, but then again, I've only ever really asked them for one thing."
"What was that?" Bridget asked.
Yelena simply said, "Valentine."
"It looks like they answered then," Marcella said, the romantic part of her touched.
"I'm explaining these gods to you specifically because they are why I wear the bracelet and why Renata wanted me to have babies.
She was pissed off that my father married a southerner when both their parents wanted to match them up.
He went south for the summer one year and came home with my mother.
He and Renata were never engaged, but that was when Renata really started to resent the family.
I married Carlo, and she still couldn't have access to our gifts. "
"Which are…" Charlotte prompted.
Marcella fiddled with the bracelet again.
"From Hermes, the Sforzas have been blessed with a type of charisma.
It's why Caterina defied every power player of her age and still survived to die a natural death.
The Sforzas can't help it. I hit puberty, and the charm was so strong, I needed the bracelet to stop men from following me home.
It helps dull it down. I wear it still, so I know if people like me for me or the ability. "
"And what did you get from Our Lady?" Bridget asked. She was clever, Marcella knew. She could see her going through the mental list of things the old goddess was attributed to.
Marcella touched a small skull charm on her bracelet. "Necromantia."
"Whoa, you can make zombies?" Bridget asked, eyes wide with excitement.
"No. No reanimation. I speak with ghosts and spirits.
Raise old ones to tell me their secrets, even control them if I choose.
Hermes is also a psychopomp, a guide of souls to the afterlife, so his blessings enhance my power over spirits.
People have always feared speaking with the dead.
It makes other magic users uneasy because they can feel death in my aura," Marcella said quickly.
Knowing that they needed to experience it for themselves, she unclipped the bracelet and let it fall to the table. All three women reared back as the power of her magical field hit them.
"Holy crap," Bridget and Charlotte whispered at the same time.
Yelena's smile went wide and delighted. "Dad is going to love this."