Chapter 6 - Marella
Ishould have left the man to die.
He was a member of the Fratelli, a monster driven by blood and lies. Were our situations reversed, had he known who and what I was, I knew that he wouldn’t have hesitated not only to let them kill me, but to aid them in their efforts.
But something about seeing him huddled on the ground, looking at me with that stupid expression of hope and relief, knowing that he’d protected me not once, but twice, had stirred an annoying sort of compassion from somewhere deep inside of me, and I’d acted without thinking.
It was embarrassingly easy to rip my way through the pathetic men. Once I’d slashed Brian’s throat, they’d all cowered before me like children, screaming and begging for their lives as I raked my fingernails through each of them one at a time.
Now, their blood painted the walls of the alley around me, and I barely felt out of breath.
In the middle of the mess, the Fratello lay unconscious, his dagger abandoned on the ground, inches away from his outstretched fingers. At least he hadn’t been awake to witness my outburst. Had he been, I may have had to finish him off as well, despite his aid.
A wave of thirst crashed over me, and I looked up at the thin sliver of sky visible between the towering buildings on either side of us, seeing that the clouds were beginning to shimmer with the faint glow of impending sunrise.
My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest. If I didn’t drink soon, I’d miss my chance and end up frozen in stone without waking forever, like my father.
I glanced around at the mess I’d made. There was plenty of blood to choose from, but I found my attention caught by the Fratello.
While the blood from the other men reeked of alcohol and drugs, his smelled clean.
And while less of it had been spilled, his body was littered with enough lesions that I knew I could add one more without drawing too much attention to the wound.
It was tempting. I knew he would taste better than the disgusting mounds of flesh piled behind me.
But I couldn’t bring myself to bite him. Whether it was out of fear of being discovered by the Fratelli, or simply because I didn’t know what would happen to him if I bit him and left him alive… I turned my attention back to the dead men, even as the smell from their bodies turned my stomach.
When I knew I’d had enough to keep me sustained for the rest of the month, I dropped the last of them to the ground with an unceremonious thud and turned back to the Fratello.
I examined him for a moment, partially out of curiosity, partially to ensure that he wasn’t dead after all.
But his breathing seemed at ease, his face calm, despite the cuts and bruises covering him.
It was as though he’d slipped from troubled unconsciousness into a deep and peaceful sleep.
He looked unnaturally innocent in his slumber, sandy blond hair falling into his eyes, making him seem extremely young, even with his face speckled in blood and gore.
But all human men seemed young to me now.
I stood, brushing dirt from my dress as I did so, and began walking back towards the street, moving with purpose as I rushed to get back to the piazza before the sun had fully risen.
We were never quite sure what would happen if we were somewhere else when day broke across the city, but after seeing what had happened to my father, I had little desire to test any element of the witch’s curse.
Then, almost without thinking, I stopped and turned back towards the pile of bodies in the alleyway, my gaze falling on the Fratello’s dagger.
It was likely that he’d be blamed for the assault if he were found both near the murdered men and with a weapon in his possession. And while it annoyed me to care about his well-being, something inside me was unsettled by the thought of him being thrown into prison for me.
A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I turned back around. The piazza wasn’t more than a twenty-minute walk away. I could drag and drop him somewhere safer on my way home.
First, I picked up his dagger and shoved it into the inner pocket of my jacket.
Then, with a grunt, I bent down to lift him once more, this time propping him against my shoulder and wrapping my arm around his waist. There was no way that we weren’t going to attract attention; I just hoped that his robes were dark enough to hide the extent of the blood covering his body.
The going was slower than I anticipated.
He wasn’t heavy, but it was still awkward to walk with him against me as nothing but dead weight.
I struggled to move naturally, and my progress was hindered by the need to keep away from main streets and crowds of people.
I navigated our way towards the piazza through back alleys and side streets, lowering my head as we passed anyone whose gaze lingered on us a moment too long.
When I thought that we were far enough away from the dead men to make the Fratello’s attack seem like an unrelated act of violence, I set him down carefully beside a trash collection bin.
Again, his head lolled to the side, and again I was struck by the innocence in his soft features.
"Thanks for the help, Fratello," I whispered as I straightened back up, somehow unwilling—or maybe just unable—to tear my gaze away from him. "It won’t happen again."
For a moment, his eyes fluttered, and I froze, knowing that he’d already seen too much of my face for comfort. But it was only a passing thing, and he stilled once more, sinking further into himself on the hard ground.
After removing his dagger from my jacket and tossing it to his side, I turned to run from the dawn, knowing that I had mere minutes to return to the piazza before the sun hit the streets and I found myself in uncharted territory.
But before I could move more than a few steps, a strong hand reached out from the darkness and wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me in my tracks.
"Not so fast, Princess," a familiar voice hissed, and I felt my blood turn to stone.
It was her.