Chapter 8 - Marella
Ihad one week.
I didn’t know much about modern human customs, but even I was savvy enough to realize that one week to make a man fall in love with me was a borderline impossible task.
At best, I’d delayed my own inevitable demise.
The thought rang through my head as I sat at a table alongside Piazza Centrale, sipping a cappuccino.
The taste of coffee and the feeling of sunshine was nearly enough to make me forget the sheer impossibility of my situation, if only slightly.
It had been centuries since I’d felt the sun against my skin.
I sat with my legs crossed, staring out at the bustling crowd in the square.
In the distance, a denser group of people surrounded the statue where my father and sisters were frozen.
It felt strange seeing them not only in daylight but from such a distant vantage point.
For as long as we’d been cursed, I’d either been directly beside or completely absent from them, preferring to hunt alone when given the opportunity.
So rarely had I been in contact with them that I’d nearly forgotten a few of their voices.
Ordina, of course, was the exception. And it was her voice that I heard in the back of my mind, chastising me for sitting so idly.
Find the Fratello.
That was the first, and arguably most important, step in fulfilling the task the Stone Witch had laid out for me.
Find the Fratello, and somehow, make him fall in love with me in just seven days.
If I succeeded, my family, and all of our trapped people scattered through the city, would be freed from our prisons, free to walk on land without the ever-present need to feast upon humans, to touch and taste water and feel sunshine without the threat of death.
Free to return to the sea, should we so choose.
I closed my eyes and let the memory of salt and brine wash over me, savoring it like wine.
It was all too good to be true. And like the previous bargain, I was sure that the Stone Witch had a caveat I was unable to predict. Even if I were to succeed—and that was a big if—it was likely that she’d somehow twist the deal in her favor, and we’d be trapped in some manner once more.
"Give me some credit, child," she’d said to me as I’d peppered her with questions the night before. "I’m not a monster."
But she’d grinned with sharp, speckled teeth that matched the cobbles beneath our feet.
"If you say so," I’d responded, reaching out my hand in resignation. The sun had been rising. I had the choice of freezing where I stood, to be forever encased in stone like my father, trapped in a living death… or take her deal and buy myself a week of freedom to walk in the sunshine.
I had taken the deal, not because I believed it plausible, but because I was terrified of the alternative. When my hand met hers, she’d disappeared on the wind, leaving nothing behind but a grinding laugh and a stinging sensation in my palm.
One week.
I lifted my hand to take a sip of my cappuccino only to discover that I’d already finished it.
With a sigh, I stood up from the table and glanced over my shoulder at the woman working at the counter inside the cafe.
She was busy taking orders from a large group of customers, eyes darting wildly between them as they spoke to her in broken Italian with accents I didn’t recognize.
Feeling only slightly guilty, I took the opportunity to slip away from the table without paying, grateful that so many restaurants here operated under an eat-now-pay-after policy.
I made my way into the shadows of a narrow side street, taking in the sight of storefronts and restaurants surrounding me. Windows I’d only ever seen covered with steel bars were suddenly lit up and colorful, with shiny jewelry, beautiful dresses, and expensive shoes displayed on every surface.
I did my best to keep my eyes peeled for the Fratello, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t distracted by the amount of excess surrounding me.
The last time I roamed these streets, most of the shops sold much simpler wares: bread, fish, maybe some crockery.
It was amazing to see how human spending had diverged so much from need to want over the course of history, because surely there was no need for a skintight red dress that barely skimmed the tops of the knees.
But it still caught my attention, still made me stop in my tracks and stare at it through the spotless window of the storefront. My reflection stared back at me faintly, so it looked like my face was painted across the dress.
I took in the look of my clothes. The Witch had not seen fit to give me attractive clothes this time around.
Instead, she’d put me in ill-fitting brown trousers and a tight black top with thin straps.
Across my shoulder was a worn, brown leather backpack.
It was obvious from the stares I received, and from the way everyone else was dressed, that this was not a fashionable choice.
Before I had even registered the decision, I was walking into the store, trying my best to look both confident and inconspicuous. There were only a few other women inside, some browsing on their own, and a couple being shown various articles of clothing by the shop attendant.
"Ciao!" she greeted me without so much as glancing in my direction as I entered. I smiled and nodded, then immediately turned my head away to try and hide my face.
For a moment, I wondered how I’d get the dress off the mannequin.
Then, I noticed that there was an entire line of them hanging from a steel bar against a nearby wall.
I wandered over slowly, heart pounding. When I made it to the row of dresses, I reached out and gingerly touched one, the way other women were doing, pulling it out to examine.
As I did, I noticed that the dresses all seemed to be different sizes.
How was anyone supposed to know which size to grab?
With a surreptitious glance over my shoulder at the shop attendant, I selected a dress from the middle of the row, holding it up against myself to compare it to the size of my body.
"Would you like to try it on?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin as another shop attendant appeared beside me. She was shorter than me, with a mane of black curls and a bored expression on her face. I was surprised that she spoke to me in English. Perhaps it was the way I was dressed.
"Si," I answered her in weak Italian, just to prove a point. Her expression didn’t change, but she nodded her head as if to say ‘follow me.’
She led me to a set of curtained-off rooms at the back of the store.
My mouth went dry as I stepped into the one she held open for me; I was suddenly much further from the front of the store, with more distance to cover in my escape.
I smiled at her as she pulled the curtain closed; she did not return the expression.
Once I was ensconced in the private room, I peeled off the clothes left to me by the Witch, letting them fall to the floor unceremoniously.
Unfortunately, there was little to be done about my shoes; I hadn’t seen any in the shop, and even if I had, I couldn’t risk adding more to my hands at this point.
I pulled on the dress slowly, reveling in the way the soft fabric felt against my skin.
Even when we’d woken up in decent clothes, they’d never been this fine.
Once it was on, I turned to look at myself in the small mirror affixed to the wall.
It was the first time in a long time I’d seen my reflection in the light of day.
I was paler than I remembered, with the slight echo of dark circles painted beneath my green eyes.
The dress was a little tighter than I would have preferred, leaving little of the contours of my body to the imagination. I should have grabbed a larger size, but there was no way I could risk going back to the row of dresses now.
After what I assumed was an acceptable amount of time, I pulled my clothes on over the dress. The thin straps of the shirt did little (or nothing) to hide the straps of the red dress, but once my backpack was on, I was able to hide it well enough to escape.
Hopefully.
When I was once again dressed, I stuck my head out from behind the curtain to glance around. Both shop attendants were now helping other people, and they looked to be relatively distracted.
Slowly, I stepped out of the small room and walked towards the front door. I didn’t run, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. With any luck, they’d assume I’d simply left the dress behind. My heartbeat slammed against every inch of my body with every step I took towards the door.
When I reached for the handle, a voice stopped me dead in my tracks, again making me jump in surprise.
"Grazie," she said, and I felt myself slowly deflate. Thank you. Once again, I nodded, but didn’t speak, and let myself step outside into the busy street, where I could blend into anonymity among the crowd.
With every step I took away from the shop, I felt my nerves growing more and more at ease. As I moved to turn a corner onto a different street, I was almost convinced that I’d gotten away with the heist.
But then, there was a shout from behind me, and before I could start running, a firm hand clamped down upon my upper arm.
Shit.