Chapter 20 - Marella
The apartment looked no different than it had the day before. Light spilled in from the tall windows, curtains blowing in the breeze. There was no evidence that anything monumental had taken place at all. No great fissure had opened in the floor. The walls still stood, unscathed.
And yet, when I looked at it, all I could see was the crumbling mess of mistakes piling around me.
I’d considered following him. At one point, I’d even stepped outside, into the piazza, where I’d wandered around fruitlessly, trying not to make eye contact with any of the late night revelers.
But I couldn’t bring myself to hunt him down.
In the bright light of the early morning, I sat on the edge of the bed, in exactly the same place he’d left me the night before.
I could still feel his mouth on mine.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was back against the wall with him pressed into me, his fingers on my skin, his mouth at my throat, his body warm and solid and so wonderfully alive…
And then—
Garrett?
The way he’d looked at me. The sudden flash of terror.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
I had five more days.
I was a fool. Whatever egotistical urge had convinced me that this was possible was wholly evaporated. In its place was a horrible, yearning sort of desperation.
Because it wasn’t just my life on the line anymore. I could deal with the threat of being locked away forever. And my family wouldn’t even know the difference.
But now.
Now, his freedom was threatened. And that knowledge petrified me to my core.
Better go get him.
I could find the Fratelli. I was sure it wouldn’t be hard. I could wander the streets until we crossed paths, then smile and pretend that last night meant nothing.
The fact that it meant everything is what scared him… right?
I threw myself back onto the bed, groaning in frustration.
Men had never been difficult to manipulate. I’d been doing it for centuries. A glance held for just the right amount of time. A hand placed in the crook of an elbow. A carefully chosen word spoken at the exact right volume.
But Petra was right.
Love was something different. And try as I might, I didn’t know how to manufacture it.
The fact that Garrett wanted me didn’t seem to make a difference. Not when he was clearly at war with himself over it.
I pulled one of the fluffy pillows from the bed and pressed it against my face, screaming into the fabric until my throat felt raw. And then, when I couldn’t scream anymore, I stood, crossed the room, slipped into my shoes, and left the apartment.
I wasn’t going looking for him.
At least, that’s what I told myself as I descended the narrow staircase to the ground floor.
I just needed to get outside. I just needed some fresh air, an escape from the memories of last night.
The piazza was already crawling with people when I stepped out into the warm sunshine, reveling in the feeling of it kissing my shoulders.
For so long, my mornings belonged to others. Faceless masses of bodies swarming around me for centuries, tossing coins and taking pictures, clothing styles changing, but humans remaining very much unchanged.
But now, I could enjoy the way the world smelled as everything began to move.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of black fabric and blond hair. Like it was being pulled on a rubber band, my head snapped to the left.
But it wasn’t Garrett. It was just a woman in a long, black leather jacket, too warm for this weather, walking towards the fountain with a camera in her hand.
For a moment, I felt relief. I wasn’t sure what I’d say to him if I found him standing there. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stop myself from running to him.
But then, a wave of disappointment hit me, and I felt a hot, sick sensation crawling up my neck.
I decided to follow the woman towards the fountain, because what else was I going to do?
I didn’t look at the statues, instead letting my focus drift from face to face of the tourists surrounding them. Something inside me made me divert my gaze until my knees hit the raised stone at the fountain’s edge.
For a long moment, I stared into the swirling water. Around me voices rose and fell as they always had, wishes and plans and snippets of conversation shared when people thought no one was paying attention.
Slowly, I raised my head and looked at my family. Blank eyes focused on the near distance. Bland, emotionless faces. Limbs locked in unnatural positions.
None of the statues looked like my sisters anymore, just like mine no longer looked like me.
Time and the intricacies of Petra's curse had changed us so much that I barely remembered how we looked when the stone swallowed us up.
I glanced at the statue that had been my prison, shuddering at her vacant expression.
I knew they could see me. That was the crux of the curse—we watched the world move on without us, unable to join. For so long, I had yearned to be part of this world again.
Now, I would only get a brief taste before an eternity locked away.
My eyes settled on the statue that I knew held Ordina. She was always the only one of my sisters as rebellious as me. I thought back to that last night, when I had dismissed her warnings. I wished so much now that I had brought her with me.
I wished I wasn’t alone.
I was risking everything. Risking my own freedom, and my ability to free them. All for a man I would have once killed on sight.
Quietly, I whispered the words that had been weighing on my heart. I knew no one around me would be paying attention. No one would blink an eye at the strange woman whispering to the statue.
"I’m sorry," I said. "I tried."
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But when I was locked away and unable to tell them anything anymore, I wanted them to know that I truly wanted to succeed.
As I turned to leave, a flash of silver caught my eye.
When I looked up, a man was standing there. A graying mass of wild hair partially covered his eyes, but his lips curved into a mischievous smile. The combination made it difficult to place his age.
His sudden appearance startled me enough that I stumbled a step backwards, and he reached out a hand to catch my wrist.
He wore the red-stitched robes of the Fratelli. Before I could pull myself away, he had steadied me, stepping closer and whispering so only we could hear.
"Hello, Marella."
My heart jumped to my throat. I couldn’t fight him with so many people around.
"Ssshhhhh," he said, equally as soft. "There’s no need to be afraid. No need to cause a scene."
I glared at him, trying fruitlessly to get him to relinquish his grip on my wrist.
He shook his head, just slightly. "My name is Lucas." His bright eyes bore into mine. "And I think you and I have a shared goal."