Chapter 9
Vivi
In my memory, I am a girl again. A tiny thing, more of a wild goblin than a human being. My hair is wild, my face is dirty, and my shoes are long abandoned after getting them wet from playing with a garden hose. My little stomach is plump from the treats from vendors in the streets of Cervinara—the pizza chiena, the chestnuts, the capocollo.
My family always travels for the Easter festival to Campania, Italy, and this little village in the Avellino province is so far removed from the dangers of New York that the adults let me roam free. I’m aware of my father’s men lingering in the crowd, always watching, but life as a Don’s daughter has made them mostly invisible.
Wallpaper in a busy room.
I wander, the stonework of the streets hot and dry under my bare feet.
Cervinara is the ancestral home of the Valachi family. When my family lived here long ago, they were nothing but small farmers. Father says the Valachis gained their power and came back to Cervinara as conquerors. My great-grandparents were nothing, but now my father owns this village, the entire town the spoils of some decades-past war.
I don’t really see it. It’s just a village, friendly and cozy, and everything New York is not. The street vendors reach across their stands to hand me their tasty treats. Old Lucia’s granddaughter gave me a pretty necklace just yesterday. It bounces against my narrow chest now as I skip, and I curl my fingers around it, relishing the weight of my new treasure.
She told me to be sure to tell Father about it when I got home, and I did. I showed him the gift, and he measured it gently with his fingers before nodding in satisfaction. “That will do,” he murmured and set me down.
My feet slap against the road as I move closer to the fountain in the middle of the town square. I see Angel, his hair still a dark, muddy blond. His hair wouldn’t darken until years later, after puberty. Right now, he’s leaning over the edge of the fountain, trying to steady a small boat he made from newspaper.
Although I don’t make a peep, he stills, becoming aware of my presence. This is how he is with me and Lulu. Always watchful. Always protective.
He turns to me and smiles, the gesture softening the angularity of his face. Father is always complaining that Angel is too skinny, saying that he needs to man up. Mama says he’s just busy—always moving. He burns his food away as soon as he eats it. Regardless, Angel is strong.
He’s plenty manly, in my opinion. Like Superman-ly. He’s the strongest boy I know. Not that I know many. I’m not allowed to talk to boys yet. Lulu, either.
The sun has kissed freckles across Angel’s cheeks, and his dark brown eyes focus on me.
“There you are, sorellina .”
“Here I am. Did you see my pretty necklace?”
He grunts and returns his attention to the boat. I tuck my bare toes in the stonework of the fountain and reach for the top lip, attempting to pull myself up. I can’t quite reach, though, and my toes streak down the side. “Ow.”
“Wait a minute…” Seeing that I want to get up on the side of the fountain so I can see better, he helps me climb up and sets me beside him on the wide ledge, then goes back to his work with the boat. The newspaper is absorbing the water too quickly, making the boat pitch sideways. He mutters words under his breath that I’ve heard our father say, words I know are not meant for children.
“Angel…” I warn.
He rolls his eyes and ignores me.
Above me, the sky darkens with cloud cover, and the wind picks up. I smell smoke from the vendors. They’re cooking something… soppressata, maybe? I’m not sure what… it doesn’t smell exactly like the sliced salami I like so much, and I don’t think they’d cook that, anyway, but later Angel will take me to the stands and buy me something. He always does.
When I look back at Angel to remind him of this, though, he is no longer concentrating on his boat. The boat is gone, and the fountain is gone. He is looking at me, and his smile is gone.
The intensity in his gaze scares me.
“Wake up, sorellina . You need to wake up now.”
“I am awake,” I tell him. I look around, my brow furrowing. “Where is the boat?” The square begins to blur at the edges. “Angel, what is happening—”
His voice is insistent. “You’re not. Wake up. There isn’t much time.”
Not awake…?
As if emerging from a drugged slumber, I pry my eyes open. It is still daylight, and the heat of the sunlight piercing the window sheers warms my body beneath the coverlet. Images of Cervinara fade as the bedroom comes into view.
The last vestiges of what was just a dream flicker into wakefulness, all except for the lingering scent of smoke. I frown. I can still smell the smoke of the vendors.
I come fully online, awareness zinging through me.
But there are no vendors…
I sit up in bed. It doesn’t smell like food, either. It’s just…smoke.
My gaze darts around the room, landing on Nikolai, who stands at the door, his hand on the doorknob and his entire body tensed in a listening posture.
“Nikolai?”
He holds up a hand to silence me, then gestures to me to come.
“It’s not too hot. We need to go.”
All at once, it hits me.
Fire.
A force of nature more powerful and destructive than any of the Five. Fear trembles along my limbs as I slide my legs over the side of the bed and pad toward the golden bars of my cage. The sound of screaming emanates from the floor below, and all at once, I’m horribly aware that Nikolai could have left me here.
“What is happening?”
The foolishness of my question makes me shake my own head at myself. It’s obvious what is happening.
The house is under attack.
Without responding, Nikolai opens the cage and grabs me by the arm, then leads me to the door and cracks it open. The hallway is clear, and we step fully into it. Screams and smoke slither through the narrow corridor, the screams louder and the smoke more cloying now without the protection of the door between us.
“What do we do?”
Again, he ignores me.
The elevator isn’t an option during a fire. The stairs aren’t an option…there’s a battle being waged beneath us. Nikolai goes to the end of the hallway, peering through the window. By the look on his face, he is gauging whether or not the height is too extreme for us to jump.
Angel’s voice sounds again. There isn’t much time.
Dear God…Angel!
I rip away from Nikolai and run. He gives an abbreviated yell and pursues. In normal circumstances, he would run me down easily, but something primitive drives me, lending me haste. Something more animal than human.
Angel was locked in his cage. Let Nikolai follow me; let him catch me. He probably has a key.
I fly down the staircase, unheeding of any enemy I might run into. Strangely, though, I don’t see anyone. The smoke, although thick, appears to dissipate as I descend. I guess it is since it is floating toward the ceiling.
I move faster, coughing and tripping over my own feet. I don’t know. I don’t care. I can’t be bothered to puzzle it out right now.
One of the walls of the foyer is black from the fire burning through from the adjacent room. The study …the room where Angel is being kept. I run to the double doors and grab the handle.
I scream in pain, releasing the handle. The metal is an agony, burning my flesh.
I might be too late.
Steeling myself, I grab the handle with my shirt and twist, then push through the doors. I’m greeted by thick black smoke that burns my lungs and stings my eyes. Flames lick the walls and furnishings on the opposite side of the room. “Angel!” My voice emerges in a rasp, and I don’t even try again.
Childhood fire safety lessons echo in my mind.
Stop.
Drop.
Roll.
Lowering myself to the floor, I crawl toward the cage.
I crawl until I come face-to-face with Angel, who has also gone to the floor. His eyes blaze into mine, flames reflecting in their brown depths. “Vivi…you need to leave! Now!”
I shake my head. “I can’t leave without you!”
Angel’s grim expression softens. “ Sorellina , Azrael is here. They were sending Molotov cocktails through the windows. If they are doing this, Ivan has probably been targeted, too. You need to get back to Damon and Lulu. Follow Nikolai; he will know how to get out.”
A sob rises in my throat, thick and ugly. I choke against the words that try to squeeze themselves around it. “What about you?”
His lips stretch in a smile. “I’ll be fine. Nikolai will send someone for me.”
It’s a lie. I know it. He is being the big brother, trying to force me to make the decision I don’t want to make. Before I can think of what to say next, how to convince him to do the impossible, arms close around me. It’s Nikolai. He begins dragging me out of the room.
I scream, and this time, the sound emerges with volume, thready though it is.
I scream for Angel, who remains silent. His face registers relief, even. How can he be relieved? He’s going to die here, in this inferno. He’s going to die, and it’s all my fault…I didn’t get him out, I didn’t—
“Angel, nooooo! Nikolai, stop! Go back!”
The smoke gets so thick that his face disappears before I am even out of the room.
I fight Nikolai, kicking and punching at shadows and smoke, all through the hallways, down the stairs, through the basement hallways, and to the secret tunnel that leads to the dock.
I fight until I am on the boat, pulling away from the mansion that blazes on the beaches of the Hudson.
The only thing I can see, though, is the face of the little blond boy who used to walk with me through Cervinara, the boy who destroyed an empire in an effort to protect me.
Not even my husband will be able to fix this. A sob catches in my throat as I watch the shoreline recede.
If he’s even still alive.