A Dance of War Page 6

  Clinging to the shadows in the alley beside the church, trepidation builds as I wait for Raphael. Our kiss is all I’ve been able to think about. Every now and then, I’ll touch my lips just to feel where his had been.

  My first kiss was with a boy three years older than me—the son of one of my father’s soldiers—at the Christmas party my parents throw every year. It was obvious he had kissed plenty of girls, where I fumbled nervously, and couldn’t wait for it to be over. In hindsight, I wish Raphael was my first. I wasn’t nervous with him. It’s like I knew exactly what to do: when to angle my head, and when to sweep my tongue over his. It was everything a kiss should be.

  That night, as I sat down to dinner with my parents, I was happy. And having my own secret from them felt good. If my father knew I had let a Marocchi touch me, he would punish me beyond anything my imagination could conjure up. If he finds out I’m meeting up with him, he’ll have me shipped out of the city until he can marry me off. Yet, the excitement of sneaking around and sticking to the shadows is feeding life into my soul.

  A boy with a baseball cap shoved down over his eyes pushes through the crowd, and I know it’s him.

  My hands clam up at the sight of him, and a smile takes over my face. Stepping deeper into the alley as he gets closer, he envelopes me in his warmth, cradling my face in his hands to kiss me once again.

  “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I last saw you,” he whispers. His admission has my smile growing wider.

  Before I can respond with my own acknowledgement, he takes me by the hand and leads me to the side door of the church. Once inside, I’m surprised to find he knows his way around, as he heads straight for the vestry.

  Father Luke lurches up from his seat behind his desk and rushes over to us.

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “No, Father,” Raphael replies. Father Luke relaxes and smiles when he looks down at our entwined hands.

  “Very good.” He motions for us to sit on the old, worn-out couch. As we take a seat, Raphael squeezes my hand and holds it tight.

  “Why are we here?” I begin.

  I’m not stupid. I know this has to do with the prophecy, but we don’t turn eighteen for another fifteen months. And it’s not like we hold any power within our families. I’m a girl, and will never hold any sway over the men’s decisions in my family. From conversations I’ve overheard, Raphael will be initiated into the family business on his eighteenth birthday.

  “We’ve both heard the prophecy from everyone all our lives, apart from the one person who foresaw it. I thought we could hear it together.”

  “What is it you believe exactly?” I question.

  Smiling, he takes his seat behind his desk.

  “I believe you were both born into this world to bring forth great things, hence the reason you were born at the same time on the same night to rival families. While it hasn’t shown itself before now, I see that it’s beginning to.” He nods to our clasped hands.

  “You’re at the start of your path, and I’m all too excited to see where it leads.”

  “What do you expect us to achieve? Our fathers have been at each other’s throats their entire lives. How can we possibly bring them together?” Removing his hat, he then looks to me. “I believe in the prophecy. I wasn’t expecting to feel such things for you, Jamila, believing we would achieve peace by different means. But after meeting you at the peace ball, everything has changed. The path I’m on is so much clearer now, and I have a plan.”

  Father Luke clears his throat and stands. “I’ll let you two to talk. Be sure to leave separately when you’re done.”

  He slips out of the room and closes the door behind him.

  “I still don’t understand how the two of us can bring some kind of peace to our families.”

  I must be missing something, because I just don’t understand.

  “I’ve been visiting with Father Luke since I was fourteen, and we’ve discussed the prophecy many times. I refuse to accept I was born to continue on with the violent, unnecessary deaths in Vita. Father Luke was always cryptic with his answers to my questions, and I now see why.”

  “Well, do you think you can you fill me in?”

  He cups my cheek with his free hand, and I find myself pushing into his touch.

  “My Mila,” he breathes. “Our souls have been connected since before we took our first breath. Do you feel a pull toward me as I do to you?”

  I nod, though my mind is swirling with questions.

  “The last three days of not seeing you after only meeting you twice, albeit briefly, have been the worst three days of my life. I’ve been out of my mind, wondering what you were doing, if you were happy or sad. All we needed was one sighting of each other for the prophecy to begin.”

  “You’re talking in circles, Raphael. Tell me what it is you see so clearly?” I plead.

  “Father Luke was right. Our destiny to bring peace to Vita can be achieved. It’ll be our love for one another that brings peace. A love so strong, it will unite two families.”

  He speaks with such conviction, I almost sink into the belief of the prophecy as well.

  “If my father learns that we’re seeing each other, it will only escalate the violence between our families, and he’ll do everything in his power to keep us apart. I’d never see you again.”

  And that thought hurts more than it should.

  “I don’t think you see your path as clearly as you think you do. We begin by marrying in secret on our eighteenth birthday, with Father Luke conducting the ceremony. And with the ink dry on the marriage certificate, neither of our families will dare argue with God.”

  My eyes widen, and my hand flies up to cover my mouth. I can’t work out if the swarm of flutters in my stomach is a good or a bad thing.

  “You can’t be serious? This would get Father Luke killed! My father will want his blood.”

  “The Father knows our path won’t be easy. He’s also aware there may be sacrifices.”

  Pulling my hand from his, I frown.

  “You’d want this knowing what will happen to Father Luke?”

  “I should rephrase. Father Luke will be looked out for. We want peace in Vita, and even I know this will get messier before that can happen.”

  I can’t believe it, but I’m already forming plans to keep Father Luke safe, which means I’m getting married on my eighteenth birthday—for love.

  Chapter Seven

  Raphael

  Cristian is first to arrive to the meeting, followed closely by Frankie and Carlo—my henchmen, so to speak.

  “No Leo yet?” Cristian huffs, pulling out a chair around the circular table I’m seated at.

  Snorting, I wave him off dismissively and reach for my smokes. Lighting one up, I inhale deeply, wondering why I got stuck with the most selfish, laziest brother in all of history.

  “Do you want me to go find him?” Frankie asks, still standing by the door. Before I can respond, my brother stumbles in, looking half asleep, his hair and clothes a dishevelled mess.

  Frankie relaxes into his seat before Leo bumps into his chair, laughing at his own clumsiness. No one else in the room finds it funny, and I’m growing tired of his recklessness. He reeks of alcohol and sex. I’m not amused.

  My father used to worry I had too much heart to make the decisions needed to carry on the family’s ways, but he knew I was a better choice than my brother. He’s never been one to conform to anything, other than who he wants to be and what he wants to do. I used to be jealous of him, but now all I feel is disgust.

  “Explain why we’re here, brother. I have a fine piece of ass waiting on me.”

  Biting my tongue, I push on, when all I really want to do is slam his face into the table.

  “Unless you’ve been at the bottom of a liquor bottle and face down in ass, you would’ve heard word about the Camarco’s laying down their weapons and vowing to end their violence at the dinner last night.”

 
“We’ve heard,” Cristian murmurs, raising his brow in Leo’s direction. “We just hoped it was bullshit.”

  “I assure you, it’s not. Although, I don’t think it’s to be believed.”

  “She’s backing our asses into a corner, then.”

  Leo chuckles. “I’d say she’s bent us over and dry fucked us in the ass.”

  Narrowing my eyes, Cristian interjects before I can open my mouth.

  “I wouldn’t say that at all. And besides, what do you care? You haven’t fought a single day for this family. You only show up to keep Raphe appeased so he doesn’t cut you off and kick you out.”

  Not this again. Inhaling one last, long draw on my cigarette, I exhale heavily and stub it out in the astray.

  “Fuck you. Why do I need to fight when we have men willing to do it for us? Take these two assholes.” He points to Frankie and Carlo. “They’ve worked for us for years, and they’ll die for us if needed. So tell me, why would I do anything but enjoy my status?”

  “Your status? Everyone thinks you’re a useless, no good drunken whore. Even the whores complain on their way out about how unnecessary you are in bed, that they can do a better job themselves.”

  I slam my hand down on the table and bark, “Enough!”

  We don’t have time to argue amongst ourselves over petty quarrels.

  “Regardless of their move last night, we have a common goal for Alexander. We both want him dead. Our priority has changed somewhat, and we now need to plan for the fallout. Jamila is making moves to become the beloved widow, which will make the people feel sorry for her.”

  Leo reaches for my smokes and lights one up. “Fuck the people. Bomb the mayor’s mansion, the Camarco estate, and be done with the lot of them.”

  His lack of zest for family duty astounds me, always seeking the simplest and laziest routes. Planting bombs brings too much attention to us. Attention that could lead to authorities being brought in from outside of the city.

  “As fucked up as our city is, the people still need security. Having the mayor between the two families gives them that,” Cristian counters. “Regardless of taking Jamila out, the people need an establishment away from us.”

  “We could set it up,” Frankie offers, and I squeeze the lighter in my hand.

  “As far as the city thinks, the Camarco’s are about peace now, which means any bloodshed will be directed at us. And with Alexander’s ring on Jamila’s finger, they’ll both come at us.”

  “What do you propose, then?” Cristian asks.

  I’ve been going over it all night, ever since I stepped out of the church.

  Leaning forward, I rest my arm on the table and say, “We hit our own.”

  The silence feels like a heavy blanket over the room, so I continue.

  “Somewhere in the dead of night with no casualty count.”

  Cristian nods. Frankie and Carlo smirk, and Leo rolls his eyes. To be honest, I don’t care what he thinks.

  Christian begins to laugh. “No one would believe her plea for peace.”

  “It sounds like you’ve already decided our next move, so I’ll leave you to hash out the finer details. I still have Gloria tied to my bed.”

  One of these days, I’m going to tie him to something and let the wolves that circle Vita have at him. But as soon as he leaves the room, he’s simply forgotten and I move on.

  “The people who love Jamila know how devoted she is to the church, so we’ll hit St. Jacobs down on the East Side. I’ll cover the renovation costs, and the people will see me as their saviour. Frankie, Carlo, check the place first and make it a spectacular show. Mila acts with class, and this will be no different.”

  They both nod and excuse themselves, leaving Cristian and I alone in the room.

  “Where did you get to last night?” he asks.

  I figure he’s been dying to ask since he stepped into the room, seeing as he never misses a thing.

  “I went for a drive.”

  We both know it’s a lie, but I’m not sharing my few moments with Mila with him. It’s nothing he needs to know, and it never will be.

  I walk into my mother’s room, where the sounds of the machines keeping her alive hiss and whoosh throughout the space.

  Usually, I would settle into the armchair and look out over the gardens. But tonight, I drag it over and set it next to her bed.

  My mother married my father when she was just seventeen, and he treated her like shit, just as he did with his sons and only daughter. She’s still as beautiful as she was when they met. Only now, her blue eyes never open, and I haven’t heard her angelic voice since she tried to end her life after I killed my father. He was no husband to her, but she was the devoted wife, and would have been till the day she died, no matter how horribly he treated her. As I grew older, he grew bolder. He’d bring his whores home and fuck them in her bed, just because he could. I used to think my father was a complicated man, but I soon learned he was just a cold, cruel asshole.

  The day I plunged a blade into his heart was the day I thought she’d finally be free, but I was so wrong.

  She loved him through all his faults, and loved us children just as much. Through her disturbing relationship with my father, there were two sides to Sofia Marocchi. One was for my father, and the other was for her children.

  My father used to say I had too much heart, and that I’d gotten it from my mother. It was the only thing I ever agreed with him on.

  “I went to see her last night, Mom. I held the back of her neck in the palm of my hand, and it was… it was so much more than dancing with her. I don’t know if I wanted to kiss her or strangle her. Hell, it could’ve been both.” The thought of kissing her as her life slowly drains away makes me twitch. “Everything is clear to me but her.” I sigh at the idea of unloading my thoughts on an unresponsive figure, but the unresponsive don’t share secrets. “Every time I vow to end her, I can’t help but think of the past. Father would remind me I have too much heart, that it should be torn from my chest, but how can you ever recover when you’ve felt such real, pure, uncorrupted love like I have?”

  I plead for the Lord to hear my prayers and give my mom back the life she should’ve had. I need answers from her, advice no one walking this earth can give me.

  Sitting back in the chair, I kick my foot up on the edge of her bed and lean my head back.

  Every moment I spent with Mila all those years ago felt right. Every moment we shared was meant to be. Every kiss I stole from her was justified. And the first time we slept together, it was as if our souls connected in the most intimate way possible.

  I can’t let myself think about that night in the old rundown cottage on the edge of the city where I gave her my virginity, and she gave me hers. Had I known that morning it would be the last time she smiled at me, I would have taken her far away and kept her with me forever.

  My eyes fly open when alarms around my mother’s bed start to go off, but she lays as soundly as she has for the last ten years. Punching the button on the wall for the nurse, I grab my mom’s hand. As soon as I do, her eyes snap open, landing on me.

  What the fuck?

  “Mom?”

  Chills prick my skin when her grip tightens around my hand.

  “Fire and burning bones. All the people in Vita wearing black. Blue eyes weeping. Fire and burning bones. All the people in Vita wearing black. Blue eyes weeping. Fire and burning bones. All the people in Vita wearing black. Blue eyes weeping.”

  Her hand goes limp as her head falls back against the pillow. Her eyes drift closed, and the alarms shut down. Hovering over her bed, the only thing out of place is her arm hanging over the edge. Numbly, I straighten her up, and by the time the nurse rushes in, everything is as it was.

  “What is it, Mr. Marocchi?” she asks, out of breath, tightening the belt around her robe.

  “Didn’t you hear the alarms going off?” I snap, still looking over my mother.

  “No.”

  Out of the corner of my eye
, I see her walk over and tinker with the machines.

  “They haven’t gone off, sir.”

  Her confusion only adds to my own. My mother now sleeps as she’s done for a decade, and I step away from the bed.

  “I’ll have them checked over in the morning.”

  “I want her sent for scans in the morning. I want to know if her brain activity has changed.”

  “C-Certainly, Mr. Marocchi.”

  Heading for the door, my mother’s words replay in my head, and I stop. I haven’t had one drink. My frame of mind is clear. I know that shit just happened.

  Is this another vision? Turning to the nurse, I say, “Forget what I said. I want someone sitting with her at all times unless I’m here with her.”

  With a nod, she begins straightening my mom’s sheets as I turn once more to leave.

  Fire and burning bones. The people of Vita wearing black. Blue eyes weeping. I don’t need to be a genius to figure out the vision is of someone’s death.

  Chapter Eight

  Raphael

  With the sun being brutal today, I kneel under the shade of the oversized roof well. My father would say love makes you reckless, and today, I would have to agree with him. Slinging my arm around the post, I scan the trees on the Camarco estate, waiting for Mila. I’ve been all over Vita, but the Camarco estate is the one place I never intended to visit. But there’s no chance I’d waste when it comes to seeing her.

  She’s everywhere I go, in my mind and in my heart, but my memory doesn’t do her beauty justice as to when I’m with her. Needless to say, if I’m caught here, this is where I’ll die. But she’s worth the risk a thousand times over, especially if her face is the last I see to take with me to the other side for all eternity.