“What are they?” I asked.
“They’re a Sicilian thing,” Paolo answered.
Isabella nodded. “There’s a couple different legends. One is that back when Sicily was under Arab control – in the 9thand 10thcenturies – a Sicilian woman of noble birth had an affair with an Arab man. When her family found out about it, they executed them both and turned their heads into vases as a warning.”
“Jesus,” I said, appalled.
“Forbidden love,” Isabella said with a sigh. “Not looked upon highly by my countrymen.”
“It’s grimmer than the other version,” Ludavica agreed.
“Which is what?” I asked.
“Sicilian woman has an affair with a Moor, but she finds out he’s going back to North Africa – and that he has a wife and a kid he forgot to tell her about. So the Sicilian chick kills him and chops off his head, then turns it into a vase to grow basil.” Ludavica smirked. “I preferthatversion.”
“Why?!”
“I preferjustthe guy getting his head chopped off instead of the woman.”
“Ugh,” I said.
“You’re awful squeamish,” Ludavica teased me.
I wanted to snap,Yeah, it hits pretty hard after what I saw in the barn yesterday –
But instead I said, “No, you Sicilians are just fucked up.”
Ludavica laughed. “I won’t argue with you on that one.”
“And this is a Sicilian tradition?” I asked.
“Yes,” Isabella said. “People use them in their homes for flower pots.”
“Then why haven’t you ever seen one before?”
She made a wry face. “Papa thinks they’re morbid.”
I laughed darkly. “THAT’S pretty fuckin’ ironic.”
“What are you talking about?”
I stared at her likeYou CAN’T be THAT stupid.
“Because of what he does for a living?” she asked, then gave me apshaw.“Yourfamily does it, too.”
I scoffed. “You might wanna ask your father’s formerconsigliereabout it.”
Isabella immediately went pale. “Eliseo?”
“Isthatthe poor bastard’s name?” I asked. “Eliseo?”
“Eliseo Marconi. What do you know about him?”
I wanted to say,What’s left of him is out in your barn being slowly tortured to death –
But something was off.
Isabella looked like a terrified girl in a horror movie, standing in front of a door in a dark house…