Page 115 of Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines

Don Vittorio sneered, but stared off to the left, lost in some place Domencio could not reach.

“Did you hear me, father?” Domencio said.

“If this is true,” Don Vittorio’s head slowly turned, and he blinked his dead stare, now fixated on Domencio. “Why haven’t you brought this to Phoenix? The magistrate.”

“Phoenix?” Domencio frowned. “He is Marcello’s consiglieri—and I don’t report anything to Phoenix?—”

“He is the Magistrate!” roared Vittorio. “He knows. He knows. He… knows....”

“Knows what?” asked Domencio

Vittorio slipped into a catatonic state. Domencio kept the emotion from the conversation and his voice and tried to speak again.

“What aboutme?” Domencio asked.

“I have four sons,” replied the Don after a very long pause. “There is noyou.”

Domencio lowered his gaze. Most of what Vittorio said made no sense. Even so, the hurt from his rejection cut him to his core. Vittorio was up, snarling and arguing with someone before him that Domencio could not see. The transition was violent, a reminder of how deeply his father’s mind had decayed. It wasn’t just the bloodlust. Vittorio’s mind was rotting, membrane by membrane, his memories slipped like sand through his fingers. One moment, he was the man Domencio revered: the next, a stranger, unrecognizable and dangerous.

Domencio had no choice. He seized his father. Fought him hard and forced him into the coffin that Marcello said he kept him locked away in during his visits. He slammed the lid and secured the silver locks. He backed away slowly, heartbreaking with each step. He couldn’t stay, not like this.

The last thing he saw as he heard was Vittorio howling like the ferals that seized him as a child and the emptiness around his father’s existence. And a new jealousy surfaced. Lucio was dying or becoming, and out there was a woman fighting for his soul. His mate. No matter what path Domencio walked, he’d be alone. And he’d die alone, just like Vittorio.

The old vampire laughed.

“I hear you, boy…” he said. “She hears you too.”

Domencio shivered. The feeling of someone walking over his own grave chilled him. He forced himself to ask the question he didn’t want to know the answer too. “Who hears me? Who is she?”

“Julia Brown, Julia Brown, Julia Brown, JuliaBrow,JuliaBrownJuliaBrownJuliaBrown—”Vittorio saidover and over as though it were the only thing left tethering him to reality.

Domencio closed the door behind him. He had no tears left to cry.

The last raysof the sun dipped behind Mount Pellegrino. Its descent cast the sky in shades of crimson and violet. Darlene materialized on the stone steps of the hotel, drawing startled gasps from a few guests coming and going through the grand entrance. With a quick thought, she concealed herself from their eyes—a new power gifted to her by Papa Legba. Several people frowned, puzzled by the fleeting image they thought they’d seen. This magic was unlike anything she’d known before, and she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.

The last rays of the sun dipped behind Mount Pellegrino. Its descent cast the sky in shades of crimson and violet. She glanced down at herself—Papa Legba had kept his word. She felt her power renewed in ways she had never dreamed. And from her sheer will, she changed her attire to a black lace evening gown that clung to her like a second skin. It stressed every curve with an elegance that bordered on dangerous. She then stepped back into the reality of the mortals. Men she passed as she descended the steps paused to stare. Their gazes lingered as if mesmerized. Her pheromones were so strong they could not turn away. ButDarlene paid them no mind. Her focus was on the car, waiting for a guest. She looked into the eyes of the driver, and he became hers.

“Salve, signura, unni ti portu stasira?”the driver said with an appreciative smile.

Darlene knew Sicilian. She got a kick out of how much she understood. She couldn’t wait to test her skills with Dolly.

“Syracuse, Vittorio,” she said and eased inside. The driver was eager to comply. She had to reach Syracuse. Vittorio was there. Papa Legba said that Domencio had retreated to his ancestral home as well. He warned her that going to the vampires would be certain death. Everyone, even this deity, doubted her. To them, Dolly was the smart one. That’s what she too had believed. Dolly had the smarts, and she had the strength and the courage. But she’d prove them and herself wrong. She would stop Julia Brown and Papa Legba’s curse and prevent the prophecy. She had her own plan. After all, she was the Chosen One.

The car ride south was uneventful at first. The driver navigated the winding roads with a quiet precision. Sicily’s rugged beauty unfolded around them as twilight deepened. The landscape shifted from the city’s ancient streets to the wild countryside. The moon had begun its ascent, and with it came the pale glow of light over the hills.

As they neared Syracuse, the driver suddenly turned onto an unpaved road. The smooth asphalt gave way to sharp, jagged rocks that crunched under the tires. The road wound deeper into the wilderness, the dense forest crowded in on both sides. A dark thrill slid down Darlene’s spine as she felt the shift in the air—a cool dread that settled around her like an unwelcome companion. Something was wrong.

The car came to a halt.

“I go no further,” the driver said in Sicilian, his voice tight with fear. “You walk.”

Even Darlene’s magic could not compete with the mortal’s fear. Darlene stared ahead at the dark, forested path that stretched beyond the car. Shadows seemed to move at the edges of her vision, unnatural and unsettling. “What’s wrong?”

The driver gripped the wheel tightly.

“You go,” he muttered.

She studied him for a moment, then reached out, her fingers brushing his shoulder gently. His head slumped forward almost immediately. He fell into the darkness of sleep she gifted him. She hadn’t hurt him. He may be useful to her when she was done.

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