Page 40 of In the Garden of Monsters

Just as I lifted my cocktail to drink, Paolo’s elbow crashed into mine, sending the glass flying. It burst into pieces as it hit thepeperinowall at the back of the monster’s mouth, the juice leaving a dark stain against the rock.

“Mi dispiace!”he cried. Scrambling past me, he began picking up the broken glass shards, but Ignazio waved him off.

“Worry not. My people will clean it up,” Ignazio assured him as he poured me a fresh goblet.

Paolo put his hand on my arm and squeezed an unmistakable warning. He did not want me to drink the juice.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said to Ignazio.

“You must have a glass,” he insisted.

“Drink! Drink!” Dalí said, his eyes bulging. “You need the ruby strength, the power of the sacred pomegranate. Proserpina would never say no to such ambrosia.”

“This one would,” I said. I dared not look at Gala. But there was something in Paolo’s warning that made me willing to take the chance.

“I’d prefer water,” I told Ignazio.

“I have none here.”

I shook my head. “Then I will be fine without anything.”

Finally, Ignazio set the goblet upon the table and left. I swore I felt the ground tremble as he walked down the trail away from theorco.

“Why did you do that, you stupid girl?” Gala sniped at me. “He is our host.”

“I’m not going to eat and drink everything forced upon me,” I said, refusing to give in to her.

“If you do not drink it, you will wear it instead,” Dalí said. “We will pour it over you, letting it flow across your limbs.”

Gala stared at me, daring me to say no.

I shivered, thinking of how cold and sticky that would be.

“Just drink it,” Jack said, his eyes imploring me. “It would be better than wearing it.”

Paolo’s knee pressed against mine, his foot pushing along my shoe, warning me without words. I felt trapped, a mouse between two cats with no graceful way out.

My desire to remain clean and dry won out. I picked up the goblet and was about to lift it to my mouth when I heard a horrible yowl. Orpheus jumped onto the table, scattering the remnants of thetramezzini, and leaped at me, knocking the new glass out of my hand so it too shattered on the smooth stone beneath our feet. A drop of liquid hit my cheek and I wiped it off with my hand.

We stared at the cat in disbelief as he sat down on the table, his tail flicking back and forth, then calmly began to clean the few spots of pomegranate juice off his paws.

“It seems I wasn’t meant to drink the juice after all.” Checking the thermos, I noted with satisfaction that there was also no more left to drizzle upon me.

Jack picked up the cat and tossed him out the mouth of theorco, ignoring my cry of protest. He cursed as he let the cat go.

“The little beast scratched me.” He held up his arm, upon which there was a long gash with a few beads of blood.

Down the path, Orpheus sat and stared at me. I swear he gave me a little nod of his head before he took off into the bushes beyond the statue of the dragon fighting off the lions.

12

Outside the Mouth of Hell, a wild storm had begun to brew, darkening the sky and whipping the wind up around us as we walked. It soon became apparent that we wouldn’t be able to work that afternoon. Jack and Paolo gathered up Dalí’s equipment and we headed back to where the truck usually waited for us. We looked up the long dirt road that led to the village and the palazzo on the top of the hill. There was no sign of transport in sight.

“It’s only a fifteen-minute walk,” I said, trying to be cheery. “The exercise will be good for us.”

“Fifteen minutes up the side of a mountain,” Gala barked at me. “This isyourfault. If you hadn’t angered Ignazio, he would have been here, waiting.” She said something else in Russian and then stomped off, leading Dalí by the hand.

“Don’t let her bust your chops,” Jack said after they were out of earshot. “I’ve not known her long, but she’s always been fussy. And she’s not one for liking other dames.”

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