Page 36 of Just for a Taste

When I opened my eyes again, the sconce nearest to me had a sudden burst of brightness, and the shadow at my feet darkened. But it was not my own.

A tall, slender man’s shadow stretched to Giacometti proportions. His hair was short and kinky, and he wore loose work clothes. A ferric, tangy,wrongscent intermingled with the car oil he smelled like after work. His figure was pitch black, but the blood seeping from him was as crimson as the day Ma found him.

He stood motionless. Everything was quiet. The air had chilled, and my breath came faster and faster by the second. My legs shook, and I didn’t know whether to run before or away from him. All I could manage was a wide-eyed, whispered, “Pa? Is that—?”

A door slammed down the hall, and I swore the ground itself shook. The lights beamed blindingly around me, and I winced, my eyes squeezing shut.

When they opened again, the shadow was my own. He had vanished, without leaving even a drop of blood behind.

Stifling sobs, I collapsed into the memory of where he was.

“Signorina Bowling!” Signora Carbone called out as she rushed to my side.

Relief met regret, and it took everything in me not to cry out at her, to pretend I was remotely fine.

“I’m not hurt,” I said, cooperating with her firm yet gentle touch to help up. “I just got scared.”

Her brow creased. “I apologize. I would have closed the door more softly if I knew you were there.”

“N-no, it wasn’t you. It was . . .” I trailed off. How could one explain what I had just experienced? Even though my body was still surging with adrenaline, my mind was already beginning to doubt what I had seen.

“I understand,” Signora Carbone said. She led me to a bench, and I shakily took a seat beside her. I noticed tea stains on the rag tucked in her pocket, presumably from wiping down the table after my conversation with Noor.

“Did you hear me talking with Noor?” I asked. “About my thesis?”

She nodded.

I took in a breath with pursed lips before saying, “Do you think it’s wrong of me to be working on that topic . . . here?”

Signora Carbone set her eyes upon me, and the tiny scowl on her lips would have answered the question sufficiently. “I do not think it is befitting of abeniamina. I have no intention of assisting you with it.”

There was that word again:beniamina. One I couldn’t escape. I felt bitterness paint my features. “I’m considering resigning anyway. I don’t think the abbey holds any real secrets, so there’s nothing here for me.”

I knew the last sentence was a lie, even as I said it. This place had all the things I had forgotten I wanted: a beautiful garden, an endless library, and kind coworkers I had actually befriended. Most entrapping of all was the gentle vampire who I wanted to be around more and more, who listened and cared, even when he was sulking or making fun of me. I couldn’t fall into this place, couldn’t risk having it torn from me.

“And truthfully,” I added, “I’ve seen things here. Things that make me wonder if I’m even welcome.”

Signora Carbone’s brow knitted, and there was a prolonged pause before she said, “I have been told by locals that the Abbazia di Santa Dymphna shows people their ghosts.”

I sat up straighter. While strange, her explanation made sense. I had seen Ma, Pa, and Peachy—living or dead, they all haunted me. But if this were true, why was everyone else acting so normal? Why did it seem to be just me?

“Do you have ghosts, then, Signora Carbone?” I asked with great hesitance. “Do the others?”

She chuckled darkly. “We all have things that keep us up at night, and I am no exception. But they do not show themselves to me here, and if Duca de’ Medici, Doctor Ntumba, or Signore Urbino see them, they do not show it. Some people are more sensitive to the effects of this place. I know Lucia has seen—” Signora Carbone faltered, voice hitching when she spoke the name of her adopted child. She looked into the distance, expression hardening. “You stated there are no secrets in the Abbazia di Santa Dymphna, that there is nothing here for you. But the Medici family has a history written in blood. I do not doubt that its ghosts also linger here. I do not know if I would want you to uncover them, but that is not my decision.” Then, facing me again, she said, “I implore you, Signora Bowling, please stay for Lucia’s sake. We have moved from town to town since she was a child, and she has never truly had a friend. Please, at the very least, do not leave without giving her warning.”

The light from the sconces illuminated the moisture gathering in the corner of her eyes. Signora Carbone’s voice was shaking, and I finally saw how tired she truly was.

Seeing her sincerity and her desperation, I felt a lump in my throat. “I will,” I said without hesitation. “At least until the end of these six months. I can’t make any promises beyond then, but I’ll do that much.”

Her fists tightened, and she averted her gaze from me. There was a prolonged pause between us, and she opened her mouth several times without finishing a single word. Then she blinked several times before tears could fully gather, flattened her brow and lips, and said in a low voice, “Thank you. I will leave now to attend to my duties.”

There was nothing more to say, so I nodded and went to bed. I would speak with Noor tomorrow and tell her I wanted to renew my contract for this quarter, and I would focus on finding the secret of the Medici family. Most importantly, I would banish the silly idea that Duca de’ Medici could ever feel for me the way I did for him.

Chapter 18: Bel Canto

“Ouch!”

My shears hit the ground, and crimson bloomed from my fingertip, forming a fat droplet that threatened to run along my palm and onto the floor. The lava-stone flooring here had a way of soaking up pigmentation as readily as the carpet in my childhood home soaked up wine.

---