The Scarletti Curse by Christine Feehan

leader of the pack and
then the others answering, signaling the presence of prey. The cries sent
another shiver along her spine. The mist from the ocean had turned to a heavy
fog, shrouding the surrounding hillside. The wind spun the viscous vapor until
it appeared to boil angrily, and shadows moved within the gray-white veil as if
edging closer and closer. All the while the voice murmured to her, a low,
insistent command Nicoletta tried not to hear.
    She stood watching at the window most of the night until the wind died down
and took the relentless whisperings with it. She was slumped against the wall
at dawn, sound asleep, when young Ricardo, son of her friend Laurena burst into
the hut after only a perfunctory knock.
    "You have to come now.
Mia madre
said you have to go to the farm
of her sister. Zia Lissandra is very ill. Her
bebe
is coming, but
something is wrong.
Madre
says do not let her sister die, Donna
Nicoletta." His face was white, and he delivered his message without taking
a single breath. Sagging against the door, he looked at Nicoletta with tears in
his eyes. "She was screaming, Nicoletta. Zia Lissandra was screaming. I
ran here as fast as I could."
    Nicoletta was immediately awake, hurrying to soothe the boy. "You have
done well, Ricardo. Your madre will be proud of you. I shall come at once. You
light a candle to the good Madonna that my work this morning goes well."
    At the sound of Ricardo's high-pitched, frightened voice, Maria Pia sat up
on her bed and looked anxiously around, afraid the don's men had come to take
Nicoletta from her.
    Nicoletta bent to kiss her. "I must go now. To Lissandra, ill in
childbirth. Follow as quickly as you are able. I cannot wait; it sounds too
urgent." She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, caught up her satchel
of medicaments, and rushed from the hut, her bare feet silently slapping the
ground.
    Thoughts and fears of witchcraft and the don were shoved aside as she prayed
all the way to the farm. Lissandra was young yet to be a mother. Not yet
sixteen, she had married a man much older than she. Nicoletta and Lissandra
were friends, and Nicoletta was terrified of losing her. Already she had seen
far too many women lose their lives in the birthing process.
    The farm was some distance away, and Nicoletta lost track of the times she
begged the Madonna to lend wings to her feet. Maria Pia would take well over an
hour to make the trek. Whatever had to be done would be done by Nicoletta
alone. She almost wished she did have magic at her fingertips to aid her. Every
step was uphill and steep. Her injured calf was burning by the time she saw the
torches lit around the farmhouse where Lissandra resided with her husband,
Aljandro.
    He flung open the door, having obviously been watching for her, his huge
bulk filling the frame, his face twisted with guilt. "Hurry, Nicoletta. I
fear you are too late."
    Nicoletta pushed aside his terror along with her own and reached deep inside
her for calm. It was there, the reserve she could always count on, draw on, and
she entered the dwelling as a confident, assured healer. Lissandra's sister,
Laurena, leapt to her feet with a cry of relieved greeting.
    The house was already filled with black-shawled women, mourners congregating
to wail for the dead. Nicoletta's dark eyes flashed fire. "Is she gone
then?" She hissed the question at them, and they all cringed at her
evident displeasure. Immediately they ceased their incessant wailing. Not one
dared defy her or point out that she was barely past being a child herself.
Nicoletta was a powerful healer, and they were very superstitious. If Nicoletta
could heal, she might very well be able to harm them as well.
    "Laurena, remove these women to another room, where they will be able
to pray to the Madonna in peace," Nicoletta ordered prudently. "I
will need water boiled and clean cloth." She approached Lissandra with
more confidence than she felt. The girl was whimpering, her stomach swollen and
hard, her