What maiden? Tasha. She just does not know she is the figment of his boyish dreams. It is not dark enough for him to be trying such a stunt, and he is not able to do more than one thing at a time, so he cannot cloak himself from human eyes. Your grandfather is in the courtyard looking at his flowers. All he has to do is look up, and he would see Josef.
Antonietta studied the images in Byron’s mind. Josef moved up the side of the second story, much like Dracula in the movies. His form shimmered, shifted, went from webbed mask to startled horror. He slid down the sheer wall, bumped a window ledge, and plummeted to the courtyard below.
Swearing, Byron bounced airwaves, cushioning the boy’s fall. Josef landed hard enough to knock the wind out of him but obviously wasn’t seriously hurt. Don Giovanni heard the impact as Josef crashed through a low shrub, breaking several branches.
“What happened, young Josef? Did you trip? Are you hurt?”
Josef climbed gingerly to his feet, rubbing his posterior as he did so. “Just my pride. I can’t seem to get anything right these days.”
“I had a good look at your painting a few minutes ago, and it seemed quite good to me. I don’t know all that much about art, but Tasha does. She’ll have to take a look at it for you.”
Josef followed the older man over to his easel and picked up a brush. “Do you really think she’ll like it?” He splashed more paint on the canvas, choosing a bright, vivid red for droplets that ran over the entire painting.
Don Giovanni frowned and studied the work from various angles. “The picture was very authentic until you did that. What is the reasoning behind the red?”
Oh no.
Byron groaned and covered his face.
Do you mind very much if I strangle the kid and stuff him in the laundry chute?
Antonietta did her best not to laugh. Practicing to maintain invisibility and then giving the entire thing away by laughing wouldn’t earn her too many points.
You said the key was not reacting to anything. That was the rule before Josef came into the world. Now it’s kill or be killed, the way of the jungle.
“It’s blood, of course. See up here, looming over the palazzo, the eyes of a predator? That’s the vampire cloaked in darkness. He’s made his kill up on the battlements.”
Don Giovanni struggled to keep his face blank. “Very imaginative. I have seen few villas with vampires on the battlements.”
Josef shrugged his shoulders. “The hunters do a fairly good job of keeping the numbers down. I would make a great hunter, but my mother won’t hear of it.” For a moment he stared deliberately at Don Giovanni, his eyes glowing red, his face contorting into a mask of evil.
Don Giovanni took a step back, blinked to bring Josef back in focus, and saw only a grinning, boyish face.
Byron waved his hand to veil Don Giovanni’s mind, holding him still within a thrall. Positioning himself in front of his nephew, he shifted the shape of his head.
Don’t do it.
Antoinetta cautioned, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.
It’s so undignified to stoop to his level.
Josef reached up with his paintbrush to add a finishing touch to one of the droplets. The muzzle of a wolf came at his face, bared teeth, dripping with saliva, snapped, eyes red and wicked, glowing in the dusk. Josef stumbled backward, stabbing at the wolf’s head with his paintbrush as he did so, tripped over his own feet, and fell to the lawn screaming, crab-walking backward.
In the blink of an eye, Byron disappeared, and Don Giovanni was staring down at Josef with a strange expression. “You need to get off the drugs boy, no good comes of using that stuff. You have a good family. You don’t want to bring them sorrow.”
Josef looked around himself cautiously. “Has my family been here? My father or my uncle?” He dusted off his clothes meticulously.
“Not yet, but they’ll probably come soon. You should think about what I said, Josef. Take it from an old man who has lived a long time. Drugs tear apart families.”
“Yes, sir.” Josef said politely, “you’re absolutely right.”
Byron and Antonietta strolled out of the maze, hand in hand. “Good evening, Don Giovanni, Josef.” Byron’s white teeth flashed. “How is Paul this evening?”
“He woke only a short time ago. He slept all day and is still refusing to have us call a doctor. He said he would wait for you and Antonietta. He looked pale to me, but he isn’t running a temperature, thank the good Dio.” Don Giovanni took Antonietta’s hand and drew her to him. “You look lovely, my dear. Byron is good for you.”
“I would like to speak to you about my feelings for Antonietta,” Byron said. “Would you mind walking with us?”
The older Scarletti lifted a hand toward Josef even as he retained possession of Antonietta. “You’re thinking of stealing my granddaughter from me.”
“Never that, old friend. She would be far too unhappy away from you. I can do my work here as well as in my homeland. Short trips away only. I would like your permission to marry her. More than anything, we would want your blessing.”
Don Giovanni tucked Antonietta’s hand into the crook of his elbow. “This is what you want? You’re certain?”
“Absolutely,
Nonno
. We’re good together. I trust him completely, and I’m very much in love with him.”
“Where would you live?”
“I’ve asked Byron to live here at the palazzo, and he agreed.”
“We can maintain more than one residence. I will have to make trips to my homeland, but the palazzo can be our main residence. I would prefer and would insist on a ground-floor suite of rooms. And we hope to marry as soon as it can be arranged.”
“The lawyers will demand a standard prenuptial agreement, stating everything belongs to Antonietta.”
“I expected no less. I will not ask one of Antoinetta in return. What is mine, I share with her. We have no need of her money, but she will want it for the children.” In his mind Antonietta gasped. Byron grinned boyishly. “Should there be any.”
“I had hoped you two would fall in love.” Don Giovanni hugged Byron, kissed him on either cheek. “I will arrange it. I’m grateful you aren’t taking her away from me. I hope to live out my years with her close.”
“I’ll always be close,” Antonietta assured him.
“That dog of yours has been pacing for the last couple of hours. He was fine with Vincente and Margurite, keeping them company, and then just about sunset he seemed agitated. Even Marita seems to like that dog. She didn’t say a single word when the dog showed up in their rooms and stayed close to the children.”
“Is Marita home,
Nonno
?”
“Yes. She seems different. Sad. She went to the small chapel right after dinner was served and remains there. I haven’t heard her speak a single word all day. The police captain has been here asking more questions. Alfredo took to his bed, and that young man in the kitchen had to try his hand at cooking. What’s his name? He prepared a very passable meal, although with Paul so ill, no one felt like eating.”
“Esteben. He’s related to Helena. She’s always good in a crisis, so he must get it from her. I’ll have to thank her for recommending him.”
“The house is filled with flowers from Christopher. He’s been calling for hours and begging to come over to speak with Tasha. I hope she has better sense than to take him back. She threw the first six bouquets away, but after that she gave up getting rid of them. The palazzo smells like a garden.”
“At least the man has good taste in flowers,” Antonietta said. “I need to speak to Marita. Would you mind telling Tasha I’ll be in a little later?”
“Tasha will want to hear your news right away. She’s been anxious about you. Between her and that dog, I haven’t had a moments’ peace.”