The Other Side Of Midnight Read online

  “The Count’s sister is here. She wishes to speak to you,” he says quietly.

  I feel a cold shiver go through me, and I glance back uneasily at the sleeping figure on the bed. I don’t want to, but I know I must face her. Clearly, she’s part of Rocco’s life and therefore mine too.

  Squaring my shoulders, I follow William out of the room.

  Chapter 29

  Autumn

  She is even more beautiful in the bright lights of the chandelier. Her hips are as slender as a snake and her legs are long and slim. There is a smile on her lips. “Please, sit down,” she invites, gesturing towards a sofa patterned with soft-blue birds on a white background.

  There is an open bottle of wine and two glasses on the low table next to it. I walk stiffly towards the sofa and perch uncomfortably on the edge of it.

  “How is the poor lamb?” she asks, taking a seat on the sofa opposite. She seems supremely confident.

  “William says he will be better tomorrow,” I say carefully.

  She twists her mouth downwards, a curiously flirtatious gesture. “Yes, these horrible bouts come, but thankfully they do go away pretty quickly.”

  “What are they?” I ask curiously.

  She shrugs. “You must ask my brother.”

  I nod. I do not know what it is about her, but my skin is actually crawling with revulsion.

  “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Isadora.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I reply automatically.

  “So you’re an artist.”

  “I work at an art gallery, but you already know that.”

  She smiles. “Yes. It’s a small town and I’ve seen you there.”

  “You don’t live around here, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  She doesn’t elaborate further and I realize I don’t want to make small talk with her. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “Well, to start with I know my brother really likes you, and I wanted to welcome you into our family. We are a family with many problems, but we all love Rocco and want what’s best for him.”

  At that point, I have a strange impression. She is being kind, but what she really wants to be is cruel. I push the impression away, but it stays at the fringes of my mind not as something I imagined, but something real. There is something risky, dangerous even about her. If I’m being unkind then, the word I would use is repulsive.

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” I say, even though I am mentally putting distance between us.

  “Let’s have a glass of wine,” she drawls.

  My whole body rejects the offer. I shake my head politely. “Thank you, but I’m not in the mood today. I should go up and be with Rocco. Perhaps another day.”

  “Oh, please say yes,” she pleads, suddenly leaning forward eagerly. “Rocco is asleep. He won’t mind you having a drink with me.”

  There is something desperate about her invitation. As if me agreeing to have a drink with her is very important to her.

  “It’s from our family’s vineyard in France,” she adds anxiously.

  I’m about to refuse again, when something crazy happens. I look into her beautiful, dreadful blue eyes and can’t look away. To my surprise, I find myself saying, “All right.”

  “Wonderful,” she gushes.

  Her eyes are shining with an unholy light. It is as if I have not just assented to a glass of wine together, but something far, far more important. In a daze, I watch as she picks up the bottle and pours the red liquid into the two glasses. Part of me regrets agreeing, but I tell myself what harm can one glass do?

  She holds out a glass to me and I take it from her. I am careful not to touch her skin. She lifts the glass jubilantly for a toast.

  “To you and Rocco,” she sings.

  I find it impossible to repeat her words. There is something false about her toast. Instead, I simply lift the glass to my lips. It happens so swiftly, everything is a blur. One moment I’m about to take a sip and the next the glass has been knocked out of my hand and is on the ground. The red liquid seeping into the pale carpet.

  In total shock, I whirl my head around and see Rocco standing behind me.

  Even though he is holding onto the back of the sofa, he is swaying with the effort of being upright. His face appears even more bloodless than it was before, sweat gleams on his forehead, and his face drawn and pinched as if he is in intense pain, but his eyes blaze with terrible fury. I turn my head to look at his sister. There is absolutely no expression on her face. She is sitting on the sofa as still as a statue.

  “Sorry, if I startled you. That wine is corked,” Rocco mutters, as he drags his gaze to me.

  I can’t say a word. I’m too shocked. I just stare at him stupidly.

  “William,” he calls, wincing with pain.

  William appears almost immediately.

  “Please arrange a ride for Miss Delaney immediately.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” William says, and nods towards me. “If you’d like to follow me, Miss. Delaney.”

  For a second, I think about refusing, but one look at Rocco’s tight, pain-filled face tells me not to argue. Wordlessly, I follow William out of the room. Raoul is already waiting for me in the foyer. We go out into the night silently. There is a cold wind blowing outside and the moon is very full. As I get into the car, I look back at the house. Through one of the windows I can see Rocco and his sister. She is standing opposite him, facing him.

  And it is clear she is just as furious as he is.

  Chapter 30

  Rocco

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I snarl.

  “Believe it or not, I was in the area and William told me you were poorly.”

  I ignore the blatant lie. “What were you trying to do?”

  Her eyes flash. “For heaven’s sake. Anybody would think I was trying to poison her or something. I just wanted to get to know her. She seems… nice.”

  My back hurts so much I feel dizzy, but I know I have to have it out with her. I have to somehow stop her from doing something stupid. “Don’t be a bitch, Isadora.”

  She smiles condescendingly. “You must have it really bad for her, little brother.”

  “Back off, Isadora,” I growl.

  “Back off? I haven’t done anything.”

  “I know exactly what you were trying to do. If you make her do anything she doesn’t want, all of us will lose.”

  “Then stop wasting time and do what you are supposed to do. It’s not only you who is suffering you know.” She tugs at her hair and it comes off. Her thick lustrous hair is a wig!

  I stare at her in horror. On her almost bald head are patches of red skin and several thin strands of hair.

  “That’s right. You’re not the only one. Something is happening to mother too. She is losing her teeth. They are just dropping out of her mouth for no reason and her breath is putrid as if she is rotting inside. As for father, you should see what he looks like now. Old beyond his years.”

  I take a step back from her. The pain in my back is now so strong, I feel faint.

  “We all need her, Rocco. It’s for the common good of all of us,” she cries.

  I shake my head. “The rights of a group shouldn’t be more important than the right of the individual. I will not allow it. Not now not ever. I have enough demons to contend with.”

  “Why are you so against it? How do you know she won’t want it? As far as I can tell most of them will give up everything to be one of us.”

  “One of us? Look at us? What is so fucking great about us?” I ask bitterly.

  She fits her wig over her diseased head. “It’s not your choice to make. It’s hers. Time is running out and if you won’t do it I will,” she snaps.

  “It won’t work without me,” I mumble through the pain.

  “I’m desperate. I’ll try it.”

  “Pour me a whiskey,” I mutter. The hurt has got into my head and it is so intense, I feel myself sinking to my
knees.

  I don’t hear her moving around, but a few seconds later, I see her hold half a glass of amber liquid close to my face. I take the glass and pour the whiskey down my throat. The burn has little effect on me. I give the glass back to her. “Another one,” I gasp.

  She gives me another half-full glass and I throw it back. My head bobs with the goddamn agony in my neck and back.

  She kneels next to me. “Why do you want to carry on suffering like this, Rocco? Just tell her. Give her the choice. Who knows our thing might be her thing,” she says.

  An image of Autumn flashes into my mind. The innocence in her eyes… Isadora will never understand such a thing. I reach out a hand and catch Isadora’s wrist roughly. “Don’t hurt her, Isadora.”

  “Why would I do that? I don’t want to hurt her. I just want my family to be whole again.”

  I let go of her and try to focus on her face, but it swims before my eyes. “What if she says no, will you hurt her then?”

  She smiles, a cruel smile. “She’ll never say no. Not when she’s already more than half in love with you. Now, let’s get you back to bed. You look like shit.”

  I know she is my enemy. I know she can be deadly. I know she will take pleasure in hurting Autumn… so I offer my hand out as if in friendship. Her slender hand curls round mine, then tightens like a vice, and effortlessly she pulls me to my feet.

  Yes, she will be a formidable opponent.

  Chapter 31

  Autumn

  As we journey back down the mountain I stare blindly out of the window. I’m shocked and in a state of utter confusion. What had just happened back there? There is no way Rocco knocked the glass out of my hand because he believed the wine was corked.

  Was the wine poisoned?

  Why on earth would Isadora want to poison me? I’m nothing to her. I nibble on the nail of my thumb. Thank God, Sam is coming tomorrow. I feel as if I have fallen into a rabbit hole. It will be good to be with someone normal. I’ll tell her everything. I need to know I’m not going mad.

  When Raoul drops me outside the shop, I decide to cycle home. The fresh air and exercise will do me good. By the time I get back it’s a quarter to midnight. As I’m chaining my bike to the metal pipe of my caravan, I notice the light in the old gypsy’s windows.

  For a few seconds I hesitate, then I start walking towards her caravan. I knock on her door and immediately hear some movements inside. She opens the door and peers at me.

  I swallow and suddenly feel ridiculous. “I know it’s very late, but how much do you charge to read someone’s fortune?”

  “Ah, you are the child who lives in the caravan yonder,” she states, her voice is low and gruff.

  “Yes.”

  She smiles. “Well, since we are neighbors, I’ll be happy to read your fortune for ten dollars?”

  That seems too cheap, and I’m immediately filled with pity for her. She is so old and yet she has to read fortunes for such a pittance. “Could you read it now?”

  “Now?”

  I nod. “Yes, I’m in a bit of a mess, and I… er… just wondered if you could maybe see something in my future in your crystal ball or tarot cards.” I can’t believe I just said crystal ball.

  A gleam of amusement shines momentarily in her eyes, then it is gone. “Come in, little one. Let’s see what the tea leaves have to say to you.”

  The inside of her caravan is a surprise. I’d imagined it would be crammed with dusty ornaments, bohemian crystal tableware, lace curtains, chintz cushions and old furniture, but instead it is incredibly clean and surprisingly bare. It’s hard to imagine a human being lives here. There is a small, square wooden table, two plain chairs tucked under it, and a neatly made narrow bed. There is nothing on the table or any of the shelves. On the kitchen counter sits an electric kettle, a ceramic container, and two fine bone china teacups and their saucers decorated with roses.

  She closes the door behind me and I reach into my back pocket and pull out a ten dollar bill. When I hand it to her, she nods and carelessly puts it on the counter. She switches on the kettle and asks me to take a seat.

  I pull out one of the chairs and sit down. She opens the ceramic container and pours loose tea into one of the teacups. When the kettle begins to whistle, she pours the boiling water into the teacup, and brings the cup to me. She puts it in front of me and goes to sit opposite me.

  “When it cools, drink it,” she says.

  I look down at the cup of tea, and to my surprise find there is a lot happening inside the cup. I watch the brown essence from the tea leaves start to stain the water. The clouds of brown fascinate me. I could have stared at the process for hours and maybe I do. It’s strange, but it’s as if I’ve been hypnotized by the movements in the teacup.

  “You can drink it now,” she murmurs softly.

  I drink the bitter brew and put the cup back on the saucer. She takes the cup and looks into it. For a while she says nothing as she studies the patterns the tea leaves make, then she raises her head and looks directly into my eyes.

  I am surprised by how bright her eyes are. They shine like stars in her wrinkled old face.

  “You have come about a man. You have come to ask if you can trust him?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “First I must tell you there is danger. Danger lurks around you.” She looks away from me. “And there is loss. Terrible loss for you.”

  My stomach clenches with dread. “What do you mean?”

  “I cannot say more than that. All I can see is the loss of something very important to you.”

  “You mean him?” I ask anxiously.

  “No, not him. Something else.”

  “Can I trust him?”

  “Yes, you can trust him, but he is also in danger. Secrets. Many terrible secrets.” She gazes at the tea leaves, then frowns. “His family. They want something from you.”

  “What?” I cry. “What do they want?”

  She shakes her head. “Stay away from them. They mean you harm.”

  She puts the cup down. “Show me your hand.”

  I put out my right hand and she takes it in hers and looks at it. Then she uses her other hand to stroke my palm gently, as if she is so starved of human contact that she needs to touch another human being. My chest fills with pity for the lonely old woman, and I push to the back of my mind all the dire predictions and warnings she has made. I reach out my other hand and grasp her hand tightly. She looks up and I see her eyes are filled with tears.

  “In five minutes, it will be my birthday,” she says, and her voice breaks.

  “Really?”

  She nods sadly, and extricates her hand from mine.

  “Hang on. Just wait for me. I’ll only be five minutes,” I say and jump to my feet. I run back to my caravan. I bought a little congratulatory cake for Sam. It came with those joke candles that never go off so I quickly light the candles on it, and carefully carry it back to the gypsy’s caravan. I push open the door and shout, “Happy Birthday.”

  As long as I live I will never forget that sweet and innocent time I spend with her. How I sing to her and how she beams at me. She has never seen a candle that splutters back to life before and she cackles with delight and surprise. I cut the small cake and she finds two small plates in one of the kitchen cupboards. I find out her name is Zelena.

  “I should go,” I say, licking a bit of icing from my fingers.

  “Wait. I have something for you.”

  I watch in surprise as she gets up and pulls a battered black suitcase from under the bed. From it she extracts a small jeweled box. I can tell just by looking at it that it is terribly ancient. She puts the box on the table in front of me.

  I open the box and find a lovely locket shaped in a strange symbol. It seems to be made of precious stones. A round ruby, and around it a mix of white and purple stones, but the craftsmanship is of a particularly excellent quality, and it is clearly very valuable. In fact, it looks like something that should be under
glass in a museum.

  “I can’t take this,” I gasp, but when I look up at her, I see her silently taking off a thin gold chain from around her neck.

  “I have no need for it. It is an amulet,” she explains. “For protection.”

  I stare at her in surprise. It feels wrong to take it from her and yet she seems utterly fixed in her intention to give it to me. She fixes the amulet onto her chain and comes towards me. “It belonged to my grandmother. My daughter died so I have no one to give it to.”

  She comes close to me, and the scent of herbs and fresh flowers fills my nostrils. Bizarrely, the smell is familiar to me. I inhale deeply and feel certain I recognize it from somewhere. She fastens the chain around my neck, and it is still warm from her flesh.

  Then her gnarled, roughened hand strokes my cheek tenderly.

  I want to ask her for the name of the perfume she is wearing, but the words are stuck in my throat. Then she withdraws her hand and says, “Go now, my child. Never forget, love will conquer everything. Everything.”

  Chapter 32

  Autumn

  I have strange dreams all night long. Of tall, beautiful people I’ve never met before, but they gather around me protectively and touch my face the way Zelena did. Tenderly, as if they love me. Some of them whisper, “Courage, Autumn. Courage. Love will conquer everything.”

  When my alarm rings in the morning, I feel groggy and unprepared for the world. The first thing I do is cradle the amulet Zelena gave me. I don’t exactly understand what happened last night. I paid her ten dollars for a fortune telling session, and came away with an obviously valuable and ancient piece of jewelry. I feel slightly guilty, as if I have taken advantage of a very lonely old woman, but she was so totally sure she wanted me to have it. If anything, it felt as if she had been waiting to give it to me. Which of course, is nonsense. I’m a complete stranger to her.