Torn Between Souls

MANOR

We were deep in the Italian countryside, and it was breathtaking.

The rolling hills stretched as far as the eye can see. The occasional remnants of a rock wall or some small stone cottages would flutter by. The sky was overcast, but at high noon, the sun was peaking through, illuminating the ground below with streaks of light.

We passed through a village. It was a toss-up of modern and vintage. You could tell that many buildings had been redone but it was small and quaint, and you could tell that people valued their small town. Finally, we turned down a smooth dirt road.

“We are almost there,” Matteo said.

There was a warmth to his voice, but I could also sense some tension there. I was worried too. His mother hated witches. They had gone to war with them almost two millennia ago, and she had far from forgotten.

We rounded a bend in the long dirt road, and I audibly gasped.

The manor was giant. Three stories, of stone with a giant, squared stone tower in the far right corner. It was a mix of old and new with renaissance style window cutouts, as well as fully glassed-in windows that expanded entire stories. The building was a mixture of different stones, and you could see where the old architecture met the new. Bushels of ivy claimed over half of the building, and a garden of many herbs, plants, and flowers expanded towards either side in front of the almost castle-like manor. Far to the right, I could see the stables and a few other smallish buildings.

The forest and what appeared to be a creek or, maybe even a small river swallowed the left side, and flowed backward, away from the manor.

“It’s beautiful,” I said almost breathlessly, leaning forward in my seat.

As we approached the giant metal gates, Matteo pushed a button and they breathed open. We drew closer, and I noticed the three women standing on the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a shorter, plumper woman with grey hair that was braided into an intricate knot at the base of her neck. She had kind, blue eyes, deep olive skin, and a friendly smile. We wore a simple grey shift, and I assumed this was Marianne. Next to her stood a goddess. She had short dirty blond hair, and almond-shaped, chocolate eyes. Full lips and a petite nose sat in a heart-shaped face. She was tall, and lanky, with a more athletic, and straight body type. She wore a cream-colored dress with a belt at the waist. From the upturned smile on her face, I guessed this was Ada.

At the top of the stairs, stood none other than Elisa herself. She had stick straight, pale blond hair that fell past her shoulders, with one side tucked delicately behind her ear. Her eyes were wide, and an eerie color. A green/grey mix that was startling to look at. Her face was pale, with just a touch of olive warmth. She was short, and couldn’t have been taller than me, even with the short, black heels she wore. She donned a pair of grey trousers, and a white linen blouse, that was tucked in. She stood with her arms crossed, and a guarded, stern look on her face.

I took a deep breath, as Matteo rounded the car and opened my door, extending his hand. I took one more look down at my wrinkled clothes. An old tank top under a heavy sweater Matteo had brought me. Worn leggings, and running shoes. My hair waved and twisted around me. I grimaced.

“Don’t be shy,” Matteo said softly, smiling at me.

I sighed and nodded. I took his hand and he helped me out of the vehicle. We walked towards the stairs, and Marianne quickly walked over, wrapping me in a hug.

“Oh you poor dear,” she said in her thick accent, “Mia piccola cara, you look starved.” (My little dear)

“Marianne,” said Matteo in a warm voice, “it’s a pleasure to see you. Would you be so kind to prepare Rose something to eat? It’s been a long journey.”

Marianne nodded, and patted my shoulders, eliciting a small grin from me, before she hurried off, floating through the air. Of course, she’s a vampire, I thought to myself, how could she not be. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, Matteo nodded to Ada.

“Ada,” he said with warmth, “You look well. How is Jeremy?”

“Well. I’ll be returning to Germany in a fortnight to see him again. He has been busy, as you know,” she said in a voice that was like warm butter.

Her eyes turned to me, “It’s a pleasure, Rose. Enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you,” I chirped, and she smiled at me, before glancing at Elisa.

We took a few steps up the stairs, and Elisa’s eyes narrowed further, looking down her strong nose at me. Matteo guided me with his hand on the small of my back, before leaning past me and placing a kiss on each of her cheeks.

“Elisa,” he said with a soft, yet firm tone.

“Matteo,” her honey-coated voice said, before turning her eyes to me, “Strega.”

Matteo growled, and I placed a hand on his arm, bowing my head slightly, “Elisa, thank you for opening your home to me.”

She stared at me, her eyes never faltering.

“Parleremo più tardi,” Matteo said (we'll speak later), before he began ushering me up the last stair, and into the grand foyer.

The inside of the manor was just as lovely as the outside. All stone and wood, and plush carpeting, and rich furnishings. I noticed there was some modern lighting in lamps or ceiling fixtures, but equally as many spaces were lit by wall sconces. We walked past a large open doorway to the right, and I could smell deliciousness emanating from it. I assumed this led to the kitchen.

We continued down the long hall passing a series of heavy, closed wooden doors. I couldn’t help but wonder what was behind them. Finally, we came to a spiraling staircase, the stone steps seemed to go almost straight up, and I grimaced slightly. As if reading my mind, Matteo spoke.

“Would you like me to take you up? I know you’re tired.”

I hesitated and looked into his concerned green eyes. I had seen more emotion from him in the last several hours than I had in all the weeks we had known each other. I smiled softly at him and shook my head.

“I’m okay,” I whispered.

It was his turn to hesitate, and his lips grew tighter, his eyes holding an emotion I couldn’t identify, but he nodded. I started up the stairs, counting them as I went.

1. 2. 3. 4.

My fingers grazed the stone walls on either side as I climbed the staircase. I could feel Matteo right behind me, his warm breath pouring over my shoulders as we went.

12. 13. 14. 15.

My legs ached, and my hands applied more force to the walls. I hated this. I was an athlete. I should be able to do this in my sleep. I was so frustrated with myself.

24. 25. 26. 27.

I felt my anger rising in me. I hated the stupid werewolves. I hated all these revelations. I hated the fact that I had just left everything behind with nothing but the clothes on my back.

36. 37. 38. 39.

I could feel the hairs on my neck stand up, and I pursed my lips, stopping as Matteo's lean fingers came into my peripheral vision. I inhaled sharply as I saw my hair lapping at his palm like flames, and felt woozy. His hand came to rest on my waist, steadying me.

“One of the many reasons I prefer this wild hair to be free. It has a mind of his own,” he whispered, his lips closer than I expected to my ear.

I felt my knees buckle slightly, and the next thing I knew I was in Matteo’s arms, as he carried me up the remaining steps in a flash. We broke into a cozy, rectangular room. To my right, there was a lush, deep blue couch on top of a heavy dark rug that covered the stone floors beneath it. There was a dark wood coffee table in front of it, and beyond that, a giant fireplace.

Bookshelves lined almost all the walls, and tucked away into the corner was a giant oak desk with a large leather chair atop another rug. There was a large angled window that let in the sunlight, a black velvet armchair, and a matching ottoman in front of it beside a small side table. To the far end, there was a set of oak double doors.

Matteo gently set me down, as I looked around, blushing slightly as I unbuckled my arms from their lock around his neck.

“This is my study,” he said, his voice careful, “The bedroom and bathroom are just though those doors. I’d like you to stay here, with me. My family is…”

I turned to look at him, and he ran a hand through those lovely locks, smiling softly when I met his eyes.

“You won’t be harmed here,” he continued, “But I’d like to know where you are.”

I chewed my bottom lip and nodded softly, taking a few more steps into the room. My fingers grazed along with one of the bookshelves closest to me, and I raised an eyebrow. These books were old...I mean, really old. I wondered what the oldest book in this library was?

“How many stairs are there?” I asked.

“What?” Matteo asked, caught off guard by my question.

I met his eyes, his head c****d at a slight angle, “How many stairs are there? I was counting them before you brought me up.”

My favorite lopsided grin crossed his face, and he chuckled, shaking his head, “54.”

I whistled, and then shivered. I wrapped my arms around myself and realized the room had quite a chill to it. Matteo instantly went to the fireplace, building a roaring fire in a matter of minutes, while I continued to wander.

I made my way to the bedroom and gently pushed open the double doors. My eyes widened slightly at the rounded walls, and the amazingly high tower above me. The ceilings must have been 30 feet high. Thin, medieval windows spaced every 6-7 feet so there was a twirling spiral of light making its way up above me. Against the furthest wall, there was a massive bed atop a gorgeous wrought iron frame, roses twisted into the metal. Heavenly white linens and a plethora of pillows sat atop the tall mattress. The whole bed rested on a massive rug. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed and a wardrobe and dresser pushed against another wall. There was a small wooden table with two chairs tucked under a window, and I could see the door that opened into the bathroom beside another large fireplace.

As I wandered to the bathroom, admiring the clawfoot tub, added shower, and large vanity, I could hear Matteo stoking the fire in the bedroom, trying to take the chill off.

My eyelids felt heavy and I went back in to meet him. His eyes met mine, and he grimaced.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured, coming to my side before he ran his knuckles along my cheek.

I was too tired to complain, I just closed my eyes and leaned into his soft touch, humming quietly. Suddenly a loud sound echoed in the room, and I jumped, my eyes shot open as I peered at a bashful Marianne who was setting down a metal tray loaded with food onto the wooden table.

“Come ragazza, eat, and then you must sleep,” she said with a smile.

She floated over to me and pulled me from Matteo’s embrace, sitting me down at the table. My stomach growled as I took in the foods before me.

A large, steaming mug of hot tea, paired with a pile of different pastries and finger sandwiches, seemingly homemade. There was also milk and sugar for the tea, and a small spoon.

I smiled up at Marianna, “Thank you, it looks delicious.”

“I have to talk to mamma, Marianne will stay with you. Please eat,” Matteo murmured into my hair near my ear.

I felt a deep blush spread across my cheeks at his public affection and stared down at my food. I heard his retreating footsteps, and when he was finally gone, I picked up a sandwich and started taking small bites. So. Good. I moaned softly, and before I knew it I had eaten three small sandwiches and two whole pastries.

I heard Marianne chuckle, “You have quite an appetite for someone so thin, ragazza.”

I blushed and wiped off my hands, picking up the mug of black tea. No cream, no sugar. I watched Marianne as she floated around the room, lighting the scones around the walls. I noticed the sun was making its way down through the late afternoon.

“Now I’m sure you need a bath. You look exhausted. I will draw you one and set out some clothes for you,” she said in a firm, but sweet tone.

I shook my head, frowning as I stared at the delicious, fragrant black liquid, “I don’t have any clothes. I-we left in a hurry, and…”

Flashes of my torn apart apartment moved behind my eyes and I resisted the sob building up in my throat.

“Shhhhhhhh, ragazza,” Marianne murmured, her delicate fingers smoothing back my hair from behind me, “Drink your tea. It will help you relax.”

I nodded softly, taking another small sip.

She moved to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors.

“Now,” she said quietly, “Matteo had a variety of things delivered, and he also sent me to town to pick up some items for you. You have plenty here.”

My eyes widened at that and I raised my eyebrow, “He didn’t have to do that.”

Marianne shot me a wide smile, the firelight bouncing off her silver hair, “Si, but he did.”

I flushed a deep red, watching as Marianne set some clothes onto the bed before she floated into the bathroom, and I heard the sounds of a bath. I stood and wandered into the bathroom, the faint smell of roses.

“Roses for Rose,” she hummed in an almost laugh, pouring in a delicately tinted liquid that brought bubbles to the surface.

She took the almost empty mug of tea from my hands, and waved towards the bath, “Relax, ragazza. Matteo will be back soon. I will see you at dinner.”

I nodded, and after she left I undressed, leaving my crumpled clothes in a pile next to the bath. I sunk into the hot, sudsy, floral-scented water with a soft sigh. The clawfoot tub could have fit three of me in it it was so large, allowing me to fully lay back and relax. My ruddy hair floated around me as I saturated the strands, enjoying the water.

I dozed off slightly and frowned when I started awake. The water was going cold, and Marianne had said something about dinner. I quickly scrubbed myself down and stepped out of the tub. I wrapped my hair in a towel, after drying myself, and donned the white, silky robe that hung next to the bath. I moved into the bedroom, which was now warm, and cozy despite the stone thanks to the roaring fire.

On the bed were a pair of high-end lacy undergarments, a pair of soft, calf-length trousers, and a pink silk camisole. I blushed softly as my finger brushed over the blue lace underwear before me. Did Marianne buy these for me? Or was this Matteo?

I heard movement in the study beside the bedroom and quickly dressed. I was combing through my unruly waves and curls with my fingers before the fireplace when I felt Matteo’s white-hot touch on both my shoulders. His touch was featherlight, his fingertips against my bare skin almost nonexistent as he traced down both my arms. I shuddered and closed my eyes.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice strained and tight in comparison to his touch.

I turned around and noticed the darkness in his eyes, as his hands fell to his sides. A deep blush burned in my cheeks.

“I’m…” I wasn’t sure how to answer.

I was confused. My life had just crumbled, and here I was being treated like an honored guest. In Matteo’s home.

Matteo.

He was driving me crazy. He had been so tender, so gentle, so kind, and...romantic to me. I didn’t know how to process it. My mind went 100 miles a minute. My heart was caught in my throat after his teasing touch.

He held my eyes for a few more moments, before he looked away, his mouth tightening into a thin line.

“Elisa would like us to have dinner with her,” he said shortly, “I told her tonight you need to rest. Marianne will bring up dinner. I need to work in the study, You are welcome to enjoy the library.”

I frowned. Where did sweet, sensitive Matteo go?

I nodded softly, and he led me into the study. He gestured towards the couch, as he sat at his desk, furiously scribbling on papers, his back to me.

I sighed. I was exhausted. I moved around the library until I found a classic- A Midsummer Nights Dream before I plopped onto the couch.

For a while, the only sound was the turning of pages, and Matteo’s scribbling. At some point Marianne came in, serving me roast chicken, and what looked like mashed potato but with a more bitter and earthy taste. I picked at my food, frustrated by Matteo’s constant hot and cold, before I lay on the couch, admiring the fire.

I gave in to my heavy lids, and in my half-asleep state felt warmth spread through me as strong arms lifted me and carried me to the bed, setting me down on the warm sheets.