from where I sat.
The first night I’d debated on whether or not I was going to take her back with me.
I never claimed to have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Both were devils, but an angel had opened her wide eyes, stuck her hands on her hips, and then started arguing with the both of them—in Sicilian.
I grinned, thinking about her snapping those shears at me.
After that, leaving her unprotected made me think harder about who else was out there. Silvio salivated for the chance at vengeance, and he had no idea if I’d been looking for her or not, since communication between that world and mine had been slim. So it would make sense that he would still have other men looking for her, even though he knew I never let the enemy go.
This woman was no enemy to me, though. She was a fucking weapon. Something that made me even stronger as a man.
The closer I came to la casa dei gatti—the house of cats—I could smell her in the air. Lemon. Chocolate. And something else tonight—something I hadn’t smelled before. Sandalwood. Maybe cedar. It smelled like a fucking man.
Music drifted out into the night, probably from a little radio that ran on batteries and still played cassettes. I’d seen it sitting outside once on a different night. The sound of female laughter melted in with the song.
From my place on the overturned bucket, I couldn’t see a fucking thing because freshly washed laundry hung on the lines. It cut off my view.
The shadows of two women danced behind the curtains. The moon dyed the clothes golden-silver, but the shadows were black. With each reach of an arm, twirl of a body with a basket, bump of a hip, a cat circling a leg, or doubling over of a woman’s body to laugh, shadow puppets formed. Only two pairs of dirty, bare feet were visible from underneath.
Alcina’s laugh rang out, and it seemed to echo in the recesses of my memories, like she’d been with me my entire life. I just had to find my way back home, follow the sound of her laughter.
A cat moved around me, circling my legs, and I bent down to scratch her on the head. She had a mark there like a lightning bolt. I remembered Alcina called her Arista.
The cat purred for a second before she lay down next to me in a bunch of flowers that grew wild around the casa. During the day, they curled in on themselves to hide from the sun. They only opened at night.
Alcina called them moonflowers, and against the darkness and in the light of the moon, they were neon white.
I grinned again. The song was in English, but they were singing in Italian—one of them trying to. Anna could sing. Her sister couldn’t. That didn’t stop her from trying, though.
The show behind the curtains went on for about an hour, and when I heard footsteps coming toward me, I opened my eyes to find Anna standing in front of me, holding a basket against her hip.
She took her pointer and middle finger and pointed them at her eyes, and then stabbed them at me. “We watch you, too,” she said. “You watch her. We watch you. My sister is not the only one who knows how to use shears.”
“Or worse,” I said, trying not to laugh at her. She was cute. “Those clothespins might take my eyes out.”
It took her a second, but a slow smile came to her face. That’s when I realized her cheeks were wet with tears. She sniffed. “I have not seen my sister so happy in her life. Can you believe it? Her entire life. You have given her a glimpse of real light in the darkness. Do not drag her further into it. Or…”
“Or,” I said. Hesitation was deadly. It was like hesitating when pulling into oncoming traffic. Either fucking go or stay put, but don’t brake.
“You will not see me coming, scorpione. I will kill you in your sleep.”
A few cats ran after her when she left. I could hear her talking to them, telling them to go back home, until her voice faded and I knew I was alone with Alcina.
The radio turned lower, almost off, and I knew she was doing it so she could hear. I put my head back against the tree, closing my eyes, thinking about what Nicodemo had said to me, about the ones