THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA

{ PT.  1 } - CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE It was now mid-morning, and Christiano opened his eyes to shards of morning light spearing the dark hotel room as if desperate to burst through the drawn curtains. He swallowed the stale parchedness in his mouth. Every inch of his body throbbed in pain. His cushioned landing may have saved his life, but diving behind bushes and all-night driving and sleeping on sofa were not aiding in his recovery. Besides, it had been a while since he had practised any yoga. He raised himself from the sofa like a decrepit old man to find the bed ahead of him empty. Angelica? He looked round the room. Fear set in as a hollow silence lapped at his ears. He repeated her name but received no reply. A sudden bolt of adrenaline rushed through his veins. He bounded off the sofa just as the bathroom door opened. A concerned Angelica, wet and wrapped in a towel, looked towards him questioningly. He flopped back in his seat, and his short-lived relief was replaced with scorch

  [ CHAPTER  THIRTY TWO  -  EPIPHANY ]  { PT.  1 } Angelica awoke from a nightmare. Her chest heaved, and her usual olive-toned glow was more like porcelain. In her dream, Enzo had come to her, foam seeping from his mouth. He gasped for air as he told her not to worry, that he regretted nothing and he had made his peace with God. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to gather herself and make sense of the dream. She picked up the hotel phone unsure of what to do. Then she saw Christiano lying sound asleep on the sofa. An immediate sense of peace washed over her. She replaced the receive and decided to shrug it off as a bad dream. Instead, she rose from the bed and made her way to the window. Scatters of light streamed in through the curtain gaps.                                                  _______________________________________________________  { PT.  2 } -  She lifted the drapes and looked outside. It was a bright, crisp morning and for a second she imagined she was on holi

{ PT.  1 } Two gaping holes on fire blazed from the devilish eyes of the beast pinning Christiano to the ground. It flashed its serrated teeth as it inched closer. The smell of rotting flesh repelled his nostrils as a dense, sebaceous liquid dripped from the beast's mouth and slid across Christiano's cheek. He gawped in terror as it sprouted two more heads with extended necks. Each head turned to the other menacingly before it returned its demonic gaze on him and zigzagged its way to his face. A furnace of fire exhaled from each mouth. Chrisriano's eyes shot open. He whipped his head round the dim hotel room, his breathing laboured and his body dripping with sweat. From the sofa where he lay, he could see Angelic sound asleep on the bed, her chest rising and falling in rhythmic beauty. He exhaled with relief and flopped his head back on the pillow. But he was still restless, and his mouth tasted like sawdust.                          ----------------------------------------

CHAPTER THIRTY  -  PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA { PT. 1 } - Marcello's car cruised along the country lane with an anguished Christiano   at the wheel. Sixteenth-century farmhouses rose in the distance sculuded behind stone walls bearing cracks and fissures that mirrored the worn face of time. His glazed eyes were mesmerised only by the road markings rolling by in a precise, hypnotic rhythm. Angelica was sound asleep with her head pressed against the door. Flashing past her window was an intoxicating sea of bountiful vineyards bearing swollen grapes ripe for the picking and budding vines that a fine bouquet. Christiano peered at her, catching the image of her hair highlighted with a dazzle of orange flecks from the sitting sun. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away. He was angry about what he had been forced to do, yet when he wanted to do was to save her. He felt himself sinking deeper into the pit of quicksand that had become his life, and he could see no way out that did

[ CHAPTER  TWENTY  NINE ]  { PT.  1 } - Age-old trees of oak, beech and poplar soared high above Enzo's car as he sat with adrenaline-fused eyes, chewing gum and staring into oblivion. A breathtaking sight of a red-orange hue filtered through the branches and the dawn had set the sky on fire, but his only concern was how the hick he was going to get himself out of this one. He was growing too old for a life that left a bad taste in his mouth and an ever -mounting body count. He wanted nothing more than to retire. The phone rang, waking his from his stupor. The caller ID flashed with Don Primo's name. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and answered the call. Boss. What happened at the house? I didn't hear from either of you. We didn't want to wake you. We were driving all night to get to this cabin where the priest's mother told us he would be. You're there now? We just got here. What happened back at the house? The message was delivered and received. Who was

[ CHAPTER  TWENTY ]  -  THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA { PT.  1 } - Marcello's car bumped against every rock and lump of protruding mud on the dirt track leading to the cabin. The towering trees trapped the darkness around them. It was like being inside a sarcophagus. Christiano reached a row of poplar trees which offered the perfect seclusion and parked. Well this is it! he said, switching the engine off. The eerie sounds of the indigenous night creatures screeched through the silence. the car's headlights illuminated a small cabin in the distance. He cut the light, enveloping them in blackness. Angelica's haunted eyes stared into the shadows. What is this place? It's not as scary as it looks. He reached his hand to the back seat and retrieved a large torch. I spent many a night here with my grandfather. This is where he gave me the knife I carry. Some of my fondest memories are here. How long ago did he die? Many years ago. I was just fifteen. We kept the cabin as a family