Evil's Fire E-Book

Samantha Garbero

• Herausgeber: Youcanprint
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

After the heinous murder of his grandfather, Don Patricio, Don Juan Cortez decides it's time to have a family. As a well-known Cuban treasure seeker perpetually traveling to unexplored places, he doesn't want to waste too much energy on the fairer sex. His exclusive aims are to have an heir with a noblewoman and to enrich his heritage. So he starts to have a regular correspondence with Lady Mary Hallen and, after a few months, he proposes to her to marry him. However, since Mary's arrival in Havana, Juan's existence is completely turned upside down. Despite his intention not to bond emotionally, he can't resist the young woman's charm and rebellious nature. Madly in love, he doesn't realize his wife's dark side immediately; nothing is really as it seems. In fact, the man ignores the existence of evil and of its several facets, until he knows the oldest of them: the original one.

Leseprobe

Samantha Garbero

Evil’s Fire

To my grandfather Giuseppe,

the brightest star

who guides my every step.

To my son Enrico Michele

and my husband Stefano,

the great loves of my life.

Without salvation

Havana, 23th December 1842

A ticking rhythm, unmistakable, incessant: the sound of rain, which descended from the iron bars, was the only comfort of the woman lying on the icy ground. The harmony of that moment, caused by the cadenced sound, was interrupted by a sudden and deafening noise.

The female figure tried to open her eyes, but they started watering incessantly. She rubbed them quickly to attempt to identify the silhouette that appeared before her. With the few forces she had left, she tried to avoid that dark profile, that put her wet hand on her forehead.

An intense burning pervaded her, while her lips, at first tightened, opened abruptly, causing cuts to the sides of her mouth.

The woman, shaken by the pain, made a vibrating scream so fearful as to retreat the stranger, that unconsciously struck the candle, located in a corner on the ground; he took it to shed light and his face lit up, allowing the prisoner to recognize him...

“Father James, your visit is unexpected”, she smiled on him, until a fluff of dark and muddy blood came out of her both nostrils.

“Elizabeth, I am sorry, the time has come... your soul needs to be redeemed”, the priest lowered to see better the eyes of the woman than from brown turned into bright red. Elizabeth, with her last energy, spat against the prelate.

“You have lost the right way, fear not, it is not too late to save you”, said the priest in a compassionate tone, cleaning his face. The woman dragged herself until the rusty chains wrapped around her ankles allowed it, she stopped to observe the priest’s black dress, as if only that garment could scratch her being. She felt in danger and, while he closed her with his wooden crucifix in hand, the fear increased.

“Not even you can save me from the flames of hell. I am cursed, Father”, Elizabeth affirmed slowly with a hoarse voice.

Father James took her hands: they were bony, covered on earth and blood: “I am here with you, together with God. Confess yourselves, everything can be forgiven”.

The woman’s eyelids closed, weighed down by fatigue; the pain seemed diminished as the stench of death on her ruined garments. Suddenly in Father James’ mind appeared total darkness, then small white lights took place in the void, the darkness disappeared, and, in its place, there was a clear sky.

The lost-soul woman was far from that prison...

Perfect strangers

Havana, 27thMay 1841

On the journey along the carriage roads, only the noise of the hooves of animals walking calmly could be heard; the sea still seemed so close that one could touch it. The persistent and unique smell of saltiness accompanied the woman until her arrival at the capital. Music and happiness were resounding in the air, and while children and old people were dancing barefoot around a bonfire, the interior of the carriage was pervaded by an intense scent of burning wood.

The young woman was not bothered by it; on the contrary, she admired the bright colours and the euphoria of a community that seemed not to want to sleep, ready to seize every second as if it were the last to live. The vehicle ascended a wide slope, and the roads became unpaved until the coach arrived in front of a stately mansion. The coachman stopped the pair of bay-coated horses, got out of the carriage, and quickly held out his hand to the woman to help her out of the passenger compartment.

An elegant man appeared in front of her; he was wearing a dark grey suit and his patent leather shoes seemed to sparkle from how lucid they were.

He, amazed, greeted her: “Welcome to my residence, Milady. I am Don Juan Cortez, immensely honoured to meet you and regretful that I did not come to the port to welcome you, even though I returned late from an important business trip”.

The young woman bowed and granted him a sweet smile. Juan, pausing to observe her perfectly shaped lips, looked away with difficulty. She had never delivered any portrait to him; in fact, every time he asked her for it, she used as an excuse: her older brother’s jealousy. From the words Mary had penned on the paper, he had imagined her to an ordinary plain woman, with no noticeable facial features and with a relatively thin physique; in short, a lady who, if she walked downtown,would not attract the looks of any man. In contrast, the lady in front of him did not go unnoticed: she had long red hair, hazel eyes, a bewitching smile, and her skin was snow-white. Her curvaceous body conveyed an innate sensuality, and soon she would be his wife.

Juan was a merchant of treasures, the sole heir to the fortune left to him by his grandfather, Patricio Cortez. After his tragic and sudden death, was born in Juan a desire to create a family of his own, and, driven as well by his ambition, he made the decision to marry a foreign woman who possessed a noble title, so as to further enrich the prestige and heritage that would one day accrue to his future children. The opportunity came through an American friend of his grandfather’s, namely Mary’s paternal uncle; it was a simple matter to begin the correspondence. A marriage was the ideal solution for this man who aspired to have numerous heirs, but wanted at the same time to avoid any romantic involvement with their mother. He had no energy to put into a relationship based on love because he was constantly traveling to explore distant lands in search of treasure. Juan, recovered from his initial embarrassment and still incredulous, offered his arm at Mary to guide her inside the majestic mansion.

They walked the wide road that led in front of a large staircase, with around ochre pillars, and above it there was the main entrance, formed by four imposing arches. Mary was led inside the villa and was admired by the richness of the furnishings that adorned the large purple hall. In the centre of the room, in front of the large staircase leading to the upper floor, were the servants who, with their heads bent in respect and obedience, welcomed their future mistress.

The lady was intrigued by a maid who did not keep her gaze on the floor, like the others, but she tried to observe her without being discovered. The gesture of that young waitress with brown skin and thick and curly hair made her smile.

Next to the servants there was a woman with an inquisitorial gaze who presented herself as Doña Juliana, Juan’s sister: she was wearing a monochrome dress that made her appear lacking in grace, but underneath that anonymous attire was a feminine and well contoured body. Next to her was her husband Don Pedro García; he was a bulky man with a head that was not proportionate to his physique. His face was narrow and long, his nose sharp and pronounced, and his forehead was covered with greasy, thin, overlong hair, so much so that one could barely make out his crepe-like eyebrows, and his deep blue eyes were small and deep, giving him an almost menacing look.

Juan didn’t understand how his sister had fallen in love with such an individual; he wasn’t only unattractive in the literary sense of the word, but he appeared vulgar and he often caught him bothering young maids. As if that was not enough, Juan noticed that while he was introducing his future wife, Don Pedro was pointing his eyes at the young woman’s breasts. Despite the anger such a gesture caused him, he pretended not to notice, so as not to make the newcomer feel uncomfortable.

At the end of that day, full of news for the couple, the others followed one another quickly; the long-awaited wedding day was very close.

Juan, in this short time, had discovered several aspects of his future bride’s character: she was funny, stubborn, curious. His interest in her exceeded his expectations, and he could not remain entirely indifferent to her charms.

During the refreshments welcome, which had been held shortly after her arrival, the young woman had become acquainted with Havana’s high society. Men had greeted her with admiration and women with envy. Juliana had no sympathy for her future sister in law; it was evident from the way she used to look at her. As if something was not convincing her, as if every word or action of Mary disturbed her.

After the welcoming, Juliana did not fail to embarrass her by exclaiming loudly: “Lady Hallen, I don’t know your customs, but in this mansion, you are not allowed to call the servants by their first names. There is a small bell, which you may always carry with you, and for any order you may give, simply ring it and the first available servant will come”.

Mary answered with a hint of a smile: “Doña Juliana, I am sorry to contradict you, but I personally find the ringing of the bell irritating and somewhat disturbing to my hearing. Since your servants are human and have a name, why shouldn’t you use it? On that note, I would like to retire to my room and would be happy if the young brown-haired maid would summon me, I would like to take a hot bath”.

Juliana raised her thin eyebrows, silently dismounted and left the living room.

A few minutes later the maid, whom Mary had noticed from the first moment, entered the room: “What can I do for you, Lady Hallen?”.

“What is your name?”, she asked her.

“Sahira Alzah, Señorita. At your service”, and knelt down.

“Stand up, Sahira. I would like you to prepare my bath”, the lady told her with a smile.

Sahira struggled to get up from the floor; she was limping forward to get the jugs and fill them with water when Mary stopped her: “What happened to your leg?”.

“I slipped”, she replied nervously.

Mary could not help but notice that on the servant’s neck were scratches and fresh blood next to a bluish bruise; at that sight, as if someone dealt her a blow, the gentlewoman’s balance faltered and she abruptly leaned on the white marble mirror located behind her.

“Are you all right, Milady?”, Sahira rushed to her aid.

Mary sighed: “Not at all. I am not blind; I note the unwanted glances and caresses you receive, while you are tidying up…”.

“Please, don’t say more. I’m feeling distressed…”.

“You will see how Don Pedro will feel, after I discuss it with Juan”, Mary was heading for the exit, ready to go to her future husband to talk to him, but Sahira stopped her.

“I beg you, don’t do it! The master would make me pay. He is able to turn the situation to his advantage, and his wife, Doña Juliana, she’s just waiting for a chance to kick me out with the masters is always difficult to fight, I cannot oppose them, they have more powers than we servants”.

“What do you mean?”, Mary asked, worried by the distressed expression drawn on the maid’s face.

“Both my parents were falsely accused of being thieves by a very powerful man and were sentenced to death by impalement. As their vital organs were not injured, they did not die immediately, and their torture lasted a long time, while I was unable to do anything but stand and watch… I was only a five-year-old girl, but I remember every single detail of those cursed days. The most painful fact was not the prejudice of the passers-by and their laughter, but the mockery, especially that of a man”.

Sahira took a long breath before continuing: “He used to wear a hideous doublet under a tight blue jacket, his pants tight to the knee, and his shoes were making a tremendously annoying noise. I can still remember him”, the young woman sighed.

“I had never seen, until then, eyes as blue as the brightest crystal, but devoid of humanity. The tricorn was covering the nape of his neck, letting his blond ponytail be exposed. He denounced my parents, I am sure. Sometime earlier he had a heated argument with my mother. He wanted her to hand him over some papyrus, which according to him she had stolen, but my mother always denied it. I was not able to understand that situation; I knew that she was a good friend with the sage of the village, but I realized that because of this friendship she had gotten in the way of the wrong man, which she paid with her life. Since then, I have promised myself to do whatever it takes, even suffer anguish in silence, rather than succumb at the hands of such people”.

Sahira remained silent, and then burst into desperate weeping, covering her face in shame.

Mary reached into a chest of drawers, made of precious maple wood, and took from her handbag a handkerchief that bore a monogram, embroidered with an intricate floral pattern, that resembled the letter “E”. Then she handed it to the maid, who continued to thank her between her sobs.

The lady, however, was apparently not paying attention. Her gaze was lost in emptiness while, with her hands, she was nervously twisting a flap of the turquoise dress she was wearing.

The Wedding

Havana, 1thJune 1841

The wedding was celebrate in the Cathedral of San Cristóbal as per the tradition of the Cortez dynasty; it would become the most talked-about and envied event of the year. All of the city’s most prominent families were present and were standing among the large pews that had been decked out with floral decorations. The red carpet that ran down the center aisle stopped in front of the high altar where Juan was positioned. He was feeling comfortable, despite the prying eyes of the crowd, until Mary crossed the threshold of the church. She was wearing a cream colored wedding gown that originally belonged to Juan’s mother, which had been tailored to her figure for the occasion andenriched with embroidery and precious stones. Her long hair was enclosed in a neat coiffure, with only a few strands of it left free. The picture was completed by a crown of ivory roses, identical to those in the bouquet that she held with grace and ease. The guests were impressed by her elegance. Juan was captivated by the rose fragrance emanating from his bride, and when his eyes were reflected in Mary’s brown irises, he was feeling enchanted; at that moment he knew there would be no other woman in his life.

Throughout the ceremony it was as if time had stopped.There was only her, the rest was gone. Only the words spoken by her angelic voice were resone: “Yes, I do”.

Festivities after the celebration went on late into the night, and Mary, exhausted, in a moment of apparent quiet, took refuge on the villa’s large terrace.

The slight breeze tousled her reddish hair; not even Juan’s presence could distract her from her thoughts.

“My dear,why are you here alone?”, Juan asked her clumsily.

“I’m taking a taste of some fresh air, Don Juan. The day has been long and a bit busy”, Mary sighed.

“Don Juan? I am your husband now. Just call me Juan”, he answered her, smiling.

Meanwhile he was speaking he realized that his wife was trembling, so, he slipped off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. He was left only in his immaculate linen shirt, but accustomed as he was to the island’s climate and its cool nights, he was not cold; on the contrary, small drops of sweat were slowly trickling down his forehead, wetting the tie that at that moment was dangling untied around his neck.

The woman, despite the dark blue sky of the night, could clearly see the droplets imprinted on the fabric, so she handed him her handkerchief; a precious piece of white embroidered cloth marked with the large letter “M” in its center, then, amused, replied: “You too can simply call me Mary”.

Juan rejoiced at his wife’s attentions and raising his eyes to the sky he exclaimed: “Look! A shooting star!”.

“Would you like to make a wish? You are as elated as a child on Christmas Eve”, Mary teased him.

Juan turned to her to see his half-hidden face better: “I may seem immature to you, but every time I see one, my mind conjures up the past and memories of my grandfather resurface. He often loved to tell me legends about meteors; one day he told me that if I saw a shooting star, that would be a soul leaving this world. He raised me. I had, like my sister, a complicated childhood. Our parents left too soon... Now, however, I am happy, I don’t need any more wishes, now that I have you”.

Mary’s eyes glazed with sadness. She had been touched by her husband’s words and seemed to understand that state of mind perfectly. Juan felt the need to hold her close. The deep and sincere embrace he gave her annihilated any feeling of bitterness and warmed her heart. He was pervaded by an unusual emotion; he shifted her hair away from her face as she drew closer and closer…

“Don Juan and Doña Mary, do not neglect the guests… you should go inside the villa to do the honours”, Juliana interrupted them.

The bride, annoyed by her sister in law’s increasingly cumbersome presence, returned in the mansion without giving her a glance. She also ignored Juan who, leaving his sister in charge of the guests’ entertainment, hurried to the master bedroom, hoping to find his wife there, but finally crossed paths with her in the wide hallway, upstairs.

“My sister can be inopportune”, he said, getting close to her; he was displeased with Juliana’s manner toward his wife. Arriving in front of the door to the bedroom, which up to that point had remained spotless, the young woman was surprised to notice that Juan had no intention of entering.

“Are you coming in?”, asked Mary mechanically, showing no emotion.

“When you are ready, we will sleep together; you don’t have to feel obligated. Good night, Mary”, he greeted her with a gentle kiss on the forehead and then pulled away.

The young woman, caught up in the exhilaration of that affectionate gesture, walked through the door, doing some funny dance steps. She rolled over until she fell over the wide bed. She stroked her skin at the precise spot where Juan’s lips had rested and stared at the ceiling with dreamy eyes.

“Good night, Juan”, she sighed.

When the first light of dawn appeared, on a beach is located near the villa, a group of fishermen were gathered on the shore, watching in astonishment at a macabre finding…

A corpse was lying on the beach. The body had been brutally battered, the neck was completely lacerated, and above it the head was missing.

“I think I found the head”, shouted a fisherman standing on top of a rock and then continued, “Madre de Dios! Who could have ever done such a thing? It’s Don Pedro García…”.

The Secret Garden

Havana, 21st August 1841

After the terrible assassination of Pedro García, the population had a fear that this might happen again. Juliana, due to the sudden death of her husband, became depressed, and she began to suffer from insomnia and a lack of appetite. Her physique was affected; she became thinner and skinnier, her face looked dry, and two deep black circles under her eyes highlighted them.

She was no longer going outdoors and at some point, she started talking to herself, or rather, when someone asked her who she was talking to, she replied that she was talking to her husband. So, Juan, concerned about his sister’s health, persuaded her to take a trip to leave everything behind; she was going to travel to America, to the estate of their aunt, Doña Ortensia.

The months passed and Mary and Juan gradually became more and more accomplice, like a couple who finally fell in love and found happiness. They used to spend endless hours in the villa’s huge garden, which they considered their fairy tale place: it was surrounded by perennial trees, a section of it was dedicated to Flamboyant plants, with their typical red colours, while the rest of it had various hibiscus plants, Bougainvillea, and various orchards; the smell of the first ripe fruit was exhilarating. Among the branches of the trees rested various brightly coloured orchids, moved by the warm wind, while the flights of insects and the rustling of leaves made a magical sound.

Mary was enjoying these gifts of Mother Nature to the full, and between her long, slender fingers she was holding a pencil which was moving swiftly and gently over the notebook which rested in her lap. In front of her, a tiny bird was repeatedly flapping its iridescent wings to stay in the air. The young woman was trying to catch every detail of the creature to capture it on paper when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Juan sitting at the top of a tall tree in front of her. The lady, fascinated by what she observed, decided to abandon the drawing she had just begun and, on a blank page, began to draw new lines…

Juan was at an ideal angle and Mary’s creativity was guiding her hand: the profile of her husband, illuminated by the sun coming down into the valley, was simply magnificent. The woman seemed to notice only at that moment how beautiful the man’s eyes were, green as two emeralds. The soft skin, the slightly pointed nose, his full lips and his long windswept hair made him look charming.

Juan, realizing he was being watched, dismounted from the branch with a jerky leap and approached his wife curiously: “What are you painting?”.

“Doodles, nothing important”, she replied and tried to hide the notebook behind her back.

He tried to grab it, but she pulled it away.

“In case you’re an artist I should have known about it. After all I’m your husband”, he approached her again playfully.

“My artistic side can be compared to your speed”, Mary replied in jest, and then began to run across the large green field.

Juan ran after her while she opened the gate that separated the gardens from the rest of the forest and stepped into the thick vegetation. She breathed in the strong scent of nature until she stopped; she had reached a crossroads where armed men were advancing in her direction. In her attempt to hide behind a tree, the fabric of her deep blue dress caught on the bark and tore, bur she was too curious and didn’t care to stand still against that surface. Mary turned her head as she could no longer hear any sound; she wanted to see if the field was clear to come out of her hiding place, but someone grabbed her from behind and a warm hand clasped her mouth.

The lady freed herself by seizing him by the wrist, looked at him, and...

“In addition to being an artist, I am pleased to note that you are also a fighter”, Juan said in amusement as he stopped one of his guards to hand him a set of keys.

He pulled a stone from the small wall across the street, and the wall began to shake until it shifted, creating a dark void. Mary tried to look through the darkness, but Juan grabbed her arm and led her inside. There was a narrow hallway that stopped in front of a large antique wooden door, decorated with designs of lions and mythological creatures. Juan grabbed a long rusty key, inserted it into the lock, turned it and pushed it until a roar sounded from inside the secret room. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the lady was amazed at the countless treasures she beheld; they had been recovered in various explorations by the Cortez family. Juan felt almost uncomfortable and embarrassed by the choice he had made, and he said: “I shouldn’t have brought you here, only my grandfather and I knew what this place was hiding...”.

“Juan, it’s incredible!”, exclaimed Mary, and then she embraced the whole room with her gaze; she seemed to be looking for something.