His mother crossed her legs, feigning indifference on the outside but failing to hide her concern with her question. “What do you mean it was not your first time? You have been in there more than once?”
I hesitated, unsure if telling her the truth would be helpful or not. But secrets and lies would only build a flimsy bridge destined to fail.
Drawing in as deep a breath as I could take without wincing from the pain in my throat, I explained about the first night after the reception. I gave her all the details about the room opening for me and my suspicions about her daughter’s spirit but decided to keep Granny Jo and Fiametta’s involvement out of the story for the moment.
Damiana stared back at me with a blank expression, and I thought I’d blown everything with the truth. I looked to Luke for guidance, but he watched for his mother’s reaction as well.
“I would claim you were crazy if not for the stories I have heard from the staff over these several centuries,” she said, busying her fingers with her amulet. “We vampires know that ghosts do exist, but I did not want to believe my Isabella had not found peace beyond this life.”
Taking a bigger risk, I let her in on my growing theories. “I think she wants someone to discover the truth about her death.”
Damiana’s perfect mouth opened a little with a gasp. “Is she still here because of this? Have I failed her all this time?” She wrung her perfectly manicured hands together.
I glanced at Luke, prompting him to comfort his mother with some meaningful looks and a few head bobs of insistence. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she covered it with hers.
Taking advantage of the situation, I pressed Luke’s mother for more information. “What do you think happened before Isabella died?” I asked in a soft voice.
Damiana bent her head down as she spoke. “We had placed her in the tower because her father and I thought she was being too willful. Lorenzo wanted her to marry for position, and while I did not entirely agree with him, I also did not want Isabella to throw her life away.”
“By marrying a witch,” I added, careful not to flavor my words with too much sass.
Her eyes flashed to mine in irritation, but she sighed. “Yes. I did not think she could truly love someone who was not like us. Her relationship was tolerated as a temporary dalliance until we found out she intended to run away and marry the male witch on her own.”
“Who reported that information to you?” I asked, my heart quickening.
“It was so long ago, I am not sure. Most news does not come to me directly but through a series of reports.” Damiana studied me. “Why?”
I couldn’t tell her the information I knew from Isabella’s letters without betraying Fiametta and bringing her into things. “As a passionate woman in love, I doubt she would have told anybody her plans. Someone made sure you found out in order to keep her from succeeding. That means someone also had a reason to want her relationship stopped. A jealous lover perhaps?”
Damiana frowned. “Isabella would have told me if there was somebody else. She swore that she only loved the witch.”
“Paolo,” I said in exasperation. “His name was Paolo. And I don’t understand your hatred of witches. Haven’t you used them since this castle was built to place spells and create secret passageways?”
“Hate is such a strong word,” she countered.
“What term would you use to describe your reaction to Ruby the other night, Mother?” Luke asked.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This is my fault we’re not getting anywhere. Let’s get back to my main point. Who was the one who found out about Isabella’s plan to elope and made sure you knew?”
Damiana looked to her son, but Luke shook his head. “I only found out after you and father locked her away in the tower as punishment.”
His mother shaded her eyes with her hand. “We only wanted her to see sense and give up her lover. It was never our intentions for her to have her life taken.”
Sympathy rose inside of me for a mother who lost her daughter, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel that it was the parents’ choices that pushed Isabella to her end.
“When Luke told me a little about his sister, he said she was in the tower for a long time.” I leaned forward and pressed the issue. “How long?”
Damiana flinched. “We meant it to be temporary. Wanted her to suffer just enough so she would give in.”
“Tell her how long, Mother,” Luke insisted.
She turned in the chair to face him. “You know how stubborn Isabella was.”
“I do. She was related to you and Father after all,” my fiancé goaded.
Damiana blurred out of her seat and stood in front of her son, crowding into him. “Do not pretend that you were the only one wounded by what happened or that we have not been tortured by our own decisions year after year, century after insufferable century. You think you carried guilt because you were the last to speak to her? Try being the one who put her there.”
The tension in the air crackled around us, and I feared if the mother and son got into a physical altercation, I would end up an unwilling casualty. Even though I still didn’t have an answer to my question, I needed to deescalate the situation.
“I get it. She was in the tower long enough for everyone to have suffered,” I said. “But Luke told me nobody then nor now knows the truth about her death. Only what the residents who lived at the time reported.”
“Sì, the burning angel who flew from la Torre del Pianto.” Luke’s mother collapsed into the chair. “None of us were with her in her final moments.” A single pink tear ran down her cheek.
Nothing in Isabella’s letters suggested she would
