“Ah, Adicus!” Catrina’s exotic voice gushed out, and she swished toward him in her pink and ivory flowing skirts to place kisses on his cheeks. “You have slept so long,” she exclaimed with innocence.

Adicus nodded thickly, his eyes watching the beautiful figure sitting tranquilly on one of the oversized kingly wooden chairs seated at the expansive dinner table. Her bushel of brown hair was curled into a wild bun with few curls falling against her temples, and her prettily painted eyes were staring at him with vibrant fascination. Those fantastic browns of her eyes were muted by the soft violet of her dress drowned in hundreds of ribbons and bows.

Adicus placed a kiss on his mother’s snow-white cheek. “I did not know there was a visitor. I deeply apologize.”

Raising a thin eyebrow, Catrina laughed and taking his son’s hand, led him toward the table. “Lina Gabrieli has come to pay you a visit, and you chose to spend the morning napping like a lethargic cat.” Lina’s head turned to Catrina with an enthralling smile. “Ah, but Lina, here is my son, better late than never I suppose. It was lovely conversing with you, and may your sister feel well soon enough.” As Adicus felt his mother’s hand pull away, his grip grew tight and her cryptic eyes flashed omnisciently at him.

“Are you leaving so soon?” She could not leave him with this tantalizing Siren.

A half-smile fell on her lips and she placed another kiss on his cheek. “I have duties to attend to, Adicus.” Her hand slipped away, leaving his hand feeling strange and empty as though she had released him from a prison. “Please return before nightfall however; no one will be home until morning. It is time to strum in the dark light.” There was a gleeful danger within her eyes, and Adicus knew immediately what she was thinking. Their rich music would fill these halls all night – all night until they both collapsed from broken breaths.

Adicus watched as she left the room, and then his eyes turned to Lina who was still watching him with hawk-like intrigue. “Sorry for keeping you, Signorina.”

“Kindly call me by my first name, please. Signorina is unbelievably stiff, yes?” Lina laughed and stood, giving her hand to Adicus to kiss.

“Why have you come?” Adicus asked candidly, only realizing afterwards the slight insult in his question.

Yet she laughed demurely. “To be honest, I was quite eager to finish our little dialogue. I had to leave so suddenly last night that I had no chance to come and speak with you. Though it did seem you were occupied with quite a few stunning young women.”

She had seen him?! Blushes threatened to break out on his cheeks. “Why did you leave so soon?”

“Oh do not worry. It was a night for dancing, not for chitchatting.” Pausing, sadness appeared deep within her eyes. “My sister has been sick of late. It truly is the only reason that I am spending my time in Messina, for I live in Palermo with my parents. However, a week ago my sister who was married fell desperately ill. See, her husband ran off in the cruelest of manners. One day he just up and left to go marry this little thing of a pretty girl who was locked away in a convent. I believe it slowly ate away at my sister’s heart, and she has been terribly sick. I have been taking care of her. I had to leave to attend to my sister; that is all.”

Silence. Adicus knew not what to say. Her unreserved nature stunned him. It was such a secret scandal that Adicus would have never imagined her to speak of. Surely if he had known something so indecent he would have hidden such a secret. Why was she utterly calm and collective? “I am sorry. That is horrible.” Those were the feeble words that plopped uselessly from his mouth.

She gave a little sigh and shrug before a plastered smile erupted onto her face. “Well, that is how it is, and it is folly to cry over the past. What has happened has happened. The world will continue to turn, and the days will carry on without a care that something dreadful has occurred. Besides, the darkest hour is just before dawn.” Her eyes flicked uncertainly to the floor before they turned their attention again to Adicus. “Therefore Signore D’Agostino, would you care to go on a walk with me, in order that we may enjoy the blissful sun?”

“If you wish.” Lina alluringly slid her arm through his, and they walked out into the fresh open air; the strong smell of the sea overwhelming their senses. It was consuming, and Adicus adored the light breeze that brushed against his face.

They began their walk in silence, almost as if to commemorate the sun for bringing its light upon Messina that day. For only five years earlier there was a time where the sun did not seem to shine. Blackness had swiftly swept through Messina with its sickliness and diseased thousands; the number of deaths was unaccountable. It seemed that every day people had dropped to the ground, calling forth the maggots. Even the air had been rank and foul with infection. That plague had spread and slowly devoured many. It had come once again by the terrifying sea, and left that summer in the muggy heat. It left just as silently as it had come, and it had left Messina in a state of ruin. There were so many gone and the corpses had piled high. The plague had destroyed more than the four-year war – when the Spanish severely wounded the prosperous province – before it, and it had stunted the rebirth of their home once again into the gorgeous pride of Sicily. Now it seemed like Messina was a dead thing. The sea was slowly destroying everything. The sea it appeared to them would never allow them to live in peace. It only swept disaster to their shores.

Fortunately, Adicus’ family had faced none of it. They had fled until the plague had stopped its assault, and they had returned after retreating into Catania for a year. When they returned they saw nothing but death and despair. They had had such a lovely time in Catania while their people rotted. Adicus had not been able to bear it, and he had once again locked himself from the world for half another year, ignoring the effects of the plague and everything that it had ruined. No one could bring him from his isolation. Perhaps he was a coward, but he could not accept or tolerate so much desolation and weeping. Yet he convinced himself that possibly . . . quite possibly it was an act of God, and this perhaps made it all right. So he crept out of his room and was blinded by the same radiant sun that scorched his eyes now. He was certainly not used to light.

Where were they going? He knew not. And Adicus felt too awkward to end the silence that was clotting between them. What was he to say to her?

Yet as they passed by the tremendous, overshadowing Cathedral’s campanile, it chimed and ushered in a new hour for the world of Messina. The Piazza del Duomo was exceptionally crowded that day; the hoards of people swarmed about like pesky flies, their voices buzzing angrily near Adicus’ ears. The agoraphobia in Adicus was beginning to settle on him, and he felt his skin tightening, prickling and the boiling temperature was causing him to sweat. Most of the eyes that passed him seemed to follow his every move. It was true that he hardly set foot outside of the house, and that the sight of him in a piazza was a rare, but as their eyes began to dip with curtsy, he felt agitated and nervous. Was he always going to be some circus spectacle? He did not want people to revere him as some authoritative, controlling lord. It was too much insufferable pressure. Would he drown in it all?

Even their whispers pierced his ears. Whispers wondering who the glowing girl was, and whispers dartingly asking what suspicious reason would Adicus be here for. His eyes faced the ground, and his hands clenched; he would pay no heed to all of it. He would ignore everything that displeased him. Go numb to the angry, sorrowful feelings blistering inside of him.

“It must be awful.” That rich voice suddenly cut through the silence between them; her voice though quiet even broke through the bantering crowd who ogled Adicus with respectful yet distrustful faces.

“What?” Adicus stumbled out, feeling foolish. Had she noticed his nervousness?

“To have everyone look at you as if you are a circus attraction,” she said quietly. “Do you dislike it, Adicus?”

The sound of his name sounded luscious from her mouth. He wanted to swoon. “O-of course not.” He lied in vain. “I mean that I am used to it . . . How could I dislike those who honor me?” The words were rushed and full of deceit.

Removing her arm from his, she suddenly stopped; making Adicus turn and peer questionably back at her. She hugged her arms to her body, and she appeared thoughtful and wistful. “Do you mean to propose that you must like everyone that likes you? For that just does not seem right. Do you disagree?”

Flushed, Adicus shook his head. “Uh – I suppose no, but I – I . . .” An embarrassment took over him, and he turned away feeling flustered. How could she say those things? It was unbelievably audacious. He had never met such a girl.

“Oh but look at me rambling about things I should not.” Smiles threaded her voice, and she resumed to take his arm again and allowed him to continue onward with their walk. Though this time, as they walked past the gorgeous Orion Fountain and headed into an abandoned lane, she continued speaking. “Please correct me if I am wrong . . . you are not the awe-inspiring singer that I saw in the street then?”

This question surprised Adicus, and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to think how to best put his answer. Should he lie, or should he tell her the truth? His father would be furious. He brother would be furious. His mother he was unsure of. His songs were something loathed by everyone except his mother and even she had her reservations. “Lina . . . if I were to lie to you I am certain you would know. You do not seem an unintelligent person, but I cannot tell the truth either. Do you understand?”

She shook her head; her hand lightly touched his arm in affection. “I understand what your answer is, but I do not understand why you cannot enjoy that gift of yours. That song was so filled with genuine emotion. The soul screamed and cried with passion. Do you know that I admire that man I saw?”

“Impossible.”

“Why is that?” Innocence made her voice tear through Adicus’ growing irritation.

“Because no one could admire that.” Adicus replied.

“Do you know a simple spider, which many would squash and fear and despise, is still admired and beautiful because it can spin an intricate web of art – a disastrous scheme of murder – in order to devour even more spiteful insects? Do you know it still chooses to live though it is detested?”

“I just . . . I just can not.” Adicus stated angrily.

Her face scrunched up with a little dainty frown of impatience and determination. “Because you choose not to!”

Now it was Adicus’ turn to stop, and he did, finding them to be in a deserted corner with a tall villa blocking out the sun. An unusual chuckle dropped from his lips. He could not recognize whether it was a laugh of sarcasm or disbelief. It was an odd feeling. Why did no one understand his plight? Why did nobody understand his frustration, fear, uncertainty, isolation, and powerlessness? Why was it so hard to comprehend?

Obviously, as she shrank back, his chuckle had intimidated her.

The voice that issued from his mouth felt and sounded unnatural with its spiteful sarcasm. “Because I choose not to?!” He smirked and lowered his head, bringing a hand to his forehead. This girl was bringing out the worst in him. No one ever asked him about his music. No one ever suggested that he could rise above everything. Yet here she was subtly suggesting that he was not a lame beast in an iron entrapment.

There was no escape for him. Escape meant exile or death. Should he choose music and die? Another laugh gushed forth. “Lina, Lina, Lina.” He sang her name sweetly to her and advanced on her like a coiling snake. Mesmerized, her eyes took on a glossy coat as her name streamed from him with such purity and charm.

Despite his voice, he felt vicious, and her eyes went blank as he pressed her against the villa’s icy shadowed stones. His hand reached out and grasped hers tightly, causing her to recoil further. Somehow he sensed no fear from her.

“Do you know?” His words mocked her egotistic temperament. “That my life consists of nothing but duty? Do you know that if I were to sing that I would be hanged? Do you know if I were to live as I wished I would disgrace my family?!” Dissatisfaction with everything in the world continued to swell in his voice, and Lina watched him with a wide-eyed wonder. “Do you know that I cannot do the things that you say I can so easily?! I am to be the most frightening man in Messina. That person that sends chills through the spines of the bravest men! This person who could slaughter so calmly is supposed to be me. I am none of those things. I am pathetic compared to my father or my brother. I have nothing that they have! I am worthless! I have tried and tried and everything fails! My life is one huge failure! So do not assault me with your ‘do you know’ statements! You know nothing!” His grip loosened on her as his breath grew ragged from its ferocity.

Tears were welled in the corners of her eyes, and as he saw those glistening droplets fall to her cheeks, he felt horrified and his feet stumbled away from her. Shaking, his knees gave out and there upon the ground he hung his head in shame and felt at a loss. What had he done? Never before had he shouted so vehemently and never had he made a girl – one that he felt such fervor for – cry. Embarrassment, shame, and wretchedness – they all suited him.

A shadow fell over him, and he felt her kneel beside him softly, disregarding her expensive skirts that picked up dirt like it was a loved one to be caressed. She placed her gentle palm upon his head and would not allow him to lift his face to speak with her, but he mumbled apologies over and over again until his throat became hoarse from speaking. All the while as he whispered foolish apologies she kept her palm in his soft hair, and he assumed it was to veil her tears that drifted down like tiny raindrops on the stone road, leaving miniature puddles.

“You have endless options, Signore. You just choose to believe there are no open doors.” She choked out these words defiantly. He said nothing to her stubbornness. He wanted to erase what he had said. No one should know his deepest thoughts. No one should have found out what a disappointment he was.

“Would you at least sing for me, Signore? Would you please?”

No answer.

“Please. It is selfish but – there is nothing else in this world but selfishness it seems.”

“Would you forgive me then?” he muttered. He did not care. He wanted her to forget that unpleasantness that he battered her with. “Would you forget my malicious words?”

“Yes, I would forgive you.” She lifted him, taking his hand forcefully and snatching him up. Ignoring his protests, she furiously tugged him through the lanes of the many stone houses. Their heels clicked deliciously against the cobblestones, and the alleys filled with echoes of their steps.

It was but minutes before she veered sharply, her hair becoming unruly from its pins, as she ducked under a decrepit broken archway that had probably fallen with the during the war. The building they entered was a mere skeleton of its former glory. Crumbling stones were scattered, and thick broken rock fragments littered the ground so that there seemed to be a dusty mist about the place. A crunch under his foot told him of the bits of glass that lay beneath them ready to slice their flesh. The sight sent shivers through Adicus as he saw the strewn pieces of life still decorating the debris. There were bits of vases and frames of escaped paintings. A dilapidated once proud chair was severed at the legs, and a noble statue’s head seemed lost and only a chunk of the eye remained lying nearby its toe. The place was haunting – yet it felt as if the place was calling to him. The brokenness seemed so familiar.

And Lina, as if satisfied of her find, took a seat on the slightly crumbled windowsill, her back to the sun that poured in and rendered isolated shadows on all of the devastation. Her eyes then turned to look at him with expectation.

Somehow as he surveyed the wreckage, all of the sorrow in him seemed to build, and the expectancy of her made his sorrow well to an almost excruciating height. The pain in his heart choked him. How could he possibly sing? Yet as he stared fixedly at a snapped, forgotten candle lying trapped beneath a pillar, his mouth opened and out came the most agonizing notes of an aria. It was an aria for all the suffering and suffocation in the world. It was an aria for her.

Her glistening wet mouth parted with awe, and her bright eyes watched him with such agony. And he knew when his eyes turned to her, as his lips moved without being told, that she too had suffered something more terrible than ever imaginable. Those were the eyes of understanding and loss that looked at him. Those beautiful sad and tender eyes pierced him with their hunger for his song. On the loneliest note, his vibrato increased and he found his voice swelling until it was on the verge of erupting like Vesuvius.

Then as his song ended on the softest note his soprano voice could produce, an eerie captivation seized the entire chamber and an ethereal feel hung heavily in the air. The specks of dust flying in the streams of sunlight showered them in a fake fairy’s glitter. The entire place glowed with a new life, a revived and mythical life.

His eyes could not look at her as she stood up and approached him. The gentle silks of her dress fell into his line of vision as he stared obdurately at the floor. The silence was supernatural, and her hand took his so soothingly that it might not have taken it at all. “The angels weep for you, Signore.” Then he saw her feet tiptoe up, and a caressing moist kiss was placed so scandalously on his lips.