The Devil You Know (3 page)

‘You must snap out of this,’ loberto said to Luigi one night, as his cousin burst into a fresh round of tears. ‘It is not good for you, not what your father would want.’

‘He’s right, carissimo,’ Mozel said, stroking her husband’s hair. ‘Cosimo would not want you to be weeping when the baby comes.’

A flicker of light crossed Luigi’s face. He reached out to stroke his wife’s swollen belly.

‘When will he be born?’

‘I told you yesterday. A month.’ She laughed. ‘You ask me every

day! And besides, it is a girl.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know. I can feel it,’ she said, mysteriously.

‘You should not sit in this gloomy room,’ 1Loberto insisd. ‘Besides, 1Lome is so dirty these days. The smoke, the pollution :… It isn’t good for babies. And the motorini speeding everywhere, w,t if they knock Mozel down?’

Luigi looked alarmed and brushed the tears away. ‘That’s a good point, 1Loberto.’

‘Your child should be born in the country, in the woods.’ Mozel’s face lit up. She hated and mistrusted tLoberto. She knew exactly what he thought of her. But she was a daughter of the country and the woods.

‘He’s right, Luigi …’

‘I have that hunting cabin in Umbria. Near the town of San Clemente, which has a wonderful hospital, very modem. An excellent maternity ward, with doctors from America.’ This was tree; 1Loberto knew that would be the first thing they would investigate. It was one of the best hospitals in Italy. ‘And the cabin … it’s actually a lodge. Very luxurious, with three bedrooms, a library, a pool room, and an indoor swimming pool, heated.’ He looked at the Contessa. ‘Swimming is excellent exercise for the heavily pregnant, dear Mozel; you know what your doctor said.’

She looked down, she truly was as fat as a cow; Mozel longed to

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move, safely, of course. Roberto knew it. In fact his workmen had only finished with the pool last month.

‘If you want my advice, Luigi, you will take three months off. A month with Mozel, to be in the countryside, and finish your

mourning, and then a little time with your child once he is born.’ ‘She,’ Mozel said.

‘He, she. What does it matter as long as the baby arrives safely, and in good clean air, too?’

They both nodded their agreement. Fools.

‘But who will run the company?’ Luigi protested. ‘We have contracts to fulfil, mergers on the way, acquisitions …’

‘You’re no good to Parigi in this state,’ loberto said reasonably. ‘And your first-born will only arrive once. Are you going to miss the first months for work?’

‘He’s absolutely right,’ Mozel said.

‘I can take care of the Dulon merger. We have very capable men running the company, Luigi. Between us we’ll manage for a few months without you.’

Mozel looked at her husband longingly, and Luigi agreed at once. He could never resist any plea from those intense, pale eyes.

Ioberto was cunning. He knw Mozel was suspicious, and he made sure her fears were allayed. He invited their friends to stay in the lodge, and he remained in Milan while the couple enjoyed the country air, and while Luigi went hunting wild boar, his favourite pastime.

Luigi was intensely grateful, but loberto brushed his thanks aside. ‘It is the least I can do for my dear cousin,’ ILoberto said. ‘After all, we are family.’

Mozel was surprised to find the hospital was just as 1koberto had promised. It had American doctors and British nurses, and catered mostly to wealthy foreigners who did not care for Italy’s friendly, broken-down state care. Her husband’s arrogant cousin had also arranged for specialists to visit her weekly at the lodge, so she could be examined in comfort and privacy. Soon she relaxed, and did not worry when he came to visit, even when he disappeared with Luigi in the woods. Each night they came home again, and her friends came and went, and she felt safe.

The American doctors gave her another cause for joy, too, something that distracted her from her instinctual caution. She was not about to have one child. She was going to have three.

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‘But when are you coming to see the babies?’ Luigi asked him on the end of the phone.

‘I must just finish up some business, then I will come to the lodge. I can’t wait to hold them,’ 1Koberto said. ‘How adorable.’

‘They are adorable,’ said his sappy cousin, voice full of foolish

doting pride. ‘They are the most beautiful children ever born!’ ‘I bet they are,’ 1Loberto said. ‘And the mother?’ ‘Mozel is doing wonderfully.’

‘I will arrange the christening, Luigi. Let me take care of everything.’

‘I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us, I feel like a

new man,’ Luigi said gratefully.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Poberto said softly. ‘I’m family.’

“

P, oberto took a few days to return to San Stefano and start some very public preparations for a grand christening. The cake was ordered, balloons and banners were bought, the Archbishop was booked; 1Loberto showed himself around town, passing out cigars, receiving congratulations, and ordering from as many suppliers as he could. The town took note of the unusual good humour of the Principe di Parigi. As he had intended.

And then, finally, all was ready.

When 1Koberto arrived at the lodge, he was all smiles. Mozel, already back to her normal size three weeks after the birth, greeted him warmly, as if he were truly Luigi’s brother. She was wearing a blue dress that picked out the glossy raven hue of her hair, and he thought how delicious she looked, and how much he would enjoy finally having her.

Mozel was wasted on a limp noodle like Luigi, 1Koberto decided. Of course, he would never have married her, but she would be good to luck. He imagined all that wild passion squirming underneath

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him. Before Ee wiped out the sain of herself and her gypsy brats for good.

Roberto caddied the babies. They were ugly little pink morsels with blue eyes and scraps of dark fluff on their heads. He felt no compunction at the thought of what he was going to do to them. They would never know a thing. At this age, they were hardly people. Magnanimously, he decided to smother them with a pillow before the flames took them.

‘Aren’t they amazing,’ he cooed, and Mozel leaned over to retrieve them, smiling at him. Her heavy breasts brushed against his forearm in her thin silky blue dress, and Roberto stiffened pleasurably, and thought that she wanted him.

That night, after the happy parents had retired to sleep, R.oberto poured the gasoline and accelerant he had kept in an outhouse into all the channels he had dug for them. A pity to waste such a magnificent little holiday villa, yes, but he was insured to the hilt; he could always plan another …

In the morning, Roberto ensured that he would not be interrupted. He waited for the postman to come, and the maid to leave, tipping her handsomely. Then, accommodatingly, Luigi himself suggested they head into the woods to shoot a few boar, maybe even a stag or tWO …

It was like - what did the Americans say? - taking candy from a baby, I

Luigi crumpled to the ground in a slither of clothes and flesh. His own gun dropped harmlessly from his hand, and blood gushed from his head as he collapsed on the forest floor, branches and twigs cracking under the weight of his body.

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His crotch hardened as he emerged from the thick, green dark of the forest and walked into the house. What would Mozel feel, that treacherous gypsy slut, whose sex had stolen his cousin’s wits and let

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all the world see a Parigi united with a gypsy woman? She would be afraid, and he was looking forward to that. But would she be wet and hot when she was taken by a real man? Despite herself? That tramp … of course she would … she would love it …

1Koberto’s anger and hatred mixed with his lust. He strode past the patio, through the open doors of the living room. He was hard as a diamond now. Through into the kitchen, and then to the family room, where Mozel would be sitting with her brats …

There she was. She had a child at the breast. The sight of them, usually large but now even more swollen with milk, turned him on so much it hurt. For a second, 1Koberto just stood over her, staring, his shotgun in his hand.

She knew immediately.

Of course, he thought triumphantly; she is a witch, after all.

Mozel said nothing but snatched at the phone and started to dial for help.

‘There is no tone,’ Roberto said. ‘The line has been cut.’ ‘Why?’ she screamed. ‘Why?’

He shrugged and moved towards her. ‘I am a prince of the Parigi, befana slut. Put the child down.’

‘No!’ she shrieked, and started to run. But 1Koberto raised his shotgun and pointed it at the other babies.

‘Unless you want me to blow their brains out, you will do exactly as I say.’

She stopped dead. ‘Yes,’ she said numbly. ‘Yes. Yes.’ She laid her baby gently down on the couch, where it started to squall with fury, because its lunch had been interrupted. P,.oberto found the sound annoying.

‘Walk into the bedroom,’ he said, ‘and strip your clothes off, slut.’ Mozel obeyed him, trembling, and went into the bedroom. She would fight. Maybe she could get away. Her mind was thinking only of one thing, to save her children, Luigi’s children. She would mourn him later …

loberto stood before her, shotgun pointed at her breasts. She was a slight, skinny little thing; he had ninety pounds on her. He was lean and muscled, his body reflecting the disciplin of his life

‘Slowly,’ he said, enjoying himself. She obeyed him. She slowly removed her clothing, letting the dress slither to the floor, her tits already out of the bra, they were magnificent, the tiny white silk panties peeled off and she was absolutely nude. R.oberto, his hard-on

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full to bursting, shoved her roughly back on to the bed, tugged his pants half-down, and mounted her.

Mozel shrieked and tried to struggle, but he had her fast. t

That was a mistake. He was stronger than her, and she blacked out, which stopped her struggling, and shrieking, and now he was

fucking a limp body. No fun. He cursed and shook her awake. ‘My children,’ she groaned, ‘spare my babies!’

‘Of course I’m not going to,’ 1Koberto said, grinning and thrusting. ‘Let some gypsy take what is mine, inherit what is mine? You and your filthy line die tonight, witch.’

She looked up at him, with those grey wolf eyes. She stopped struggling, and started to move with his rhythm. 1Koberto was shocked, then he smirked. She was enjoying it. He knew she would. She could not resist …

And then, looking directly into his eyes, Mozel loudly and clearly pronounced a curse on him, a curse that seemed to go on and on, speaking the words in her barbaric language, until he wanted to throttle her.

1Koberto felt his belly crisp with fear. Inside the witch, his hard-on shrivelled and died. He felt himself become limp and small, and slip out of her. Enraged and red-faced, he lifted his hand to strike her

again, to beat all the life out of her …

‘Wait!’

Her voice was strangely calm. Despite himself, 1koberto Parigi hesitated.

‘You can break the curse,’ Mozel said calmly, ‘if you spare my infants, 1Koberto. Then it will not come upon you.’

He hesitated. The spell … the spell … he did not like it.

‘It is impossible,’ he said, reaching for her throat.

Mozel spoke fast, the words tumbling out of her. ‘No! Not impossible. Give them to churches, leave them on doorsteps, who will know? Separate them. Nobody will know, they are Italian girls …’

‘They have your eyes, witch,’ he snarled. ‘All would know them!’ ‘Their eyes are blue,’ she pleaded, “blue!’

Roberto felt his limpness flop against his clothes. His rage and frustration burst, and he screamed ‘Silence!’ and moved forwards, choking her until she stopped breathing and lay dead and quiet on the bed, unable to torment him with more of her words and spells.

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He sat there for a few minutes, panting. Now both Luigi and Mozel were dead. Calm, calm, Roberto, he told himself. Relax … don’t let the slut get to you.

But she had, he knew she had.

When he said ‘witch’ loberto Parigi believed it. Modern times did not mean modem attitudes, not in this land of long memories, where superstition was a way of life. The look in the gypsy slut’s eyes as she spoke that curse …

Dimly, he heard the sound of crying from the other room. He stumbled back in there, zipping himself up. There were the two in their cots and the third on the couch.

Curiously, Roberto gazed into the small eyes of the squalling one. Yes, the slut had spoken the troth. They looked like ordinary Italian brats, with dark hair, blue eyes, olive skins …

He picked up a cushion from the couch and stood over the screaming one. But then he hesitated.

Fuck it, Roberto thought. Nobody will ever know, and I will break my curse …