Page 4 of His Eternal Claim

“No.” I slap her hand. “I’m not taking anything, tell me where I am.”

Her shoulders fall with a tired sigh.

“Miss Visconti, please, it’s for your own sake…” she murmurs, but her voice trails off as she looks toward the doorway behind her. I don’t understand why until a voice answers for her.

A voice that should not exist in this world.

“You’ve always been quite a troublemaker.”

My entire body goes cold. My spine locks and my heart forgets what it’s supposed to do.

That voice, no, this voice. It’s not possible. It cannot be real.

I look at the door and there, smiling like she had never died, her brown eyes as sharp as the day I remember, stands the woman I’d never expected to see again.

My Mother.

Alive!

Whole.

Breathing. Her hair brushed back neatly, her dress soft and pale blue, her eyes warm in a way I remember only in dreams, and in nightmares.

My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.

It can’t be her. It can’t be.

I watched her die. I watched her die.

My fingers curl into the sheets, trembling, and my lungs burn for air I can’t pull in.

“M-Mama?” The word escapes me in a bare whisper; I can’t recognize my voice.

She takes one slow step inside, and I flinch as if struck. My pulse roars in my ears. This cannot be happening.

“No…” I choke. “No, no, you died, you are dead… you can’t…”

Her eyes soften.

“Stina,” she breathes, the name I haven’t heard in years. “I’m right here, my child.”

And my entire world tilts, and then collapses.

Chapter 2

Omen

THE MAESTRO | 10 years old | Past

Selene’s house always smells like cinnamon and something warm I can never name, as if it only exists here and not in mine. Mrs. Visconti says the scent comes from her garden, but I think it comes from her voice. It’s sweet and sugary.

Mama is in her arms right now. She’s crying again.

Mrs. Visconti strokes Mama’s hair while giving me those wide, pitying eyes, and I wish Mama hadn’t insisted we visit today.

“Shh, my darling,” she coos, hugging Mama tighter. “Men like your husband are… unpredictable. You must be stronger. You must behave more carefully for your sons.”

Carefully.