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"Here..."
My threatens to leap out of my chest, but instead of pointing a gun to my head like I expected her to do—-
The old lady hands me a photo instead.
Oh.
I guess I was being a little paranoid back there, and...whoa.I can't remember the last time I held an actual printed photo in my hands, and—-
No.
My throat tightens when I realize whose faces I'm staring at. The woman on the left is obviously the old lady from years back...while the couple next to her can only be my parents.
There's Dad, with his usual goofy grin, and Mom, whose chagrined expression may have something to do with the fact that toddler-me in the picture was busy chewing on the hem of her skirt.
"I'm so very sorry for your loss."
My gaze jerks back to the old lady at her words. I know I can be fooling myself here, but the gruff note of sympathy in her voice doesn't sound like a lie.
"Whoareyou?" I whisper.
"Mi dispiace tantissimo..."
I don't speak a single word of Italian, but I know an apology when I hear it.
"I did not mean to make you think I am your grandmother by blood."
"No, of course not." It takes more effort than I expected to force myself to smile and shrug off my disappointment.
"But wearestill related, to a point—-"
I don't want her pity, and I'm already shaking my head even before she's done speaking. "You don't need to lie."
"—-because you've been betrothed to my grandson since birth."
"I'm fine, and—-"Wait. A. Freaking. Minute.Did she just say what I think she said? My stunned gaze swings back to her, and the older woman has no trouble meeting my eyes.
"Whoareyou?" I ask again, but this time I'm unable to keep my voice from shaking.
"My name is Potenziana Marchetti."
All I can do is stare at her.
Well...that explains a lot.
"You've heard of me?" she questions.
Asking me if I've heard of her is like asking me if I know who America's president is. Ever since I ran away from my foster home over a year ago, there hasn't been a single day that I haven't heard other homeless folks whispering her name like it's either a curse or a prayer.
La Strega, La Strega, La Strega.
It's one of the few Italian words I've come to know...and it translates to 'the witch' in English.
