Castelmezzano, The Witch Is Dead : An Italian Cozy Mystery (The Homeswappers Prequel Book 0) by Adriana Licio

Author:Adriana Licio [Licio, Adriana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Hometravellers Press
Published: 2020-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

8

The Witch’s Home

Dora climbed up through the narrow alleys and steps that made up the Rabatana, the old Arabian quarter of Pietrapertosa. There were no longer many people living there; in the labyrinth of passages, you couldn’t reach your home with either a car or a shopping trolley. And nowadays, people didn’t use mules to transport their goods. But a few brave souls of all ages felt they couldn’t live anywhere else.

In a little white stuccoed building, hidden in a passageway mostly made up of the backs of other houses, lay Cassandra Sventura’s home. Dora used the brass knocker to announce her presence and a woman with long dark hair and glaring carbon eyes opened the door, leaving it ajar.

“What do you want?”

“Hello, dear, I baked some of my biscuits for you. I knew you were a good friend of poor Sibilla and I thought you might need some company.”

That morning, Cassandra had shut her door in the face of many a villager, but Dorotea Rosa Pepe had been the only woman to visit her with food in the past when she had fallen sick. Though she had never been one of Cassandra’s clients, Dora had always treated her as a neighbour and an important part of the community. Also, the old teacher would greet her, even in crowded places when other villagers pretended not to see her.

After a moment of hesitation, Cassandra opened the door.

“Come in, Miss Pepe.”

Dora entered a light and airy living room with a tiny balcony suspended over the village rocks. She remembered how surprised she’d been the first time she’d visited; she had expected to enter a dark grotto with mysterious signs and little or no light, but Cassandra’s home was as normal as any other house. Almost. Only if you were very observant would you notice that the landscape paintings on the wall featured magic places scattered around the country: an ancient oak tree; a mysterious well; a congregation of witches; a modern painting of cabalistic signs and symbols.

Two black cats with green eyes shining like lanterns in the night came forward, pretending indifference, to smell the newcomer. Dora bent to caress the one closer to her.

“Watch out!” Cassandra warned, but the cat was enjoying the caresses around her ears, purring with pleasure.

“Tenebra seems to like you. She’s not usually too nice to people she doesn’t know.”

“This is the kitten you rescued last year, isn’t she?”

“Some boys were really awful to the poor little one, no wonder she doesn’t trust people. Well, most people. But please, take a seat.”

Dora chose a comfy armchair next to a cabinet filled with labelled jars and dark bottles.

“You were friends with Sibilla, weren’t you?”

Cassandra emitted a long, deep sigh. “We were more than friends, we were sisters.”

“You mean in your Art?” Dora, as did most villagers, knew both the official and unofficial genealogy of every fellow citizen. She was in no doubt that the two women could not have been real sisters.

“That’s a bond stronger than blood,” said Cassandra, reading her thoughts.

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