Prologue
The eyes looking out from behind the mask are green, but that is all the man can see for her form is hidden in the folds of the flowing gown that she is wearing. The mask itself is stunning, handcrafted and if she is anything like the beauty of the mask, then she is definitely a catch.
Her voice is husky and sexy at the same time; it sends shivers of delight at the thought of what is to come through his body, as she takes his hand in her gloved hand and leads him along the cobblestone walkway, almost as if leading a lamb to the slaughter.
Sounds of the masked ball not far away filters across the square, laughter fills the air as revelers soak up the atmosphere, the colors are bright, and there is a feeling of gay abandonment as couples, groups move to and fro, their masks hiding their true features, and their costumes blend in with the crowds that swarm along the roads.
She leads him along the canal, the sounds from the square falling behind them as they cross the bridge, and he can’t believe his luck on his first night in Venice, to be chosen by such a beauty, and he tries to imagine what she looks like behind that mask.
They come to an alleyway and she pauses for a second, looks into the dark recess of the alley, then turning quickly, takes his hand again and leads him on. He could have sworn that he heard her mutter softly into her mask.
“This one is for you Paul, my darling.”
“My Lady, did you say something?”
“No, I am just thinking about what is ahead of us tonight, you must have imagined it.”
She leads him into a room with a four-poster bed in the center, the light is dim and in the distance, he can hear the sound of music, and her heavy breathing, which he takes as passion, and a sign that he is in for a good time tonight with a masked stranger.
The sound of falling cloth behind him, he turns and gasps at the beauty before him. She is naked, but still wears the mask, and he feels the heat rush through his body, and desire for the masked stranger before him fills him, and he sheds his clothing.
“Do you like what you see Sir?”
“Yes My Lady, you are magnificent, but I wish to gaze upon your face, please remove your mask so that I might drink in your true beauty.”
“I am sorry, you may have me, but the mask stays on. Lie down, and I will come to you.”
He lies back on the soft mattress, and she straddles him, moving up his chest and offering herself to him. His eyes close in ecstasy, and he feels her take his hand, and the soft feel of silk wraps around his wrist, then the other, and he is bound to the posts of the bed. His eyes fly open in alarm. He sees her sitting on his chest, her weight holding him down, and in her hand, she is holding a dagger, and he hears sobs coming from behind the mask.
“My Lady, what are you doing?”
Without a word she brings the dagger down, the dim light flashes off the blade as it cuts deep into his chest. His body arches as he tries to throw her off, he pulls at the silk holding his hands in place, but she rides him, gripping his body with her strong legs, and plunges the blade in, again and again, the blood splatter being thrown across the whiteness of the bed.
His body shudders in its final gasp to hold onto life, and then with a death rattle in his throat, she slashes the sharp blade deeply across his throat, his body goes limp beneath her, the air in his lungs escaping through the deep wounds, as his blood soaks into the bed cover, dripping off the bed, to form a puddle on the carpet.
“There Paul my darling, I showed mercy, just like you taught me, I cut the throat of the animal.”
Without another word, she pulls the gown over her head, covering the blood on her body, slips the dagger into the folds of her dress, and without looking back at the dead man on the bed, leaves him, to be discovered when the occupants of the room returned.
She mingles once more with the groups, just another mask in the crowd.
Sounds of laughter drift up through the night air into the honeymoon suite, bringing Juliana to the window; she gazes out over the crowd of revelers down below, their masks and costumes a rainbow of colors, the atmosphere full of gay abandon, and a shiver of excitement run through her body.
“Oh God, I can’t believe it, finally here in Venice for the Masked Carnival, and with the man of my dreams.”
Juliana throws herself back on the bed, closes her eyes, and allows her mind to drift back to the day she first set eyes on Paul.
Africa
The sun climbs up into the bright blue sky, dazzling her as she emerges from her tent, and starts to move across the clearing towards the dining area, her thoughts on what magnificent African Bush style breakfast she will feast on today when she stumbles on an exposed rock and finds herself getting a firsthand taste of African soil.
Strong hands pull her to her feet, and she turns to face her “Knight in shining white armor”, with a smart remark about throwing herself at peoples feet when her mouth goes dry, and her eyes lock with the man standing before her. His face, darkly tanned from the African sun, his eyes dark brown and piercing, and a brilliant white smile, that turns her legs to rubber.
“Oh shit, heck I’m sorry, I was not looking where I was going.”
“Are you okay miss, have you hurt yourself?”
“Just my pride thank you, I don’t normally throw myself at strange men, in strange countries.”
“Well, if you’re sure you are okay; I will be on my way. I am sure we will see each other again, oh and I beg your pardon, my name is Paul.”
She takes his outstretched hand, and feels the electricity pass through her body, once again rendering her speechless, and for one moment, she feels like giggling like a school girl who has just been introduced to a pop idol.
“I’m Juliana, thank you for helping me up.”
“My pleasure Juliana, now watch yourself, don’t go throwing yourself at the feet of any other men now, people might get the wrong impression.”
“Ha ha, funny, anyway thank you once again.”
Paul turns away from her and makes his way towards the staff quarters of the camp, and she watches him go, broad shoulders, slim waist, and just the right height as well. Juliana makes up her mind then and there to find out more about the man, and to get to know him. She can’t get that dazzling smile of his out of her mind.
***
The sound of the electronic keyboard fills her head, as she slips her arm through her fathers, and together, to the sound of “The Wedding March,” they move into the small chapel, and start down the aisle towards the waiting man, standing alongside the priest, that dazzling smile of his filling her heart with joy.
“Do you, Paul Stewart take this woman, Juliana De Luca to be your lawful wedded wife?”
“I do.”
And you Juliana, do you take Paul to be your lawful wedded husband?”
“Oh yes, I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
A knock at the door brings Juliana out of her daydream state, the memories flooding her head as the tears stream down her face.
“What is it?”
“My Lady, I have been sent to inquire if you will be joining the family for drinks?”
“Yes Teresa, I will be there shortly, I’ve just run a bath.”
Juliana throws herself across the bed, the mask sits on the dressing table and watches her through empty eyes, the dagger cleaned in spirits safe in its sheath lies alongside the mask, it’s work now done as the man whose life it cutaway was the fourth, and last of the vermin that turned her perfect life upside down, and turned her into a killer with no remorse.
She allows her emotions to take over, for too long she held them in check, not allowing a crack to show through the armor she has built around herself, holding her feelings deep inside the recess of her mind, but now, finally she is free to mourn the man who was her soul mate, her lover and her best friend.
Juliana’s heart retching sobs fill the room as she gives herself over totally to her suppressed emotions, the rage that has burnt inside her for the past five years, slips out in the flow of tears, and she embraces the memory of Paul and cherishes each and every moment that they spent together.
Her mind flies like a bird, turning back the hands of time. Back to the day that she first tasted African soil, and Paul become a part of her life. A part of her life that was perfect, that was made for her, and one of the dates she would never forget.
