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9

Mari

Monday, April 16, 1821

A s Mari and Pippa made their way to the village in their gozzo , they spotted a group of fishermen ahead, toiling on the docks, unloading their nets and hanging them over wooden racks to dry. Wisps of street-vendor smoke curled into the air. A group of boys stood at a long table near the water, gutting and weighing fish. Later, they would salt and smoke it, and whatever didn’t stay in the village would be shipped out.

All of these people, and indeed the very welfare of the village, were now at risk because of Mari’s mistake. Matteo had said he’d be back. He’d come for her, undoubtedly, but what about the others? If they got ahold of the other streghe , the village of Positano would never be the same.

Mari should have heeded her instincts: she hadn’t wanted to go out at all this morning. She thought of the water trembling in her cupped hands as she tasted the sea, and the spooked cormorants flying past, and the dolphins darting away. The signs had been there. Why hadn’t she been more careful with the girls, more attuned to her surroundings?

It had been reckless to do her underwater pirouette in broad daylight. She’d known this, but she’d done it anyway, wanting to make the girls happy. And she’d been careless last week, too. Instead of leading the women to the cove to perform their spells against the incoming pirates, she’d brought them to the seashore. There, she recalled, was where she’d spotted that strange shadow on the dock…

Was that, perhaps, related to what had just unfolded?

As they rowed, Mari glanced at her reddened hands. They were blistered now, and she dunked one of her hands into the ocean, hoping the cool water would ease the pain. But not a moment after her skin touched the sea, an enormous swell rose from beneath them. Pippa screamed, nearly falling over the edge of the boat as it pitched to one side.

Mari yanked her hand from the sea, instantly realizing her error, but it was too late: the sea sensed Mari’s fury, and after the swell had nearly rolled their boat, it joined the current and made its way to shore—a single rogue wave, steadily building in size. It must have been three or four meters high.

On one of the docks, a fisherman looked up and shouted in alarm. “ Onda! Onda! ” he screamed, dragging his friends onto land. A moment later, the swell struck the dock, its force snapping the wooden frame into pieces. The dock itself, along with the nets and the fresh catch, tumbled into the sea.

The men looked at the place their dock had just been, visibly confused. Then, their eyes fell on Mari’s gozzo .

They waited for her to approach. “You are all right?” one of them asked Mari as she crawled out of the boat and onto the sand. “ Onda anomala ,” he was saying, over and over.

“Yes,” she managed, “a rogue wave. We are all right.” The dock would need rebuilding, but the men were safe, at least.

She and Pippa pushed past them, running for the hillside. They would go first to Pippa’s—Mari wanted to get her home, to safety—then Mari would break the news to Lia’s mother.

As they went, they retraced a portion of the route they’d taken that morning, when Lia had complained about the pebble stuck between her toes. Now, Mari regretted not sitting down with the child to help her, not showing her more compassion.

At Pippa’s casetta , Mari asked if Vivi was home. She was not, meaning Pippa would need to be the one to share the details about Lia’s kidnapping with her mother. Still, Mari trusted Pippa; unlike some of the other village women, Pippa was not the sort to gossip or embellish details.

“Keep the doors and windows locked,” Mari told her before she left. She thought again of the man vowing to return. “And keep a knife on you,” she added.

A short while later, at Ami’s house, Mari beat her hand against the door, knowing Ami didn’t go into the bakehouse on Mondays but instead stayed home, preparing her ingredients for the week.

Ami answered the door in her apron, her hands covered in flour. She was known around the village for her crostata di frutta , a dessert tart made with local fruits Ami handpicked herself—apricots and figs—and lemon rinds glazed with sugar. Now she wiped her palms on her apron, her expression one of unease. “What is it?” She peered outside and glanced behind Mari. “Where is Lia?”

Mari tried to catch her breath, dabbing at the sweat on her upper lip. “Something has happened,” she said between breaths. Her mouth felt full of grit, dry and tasteless. She could not look Ami in the eye.

“Where is Lia?” Ami repeated, louder this time. On the road, a young boy with his dog stopped, turning to look at them.

“She is…gone,” Mari choked out.

Ami grabbed her, roughly, by the shoulder. “What do you mean, she is gone?” Her nails dug into Mari’s skin, and Mari wished she’d dig harder, wished she could exchange this pain for the return of the child.

“Pippa and I were in the water by the cove. Lia was in the boat, watching us. I heard a scream, and when I surfaced, a man was there. Lia, she was—” Mari’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, there on Ami’s doorstep. “She was gone. Matteo Mazza. He took her, stole off with her.”

Ami’s face twisted in anguish, and dark red splotches formed on her neck. Suddenly, she leaned over the tiny garden bed at the front of her house and began to vomit.

“Why did you not go after her?” she cried between heaves.

“We did,” Mari insisted, still kneeling. “But Massimo Mazza was there with a knife, and he—”

“A knife ? You are the most skilled strega in Positano, and you let my daughter go because you could not fight off a man with a knife ?”

Mari shook her head, held out her bloodied hands. “I killed him. I killed Massimo so I could get past him, go in search of her.” Then, she grasped Ami’s hand, giving her a grave look. “Matteo saw everything.”

Ami stood, wiped her chin. A moment later, her husband, Dante, appeared behind her, rubbing salve onto his knuckles. Mari recognized the small tub of balm from her father’s shop. Dante was one of the better mollusk-trappers in Positano, and his cracked and calloused hands showed it. The lime the men used to prevent net rot was terribly harsh.

Dante glanced at Mari on her knees, then studied the pallor on Ami’s face, the dampness on her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

Even now, in such circumstances, a lifetime of secrecy was not so easily forgotten. The women needed to choose their words carefully.

“Lia was taken,” Ami whispered. “She is gone. Kidnapped, by Matteo Mazza.” Suddenly, she let out a wail and fell into him. He wrapped an arm around her, trying to hold up her weight.

Dante’s mouth fell open. “Of Fratelli Mazza?” At her nod, he let out a cry. He fixed his eyes on a small wooden doll that lay discarded near the door. Mari recognized it as a toy Lia often carried. “My girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief. “My sweet girl.”

He released Ami and went to the doll, clutching it against him. Suddenly, his face hardened; he looked ready to kill someone. “I will go,” he hissed. “What was he wearing?”

“He was at a distance,” Mari said, “but he wore a dark green hat. He had broad shoulders, a sharp chin. Dark hair. He will be taking her to Naples.”

“How do you know?”

She paused. “He was accompanied by his brother, Massimo, who told me they would take Lia there.”

“Did Massimo make off with them?”

“No. Dante, you cannot repeat this, but I—” she lowered her voice “—I killed him.” She didn’t elaborate further, and to her great relief, Dante did not ask.

Dante placed his hands over his lips. “Mari. They will—” He shook his head, correcting himself. “Matteo will come for you.”

“I know.”

Dante unwrapped his arm from around Ami’s shoulder and ran inside. A moment later, he came out with a pair of boots and a satchel, from which jutted the butt of a revolver. He sat on the front step, pulling a boot on. “How long ago did this happen?”

Mari paused. “An hour and a half ago, I’d say.”

“Was he in a coach? Or on horseback?”

“A coach.”

He pulled his second boot on. “He’ll have a good head start, but if he’s looking to return to Naples, there is only one overland route. Pray an axle has snapped. I will take one of Leo’s horses and track him down.” Leo was Pippa’s father and a very good boatbuilder. He owned a small plot of hilly land just north of the village, with plenty of room for livestock and gozzi undergoing repair.

Dante took off up the road at a sprint. Ami remained on the ground, a faraway look in her eyes. “I fear what they will do to her,” she said. “Why do you think they took her?”

Ami deserved the truth, much as it might shame Mari to admit it. “We cannot know for sure,” Mari said, “but the other night on the shore, I saw a man hiding near the docks. I worry he saw the group of us women. Perhaps he has been following us since then…” Mari then told Ami about the pirouette she’d done for the girls a short while ago. “If he took Lia because he suspects she is a strega , he will want to keep her safe and well, so he can see what she is capable of.”

“She’s a child,” Ami said, face streaked with tears. “She isn’t capable of anything. Not yet.”

“Matteo doesn’t know that.”

“He will learn soon enough. She will be useless to them. She can control nothing, divine nothing. He may kill her when he realizes it.”

“He said, ‘ Tornerò ,’” Mari told Ami. “Just before he took off. If he comes back, I will insist on trading places with her. He has seen, firsthand, what I am capable of. He will want me in her place.”

“You’re a fool to think he will want only one of us,” Ami snapped.

Mari knew she was right, and it was this reality that horrified her most. What, she wondered, would become of all of them?

“What about Massimo’s body?” Ami asked.

“It drifted out to sea. Anyone who finds him will think him drowned.”

“Until Matteo tells the officials what he saw.”

Mari shook her head. “Telling the officials would mean revealing that he has seen a woman practice stregheria . He will want to keep that secret close to his chest, so he can exploit it, if he can manage.” She reached for Ami’s hand, grateful when she let her take it into her own. “I vow to find Lia,” Mari said. “I will die trying if I must. But I will find her, and I will bring her home.”