Mafia Kings: Dario by Olivia Thorn

16

There was a room in the back of the church. Not exactly living quarters, but it contained a table and cabinets. The rest of the space was taken up with storage.

The priest closed the door to the church behind us. I noticed another smaller door, presumably an exit, off to my right.

“Sit, sit,” he said as he felt his way along the cabinets lining the walls. “I’m sure my phone is here somewhere – I just have to find it.”

I sat in one of the chairs and tried to suppress my rising panic.

I only had a limited amount of time before Dario and the others discovered I was gone. It might be hours… or it could be 30 minutes.

What would happen when they realized I was no longer on the grounds?

Would they figure out where I had gone?

“You said you escaped from the Rosolinis?” the old man asked as his hands rummaged through open drawers.

“Yes.”

“You said they were holding you prisoner?”

“Yes.”

“Why, exactly?”

“I… there was a murder in my father’s café. I saw who did it.”

The priest whirled around. “My child! Are you alright?”

“Yes, Father.”

“That’s so horrible… I am so sorry you had to witness that…”

“Thank you, Father.”

He walked over to the table, sat down, and reached out for my hands. “Give me your hand. Please.”

I reluctantly put my hand in his.

His skin felt leathery, his fingers bony.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said as he patted my skin.

“Can you find the phone, please?” I asked, trying to hurry him up. “I really need to call my father.”

“Of course, of course,” he said soothingly as his eyes roved along the ceiling. “I just want you to know that you’re safe here.”

“Thank you,” I said, not convinced at all.

“How did you say you escaped?”

“There was a passageway.”

“And where was it, exactly?”

I frowned. “What does it matter?”

A sound came from behind the door to the church.

I whirled around.

The door was still closed.

“Is there someone else here?” I asked, frightened.

“No, of course not,” the priest said. “This is a very old building… it makes sounds sometimes.”

I stared at the door… but I heard nothing else.

“I need to call my father,” I repeated.

“Of course, of course,” he said soothingly. “I’ll get up and find the phone in a moment. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. The Rosolinis are monsters – I’m sure it was terrifying being held there against your will.”

“It’s fine. Nothing happened.”

“Of course, of course. You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

He still held my hand in his, which felt creepy… but I couldn’t very well yank it away from him.

Suddenly there was another sound behind the door, like shoes scuffing on stone.

“Father, are you sure there’s no one else here?!” I asked in a panic.

“I promise you, my child, we are alone.”

I listened intently –

But I heard nothing else.

The priest chuckled. “If anyone could hear an intruder, it would be me – would you not agree?”

I looked at his blind eyes searching the air above me. “I guess…”

“Now, the passageway you mentioned – the one from the Rosolini’s mansion – ”

“Why do you care?!” I exclaimed, then desperately cried out, “I need to call my father! If you’ll just tell me where the phone is, I’ll find it on my own!”

I tried to pull my hand away –

But the priest held me tightly by the wrist.

I stared at him in horror –

Then struggled to pull away.

He held me even tighter, his hands like a vise.

“You must tell me how you escaped,” he hissed. “If there is a passageway into the house – ”

“Let go of me!” I cried out.

Suddenly I heard another sound behind the door, like it was creaking open –

And my terror gave me the strength to break away from the priest.

“STOP!” he yelled as I stumbled for the small door on the opposite side of the room.

I ignored him and exploded through the door into the daylight.

I looked around wildly.

I was in an alleyway between a stone wall and the church.

To my left was a dead end.

The street was 60 feet away to my right.

I started to run –

When the door burst open behind me, and a heavy body tackled me to the cobblestones.

I tried to scream, but a hand that stank of nicotine closed over my mouth.

“Quiet,” a man’s voice hissed in my ear, “or I’ll gut you like a fish.”

Strong hands flipped me roughly onto my back, and I found myself staring up at a stranger with brown hair and a scraggly beard. He wore a cheap suit and he smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat.

I heard the priest behind him. “Did you get her?”

“Yes,” the stranger snarled. “Now get back inside.”

The priest immediately slammed the door shut, leaving me at the mercy of my attacker.

The stranger turned back to me, malice in his eyes. “Now, you and I are going to have a little talk – ”

That was when I bit down on his hand.

The taste of smoke and dirt was disgusting – but not as bad as the copper taste of blood.

“AAAAH!” he screamed, then slapped me. “You BITCH – you’ll PAY for that!”

He pressed my face to the cobblestones with one hand, and I heard him fumble with his belt with the other. There was the metallic clink of his buckle and the sound of the leather strap.

“NO!” I screamed.

He cackled. “You’re going to pay me back for what you – ”

He was interrupted by the growl of a powerful engine – far away at first, then rapidly getting closer.

The man froze on top of me and listened as the engine roared ever louder.

Tires squealed in the street, a car door opened –

And Dario’s voice yelled, “ALESSANDRA!”

The stranger tried to cover my mouth, but I jerked my head free and screamed, “DARIO!”

The stranger slapped me in retribution, then stumbled to his feet.

I looked over. Dario was running down the alleyway towards us, murder in his eyes.

The stranger reached inside his suit jacket and pulled something out.

At first I was afraid it was a gun –

And then I heard the click! of a switchblade opening.

Dario stopped abruptly.

The man lunged at him –

Dario jumped back –

And then the man swiped again.

Dario caught the stranger’s arm and brought his knee up against the man’s elbow, breaking it backwards with a CRACK.

“AAAAAH!” the stranger screamed as he fell to his knees.

Dario pried the knife from the man’s hand, let it clatter to the cobblestones, and kicked it away.

Then he went absolutely insane.

He slammed his fist into the man’s face –

Again –

And again –

And again.

Blood spattered across the stones –

And still Dario pummeled the stranger’s face.

Finally he stopped and let the man fall limply to the ground.

When he finally turned towards me, Dario looked like a demon. His face was the personification of murder.

I thought for sure he would kill me in his fury.

As he reached down to me, I scrabbled backwards in the dirt –

But all he said was, “Are you alright?”

I stopped, trembling, and nodded yes.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Dario asked.

I shook my head no. “He tried, but… you got here in time.”

Dario’s expression got even darker, if that was possible.

He turned back towards the stranger. I thought for a second that he was going to tear the man limb from limb –

When another engine roared up to the church.

Tires screeched, doors opened, and Adriano and Massimo ran into the alleyway.

“What the hell happened?!” Adriano shouted.

“Search the church!” Dario yelled, then turned to me. “Was there anyone else?”

“A p-priest,” I stuttered.

“You heard her – GO!” Dario raged.

Adriano ran for the front of the church. Massimo opened the door I had come out of and disappeared inside.

Dario knelt beside me and put his powerful hands on my shoulders.

I thought he might shake me or strike me –

But all he did was stare into my eyes.

“…are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice quiet.

I tried to nod yes –

But my eyes welled up and I burst into tears.

He got down on the ground next to me and cradled me in his arms.

“Shhh… it’s over… you’re safe,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re safe.”

He held me until my sobs subsided – and then I heard shouting from the front of the church.

“Get your hands off me!” howled a familiar old man’s voice.

“Come on,” Dario said as he lifted me effortlessly to my feet.

He put his arm around me and supported me as we walked to the front of the church.

A black Mercedes idled in the deserted street beside the midnight blue Bugatti.

The priest was kneeling on the ground in front of the cars.

Massimo stood behind him; one massive paw on the old man’s shoulder forced him to stay on his knees.

A few feet away, Adriano paced back and forth like an enraged panther, a pistol in his hand.

When Dario and I emerged from the alleyway, Adriano gestured with his pistol at the priest. “This stronzo acts like he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“Leave me alone!” the old man cried out.

Dario nodded to Adriano, who pressed the barrel of the gun against the old man’s forehead.

“Time to answer a few questions, padre,” Adriano snarled.

“Wait – stop – there’s no reason for this,” the priest said in a panicked voice.

“Who do you work for?” Dario asked.

The priest’s blind eyes tracked the sound of Dario’s voice. “The Church – I work for the Church! The pope, Rome, the Vatican!”

“I mean whoever else is lining your pockets.”

“I didn’t do anything! You have to believe me!”

Dario looked at me. “What happened?”

“He knew the man who attacked me,” I said. “The priest obeyed him.”

As soon as he heard my voice, the old man’s expression went from frightened to resigned.

“Damn it… I thought maybe he’d gotten away with her.” Then the priest smirked. “I guess not.”

I stared at him in astonishment.

He had been faking his fear. It had all been a lie.

Adriano seemed stunned, too. “Who the hell is this bastard?!”

“Probably not even a priest,” Dario said grimly. “Who’s your accomplice, the one I nearly killed back there?”

“Ask him yourself, asshole,” the old man croaked.

Adriano raised his gun and struck him across the face.

The old man yelped and went down on all fours.

Despite his evil intentions towards me, I still cried out in anguish.

After all, he was elderly – and a priest.

Or at least dressed like one.

But the next sound that came out of his mouth chilled me to the bone.

He began to laugh… a chuckle at first, then a rising cackle.

“Who are you, really?” Dario asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Fine. You’ll talk plenty once we get you back to the house and Adriano goes to work on you.”

“Damn straight,” Adriano hissed.

“I don’t think so, you – ”

And the old man let out a string of vile curses that would have been shocking coming from a sailor, much less a priest.

Adrian pistol-whipped him again, opening up a cut across his cheek.

The old man snarled but didn’t cry out this time.

“Careful, old man,” Dario cautioned him, “or my brother will send you to your eternal reward.”

“If that’s the case, then I’ll see you in hell, Dario Rosolini.”

The old man sneered –

And suddenly began to froth at the mouth.

“What the – ” Massimo exclaimed.

“Cyanide!” Dario roared.

He leapt over to the priest and shoved his finger into the man’s jaws, trying to scoop out whatever poison was inside –

But it was too late.

The old man’s body jerked a couple of times, and then he collapsed onto the ground. White foam continued to spill from his grinning mouth.

Dario suddenly looked like he’d realized something.

“The one in the alley!” he shouted at Massimo. “Go get him, NOW!”

Massimo turned and ran as fast as he could.

Meanwhile, Dario wiped his hand in disgust on the fake priest’s robe.

“He’s dead,” Massimo’s voice called out from the alleyway a few seconds later. “Same exact thing – cyanide.”

Dario cursed, then yelled, “Does he have a wallet? A phone? Any identification?”

There was another pause, then Massimo said, “Nothing on him.”

“What do you want to do?” Adriano asked Dario.

“Have Massimo put them in the trunk and haul them back to the house. I want you to search the church for any clue about who they work for. I’ll send Valentino to help you.”

“The priest said he had a cell phone in the back,” I said, pointing to the rear of the church.

“Start there,” Dario ordered his brother.

“Do we really want a bunch of dead bodies back at the house?” Massimo asked as he walked up.

“I don’t want them lying around here while Adriano ransacks the place. It would be just our luck if the cops show up.”

“We own the cops,” Adriano said.

“Yes, and priests never commit suicide, either,” Dario snapped. “Whoever paid these assholes might pay the police to fuck with us, too.”

“Understood,” Massimo said. He bent to pick up the priest as Adriano popped the Mercedes’ trunk.

“Come on,” Dario said as he took my hand.

“Where are we going?” I asked fearfully.

“Where do you think?” he snapped as he pulled me towards the Bugatti.

Once we were both inside the sports car, he started the engine and backed into the street.

“Dario – ” I whispered.

“Don’t,” he snarled without looking at me.

“But – ”

He turned and glared at me, his eyes furious.

“…thank you for saving me,” I whispered.

He stared at me for a second longer, then turned back to the road.

Neither he nor I said another word on the way back to the mansion.