Last Time: Cesare and Lucrezia inch closer in admitting their feelings. Micheletto talks to Catherina and finds himself bonding with her a little. Juan wants to come home. Allesandro, Giulia's brother, arrives at the house and is promptly murdered by his ex-lover.

Present Day

The morning was cold.

Micheletto stood with Cesare in the kitchen. Lucrezia was with Baby Gio, getting him bathed before they went to school.

"You will be home all day," Cesare was saying.

Micheletto put on the kettle whilst Cesare prepared sandwiches for himself and Lucrezia to have at school for lunch. Micheletto had quietly begun doing more and more around the house, an odd compulsion to please his new family, specifically Cesare. Normally, Micheletto's natural mode was to hide, but Cesare made that near impossible. The red-head remembered Catherina's warning but didn't really know what to do with it.

"I'm making sandwiches because we're running out of cash," Cesare said, "we need to eventually arrange for you to come to our school, but it will be expensive."

"Your father said he would send me to a regular school."

"Unacceptable, you are useful by my side."

Micheletto looked away and searched for mugs in the cupboard. His heart had stopped for a second and he was slightly blushing. Cesare had a way of doing that, of unravelling him in a moment. He hated it.

"But for now you are home all day. You can watch mama, of course, so nothing untoward happens to her."

"Yes." Micheletto had seen things around the house. Shadows and movements and had heard strange sounds. He was beginning to see the scale of the haunting here, even if the ghosts appeared to be keeping a distance from him for now.

"But you do not need to watch her all day," Cesare looked at Micheletto as he arranged the mugs on the table and began to fill the tea pot. "Lucrezia prefers coffee on weekday mornings."

Micheletto nodded and dutifully put on the coffee maker. "What else would you like me to do in the day?" he asked.

Cesare leaned against the fridge, understanding that Micheletto would need direct instruction, "we need money."

"I could get a job."

"At your age? Doing what?"

Micheletto turned around and faced Cesare. Cesare's eyes were large, inky pools. They were beautiful.

"I could steal for you," Micheletto heard himself saying, "I used to run with a group, for a time, when I was younger. I'm not a master criminal but we did a few petty burglaries. Sometimes houses. Sometimes cars. Nothing major."

Cesare nodded. He didn't smile (he rarely did unless Lucrezia was around) but his face was softer and he seemed less tense; Micheletto had said what he wanted to hear.

"What did you used to take?"

"Cash. Occasionally things we could sell but I wasn't in charge of that. I don't know the value of something by looking at it."

Cesare nodded, "cash is good. We need cash. We're nearly out of groceries. It's a temporary thing. Nothing too bad. We'll keep it between us."

Micheletto nodded. Lucrezia could be heard walking down the stairs, talking softly to Gio in her native Spanish. Micheletto wondered if his brother, who seemed to be aging quickly, would master two languages.

Cesare came close to Micheletto, "make sure you do nothing too close to here," he muttered. Micheletto tensed, feeling goose bumps rising where Cesare's breath brushed. Large dark eyes looked at him, "nothing too big. Not yet. I don't want anymore attention."

"What are you whispering about?"

The boys turned to see Lucrezia scowling from the doorway.

Cesare gave a charming smile. It didn't win her over, her scowl deepened.

"Just wishing him good luck. He, mother and Gio will be alone today," Cesare explained with a shrug, "I'm just concerned."

Lucrezia looked over at Micheletto then back to her brother, "I don't think you have any reason to be concerned Cesare."

School was a welcome reprieve from home. Lucrezia now found herself surrounded by female friends. It seemed that the sharp rise in Cesare's social standing and the tragedies that had befallen her family had made her prime friendship material.

By lunchtime, she had taken her place at the coolest table in school. Cesare was away, having joined some club. Cesare was good enough that the little clique he had created had become the coolest male group. Lucrezia wasn't quite at that level. She was more of an infiltrator. The Queen Bee of this group- Giorgia- was mean and spiteful and none of other the girls actually liked her. It wouldn't be difficult to topple her. It would just take time.

"I know a boy who likes you 'Crezia," giggled a pretty brunette who had been on Lucrezia's arm all day. It made sense; in this group the girl, whose name was Pia, was the bottom rung. She barely spoke and when she did she was dismissed or mocked. Lucrezia was being very kind to her and so her loyalty had been won quickly.

"Ugh, so many boys like her," sighed another girl, one with long dark hair who did not like Lucrezia as much. "It's the way it goes. New girl, reasonably pretty – you're welcome Lucrezia- foreigner and so exotic enough…they'll all fancy you for a week or so. It will calm down soon enough, don't worry."

"Thanks," Lucrezia pasted a smile on her face before turning back to Pia, "so who likes me?"

More giggling. It was annoying. They weren't twelve years old. She repressed her frustration and waited for Pia to get a hold on herself. Around her, the other girls began to have their own conversation, making it clear they were not interested in Lucrezia's popularity.

"Alphonso Trastamara," she laughed.

"Trastamara?" Giorgia spat out, suddenly paying attention. She recovered quickly, "his brother Frederigo is much better looking and lot cleverer. However, Alphie isn't so bad."

"He's the one with the curly black hair?" asked Lucrezia.

Pia had the giggles still, her blue eyes watering slightly. Lucrezia was beginning to realise it was probably a nervous trait. "Yes." Pia laughed, "he's cute."

Lucrezia remembered being at the bank and seeing a shy boy looking over at her. Dark eyes and dark hair. Like a boyish, more innocent Cesare. She smiled.

"Oh, yes, he is very sweet. Is he single then?"

"If that's your taste," sighed Giorgia, "now can we please talk about something else? Thank you!"

"We've actually been invited to a party this weekend," Vitelli was practically bouncing with excitement.

It was lunchtime, but the gang of Bastards sat outside on the playing fields.

Cesare bit into his sandwich, "have you accepted the invitation?"

"I said I'd think about it," the blond answered dutifully, "I wanted to see if you and Carlo thought it was worth it."

"These people used to be our enemies," sighed Carlo, "they still look down on us. They're just scared and intrigued by you Cesare."

Cesare was quiet. He knew it was because a lot of the boys had their eyes set on his sister. Regardless of the fact that they were seen as second-class, a pretty girl is a pretty girl.

"Halloween," responded Vitelli, "he's getting ready early for the Presidential elections."

"That's what you do to get votes here?" Cesare sneered.

The boys laughed, "yes basically."

"You could throw a party at your place," Vitelli suggested, "it's a big house with a bad reputation."

"I remember you saying," complained Cesare whilst Carlo complained,

"No way. People will be too scared to go. Especially after Colonna."

"How is he?"

"Still in the Mental Health Unit," said Carlos with a bit of attitude, he clearly did not appreciate what Cesare would do for the sake of his family.

"I'll think about a party," he said to Vitelli, who cheered, "but only near the end of the campaign. I want to keep things classy. I have to be better than my opponents. I need to be beyond reproach." He paused for a moment before asking, "do you know your fathers well?"

Vitelli scowled, "mine has nothing to do with me or my brother. Just bangs my mom and pays for her to send us here."

"I do a little," admitted Carlos, "but not much. He also is more interested in my mom being…you know…his mistress. Plus she's also his cleaner," he shrugged, "so he doesn't want to be seen with the Help too often."

Cesare nodded without sympathy, "so you must have some dirt on your fathers? Or at least your mothers do?"

The boys looked at each other.

"Yes," said Carlos slowly, reluctantly, "probably."

"And everyone here knows everyone else, the fathers of you know the fathers of other legitimate boys here. You should see what you can find out about them all. And you must know other illegitimates and other mistresses."

The boys' eyes became bigger as they realised what Cesare was saying.

"What you want blackmail material?" Carlos hissed.

"Nothing too bad…nothing too light. Just anything. It could be useful."

"Yeah," Vitelli licked his lips, "yeah that sounds fine to me. I'll have to be kind of sneaky."

"Do be. Trust me," he smiled winningly, "this will go well for us. It's nothing bad. Just listening to gossip, not even passing it on, apart from to each other."

The house was quiet.

Unlike the rest of the Borgias, Micheletto had no concerns about wandering about the house in general. This was the first time he'd been left in the house essentially on his own.

Leaving his brother sitting quietly in a baby chair in the kitchen, he stepped outside in to the foyer. He stared at the door to the side of the stairs which led down to the basement, but knowing that it belonged to Cesare in some way prevented him from going down.

Instead he turned away and walked into the wreckage of the living room. He hadn't been told what exactly had happened here.

"Possession."

He turned to see a young boy with a mop of brown hair and expressive eyes.

"I'm Alfonso Sforza," the boy smiled, "I would visit more often but the last time I was here Cesare Borgia punched me in the face."

"You're Catherina Sforza's son?"

"One of them, yes."

Micheletto stared. Catherina came across as a serious woman to him, so it was strange to see the high-pitched boy claiming to be her son. But he did recognise the child from the photo, so he assumed it was the truth.

"Why are you here and not at school?"

"Why are you?" the boy countered.

Micheletto did have an answer, but he didn't much feel like indulging his personal life to a stranger. Instead he looked at the exploded television and ruins of what was once a nice carpet.

"The other brother," Alfonso continued, "the stupid one. He got possessed. He'd only just arrived and already he got possessed! What a dope! It caused a big fight with the alpha bitches of this lot and boom! Ghost temper tantrum equals a ruined living room."

Micheletto stared. Ghosts did this? Just how powerful were they? He had only seen shadows and things in the corner of his eyes.

He padded out of the living room slowly and entered Rodrigo's office. It was how he expected. Certificates littered the wall, all in neat, tidy frames. There were two dark wood bookcases filled with books, all on psychology and psychotherapy.

"He hasn't read half of them," trilled Alfonso cheerfully, "and to think this dummy got possessed as well. Like father, like son."

On the table was a photograph. It was of the family, some years ago by the looks of it. Rodrigo was in the middle. Beside him was a younger, smiling Vanozza. She looked very pretty. Next to her was a girl he'd never seen. She was very beautiful, with red hair and pale eyes. In front of her was Lucrezia. She was very young, perhaps on thirteen or fourteen. She was already blossoming. Was that when Cesare began to fall in love with her? Across from her was a boy with brown hair. He was very good looking as well, fairer and more roguish than Cesare, but with the same unfair level of handsomeness. It must be Juan. Rodrigo was looking down at him fondly. To the side of Juan, a little way from everyone, was Cesare. He was in his usual uniform of black and he wasn't smiling.

They were a beautiful family.

"So what are you?" the boy squeaked, "are you a servant or something?"

Micheletto put the photo frame down.

"No," he said. Leaving the room he went back into the kitchen. He turned on the kettle and began to take out cups.

"Hi Roberto!" trilled Alfonso as he entered.

Micheletto paused, then looked around the room. It was just him, Alfonso (now sitting at the kitchen table) and his brother Gio.

"His name is Gio not Roberto," said Micheletto.

A giggle was what he got in response.

Feeling ill at ease at not understanding something he continued making a pot of tea.

"Are you staying?" he asked, "because I need to get this to Ms. Borgias?" He turned and saw the boy was gone. He looked around the room, even glancing under the table. The kid was gone.

He looked at baby Gio. "Did he run away?" he asked, "or did he disappear?"

Gio gave a gummy smile.

Micheletto knocked politely on the door of The Borgias master bedroom before entering. Vanozza stood at the window, staring into the down into the garden.

He bought in his brother first, knowing she responded well to Gio. He then set up the tea tray, thinking about the strange lady at the window. She looked so different now to how she looked in the photograph downstairs. She was so much thinner and paler now.

He straightened up, his gaze immediately turning to the large, ugly mirror that took up most of the wall to the side of the bed. He could see Vanozza's reflection gazing out of the window, but what struck him was the man on the bed. He was heavy-set and in dark clothes and had a melancholy way about him. Slowly Micheletto turned.

No one was on the bed.

He turned back to the mirror, but the man was gone.

More strangeness; but a strangeness he was becoming accustomed too. Besides, his life had been strange before entering the lives of the Borgias.

Taking a risk, he slowly made his way to Vanozza.

"Ms. Borgia," he tried quietly, "Ms. Borgia I made you tea."

She was whispering, he could hear it now, but it was something in French. Micheletto didn't know any other languages. He was lucky the Borgias knew Italian so well and spoke it most of the time when he was around.

He stepped closer until he was next to her. He followed her gaze, down into the front garden, but couldn't see what she was looking at. It was just the gravel drive, her little red car, and the dark trees and bushes and grass.

"Gio is here," he said quietly, repressing a small smile as the baby gurgled loudly.

She turned from the window, gazing at the child. It was then that Micheletto realised she had been crying. Tear stained her pale face.

He turned away, leaving the room silently as she cooed over his baby brother.

"Hello."

Alphie Trastamara turned to see the most beautiful girl in the world smiling at him. Immediately he turned bright red and dropped his books.

He scooped down to pick them up, his face and neck burning hot, as he heard her chuckling. She helped him pick up his books, passing them to him as they straightened back up.

"Hello," he returned.

"So, Alphie, right?"

"Yeah," he hated how goofy he sounded, "I saw you in the bank the other day."

"I remember," she smiled, "were you with your parents?"

"Just my dad," he shrugged, "sorting out some stuff with my account. I hate that we have to do stuff like that with our parents."

"I know," she rolled her eyes, "my mom had to practically baby sit me when opening up a saving account. It was embarrassing. I heard your brother is throwing a party on Halloween."

"Oh yeah he is! My parents are away but our eldest brother, Raphael, is watching over us so it'll be ok. I mean!" he blushed again, "I mean it'll be wild! But not…you know…too wild."

She laughed.

"Um, you are more than welcome to come."

"Really?" she stopped laughing now, "your family don't seem too keen on me."

It was true that when the Borgias turned up, Federigo immediately pegged them as trash. Cesare was straight in with the sons of Cleaners and Lucrezia was deemed a slut. However, the tide was turning against the Borgias. People were shit scared of Cesare and some pretty crazy rumours were flying around about him. Also, their little brother died and the other brother had vanished overnight…so being mean to the remaining two siblings seemed wrong. Plus Lucrezia was in with Giorgia's clique now, so surely his brother couldn't be mad at him for inviting them?

"Well, we misjudged you. Not me! I mean…my brothers. They're not friendly naturally but they're great once you get to know them. When we found out about your little brother…everyone was cut up about it. I'm sorry that you went through that."

It was strange then. Her face, whilst still pretty, changed slightly. Like a mask falling free for just a moment. Her eyes watered and a little pain showed. But then she blinked and smiled again.

"Thank you. It was awful. I try not to think about it too much."

"Well, you're more than welcome to the party. You and Cesare. He seems like a …a…c-cool guy," Alphie wished he was a better liar. Cesare seemed like a scary guy. He remembered how both Cesare and the other brother attacked some random kid in the canteen; the one brother, the brunet, even was on crutches but still went in for the fight. Frederigo had declared the Borgias absolute savages after that display.

"We have to stay home a lot nowadays, to help mama," she said, "but hopefully we can come. But…maybe we can meet up earlier? What's your number? I'll let you know when I'm free and maybe we can work something out?"

His heart was racing. Was this a dream? It had to be a dream. Was she actually asking him out? That made no sense. He was the youngest dork in a family of handsome men…

"S-sure," he typed his number into her phone, shaking the whole time. She then cold called him so he had her number too.

"I'll see you soon then?"

"Yeah."

He watched her walk away from him, feeling dizzy with excitement and affection. She was perfect in every way.

Micheletto was on the bus. What little change had been left to him by Cesare had paid for the single ticket. He would maybe have to walk home if this idea did not work. The bus was hot and sweaty. Locals crowded closely together. It was quiet, almost everyone looking down at the screens of their mobile phones.

Cesare had given Micheletto one of his old phones earlier that week. He'd cringed when passing it over, looking embarrassed. Micheletto had no idea why; the phone worked well and was the first one he'd ever personally owned.

The area outside transformed from large, beautiful houses to the crumbling crowded town houses of the inner city. The unemployed roamed the streets. A number of brown faces appeared; refugees, escaping their own countries but not being welcomed into this one. The poor white and the refugee, stuck together by being trapped on the outskirts of society, but forced into hating and resenting each other.

Micheletto got off the bus, feeling himself relax for the first time. He was more at home here, with these people, in these surroundings.

He walked through the gutter thinking of Gio and hoping he was ok with Vanozza. As ill as she was, he didn't think she was a danger to his brother. And it seemed that the spirits of the house were leaving her alone; at no point had Vanozza been hurt or shown any sides of being attacked. There was something supernatural going on with her, but it seemed a sort of partial possession more than anything else.

He finally reached his destination, a small doorway under a bridge. He opened it and walked through into a wider space. It was used in roman times for sewers. Even now, the smell was bad and modern sewers flew underneath the stone steps. A number of young, thin people sat around. Some counting money, some searching through bags and purses.

He wove through them, most giving him little more than a passing glance, until he reached a slightly older man. A sort of Fagin character.

"Welcome back Micheletto," smiled the man.

Micheletto nodded.

"You said you were done with all this. Thought you were finally being a good boy for Mama Corella?"

"I am adopted now," he said, "I need money."

"To get away?" laughed the man, but he gestured for Micheletto to sit anyway. Both sat on the hard floor, cross legged.

"I need to be flexible," Micheletto said, "and I need cash manly. Nothing big."

"You're small and quiet," the man answered, "a gift in this profession. Do some big jobs and I shall pay you. Then you will be needed less, freeing up your precious time."

Micheletto nodded. Fair enough.

"Return tonight," the man said, "we hit a big house. We pull out of here at eleven pm. If you don't make it, don't bother coming back at all."

Micheletto nodded again.

The man grinned, his good humour back, "how is your brother? Still a baby?"

"Yes."

Sly eyes narrowed, "you are a strange pair of boys. Otherwordly. What will your new family say when they notice?"

Micheletto shrugged.

"There's always a permanent place for you here. The Family is interested in you. Micheletto, our little ghost. Untraceable and silent. You could make something of yourself within our ranks one day. When you're older and bit tougher around the edges."

"Maybe." He stood up and brushed himself down.

"See you tonight then."

"Bye."

When he returned back to the Borgias house, he found Vanozza singing to baby Gio, still in her room but now washed and in clean clothes. She was brushing her hair. He saw that the tea had been drunk. He made her a sandwich with the remains of food in the kitchen and warmed up a bottle and some mush for Gio. He left them on the bedside table as he had before with the tea and saw himself out.

Cesare and Lucrezia stayed late at school. Cesare told her he was joining the Fencing Club and she decide to sign up with him. It was a good decision, both sweaty and happy by the end of it. Lucrezia had gotten to know Vitelli and Carlos a little, which Cesare decided was good for increasing their loyalty to him.

They waved goodbye to the pair before walking home slowly. The afternoon was warm, the sky glowing.

"I prefer Carlos," she said, apropos nothing.

"Really?" he sneered, "I prefer Vitelli. Carlos always disagrees with me."

She laughed, "that's why you need him. You need more friends to tell you no. I wish Micheletto would once in a while."

"How do you know he doesn't?"

"I have eyes. And ears. He never says no to you."

"You sound disapproving. Like you're any better. I saw you making friends with that girl…what's her name? Pia? Because she's the easiest to shape I bet. You don't like girls like Giorgia."

"I don't like girls like Giorgia because they're arrogant bullies who watched too much Disney Channel as kids and think that's what makes them popular with other kids. They have such delusions of grandeur they never see that everyone just hates them. If she was poor," Lucrezia shrugged, letting the sentence hang.

Cesare smiled but said nothing.

"You should know," she began slowly, feeling tense, "I am going to go on a date soon."

He tensed and she felt frustrated.

"With Alphonso Trastamara. He's a nice kid. Shy, reserved. Very sweet. He'd never hurt me."

"Why?"

"Because I would like to have a boyfriend? It would help us to make friends in school? His family are very influential? It's what papa wants."

Silence.

"We can never be together Cesare," she whispered.

He flinched, "I don't know-"

"I see how you look at me," she said. They were quiet, despite the fact that they were alone. "But it can never be. It's wrong. Morally. Ethically."

"Only in that it can result in children with disabilities," he muttered, hating this conversation. He had carried guilt and shame for loving his sister for a long time and only recently had decided to make peace with it. But now it felt like she was bringing back all those old anxieties and concerns. "But if we never had kids," he continued painstakingly, "if we were careful…what would it matter? I mean, that's the only problem, right? The idea that someone was groomed or if children are born out of incest. That's it. I didn't groom you. And we don't have to have kids."

She sighed, "oh Cesare."

"We could change our names. No one would know. We don't look alike." He gulped, remembering their conversation before about her being a Borgias at all. He couldn't tell if that made it worse or better.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by her putting slim, delicate fingers between his own. She didn't know what to say. That she loved him. That she was horrified by him. That something had gone very wrong in their family, long before they arrived in The Murder House, for them to have these sorts of feelings for each other. What was it? An over reliance on family? Them locking out the whole world so in the end all they had was each other? And whilst that thought scared her, she couldn't help but feel that Cesare would love that; that he'd celebrate locking her up and never letting her out. Maybe that's why the threat of The Murder House didn't get to him like it did to her and Juan. And maybe Micheletto was the same? Maybe Micheletto wanted to be locked up? Was that why he and Cesare got on so well, despite being from such different worlds?

"Why do you like Micheletto so much? Other than him being obedient?" she asked.

"What has that got to do with what we're talking about?" he was angry. He always was nowadays.

"Cesare. I said no. That's the end of it. Answer my question."

He sighed but relented, "he's loyal. And he's different from us in some ways that I think is interesting. And the things he shares with us I admire."

"What does he share with us?"

Cesare thought of the violence between he, Micheletto, and his father. Which resulted in father being put in hospital. It almost made him smile.

"He understands the importance of family." He looked down at her, "you go on your date, if you want. It is your choice. But I don't have to like it."

"Fair. But please do not bully Alphie." Pause. "I mean it Cesare. Leave him alone."

"Fine. I had no plans to do anything to him but fine. I'm running for President of the School Council. Vote for me?"

She grinned, "of course."

They came up to the Murder House. "Do you think mama, Gio and Micheletto have been ok in there, all alone all day?"

It really was something when coming home you didn't know if everything would be fine or if a blood bath was waiting for you.

"I think it'll be fine," answered Cesare, but he sounded testy. "Things have been quieter since dad went into hospital."

"Do you think there is a connection?" They were walking up the drive, the small grey stones crunching noisily.

"I don't know. I doubt it."

Inside the house it was dark and cool.

Music could be heard playing in the distance. Lucrezia followed it, her brother choosing to step into the basement. She followed the music, something brash, like jazz, until she found herself in the back garden. Her mom was sitting in a rusty deckchair with the baby lying silently in her arms. Besides the chair was an old radio blasting out a chaotic trombone.

"Mama?"

Vanozza turned and smiled, "hello 'Crezia. How was school?"

Lucrezia went over and kissed her cheek. Gio was fine, ruddy with soft brown hair and pale blue eyes. She kissed his cheek also.

"It was ok," she said, "I'm making friends. How was your day?"

"I made friends too," smiled Vanozza. "Giulia said she forgives me, isn't that nice?"

Lucrezia went pale, glancing around the garden. She couldn't see anyone.

"Y-yes…so she won't hurt you?"

"No. She thinks I am ill and she really blames your father, but he isn't here anymore."

"Papa will return," said Lucrezia, "and we do not want Giulia to hurt him."

"Well," sniffed Vanozza, "he'll have to learn to stay out of the garden then."

Cesare climbed out of the basement. He's spent some time playing and talking to the creature that lived down there. By what he could tell it was some sort of child. Or it had been.

He noticed the living room door was open. He popped his head inside. The floor had been cleared of debris and the walls had been given a cursory wipe down. It was far from habitable but looked a lot better.

He closed the door carefully and made his way into the kitchen.

"You tidied the living room?"

Micheletto was at the oven, looking anxiously at some spaghetti boiling in a pot.

"A little. I don't know how to make bolognaise."

Cesare smiled and began to get the relevant ingredients from the cupboards. "It's one of our most haunted rooms," he said, "the ghost in there is very active. She didn't bother you?"

Micheletto shook his head.

Cesare peered at him, "maybe they avoid you. I wonder why?"

Micheletto shrugged.

"I have to go out later. I am meeting an old associate. We're doing what you said earlier. It's a job."

"Good," said Cesare, dicing onions and garlic, "and you will be paid tonight?"

"If I do a good job."

"Then make sure you do. We need this." He reached out to Micheletto, rubbing the back of the boy's head, "we appreciate this. We really do. You are a Borgia now. How did mama treat you today?"

"She was fine."

"Sure? She wasn't cruel or cold? I've not seen her talk to you yet."

"Sure."

"She is very ill," Cesare got out a frying pan, "she is normally very warm and kind. Give it time."

"Yes."

The family ate in the dining room. They rarely went in there because it had a weird vibe to it, but with them all there it was too cramped in the kitchen.

Vanozza paid little attention to her surroundings, focused on her baby. Lucrezia tried talking to Micheletto about his day but got so little in response eventually gave up. They ended up eating in silence until the phone rang out, loud and obnoxious.

"I've got it," said Cesare, heaving himself up and going out in to the now dark foyer. He didn't care about the moving shadows or the tense atmosphere. He was becoming accustomed to it.

He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Cesare it's me."

"Juan," Cesare immediately regretted answering the phone, "we're eating dinner…"

"How is papa?"

"The same as yesterday," sighed Cesare, "I told you. Stay where you are and get better. The house is still…you know. And father is ok. He's stable. But not awake."

"You need to leave," hissed Juan, "that house is going to get you killed."

"We're fine."

"Think of Lucrezia! Do you want anything to happen to her?"

"I'll protect her."

"How?" gasped Juan, "you can't watch her all the time! And it's you versus…ghosts…"

"Look Juan, you don't have to come back-"

"Oh fuck off Cesare!"

"-if you're scared. It's normal. You have a lot going on. We want you clean."

"I am clean you fucking twat! It was some weed and little else, you know that! You know I just wanted to leave the house! But now with papa and I can't stop thinking about Joffre… Cesare it's fucked up! I don't want to wake up and hear that you all died one day."

Silence.

"We," Juan began slowly, "we were friends once…I used to really look up to you. Um, I still do a bit. Sometimes. I don't understand you all the time but…"

"Are you serious?" asked Cesare, "you want some sort of fucking heart to heart? Spit out what you actually want to say. What do you want?"

"Jesus Christ, you're such a fucking asshole. I really hate you."

"Well you're an idiot," Cesare sighed, looking up the stairs. He could see something crawling about on the top of the bannisters. He rolled his eyes at it and looked away.

"Where's mama? I want to talk to her."

"She doesn't like you any more than I do."

"I know that!" he spat, "but I need to speak to someone with sense."

"She's busy. She adopted a baby."

"Yeah…" there was a pause, "I still don't really understand."

"She's lonely and she wants to replace Joffre," Cesare narrowed his eyes at the thing on the stairs. It was standing up now. It was dripping water. He had the idea that it was looking at him. "Juan I have to go."

"Ok, ok," Juan began to rush, "I get it ok. I don't want to fight. Can't you see I'm trying? Fuck. I just. I can't talk good and you're so difficult to get through to!"

"Look, come home if you want," Cesare heard himself saying, "but papa isn't here so you won't get your own way all the time."

"Is that what this is about?!" Juan all but screamed, "you get to be mama's favourite and Lucrezia's favourite and everyone loved you at school but just one person likes me more and that's what fucked us up? God, you're such a jealous asshole!"

"I'm not jealous," spat Cesare, "You being an idiot ruined whatever friendship you think we had. Cleaning up your messes annoys me. I have to go. Some fucking ghost is on the stairs."

"What? Seriously? Cesare, go, now!"

"Yeah, see you later." He hung up and flipped off the spirit, who was halfway down the stairs, before slinking back into the creepy dining room. It was still quiet and he wished someone would turn on the damned radio or something. Dinner was mediocre, the ingredients not fresh. He needed Micheletto to get them some cash tonight.

"Juan may be returning soon," he said, tucking his chair in before wrapping up spaghetti onto his fork, "Micheletto we need you out of his room."

"Ok."

"Where do you expect him to sleep?" said Lucrezia dangerously, scowling at Cesare.

"There's a spare room next to mine."

"What?"

"A spare room." He repeated. "I found the door to it one day. It's a whole other space. It's not very big but is about the same size as my room and Juan's." He smiled at Micheletto, who simply nodded.

Mollified, Lucrezia returned to her food. Outside the room was various crashes and bangs as the house seemed to wake up. They ignored it.

"Good," Lucrezia said after a few moments, "I miss Juan."

Cesare scowled, a flare of jealously flashing, "really?"

"Yes."

"Juan is such a good boy," said Vanozza, before falling into French so no one knew what she was talking about. They ignored her as well.

Tensions lifted slightly as everyone retired in the evening.

Lucrezia stayed in her room with Djem and Paolo.

"Trastamara," she read in the diary. She looked up at the boys, "a Trastamara built this house originally?"

The boys shrugged. It was before their time. She looked back down at the book. The diary of the old maid, Francesca, had started off being an interesting story of the life of a maid in the 1800s. But now it was increasingly taking in a darker turn. She wrote of her Lady, who had fallen into madness caused by lust, and her Master, who was increasingly jealous and paranoid; She wrote of the potions she made, in an attempt to clear them of their negative spirits and of how the others suspected her of witchcraft as a result.

"Cantarella," she read, "a blood red liquid that expels blood from the mouth and eyeballs." The rest of the page was a list of ingredients, all stuff that grew locally, at least in Francesca's time period. Lucrezia raised an eyebrow, she'd have to keep this book away from Cesare.

She looked back at the boys, "and this really will help me with the spirits of this house?"

"Absolutely," said Paolo.

"Definitely," said Djem.

She heard footsteps outside her room and low voices. It was Cesare talking to Micheletto. She thought about going out for a second, demanding what was going on, but she knew that Cesare would just lie to her and Micheletto would stay silent. She huffed and silently fumed and she tore her way through Francesca's diary. There was something artificial about the diary, as if Francesca knew it was going to be read by others, but Lucrezia couldn't quite put down why she felt that way. And even if it was true, it wasn't unlike people to do that.

Maybe she should have her own diary?

She immediately dismissed the thought. What would she write about? Her brother? Her feelings for him? About the ghosts and spirits? Her mother's madness? Their spiralling poverty?

No.

Instead, she put down the diary and picked up her phone.

"Hi," she text to Alphonse. "I'm free tomorrow if you want to go somewhere."

She waited about half an hour before, "Sorry! I was in bed."

A moment later.

"I wasn't asleep, I don't go to bed super early or anything."

A moment more.

"Yes, if you still want to date me I'd love to go out."

She smiled, "great," she text back, "I'd like to see the museum in town. Meet me after school and we'll go down on the bus."

"Okay :)"

She lay on her back on her bed. She was done with dangerous men. She loved Cesare, and knew he wasn't like the monster that invaded her room, but she didn't want anymore intense men in her life. She wanted nice boys who were sweet and kind. She looked over and Djem and Paolo. And she wanted boys who were preferably alive.

Micheletto arrived back at the house first thing in the morning.

Cesare and Lucrezia were in the kitchen, the usual tension between them frosty.

"How did you hurt yourself?" she said by way of greeting as he entered.

He followed her eyes to his arm, which was bleeding.

"A dog bit me," he said. He looked at Cesare, waiting for instruction. She rolled her eyes and left. Micheletto felt a bit anxious.

Cesare smiled, "she'll be fine," he said, "she's upset for you. It's a good thing. She wants to reach out to you, I think. She asks about you."

Micheletto sat at the table, not knowing what to say to that.

Cesare collected a medical kit out of a kitchen drawer whilst the kettle boiled. He was in his school uniform.

"The job went well," said Micheletto, "I have a cut. They want me again."

He put the money on the table. It had been a good night and his share had been decent. Cesare counted it through. He didn't look as impressed as Micheletto had felt with the cash.

"Good," he stated simply, putting the money on the kitchen side, "I don't like that you got injured. What kind of badly run outfit are you working for?"

"The gang is called Street Pups," said Micheletto, "because the use kids off the streets. There wasn't supposed to be a dog at the house. It wasn't my fault. The information was wrong. But I was ok and I got what they wanted."

"What did they want?"

Micheletto had been sworn to secrecy by the group leader, but told anyway, "some stuff out of a safe. Jewellery. Some paperwork."

Cesare grunted. He finished making a warm, highly sugary hot chocolate, and placed it in front of Micheletto. "When are you next needed?"

"Nothing yet. But they will message me when they do." A pause as he gulped his hot chocolate. Micheletto was often hungry and had appalling table manners. He was gaining some weight though, which was good because his looked like a waif but a few days ago. It didn't make the family look good.

"They want me to stay in the gang," he continued at length, "boss says that we're just a small part of a larger thing run by a mafia family. He says I'm good and maybe, if I get a bit tougher as I get older, I can move up."

Cesare stared but said nothing.

Micheletto looked around, not meeting his gaze, "so maybe I should? I'm not clever. I'm not good at school. You don't have to pay me to go to a fancy school."

"You sound like Juan," sneered Cesare, "you're going to school, eventually. And you work for this family, not some mafia crime lords that use children and call them dogs. Me, and Lucrezia, we're your real bosses. Ok?"

"Yes."

"One day I'll run my own thing. Be it legal or not. And you'll be my Caporgime, regardless. But for now, just keep your head down. And inform me of everything. Find out what you can of this family, but not at the expense of yourself. Ok?"

"Yes."

A.N. won't let me make paragraph spaces so I have to put in these ugly line breaks instead which is very annoying.

I know everyone is just waiting for Cesare x Lucrezia. I'm following the same storyline of events as the show (roughly) so now Alphonse is here, the relationship will happen soon. Just fair warning, it won't be a fun, sweet relationship as a) this is a horror and b) it's incest so it's not like they can date like a normal couple.

Anyway, thanks for hanging on in here despite how long this story has been.