20

An Italian Tale

Strega Nonna's granddaughter, Maria, a small young woman of about seventeen with her dark hair cut in a short bob and lively green eyes, returned with a tray piled high with appetizers. She was dressed in black pants and a white shirt with a green apron over it that said Strega Nonna's.

"Whoa! We didn't order any of this," David gaped at her.

"It's on the house," Maria said, smiling at the handsome prince. "Nonna told me you get the special appetizer plate, and this is it." She began to set down the dishes.

There was fried calamari with homemade marinara sauce for dipping, mozzarella sticks, garlic bread with cheese and bruschetta, small meatballs with three different kinds of sauces, fried ravioli, and sausage and broccoli rabe bites.

"Um . . . how did you know to bring this?" Snow asked, puzzled.

"Nonna sent the request to me," Maria replied. "I'm a 'path. Short for telepath."

"You can read minds?" Emma's jaw dropped.

"Um . . . sort of. But it's bad manners to snoop about in other people's heads," Maria answered. "I'd never do that . . . unless you were withholding information from my family that we needed. Or a matter of life and death. Most times I have to keep my mindshields up so I don't hear people thinking. 'Paths have gone nuts before by hearing too many thoughts at once. We learn how to shield before we learn anything else . . . and when we're too young to do that, one of the family does it for us. Like Nonna."

"You're a 'path too?" Bae asked Nonna.

"In a way. But my mind links only extend to my family," Nonna replied. "So I know exactly when and where they are, if something happens. But Maria is the strongest 'path we've had in generations. She can hear me clear across the city, and reply back too. She's also a fair enchantress."

The kids were already reaching for some of the appetizers. Nonna smiled at them and said, "Mangia! Mangia! I talk, you eat. Otherwise you insult the food . . . and the chef."

Maria chuckled. "And she made half of this, so you really don't want to do that," she introduced herself to the Golds, and Rumple introduced them all to her and Nonna. "It was nice meeting you all, but I've got two tables waiting, so see ya around."

Belle paused in eating some fried ravioli and meatballs. "This is amazing! You made this?"

"Si, Bella. Mi famiglia's talents run to cooking and sorcery. An odd mix, no?" Nonna smirked, her dark eyes twinkling. "But such is life. Let me tell you a story, the story of the Tessaros. Back in the old country, down in Calabria and Sicily, the Tessaros and their cousins were known for three things. One, their recipes and cooking, two, their fabrics, and three, their ability to use magic. Tessaro in Italian means weaver, and for time out of mind, we wove everything from cloth to grass to magic. Those of you who have the Gift will note the protections over my ristorante. They are woven, like yarn, right over this establishment," she gestured, and a glowing weaving of light appeared in the air. Quick as lightning, her old fingers wove another row of light beside it, creating a rectangle. "Strand by strand, the pattern is formed."

"Pretty!" Regina cried, and reached out to touch the glowing weaving.

"No, Regina," Rumple said, and grabbed her hand before she could interfere with the witch's casting. "Look with your eyes, not with your hands."

Nonna smiled at her. "It's all right, Signori Gold. The bambina can touch it, she won't hurt it. Such a pretty little girl! Molta bella, eh?"

"Okay, Regina. But don't grab it," Rumple said.

Regina gently touched the glowing construct. "It tickles, Unca Rumple!" she giggled. "Like butterfly wings."

Nonna looked at the child knowingly. "Ah, a Sensitive. She doesn't have the Gift, but she can sense magic. But her children will inherit the
power. Now, to finish my story. As I said, my family was known for our witchery long ago . . . though most in our line were female, for some reason the magic ran to females, though we had a few strong warlocks as well, though not very many. The locals came to us for spells of good fortune and luck, for predictions of children and those they might marry, and for protection against the evil eye, and potions for infertility and healing. As well as for our shawls and dresses and shirts and pants. And for our spaghetti and meatballs and ravioli, pizza, lasagna, ricotta and sausage. We were known for that as much as our ability to cast spells."

As she talked, the Golds ate the appetizers that had been provided. Everything was authentic and tasted divine. Emma swore the mozzarella sticks melted in her mouth, and Rumple claimed the calamari was the best he had tasted. Bae ate the sausage and broccoli rabe and said it was so good he could eat another helping.

Nonna snapped her fingers, and soon Maria appeared with another dish of it, setting it down right in front of him.

Bae looked at her and said, "Uh . . . I was kidding . . . I really shouldn't . . ."

Nonna eyed him sharply. "Mangia, boy! Your stomach never lies and deserves to be filled with good food. Just wait till you taste my eggplant parmigiana."

"Okay, you just twisted my arm," Bae chuckled, and picked up his fork and ate some more. "God, this is incredible!"

Nonna grinned. "Well, there was another familiglia in the area, named Fabrizio, and they were known as well for their magic . . . only their brand was all curses and death. They dealt freely with il diavolo, and they hated the Tessaros like the plague, for we stood against them and their goals of dominating the whole of Sicilly and Calabria. They took my great-great grandmother, Josephine, and sacrificed her on the dark of the moon, before we knew what they were about. They tried to use her death in one of their blood rituals, but even as she breathed her last, she called down upon them a vendetta—a blood feud. She cursed them to always want what they couldn't have, and never be satisfied, and never to know peace except that of the grave. Donato Fabrizio sought to avert her death curse, but he failed. And so, from that day till this, his family and mine have been mortal enemies. We have fought many many times over the years . . . even here in America, when they followed us to these new shores . . . and always we have tried our best to warn and help any practitioners of magic we could find that were visiting here . . . before Fabrizio and his Mafioso gumbahs got to them. Like we did with you."

"We appreciate your assistance, dearie," Rumple said, eating some bread with bruschetta. "I know a thing or two about vendettas, and they can be nasty. We'd rather avoid trouble if possible . . . though we can send it packing if need be."

Strega Nonna nodded. "I know . . . as I said, you are the strongest magic user I've ever sensed. And I've known plenty, sonny, since I'm over three hundred years old."

Snow gasped. "Why you're older than Rumple!"

"Good genes, Snow," the elderly witch replied.

"Do all your family have magic?" Henry wanted to know.

"Not all, but about half do. Most of my grandchildren have some form of it. You've met Angel . . . she's a Windmaster, can cast any spell having to do with air or wind, and is immune to cold and frost and lightning. She can fly too . . . with the help of her baseball cap. Her little brother Stefan has the gift too . . . he's an Earthmaster. Everything grows like crazy around him. Then there's Teresa, my Healer, and her cousin Luca, who is great with transformation spells. His sister's Maria, whom you've met. My two daughters, Analisa and Eva, also have the Gift and can predict the weather as well as the future on occasion."

"I have a little sister who's a Seer," Rumple told her. "And my daughter, grandson, and daughter-in-law have magic as well. And so does my niece."

"Magic runs in families," Nonna said.

"I'm a spinner as well, dearie. And once upon a time I used to make clothes," Rumple told her.

"Ah . . . I knew there was a reason you were placed in our path," Nonna said. "Fate shall always conspire with like minds." She nodded at his suit. "You have good taste in clothes, Rumple. As it should be."

"Tell me something, Nonna," Rumple said. "Have you noticed any . . . changes in the magical web recently?"

"Indeed. Magic is an unending spiral, it goes up and down, and always returns," she intoned. "Before now, magic was in a low period, and not many practitioners used their craft, nor did people believe in it. But now the spiral had come round, and magic is awakening again across the land. Even here, in the city that never sleeps."

"When we went to visit the Statue of Liberty, I noticed something," Rumple said. "I felt . . . magic in the stones . . . an old spell . . ."

"Yes, Rumple. Magic was done there, long ago, when the base of statue was built. We who live here in New York know the story of the young immigrant Gianni Zagari, a stonemason by trade, commissioned to build the pedestal with dozens of other stone workers. Unknown to himself, he had the Gift of Stoneshaping, and his Talent expressed itself in the stone he quarried and carved for the pedestal. He believed wholeheartedly in America and this dream of justice and liberty for all, and what a magician believes often transmutes itself to a magical spell. Such was the case with Gianni. He enchanted everything he carved and the magic is still within the stone today. It is said that so long as Americans remain true to the ideals the statue embodies, so long shall she stand as a symbol of Light and Freedom. But if Americans no longer believe, and scorn the ideals she was founded upon, then she shall crumble to dust."

"It's like an urban legend," Alina said excitedly. "Like alligators in the sewer, Papa."

"Ah, be careful, cara. There are alligators in the sewer . . . as well as other monsters down in the depths," Nonna warned. "Many dark wizards have gotten rid of failed experiments and such by throwing them down there . . . and their dark workings have mingled with the scum and dirt of Manhattan and created horrors. Sometimes a few of more adventurous young folk go down there, into the concrete jungle, to pit themselves against those monsters. There are tales of fabulous treasure hordes down there . . . if one can get past the beasts that guard them . . . and more than a few have lost their lives trying to see if those legends were real. The magic is not kind to fools and the mistakes of many apprentices flourish down there in the darkness."

"How do you prevent these monsters from coming out?" David wanted to know.

"Most prefer the dark and cold, but those who would seek human prey we ward against," the ancient witch said softly. "If you look closely next time you go past a manhole cover, you'll see runes etched there . . . runes that prevent the monsters who crave human flesh from coming out of the sewers. They were put there by many magic wielders when the city was first built . . . for sorcery has always flourished here . . . unlike in Salem and other parts of the world. It's why my family and I chose to settle here."

"I saw a mermaid in the water," Regina declared suddenly.

"Did you now, faccia bella?" Nonna crooned. "In the harbor?"

"We all did . . . all those who are magicians in my family," Rumple clarified. "She was veiled, but we saw her."

"They always are, these days," Nonna said. "Fewer and fewer magical species reveal themselves these days, unlike centuries ago, when even ordinary people could catch a glimpse of a mermaid upon a rock, singing. Or see a phoenix in the desert or a fairy in the garden. As magic waned, so did those who lived by magic's law. But now that magic flourishes, you'll see more creatures like the mermaid . . . if you keep your eyes open."

Seeing that they had finished the appetizers, Nonna called Maria and Teresa to take their orders for their main meal. Dessert, she said, was also on the house.

"Please, you don't have to," Gold began.

"You are a guest in my home, Signori Gold. And we Tessaros always show hospitality to a guest," Nonna told him firmly.

"Then I thank you, and if you ever chance to come up to Maine, I'll repay the favor," Rumple promised.

"If that ever happens, I shall remember your offer," Nonna smiled. "And now, Mangia!"

The Golds didn't need to be told twice. They all ate heartily of the dishes they had ordered, and all of them were fantastic. Dessert was cannolis, tiramisu, and zeppoli, with espresso and cappuccino.

Just as they were sipping their coffee, Nonna's younger grandchildren came in. She introduced them to the Golds. Angel, who had already met Henry and Alina, her eight-year-old brother, Stefan, and their cousin Luca, who was sixteen, all handsome dark-haired children with olive toned skin and lively smiles.

Angel perched on a stool next to Henry and nibbled on cannoli, while asking Henry if he thought the Yankees were going to win the Series this year.

Henry told her it could happen, as they had a lot of good players, then said, "You've got a great catch."

Angel shrugged. "I knew Luigi was going to hit a flyball, he usually does, so I was ready for it. But I've a better fastball. Usually I pitch."

"I used to play first base, and Alina was catcher, and third," Henry said.

Stefan was sitting next to Regina, and he pulled out some small seeds from a pocket, and said, "Want to see something cool?"

Regina nodded. "Like what?"

"This," Stefan said, and his hand glowed with green light for an instant.

The seeds started sprouting, growing like lightning, and soon he held a bouquet of colorful flowers in his hand. "For you, little queen."

"Ooh! Flowers!" Regina squealed. Then she took the bouquet and smelled them. "Mmm! Pretty! Thanks, Stefan!"

"You're welcome," the little boy laughed. Then he cupped his hand and blew on the flowers. Some sparkling dust flew from his palm and onto the flowers. "There! Now they'll stay."

"Forever?" Regina asked.

"Uh . . . pretty much," the fledgling Earthmaster replied.

Regina promptly threw her arms about the boy and kissed him.

"Looks like you've got a girlfriend, little cousin," teased Luca, chuckling.

Stefan glared at him over Regina's head. "Aww, shut it, Luca!"

"I'll dance the tarantella at your wedding, Stef," Luca snickered.

Regina eyed him sharply. "You getting' married, Stefan?"

"Uh . . . no. Not till I'm grown up," Stefan said, blushing.

"You got a bride yet?"

"No . . . not yet," he said, swallowing hard.

"I'll marry you, Stefan!" Regina declared. "When I'm all grown up!"

Luca burst out laughing, and so did the other children.

"Uh, thanks, Regina," Stefan muttered, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor.

"Don't feel bad," Henry said kindly. "She wanted to marry me last month and I had to tell her she couldn't, 'cause we were related and stuff."

"Hmm . . . that might not be a bad match," Strega Nonna murmured to Rumple. "Something to think about, no?"

Rumple shrugged. "If it's true love, then it'll happen. The heart always knows."

"Aww! Aren't they cute?" Snow said to David, indicating Regina and Stefan.

"Sure, hon, but I think poor Stefan's totally embarrassed," David said sympathetically.

"Give him a few years and he won't be," Snow said knowingly. Then she ate a cannoli.

Luca was talking with Alina and Rumple about transformation spells, and Belle was busy writing down some recipes Strega Nonna dictated to her, saying perhaps she would write a cookbook of all the recipes she'd learned while in New York and give it to Alice for Christmas.

"Speaking of Christmas, why don't you come to our annual Christmas party?" Nonna said. "It's just our family, and you're more than welcome. It's been too long since we celebrated with another magical family, and it'll be a nice change."

"All of us?" Emma said.

"Of course. The more the merrier, cara."

"Sounds good to me," Bae nodded.

"Yes. Just send us an invitation when you've set a date," Gold said.

"What's cara mean?" Snow wondered.

"It means 'dear one'," answered Angel. "Nonna calls everybody that . . . if she likes them, that is."

Belle started giggling. "Like you, Rumple!"

"Great minds think alike," Rumple said.

"So they do, cara mia," Nonna agreed, laughing. Then she drew something out of her pocket. It was a beautifully woven scarf, with a pattern of gold and blue rosettes on it. "A gift for you . . . and your bambina," she said then, and handed the scarf to Belle.

"Thank you, Nonna! But . . . how did you know?" Belle asked.

"Ah . . . after so many women having babies in my family . . . how could I not know," Nonna said. "My blessings upon you and yours, Signora Gold." She wove a rune in the air and gestured.

It floated over to Belle and dissolved as it touched her, showering her with small sparkles.

"What was that you cast, dearie?" Rumple asked. "I didn't recognize it."

"A simple blessing for a quick and easy birth, Rumple. Women's magic, cara."

"You are too kind," Belle said, smiling. "We ought to head back to the Plaza," she said, and looked knowingly at Regina, who was dozing in Stefan's lap, her hands clutching the flowers.

Rumple nodded, and took the sleepy toddler from Stefan, holding her against his shoulder. "How much do we owe you?"

"Nothing. Hospitality among friends is always free, Signori Gold," Nonna waved away the money he offered her. "Arrivaderci, and we shall see you again in December!" Then she vanished before Rumple could argue with her.

"Nonna always has the last word," Angel said knowingly.

The Golds bid goodbye to the rest of the Tessaros, then walked out of the restaurant.

They went a little ways down the sidewalk, intending to turn around and head back the way they had come, when several tall men wearing tailored pants and shirts blocked their path.

"Hey!" Emma snapped. "You're in our way. Now please move."

"Not a chance, girlie," sneered the tallest man. "We saw you hobnobbing with those filthy Tessaro bitches. And anybody that does that owes us passage out of Little Italy."

"Says who, buster?" Emma growled.

"Me. Donato Fabrizio. Unless you want to cut a deal?"

Emma stiffened, feeling her magical sense start tingling.

"We don't make deals with dark warlocks, dearie," Rumple growled, clicking his cufflinks together. "Now move your ass out of here. Or I'll do it for you, Fabrizio."

Fabrizio stared at him, his lip curling. "Famous last words, old man." He gestured, and dark magic curled about his fingers.

Rumple glared at him. "I'm warning you, dearie. Don't mess with me."

"I don't take orders from pansy-ass Tessaro gumbahs," Fabrizio sneered. "Either pay up or we'll break a few kneecaps."

"Not if I break yours first, Fabrizio," Rumple snarled, his own hand sparking with eldritch power.

"You want a duel, old timer? I'll smear your fancy ass all over the pavement," Fabrizio sniggered.

"Really, dearie?" sneered Rumple. "Why don't we see about that? If I win, you let us go back to upper Manhattan without any hard feelings. If you do, I'll pay you a hundred gold pieces. Have we got a deal?" He held out a hand, his eyes cold as midwinter.

Fabrizio snorted. "Hell, yeah, old man. I'm going to mop the floor with you." He clasped Rumple's hand in his own.

"The deal is struck," Rumple declared icily. "Now don't say I didn't warn you."

A/N: Okay, who thinks Rumple's going to kick Donato's ass all over New York?

Also, I've posted a new Once fic called The Way Curses Are Broken featuring a moody pre-teen Bae, Rumple, and Peter Pan. Check it out if you'd like and thanks for supporting this story, dearies!