Page 48 of The Guardian

He came into the kitchen. Maybe came in just does not describe it well enough. The man dressed to the nines with not a speck of lint or a hair out of place. The way he moved was like a quiet symphony of ruthless grace and dignity. “Their retainer is one million dollars.,” he explained in an Italian accented voice. Then they charge 100K a month or possibly more. They employ an army of the nastiest, most cutthroat men in the underworld. Men who have no warmth, no soul. They will kill anyone they are told to. Their protection services are like no other. They do not just scare offenders away. They put them into the ground. A fratellanza di assassini assetati di sangue…Brotherhood of bloodthirsty killers.” He grabbed a small cup and set it under the spout of the espresso machine.

We all just stared at his back until he turned around to face us. Then we all looked away. As a rule, men like him did not like being stared at. They believed it was the epitome of rudeness. And yes, even men such as us were intimidated by a man reputed to be this ruthless and cunning. I could not fathom what it would be like for Michael to be his son-in-law. Rain and I weren’t weak kneed young teens either, but with this man we might have twinges of just that.

I knew about the Mancini legend when I lived here in New Orleans. Very few people openly crossed Alberto Mancini or tried to mess with him. Back then, the whole Houdini thing was very real, not just a scare tactic. There were even a couple of men that I knew as just passing acquaintances and they were disappeared. However, they were not good men. Drug dealers of the lowest kind really and there wouldn’t be a loss to anyone I assumed. Now however, he was reputedly less of a mafia man and more of a businessman. I noted that did not lessen the intimidation factor though. A man like him would carry that as a normal state of being.

We all simply waited for him to speak.

Except for Maya as she addressed him directly, “This group. They protect the ones who organize this ritual?”

Mancini turned to look at her. “What ritual?” he asked as he strode over to the table.

Maya stared up at him and replied, “It is called the Luna de Sangre Consegrado.”

He paused and stood still for a few seconds. “Why or how would you know of this?” he asked in almost a whisper.

Rain, Michael and I all glanced at each other. If he reacted this way, it must be very bad.

“My family was taken almost three years ago,” Maya told him with no hesitation. “A private detective I hired told me that he found that they were kidnapped for this ritual.”

“And he lived after he found this out?’ Mancini asked her.

Slowly shaking her head, she replied, “No, he did not.”

He set his little cup on the table, then he smoothly pulled a chair out to sit down. “Mia cara, you do not mean to tell me that your family is set to be the blood of the moon?”

Biting her lip, she nodded at him.

Blood of the moon…I admit I never heard it put that way. I didn't wonder how Mancini knew about it either. If it was an underground event and a notorious group he would know.

Looking around at us, he advised, “You should not pursue this.”

“I cannot let them die, senor,” Maya replied.

Looking back over at her he explained his statement, “You cannot stop this. They were dead the minute they were taken.”

Maya’s eyes filled with tears. “Would you just sit and allow this if they were your familia, Senor Mancini?”

The kitchen went very quiet.

He stared at her.

Maya did not look away from him.

“La famiglia è tutto,” he whispered.

Slowly nodding her head at him she repeated it in English, “Family is everything.”

He now looked over at me to ask, “And you intend to help her with this?”

I nodded at him. “I do and I shall.”

Mancini looked over at Rain now.

Rain nodded at him as well. “Da, I will assist them as well.”

He then gazed at his son-in-law. “I do hope you are not going with them?”

Michael shook his head. “I have been gathering intel for them.”