Bomarzo, Italy, 1547–1560

It took me years to find Giulia Farnese, but no time at all to win her confidence. I did so with an

unassuming cherry rose tart. It had been nearly a hundred years since I last looked upon her

face, but from the moment she pulled the golden tines of her fork away from her lips and she

looked to me, not her husband, I knew my influence had taken hold.

“You truly are a maestro, Aidoneus,” she said, closing her eyes to savor the sweet, floral flavors.

“And a welcome addition to our kitchen.”

“Madonna Farnese, you flatter me.” I gave the couple a polite bow, my gesture more fluid than

human custom, and turned back to my earthly duties.

“It seems you will eat well when I am gone,” Vicino joked behind my back. “But don’t eat too

well, my beauty, or you won’t fit into those lovely dresses.”

Giulia laughed, and my heart warmed. Oh, she would eat well, I vowed. Very well.

* * *

The next day, as Vicino Orsini gave his wife a peck on the cheek and vaulted onto his horse, I

watched from the rooftop terrace, my gaze lingering on the horizon where earth met sky—a

threshold I knew all too well. Then, with a flick of the reins, he led his men down the road into

the valley. They were headed to Venezia to escort the Holy Roman Cardinal, Pietro Bembo, to

Rome. Afterward, Vicino would depart for Napoli and Sicilia on business for Papa Pio IV.

Jupiter had blessed the region of Lazio with a warm spring, and a week after Vicino left, Giulia

asked me if I wanted to take a walk. I suggested we explore the wood in the valley below the

palazzo. She readily agreed, which did not surprise me. It was impossible for her to ignore the

aphrodisiac qualities of my food, let alone the timbre of my voice, and the brush of my hand

against hers. The first time she startled at my warmth— no human runs as hot as I—but she did

not ask me to explain. In all the centuries past, she never has. This alone stoked the fire of hope

within me.

She led me on a thin path through the verdant tapestry of the forest, where sunlight, diffusing

through the emerald canopy, dappled the woodland floor with patches of gold. Beneath our feet,

a carpet of fallen leaves, still rich with the scent of earth, crunched softly. We moved through

clusters of ancient evergreen oaks, their gnarled limbs reaching out like weathered hands, and

past groves of squat pomegranate trees with their ruby-hued fruits catching the sunlight and

casting a warm, inviting glow.

Upon reaching a clearing surrounded by several large tufa stones jutting up through the grass

and weeds, I was immediately drawn to one of the stones embedded in the hillside. The

exposed side was round and flat, and it hummed, a song of the earth, a low vibration that

warmed the deepest depths of me.

Giulia could not hear the humming, but she was surely aware of it in some hidden part of her, for

she turned to me then.

“I love this wood,” she said, her arms outstretched toward the

stone. The early morning light brightened her features, making

her blue eyes shine.

“I can see why.”

She twined her hand in mine. “I come here often to bask in the feeling. The moment I arrived in

Bomarzo, I felt like I had been called home, to my true home. And this wood, this is why. It re-

minds me of a fairy tale, or a place from the ancient, heroic myths.” It was then that I had the

idea. The stone—it hummed be-cause the veil to the Underworld was thin there.

Perhaps…yes… if the wood was enhanced, and energy from the darkness was better able to

pierce the surface into this realm I would no longer have to spend years attuning to Giulia when

she reappeared in the world. Instead, she would be drawn closer, and I would

find her faster. It would work. I was sure of it.

“Vicino doesn’t like me walking here alone. Too many wolves and bears, he says.”

I could sense a wild boar in the far distance, but no wolves or bears. “I think we’re safe here.” I

gestured toward one of the big misshapen rocks. “Sometimes I like to imagine rocks as mythical

creatures. Like that one. It could be a dragon poised to fight off danger.”

“Ooo, I can see it. The big open mouth, ready to take on any wolf, or even a lion.” Her

enthusiasm was exactly what I had hoped for.

I waved my arm toward the large, round, smooth rock be-hind it. “And that should be a great big

orco, with a mouth wide open. And it eats up and spits out secrets.”

“An ogre that spits out secrets?” Giulia laughed.

“Oh yes. This orco would tell all. Ogni pensiero volo.” I made my hands look like a fluttering bird.

She wore a wide grin. “All thoughts fly! How perfect. But if he eats up secrets, there should be a

table inside this orco. It could be his tongue.”

As we wandered through the wood, dreaming up new lives for the monstrous rocks left eons

ago by a force of nature, I was delighted to see how invested she was in the game.

“There are so many stones,” she said, clapping her hands together. “We could make a whole

park of statues. I will write Vicino tonight.”

I did not expect it would be quite so easy. Usually it took a long while to convince Giulia of the

merit of my ideas. But the pull of the Underworld was strong here and my influence was far

greater than it would have been in Paris, or some backwater hill town in the wilds of Bavaria or

Transylvania.

On the walk back, she paused by another enormous stone that jutted out of the ground, the size

of a giant. She leaned against it. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked coyly.

“Of course.”

“This secret is only for you.” She leaned forward and grasped the edge of my cloak, pulling me

toward her. Our lips met and she melted into me.

In the years following, as Vicino began work on the garden, a change was palpable in the air.

Each evening, as the twilight deepened, a subtle energy began to emanate from the heart of the

valley. I found contentment not just in the evolving grove, but also in my closeness to Giulia. Our

time together, so abundant and intimate, felt different. I had never waited so long to make my

attempt, but I nurtured this earthly bond, knowing it was essential for the garden’s growth.

The day finally arrived when Vicino ushered Giulia into the heart of the Sacro Bosco—the

Sacred Wood—the name he had fondly bestowed upon the garden. As she crossed the

threshold, I sensed it—a strengthening of our connection, more profound than ever before. It

was time.

That night, the chicken with pomegranate sauce I prepared was met with Giulia’s usual lavish

praise, although I knew she took in the single pomegranate seed garnishing the dish as a

courtesy, not a desire for the fruit. As she savored each bite, I felt a loosening in the ethereal

shackles binding her heart. A vivid, red-hued hope blossomed within me.

Post dinner, I retreated to the palazzo’s highest balcony, my gaze drawn to a nascent light in the

wood below. The light, though barely perceptible, was imbued with a power that seemed to

bridge the realms of mortal and divine. A faint green luminescence that whispered of unwanted

things to come. It pulsed like a languid heartbeat, beckoning to something—or someone.

I was immediately compelled to find Giulia. Amidst the soft murmur of the salon where she

played with her children, I enveloped her in my senses and the flower of hope within me

withered. Her heartbeat, steady and unsuspecting, echoed the rhythm of the garden’s glow.

Excerpted from In the Garden of Monsters by Crystal King © 2024 by Crystal King. Used with

permission from MIRA/HarperCollins.

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