by A. L. Knorr
I didn't want this power Isaia had pushed into me. It hurt me, and it had made me hurt Dante. It would have killed Isaia. I hadn't asked for this—I wouldn't have taken it even if it had been offered to me, if I had known what it really meant. I wished more than anything that I was hanging out in Georjayna's back yard with my best friends and laughing around a bonfire, not pounding through empty streets in the dark, leaving behind a man I’d kissed, and then hurt.
Once I reached the house, I unlocked the door with shaking hands. I took the stairs two at a time and went straight to Isaia's room. My heart hammered and I paused to calm my ragged breath.
Sighing deeply, I gave a quiet tap on the door and then opened it.
"Oh, thank God," Elda cried. She got up from the side of Isaia's bed and hugged me before quickly letting me go. "Why are you wet?"
"I couldn't sleep and decided to go for a swim."
"In your clothes?"
"I'm sorry you couldn't reach me—I had my phone on vibrate and didn't hear it. Is he okay?"
"It's the most amazing thing," Elda said, forgetting my wet clothing. Her voice quavered. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she grabbed my upper arms. "He spoke. He said your name. I don't know why your name was the first word he's spoken in almost three years but I don't care. He spoke!" A tear spilled down her cheek and she brushed it away, her movement full of nervous energy.
"That's amazing!" Joy filled my heart and all of the self-pity and homesickness evaporated as I approached the bed. "Hey buddy."
Isaia turned his face toward me. His eyes opened, two shining orbs. "Saxony," he said in a small voice.
I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands, shocked at the sound of his voice. It was scorched out and smoky, just like mine. I choked back a happy sob and smiled at him. "Look who’s talking." I sat on the side of his bed. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Were you asking for me?"
Isaia crawled out from under his sheets and into my lap before wrapping his arms around my neck.
"Hang on a sec, buddy. I'm a bit wet." I pulled on the sheet and wrapped it around him before I hugged him close, like a warm little sausage.
He began to say something in Italian but then remembered who he was talking to and started again. "I had a bad dream," he rasped.
Elda and I shared a look.
"But you're okay, right?" I said. "You know that now. It was just a dream."
He nodded.
Elda sat beside us. She put a hand on his head. "What did you dream about, bambino?” She wanted to keep him talking, but Isaia turned his face away from Elda and didn't answer. Her face crumpled. She was bursting with emotions, I could see it. Joy at the return of her son's recovered speech, pain that he was favouring me, and the need to help him.
"You don't want to tell us?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I only want to tell you."
It must have something to do with the fire, but whatever it was, it was still just a dream. "Your mom loves you, Isaia. She wants to help you feel better."
"You made me feel better," he said, his voice muffled against my chest. "You took it away."
Elda's brows drew together in with confusion. "Took what?" she mouthed.
I deferred to Isaia. "Can you tell us what happened in your dream?"
He pulled away from me, sniffing. His voice cracked. "In my dream, you didn't... you didn't take it. I was... getting dead." A fat tear rolled down his cheek.
My heart pounded. He'd dreamed about dying from the fire. "But, you know you're safe now, right? You're not going to die."
He nodded. "Sì."
I glanced at Elda. She stared at me, her face pale. Her neck worked as she swallowed. In her face, I could see the truth. She knew. She'd always known about Isaia's fire.
I rocked Isaia until he began to drift off. Elda left and returned with a dry bedsheet and a light knee-length bathrobe. She handed the bathrobe to me and I pulled it on over my wet clothes as Elda tucked Isaia into bed.
I followed Elda into the kitchen. Her shoulders were slumped. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her short hair, usually perfect, was a mess. She couldn't look me in the eye. She was processing, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head.
"You look exhausted. Want some tea?" I gestured to a stool.
She wiped her bangs away from her forehead and they stuck up. She nodded, giving me a tense smile. "Thank you."
My mind skittered to think of a way to get her to talk about Isaia's fire. I filled the kettle and turned it on, then pulled down two mugs. "Chamomile? Peppermint?"
"Chamomile, please. After tonight I think I'm going to need something calming."
I looked at her plainly. "May I ask you something?"
She looked me in the eye for the first time since we'd left Isaia's room. Fear was written in her features. "Okay," she said, slowly.
"Did you ever call a doctor about his fevers?" I tried to keep accusation out of my tone, but it was difficult. "I don't understand how such a loving mother wouldn't call a doctor when her child's fever goes way past the danger point. And especially when it happens regularly."
She sighed. "No doctor knows how to help him. What he's got..." She paused for a long time and I felt a surge of impatience.
"What?"
She propped her elbows on the counter and covered her forehead with her hand. Her chin wobbled. Dropping her hand, she looked at me, her eyes misty with tears. "What he's got will eventually kill him. He knows it, and I know it. And now he's having nightmares about it. What they have to do with you, I'm still trying to figure out."
I put down the box of tea. Now we were getting somewhere. "Does Pietro know?"
She shook her head. "Oh God," she said, taking a juddering breath. She wiped at her eyes.
"Elda, it won't," I said.
She looked up at me. Anguish contorted her features. "It won't what?"
"It won't kill him."
"How do you know that?" she nearly wailed. She lowered her voice and whispered fiercely, "You don't know that."
"I do." I lifted my hands. My palms glowed white hot, my fingertips glowed red. "Because he gave it to me."
Twenty
She gasped and her hand clamped over her mouth. The light of my palms reflected in her face and glowed in her pupils, like the flashbulb of a powerful camera. She looked from my hands to my face and back again. Pulling her hand from her mouth, she whispered in a strangled voice, "When? How?"
"I'll tell you everything," I said. "But you need to talk first. Because you knew about this. Whatever it is, you knew that Isaia had fire inside him. And now I have it. Your son won't die, which is wonderful. But now I have to figure out a way to live with this." I lit a blue flame in my palm. "I can barely control it, and it hurts, Elda." I needed her to understand what it was costing me. "It hurts every minute of every day."
She sniffed and grabbed a tissue from the box on the island. She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. She said something behind the tissue but it came out in a tight breath of air and I couldn't make it out.
"Pardon?" I lowered my hand and snuffed the flame. The heat traveled up my arms, converged in my spine, and dropped into my belly.
She cleared her throat. "I know," she said. "I know it hurts."
"How do you know?"
"I know because he told me. He explained everything to me, after I got pregnant. And I know because I have watched it torture my son since the day of his birth."
"He?"
"Nicodemo."
I gave a start of surprise. His name, twice in the same night from two different sets of lips. "Why did he have to explain it to you after you got pregnant? Why wasn't Pietro there, too?"
"Because Pietro isn't Isaia's father," she whispered. Her eyes darted down the hallway.
Understanding finally dawned. "Nicodemo is Isaia's father? And Pietro doesn't know?"
"That's right." She balled the tissue up in her hand. "I've never told anyone. I was never intending to tell a
soul. But, well…" She waved a hand toward me. "I didn't expect this and neither did you, I'll wager."
I gave a humourless laugh. "You can say that again."
The kettle was boiling. I shut it off and poured two mugs of tea.
Elda came around the island and pulled me into a hug, surprising me. "I'm so sorry, Saxony. I lost my temper with you. I accused you of putting my son in danger. I was so angry and scared, and none of it was your fault. I know that."
She pulled back and looked at me, her eyes shining.
"Thank you. I needed to hear all that," I said softly. I handed her the mug of tea. "I need to know everything, Elda. I know it's your private business, and I'll keep your secret, but it involves me now. I didn't ask for this, but I sure need some help figuring out what to do with it."
An image of pushing the fire into Dante's belly the way Isaia had pushed it into mine came unbidden to my mind. If he wanted it so badly, maybe I could give it to him—although I still didn't know how Isaia had managed to do it without killing me. I shoved the idea away. I needed to know more. Dante had behaved like a real jerk tonight. What would this kind of power do in the wrong hands?
Elda nodded. "Let’s move into the living room."
I followed her to the couch under the window and we set our mugs on the coffee table. I tucked my feet up under me on the couch.
She took a breath and let it out slowly. "Seven years ago, Pietro and I went through a really hard time. I was just starting my business and it was a financial struggle. We had to dig into our savings further than we anticipated, and because of that, Pietro worked even harder than he does now."
I gaped. "I don't even see how that is possible. He works twelve-hour days and flies to London every week. I've barely seen the man since I got here."
She nodded. "Yes, he works a lot now too, but back then it was even worse. Now, Pietro's work is going well, he doesn't have to work this hard. He does it because he wants to do it while he's young so we can retire early. In spite of how it looks to you, it's actually a lot better than it was. Back then, he had a huge client out of Dubai. He was gone for up to six weeks at a time."
"So you were lonely."
"I was, but that is no excuse. And it's more complicated than that. During one of these long stretches where I was alone, Cristiano was kidnapped."
I lost the grip on my tea and splashed hot liquid onto my bare leg. I swore under my breath and put the mug on the coaster. I dried my leg with the corner of the bathrobe. The hot tea should have burned me, but it didn't.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine, sorry. You just startled me. Please go on. Cristiano was kidnapped? Um, holy crap."
"Yes, it was terrifying. Someone snatched him from the schoolyard. He wasn't even in school yet; he was too little. He was just playing in the yard. He was taken right out from under my nose. I was there with a bunch of other moms and distracted by all the gossip." She shuddered at the memory. "I was so stupid."
"What did you do?"
"I went to a powerful man for help. A powerful man, but not really a good man."
"Why didn't you go to the police?"
She gave me a look of reproach—a look that said it was naive of me not to know better. "Going to Enzo Barberini is going to the polizia."
"Oh." I chewed my lip. "Did you tell Pietro?"
She shook her head. "Pietro would never have agreed to go to Enzo, but I knew it was my best chance to get Cristiano back. Nothing happens in Venice that Enzo doesn't know about. I went that very same day, immediately, without even thinking about alternatives. In my mind, there weren't any."
"You must have been a basket-case."
She laughed. "Basket-case? It's a kind of slang?"
"I guess." I smiled. "Then what happened?"
"A couple of hours after I got home, there was a knock at my door. It was Nicodemo, and he was carrying Cristiano. Cristiano was unharmed, just asleep. I was so grateful and relieved, all I could do was cry like a baby. Nicodemo wouldn't tell me who took him or how he'd been retrieved, but I do know that the bodies of two men were recovered from a marina in Chioggia the following week, both of them had their throats burned out."
"My God." My stomach churned.
"I didn't associate Nicodemo with those bodies. At the time, I didn't know what he was. I assumed that Nic was just a delivery man. He was gentle and sweet and really good with Cristiano."
"He came back again after that?"
"Yes, he came to check on us. At first, he was just being kind. He knew that Pietro was out of town. I think he knew that I needed someone strong to lean on, and he could fill that need. And then, well, we fell in love."
Silence.
"And you got pregnant?"
She nodded.
"So what about the fire stuff?"
"I didn't know that Nicodemo was a magus until after I got pregnant. If it wasn't for Isaia, I never would have found out. Nic and I ended our affair before Pietro got back, but by then it was too late. When I told Nic I was pregnant, he was anguished. He said that he'd never planned on having kids. He was angry with me and himself for not being more careful. Then he showed me what he was. If I had been frightened before, I was really terrified then. He explained that he was a fire magus, a sort of supernatural being. He called the fire a curse. It was why he'd never wanted to father a child. He said that the ability either made you stronger, or it killed you. If a magus made it past childhood, it meant that they'd survive. But he warned me that if my baby inherited the fire, and if he or she was weak..." She swallowed. "They wouldn't live very long."
A lot of questions crowded together in my brain, fighting to be the first asked. "Nicodemo, he worked for Enzo?"
"That's right. Enzo paid him well in exchange for his service."
"I'm guessing Enzo didn't help you out of the goodness of his heart?" I was starting to wise up to the ways of life here.
"You got it, absolutely. I offered him shares in my company as payment but he didn't want that. He said that he'd hold the favour in check until he'd decided what he wanted. I'm still waiting. Every time there's a knock on the door I'm sure it's going to be one of Enzo's men, ready to tell me what he wants."
A horrible thought sprang up. "Does Enzo know that Isaia is Nicodemo's son?"
"I don't know. I'd like to think Nic never told anyone, but who can say what happens behind closed doors."
"This Enzo guy, does he have kids?" I already knew the answer, but I needed to learn whatever Elda could tell me.
"Why do you ask?" Elda set her mug on the coffee table and gave me a suspicious look.
"I might have met one."
Elda shook her head at me, a warning on her face. "Stay away from that family, Saxony. I mean it. I'm not your mother and I know you're a smart girl, but trust me. A young woman like you would be catnip for Enzo's son."
"What do you mean, catnip?"
She began to count the reasons off on her fingers. "You're young, beautiful, a foreigner, an English-speaking native. You're fresh blood for that family. Someone who hasn't been tainted by their rivals. Gone are the days of marrying for alliances. Nowadays, these powerful families want foreign blood. Enzo only has one son -- Dante. Is that who you met?"
I nodded. "That's him."
"Don't see him again if you can help it," Elda said. "And whatever you do, he must never ever find out that you're a magus. Never."
Too late.
Twenty-One
"I need to meet him," I said.
"Who? Enzo? No way, are you crazy?" Elda shook her head.
"No, Nicodemo. I need to talk to him."
Her face fell. "You can't. He's dead. The day he died was the day Isaia stopped talking.”
"That's why Isaia stopped talking?" My jaw dropped.
She nodded. "Nic and Isaia never met. When we split, we promised it would be for good. No contact." Her voice broke. "I have never told Isaia where he came from. I haven't wanted to upset him unnecessarily. The pa
in is the worst for him when he's emotional. Somehow they were connected, though, because Isaia was never the same after the day Nic died."
My hopes for first-hand information crashed to floor as this puzzle piece fell into place. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"
"I don't know. I received a package in the mail containing legal documents. A letter from a lawyer explained that the package was only to be mailed if Nicodemo had passed away and that I was to consider its delivery as official notice of his death. The package contained a will. Nicodemo left all of his worldly goods to Isaia. I never found out what happened to him, but I'm sure that it happened while he was doing a job for Enzo. Enzo always gave Nic the most dangerous work because he was the most powerful man in his employ. I have wanted to go to Enzo or the lawyer and ask what happened, but I've been too afraid. I don't really want to remind Enzo that I exist. And I think it might be better to let the dead rest anyway."
I wasn't sure if I agreed with her. "What did Nicodemo tell you about being a magus? He must have given you some knowledge that would help you understand what Isaia had to deal with?" My eyelids were beginning to feel heavy and I stifled a yawn.
"Yes, I've been getting to that part. One of the first things he told me was to keep Isaia well-hydrated, that it helps with the pain. When you're dehydrated, the fire gets difficult to control. Think of dry tissues like dry grass. It can rip around inside you like a wildfire."
"Great," I said with an eye roll. "But I'm not so much interested in learning how to control it as I am of getting rid of it all together. Did he explain how that might be possible?"
She looked at me with pity. "There are only two ways to get rid of it. It will go out when you die, or you can give it away without killing the other person when you're dying. The fire wants to live. It knows when its host is dying and only at that time will it jump ship without killing the receiver. Otherwise, I'm afraid you're stuck with it for the rest of your life."
I digested this. The fire sitting in my belly flickered. Get used to me. I'm here for good. I thought back to the moment when Isaia had shoved it into me. Either Isaia or the fire knew he was dying, it was the only way I could have inherited it. Would he have still given it to me if we hadn't been trapped in a building that was on fire? He must have known that once he passed it to me, I would be able to stop the fire from killing all three of us.
