by A. L. Knorr
"How and when did Isaia give it to you?" Elda asked.
"When we were trapped inside the tabacchi shop." I looked at her. "What you say makes sense because he really was dying. You could have lost your son that day," I said softly.
Her mouth wavered. She put her mug on the table and reached for a tissue. Covering her face, she began to cry. Her body shook with heaving sobs and I moved over and put an arm around her.
"He's going to live," I reminded her.
She nodded, swallowing her sobs. "Thanks to you." She blew her nose and crumpled up her tissue. "Also, you and Isaia might have single-handedly saved Venice, or at least a portion of it. It might not seem like it, but this place is extremely flammable."
"I know," I said, and thought of the presentation I’d been to with Raf. He'd be back from Milan next week.
Elda got up and retrieved her purse from the island. She rummaged in it and pulled out her phone.
"There was a USB stick in the package that we received. I downloaded the files onto my phone and encrypted them. I keep the stick in a lock box at the bank," she said as she scrolled through her apps. She opened one and punched in a code. "I didn't think I'd ever be showing them to anyone. I almost deleted them already because it stresses me out that I even have them. But now I'm glad I kept them." She pulled up a video and handed me her phone. "Nic recorded these for Isaia."
My heart leaped with hope. The still on the screen displayed a blond man with thinning hair and a closely trimmed beard. He had a small silver hoop in his ear, and his eyes were black, just like Isaia's. I could see Isaia in the set of his mouth and jaw.
I hit play and the man started talking. "Ciao Isaia, e Nicodemo. Se stai guardando questo, allora la tua mamma ti ha detto..."
I hit pause and looked at Elda. "You've got to be kidding me."
She put up a hand. "Don't worry, I'll translate everything for you."
"Well, thank goodness."
She was staring at me.
"What?"
"Don't do that thing with your eyes, it makes me a basket-case."
I couldn't help but laugh at how she'd used her new slang, but I didn't know what she meant. "What thing?"
"The red, when they glow red. Don't do that."
"Oh, sorry." I hadn't realized my eyes had glowed. "I hope there's a clip for that because I don't always know when I'm doing it."
"There is."
"Okay, well, let's start at the beginning?"
She hit play and we watched the first video together. I understood almost nothing, but when Nicodemo lifted his arm and showed a small mark on the outside of his wrist to the camera, I recognized it. It was the same shape and in the same place as Dante's tattoo. I suddenly remembered where I'd seen it before—Isaia had been doodling the shape over and over in his sketchbook.
The clip finished and Elda turned to me. "Nicodemo is introducing himself to Isaia, basically saying that I would have told him by now that he's Isaia's father and so on, and also that we know now that Isaia is a magus. He explains that all magi have this mark. They aren't necessarily born with it, so you don't know right away if a child has the fire, but eventually it comes out. Have you seen a mark by the way?"
I held up my wrists for her to see, but she shook her head. "It's not always in the same place. It can appear anywhere. Isaia's is on the back of his right leg, high up almost on his bum."
"Oh, then no. I haven't seen a mark, but I haven't looked either."
"Well, I'm sure one will appear soon."
"What else did he say?"
"He explained what I already told you, about always staying hydrated," she said, yawning. "That's it for this one."
She selected the next clip and pressed play. She watched for a moment and then nodded and said, "This is the one about the eyes." She watched the rest of it. I looked over her shoulder as Nicodemo made gestures with his fingers and pointed to his own eyes.
"He explains that one of the most difficult things to master is the red glow. If you're not careful, when you're angry, upset, or excited, the fire will show through your pupils. He said that the secret to controlling the glow is to master your emotions. This is one of the reasons that I deliberately kept Isaia's life quieter than Cristiano's. Thank God Pietro has never noticed it, or if he has he must think it's a trick of the light. He said that to keep the glow dim, breathe deeply and speak slowly. He recommends starting a meditation practice, and to always think before you speak."
"Fantastic," I said. "That is so not my strong suit."
"It gets easier. Eventually, you'll learn to recognize the feeling of the glow, and you'll be able to control it. It’s just difficult at first."
We both gave face-splitting yawns and then laughed at each other’s watery eyes.
"Shall we resume again, tomorrow?" I suggested. I was dying to know more, but I was rapidly losing focus.
She nodded. "If you're sure."
I yawned again. My jaw cracked. "I'm sure."
"Okay. I'm going to check on Isaia. It's..." she looked at her watch. "Three thirty."
We dropped the mugs off in the kitchen sink and I followed her to Isaia's room. He was sleeping deeply, giving off soft little snores.
"I can't believe he spoke," she whispered, stroking his hair back.
"He's healing, Elda," I whispered.
We grinned at each other in the dark.
Her smile faltered. "I'm not sure how I'm going to explain it to Pietro. After all, his first word was your name."
"I don't think that has to be weird," I said. "He's been spending a lot of time with me and you guys saw from the start that he likes me. I don't think he'll question it."
She nodded. "I hope you're right."
We left the room, and she closed the door. I was headed to the stairs when she said my name. I turned back.
"Thank you. I know you didn't have a choice, but you gave me my son back. You saved his life." She looked at me from down the hall, her hand on her bedroom door. Even at a distance I could feel her gratitude.
My throat closed up and I didn't trust my voice. I nodded and we went our separate ways.
By the time I got to my room, I felt utterly exhausted. I looked at my phone to see that Dante had texted shortly after I had run away from him.
We need to talk.
Frowning, I shut my phone off.
Twenty-Two
I stepped into the shower, turning the water to cool. It was only mid-morning but the day was already stifling and heavy. Surely this was going to be the hottest day since I'd arrived. I imagined I could hear the water sizzle as it hit my body, evaporating instantly. I felt like there was a bonfire raging inside of me, but outwardly nothing looked any different. The heat outside made the fire inside even more uncomfortable. I'd had three frozen fruit slushes for breakfast in an effort to cool down.
It had been over a week since Isaia had begun to speak and he’d steadily improved with every day that passed. When Pietro came home from London, he'd been overjoyed when Isaia actually ran to greet him. Elda and I had shared a happy look at Pietro's pleasure, though it was loaded with the secret we both carried.
Isaia had begun to play a bit of soccer with Cristiano, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time. This morning, I’d delivered them both to swimming lessons, grateful that they'd be in a pool today, instead of running around under the unforgiving sun.
Dante had called and texted me multiple times each day, asking to meet. I ignored all of his attempts to communicate and was thankful that I'd never told him where I lived or which family I was working for.
My phone chirped and I frowned, suspecting that it was him. I poked my head out of the shower to check my phone. Pleasure washed through me when I saw that it was Raf.
I'm back from Milan. Can a guy entice you to meet up for cold drink in Giardini later today?
Me: You said the magic words. What time? I have to pick the boys up in two hours.
Raf: For me, before is better than after.
I have to work tonight. Can you do in a half hour?
Me:
