Gabriella’s laugh was light and delighted.
“Good morning, child,” she responded with a delicate nod of her head. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, as well.”
Grace relaxed and smiled shyly.
“My name is Grace Bishop, and I came here to get help from Nicco. But it appears he doesn’t trust I am what I claim to be. I’m sorry to disturb you with this, but he wants me to prove I’m clairvoyant by speaking with you.”
Gabriella turned her head to give Nicco a long look and then returned her gaze to Grace. Nicco appeared oblivious to their exchange and was sitting like he was after calling Gabriella to join them.
Gabriella studied Grace with intense eyes for a few moments, her head tilting from side to side.
“Ah yes, I can see how you would pose a challenge to him, my little Aperto Rotto. He was not expecting you.”
Grace sighed. She was getting annoyed at being left in the dark on what this whole Aperto Rotto business was about.
“I’m sorry, but what is an Aperto Rotto? Everyone keeps calling me that, as if I am supposed to understand what it means.”
“It means ‘broken open,’ and once you prove yourself to Nicco, he will explain what it means. But let’s not focus on that, my dear. This conversation needs to be quick and to the point. Then you can move on with getting the answers you need.”
Grace fought down her instinct to object. Everyone here was focused on keeping her away from particular topics. But at least Gabriella acknowledged Grace had a legitimate reason for being there.
“Okay, then. Since this is to be a test of my clairvoyant abilities, can you tell me something only you would know, to prove to Nicco we had a conversation?”
“Excellent, my dear. Now you are focused on the task at hand. Tell Nicco he should have given the Marley Horse a carrot while he was visiting there.”
“A carrot?”
“Yes dear, a carrot.”
“It will be enough to prove I spoke with you?”
“Don’t worry, my dear. It will be more than enough.” Gabriella gave another delighted laugh. “And tell him my advice is to stop sleeping and start seeing.”
“Okay, I will.” Asking for further clarification on Gabriella’s obtuse statements wouldn’t earn her answers.
“And my advice to you, little one, is this. Keep the boy safe—he is key for what is to come.”
Grace’s heart froze in her chest. Danny. Gabriella was talking about Danny! All her confidence in having kept Danny safe by leaving him at home drained out of her in a flash.
“He is not known here, except by me,” Gabriella assured her. “Your secret is yours to keep, not mine to tell.”
Grace searched Gabriella’s face, needing to see the honesty there. Gods, someone else she would need to trust to keep Danny a secret.
Gabriella met her gaze without hesitation, and Grace saw only warmth and sincerity in her eyes.
“I will. With all my heart, I will,” Grace promised.
Gabriella bent down to graze the side of Grace’s cheek with a soft kiss. “Best of luck, my Raven Knight. Hold true, be bold, but in all things, be yourself.”
Grace shook her head. There was nothing this woman did not see or know about her. Luckily, for some reason, she seemed to be on Grace’s side. For that, she was grateful. Someone in the room believed in her and wanted her to succeed. Danny was still safe, and she had a way to prove she was clairvoyant.
“Thank you, Gabriella. I appreciate your help and advice. Will I get a chance to see you again?”
“As they say, time will be the judge. But I think yes. I hope yes.” She began to fade from Grace’s side.
Grace watched until Gabriella dissolved from view, somewhat sad at her parting but buoyed by her warm nature and supportive advice.
Turning to face Nicco, she announced, “Gabriella wanted me to share two things with you. She didn’t explain what either one meant, but she said they would be enough to prove I’m clairvoyant.”
Nicco nodded for her to continue.
“First thing is this. She said, ‘tell Nicco he should have given the Marley Horse a carrot while he was visiting there’.”
Nicco surprised her by responding to the statement with a genuine, deep laugh.
“Ah, Gabriella.” He shook his head. “And the second thing?” he asked, still smiling.
“She said to give you this piece of advice, ‘to stop sleeping and start seeing’.”
“That is all she said? ‘Stop sleeping and start seeing’?”
“Yes. That was all.” All she said to share with you.
“Very well then. You have established you are a clairvoyant, as Sophie said.”
Grace was happy she had vindicated Sophie’s support on her first ability.
“Now for the test for your supposed second ability,” Nicco challenged.
Chapter 16
So much for a breather. Grace groaned, mentally preparing herself for the next round of testing. Her ability with ghosts came without effort. She could see ghosts and have conversations with them as if they were living people. But her reading ability was trickier.
Reading wasn’t always guaranteed to be successful or clear, and it depended on how she tried to do it. Reading a person by touch was the best, most reliable, way to use her ability. She could also read objects, but they rarely revealed much about the owner or their most recent use. Sometimes she could get a strong clear image from the object, and other times it was only a vague impression.
She hoped whatever test Nicco had for her, her ability would prove strong enough to convince him she was special in having two abilities.
“I am ready for the next test,” she offered, again working to maintain the fiction she was the one directing the events of the morning.
Nicco ignored her acknowledgment, motioning for Anthony to approach the table. He walked up and laid a cloth-wrapped object in front of her.
“What do you want me to find out from this?” She gestured to the object without unfolding the cloth covering.
“I offer no suggestions. Tell me what you read,” Nicco ordered.
Grace took a deep breath, looking over the indistinct form under the cloth.
Here goes nothing! She lifted the folds away until they revealed an object. It was a dagger with a blade and cross guard. Something you would expect to see in a museum.
Grace’s heart sank. The older the object, the more difficult it was to read impressions from it. Objects lost those impressions over time like water draining out of a poorly stoppered bathtub. This was feeling like a set-up. Nicco must know readings were more challenging on older objects and gave her something she would have difficulty reading.
She raised her eyes to glare at him, gritting her teeth not to say anything. He sat back, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and interlacing his fingers.
She needed to channel the frustration, use it as energy to get a reading. As she reached out to touch the dagger, she noticed something else. There was a definite rusty tint to the blade. It looked like Nicco had given her a bloodied dagger, and he was expecting her to tell him how it got that way.
Pushing on with it, Grace picked the dagger up with her right hand. She visualized a dark material sliding away from her fingers to her palm and up her arm, leaving her hand in direct contact with the hilt. At once, she heard a high-pitched scream and felt a wave of intense pain sweep up her arm. The pain was overwhelming, and she doubled over, the dagger falling out of her rigid hand, back onto the table with a clatter.
Grace clutched herself, crouching over to rest her head on the table, willing the pain to recede. Instead, her stomach revolted at the combination of the reading’s sound and pain. Before she knew it, she found herself on her feet rushing to the bathroom she had noted in the back of the room.
Anthony’s taunting laughter followed her into the bathroom. But it didn’t affect her as she was too intent on making it into a stall and to a toilet. Dropping to her
knees, she swept her hair from her face before a bout of intense and repeated vomiting began. Finally, she had emptied her stomach and only gastric juice was coming up.
Feeling shaky, she flushed the toilet and grabbed a handful from the roll of toilet paper to scrub her face and lips. Tossing the used paper into the toilet, she spit in it a few times to clear out her mouth. Still a bit weak, she flushed one more time and turned to make her way out of the stall, using the walls to keep herself upright.
She crept to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and leaned on her elbows while examining her pale, drawn face.
Shit, shit, shit!
Death was always the worst thing to read. She had read a number of objects of people who were dead, but this was the first time she read something that involved a murder.
Get it together, Grace.
From the moment she arrived, everyone had worked to take her out of her comfort zone and to set her up to fail. She managed to get through the test with Gabriella and appeared to have found an ally there. She would not let Nicco defeat her with this test.
What did her intuition tell her about this reading? Mentally getting a tight hold on her stomach, she replayed the reading in her head, reliving the sound of the scream and, with effort, blocking the intensity of the pain. What had she missed on the first viewing? What smells, visual information, or sensations other than pain?
She slowed her breathing and opened to the vision one more time. There was something about the tenor of the scream that kept trying to get her attention. High pitched, almost human. That’s it!
She went once with her parents to a working farm. It was in the fall, when they were harvesting the crops and preparing for winter. Her parents wanted her to get a full experience of farm life. They decided she needed to see the warm fuzzy elements, like plucky chickens in the barnyard, as well as the harsh realities of animal slaughtering. She would never forget the squeals the hogs made that day. That was what she heard in her reading. A hog being slaughtered.
She gripped the edge of the sink with both hands.
Fucking bastard! Fucking, fucking bastard! Sneaky, Nicco, but not sneaky enough!
With determination, she pushed herself up to standing. Noticing a small bottle of mouthwash next to the sink, she took a swig and swished and gargled with it before spitting into the sink. She wiped her hands on the soft hand towel nearby and strode through the bathroom door.
She returned to the table to find Nicco still sitting in the same nonchalant way. Anthony was standing next to him with a hateful satisfied look on his face.
“Are you done with the reading, mio caro?” Nicco asked, as if she had not rushed from the room to lose her breakfast.
Grace fought off her embarrassment. “Not yet.”
As Nicco raised his eyebrows, she reached out once more to touch the dagger. This time, knowing what was coming, she moved past the scream and blocked the pain to see the scene unfold in her mind.
It was a wooded glen. A man’s hand was holding the dagger as he sliced open the throat of a large boar felled by a spear and several arrows in its flanks. The screams cut off as the blood gushed from its throat, mouth, and nose.
Grace removed her hand and visualized the dark material sliding back down her wrist and hand, ending her connection to dagger.
“I can’t tell you when it happened, but this dagger was used to cut the throat of a wild boar. I think it was hunted in a forest. The man carrying this dagger used it to kill the boar."
Anthony’s face shifted from smug amusement to surprise, and he turned to face Nicco. “A boar—?”
Nicco raised a single finger in the air to silence him. “Very intriguing, mio caro, very intriguing indeed. It appears you were being truthful when you claimed you had more than one ability.”
Nicco grew quiet. Grace sensed he was seeing her for the first time since she arrived and was appraising her seriously.
Okay, I’ve got his attention finally, but is that a good thing or a bad thing? Either way, she had at least established herself as a true Paranorm.
“Does this mean you’ll answer my questions now?” she asked, following Gabriella’s advice.
Nicco studied her for a few more moments, long enough for Grace to feel the need to fidget under his stare. All at once, he rose from the table.
“Anthony will assist you with the disappearing girls. Good day, Miss Bishop.” With that, he stood and stalked away before either Anthony or Grace could respond.
Anthony gathered himself together as Nicco disappeared through a doorway, then faced Grace and asked her gruffly, “How may I be of assistance, Miss Bishop?”
He must hate this. She bit back a smile. “How about we start with you calling me Grace instead of Miss Bishop?”
Anthony did not look pleased by her suggestion but nodded his agreement. “Where do you wish to begin, Grace?”
Exhausted from the stress of the meeting and the tests of the day, she considered how to proceed. If Nicco put Anthony at her disposal, there was no need to get all her answers from him today, not while she was too tired to think straight. Not while they were in his territory. Better to wait until she was ready to engage with him in her own territory.
“I’m meeting with some people at my place on Thursday to discuss the case. Can you be there in the evening around eight p.m. to help us?”
“I don’t have a show that night. Yes, I can.”
“Great. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get my stuff back so I can leave, now.”
Anthony had the decency to look sheepish as he handed the basket with Grace’s things over to her. She put on her jewelry and gathered up her keys and cell phone.
“I’ll see you Thursday, then,” she said in parting.
“Yes, you will,” Anthony responded before hurrying from her presence, heading in the direction Nicco had gone.
Grace strode across the room to where Samuel was sitting. Without a word, he pulled her Glock from his waistband and handed it to her. She waved cheekily at him in thanks and strode out the door to her car. She could hardly wait to get home and update Danny on how the morning had gone and see what he could find out about Aperto Rottos.
Chapter 17
Nicco sat in his spacious office in a plush leather chair. He knew it wouldn’t take long until Anthony came to find him there, not after the way he left the situation with Miss Bishop. He was looking forward to the upcoming conversation—it was long overdue.
Anthony came through the open door. “Working with an Aperto Rottos—”
“Shut the door,” Nicco said, interrupting him.
Anthony started at the tone in Nicco’s voice and did what he was told. He approached Nicco’s desk, frowning and running his hand through his hair.
“Sit down.” Nicco pointed one finger at the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
Anthony took his seat, and this time made no attempt to speak.
Nicco gazed at the boy across from him. “How old are you, Anthony?”
He looked at Nicco with narrowed eyes before answering. “Twenty-four.”
“And how long have you been working here at the theater?”
“Since I turned eighteen. And I have been the star attraction since I was twenty-one,” he added with a smug expression.
Nicco frowned at the pride with which Anthony made the statement. He met Anthony’s eyes squarely before commenting.
“I can only blame myself for how much your ego has grown since you joined us here. It is obvious you are very proud of your standing amongst the Paranoms at the theater and your perceived position as my favorite.”
Anthony sank down into his chair at Nicco’s words, his bravado replaced by a reddened face as he shrank into the cushioned back.
“It was convenient for me to let your growing vanity go unchecked. It motivated you to take on tasks and responsibilities at the theater I was weary of dealing with on a regular basis. But the appearance of Miss Bishop changed things today.”
&
nbsp; Anthony hunched his shoulders and dropped his gaze to the floor, refusing to meet Nicco’s eyes under the continued criticism.
Nicco let silence hang in the room, waiting to see what effect it would have on Anthony and giving time for his emotions to bubble up. The direction the boy’s attitude went would give Nicco insight into the course of the conversation he would need to have with him.
After some time, Anthony broke the silence, his voice tremoring with intensity. “You will make me work with this Aperto Rotto, Mio Signore?”
Nicco smiled to himself at Anthony’s question. In one sentence, the boy both defied and supplicated him, which exemplified both his intelligence and his stubbornness.
“Yes, Anthony, you will help Miss Bishop with her problem.”
“But why, Mio Signore? Why would we help an Aperto Rotto?” Anthony’s confusion was clear on his face.
“You do not bear the Wings, and yet you dare to question me?”
Anthony recoiled in fear and then froze.
Nicco sighed. The Paranorms’ fear of Aperto Rottos was well founded. The Family helped to instill that fear and maintain it as a precaution against the exposure of their world. It would be better to talk to the boy rather than intimidate him.
“Anthony, why do you despise the Aperto Rottos?” Nicco asked in a milder tone.
“Because they are not true Paranorms, only broken ones,” Anthony declared.
“And the Norms?” Nicco countered. “Do you hate them as well?”
“The Norms are dull animals, but the Aperto Rottos are true abominations!”
Nicco had not realized the vehemence of the boy’s derision. He rebuked himself for not paying closer attention to Anthony’s attitude. This perspective would only lead to risks down the road for The Family and the Paranorms.
“You see the Aperto Rottos as monsters, like the one in Shelley’s Frankenstein?” Nicco suggested.
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?” Nicco let the question hang in the air.
“Because we always—”
Nicco interrupted him. “No, tell me why you feel this way, not what Marcella and the rest of your family told you.”
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