by Eaton, Pam
He shrugs his massive shoulders. “It’s the only time that most people aren’t out.” He tries to hide the sadness lacing his voice, but it’s familiar to my ears.
“The more you show yourself, the less it’ll startle people,” I say, telling him something I’ve already said a dozen times.
“It’s hard to get past the screams.”
Sadly, he’s got a point. “The kids will get used to you.”
He shakes his head like he doubts it. I take a seat next to him. “Have you tested the range of your powers yet?” I ask, trying to change the subject. But also, maybe if we can help find a way for him to morph back, that would help.
He shifts in his seat. “A few things. My skin feels like a shield. The scales seem impossible to cut. And my strength has increased very much.”
Whoa, he’s basically got built-in armor. “I wonder if that makes you bulletproof.” He takes in a quick breath. “Don’t worry.” I put my hands out, trying to calm him. “I don’t have any plans on trying to figure that out.”
Even in the dark I can see him deflate.
“Have you tried shifting?” I ask tentatively.
“No,” he answers softly.
“How about we try something? Give me your hand.” I hold mine out and he stares at it for a few moments, making me wonder if he’ll trust me.
He places his hand in mine and it’s the first time I’ve really felt how different his skin is. When we rescued him from Rome, everything was chaotic, and I didn’t really pay attention to how his hand felt. But now, alone on this bench, I can. And it feels smooth, but like a polished fingernail, and warm to the touch.
“I want you to pretend you’re staring in front of a mirror looking at yourself the way you look now. Can you see yourself?”
He squeezes my hand. “Si.”
I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Okay, now I want you to keep looking at that image, but I want you to look at your arm and change it to what it looked like before. The scales are gone, and it’s replaced by your natural skin tone and hair.”
I keep my eyes trained on his face. His eyes squeeze even tighter, and I pump some enhancing power into him.
Slowly, the teal scales on his arm fade, leaving tan skin with dark hair in its place. I suck in a deep breath.
“What?” Luca’s eyes snap open.
“Your arm,” I say pointing towards it with my free hand.
He looks down, just in time to see his skin change back to scales, except for one little patch around his wrist that stays. “Madonna santa!”
Uh…what?
“It worked. Can you believe it?” He asks the question in awe, still looking at his real skin peeking through.
“Can you change it all back to scales?” I ask, pointing at his wrist.
He pulls his hand away, cradling it to his chest. “Why would I want to do that?” he asks like I’m completely crazy.
“Because those scales could save your life someday. I think it would be pretty useful to be able to go between scales and regular skin.”
He looks at the patch of skin. And the war on his face almost makes me tell him to stop, but he squares his shoulders and holds his hand up at eye level. We both watch as the skin turns back into teal scales.
“Now what about changing your hand into all skin?” I ask, hoping he won’t need me to enhance him.
He focuses on his hand and squints really hard. I wonder if it were daylight if I’d see sweat beading on his brow. Slowly, three of his fingers turn back to the same tan skin. He slumps forward, sucking in huge gulps of air.
“You did it.” He smiles slightly at my excitement.
“Si, but not the whole hand,” he says, still breathless.
“No, but it’s more skin that you had yesterday. You just need to practice, and I can help sometimes too.”
He takes a deep breath and sits up a little taller. “It’s a start,” he says with more conviction than he had a minute ago.
I pat him on the shoulder and stand up. “Hey, maybe you can start going on missions with us.”
“I’d like that. I want to help,” he tells me. And I wonder if the vengeance I hear in his voice can be heard in mine at times.
“We could use you. Especially when it comes to dealing with the guards.” I wipe my hands on my legs and move a step away from the bench. “I’m going to call it a night. See you tomorrow, Luca.”
“Grazie, Becca,” he says, his voice solemn.
“Don’t worry about it. Remember, you’re not alone, and you’re in a place where people understand you. Remember that when you’re afraid to come out.”
He nods and I walk back to my place, every now and again turning to see if he’s still sitting there. Like most people at Fordlandia, he has no family, no friends outside of this place. He was an orphan just like Lucy. So even if he gets his powers under control, I doubt he’d ever leave here.
I stroll down the desolate lane until I get to the house I’m living in. The flickering TV lights up the front window. I wonder if they’re still playing video games.
I stop at the gate and stare at the house I’ve lived in the past couple months. This isn’t home for me. But just like Luca, I have no place to go back to. No one waiting for me. And even though Tiberius is the last family I have, I still barely know him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to call this place home. But it’s better than nothing.
Nine
A soft knock drags me from a deep, dreamless sleep. Most of me is grateful for that. The cryptic dreams with my mother were driving me insane. But there’s a small part of me that misses it. I miss her letting me know what’s coming. And if I’m honest with myself, there’s a teeny tiny part that misses her.
The knock comes again, and I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes. “Yeah,” I say in raspy morning voice.
“Is it safe to come in?” Xavier asks from the other side of the door.
I look down at my t-shirt and shorts. “I’m decent,” I tell him.
The door opens and he slowly enters the room, like he’s still afraid I’m sitting here in my underwear or something.
“Morning,” he says. He’s way too awake.
When I came inside last night, he and Tony were completely transfixed on a video game. It was after midnight and I went to bed, but they seemed to just be getting started. Does the man not sleep?
“Morning,” I respond.
His eyes drift around my room, and I know what he sees. Nothing. There is nothing personal in this room aside from the picture on my nightstand. There’s no personality in this room. It’s a place to sleep and hold my clothes, and that’s it.
“Tiberius stopped by, asked if we could come over when you woke up.” My legs are swinging over the edge of the bed at the mention of Tiberius.
“Let me get dressed,” I say, hopping up.
He nods and steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
I dress quickly, wanting to get to Tiberius. I’m hoping Lucy knows where in France Eloise was before we found her in Spain.
I walk out of my room and down the hall to the kitchen. Xavier and Tony sit at the little kitchen table eating bowls of cereal. Xavier smiles at me, but Tony looks less enthusiastic about being awake.
As I prepare my own breakfast, I look over my shoulder at Tony. “You coming with us to Tiberius’s?”
He looks stunned at the question. I don’t know why he’s surprised; I ask him to come with me all the time. “Why?”
“There’s a little girl that needs our help,” I remind him as I walk back towards the table with my own bowl of cereal.
“How would I be able to help?” he asks, like it’s a ludicrous idea.
“We’re probably going to need to go to France to do some scouting first. It’d be nice to have another set of eyes.” Plus, I’ve been wondering if I enhance him, could he see through walls?
“I don’t know,” he says, eyes fixed on his bowl, spoon slowly swirling through the milk.
I catch Xavier out of the corner of my eye. His gaze keeps ping-ponging between us. I don’t know how to explain Tony and myself. I also wish Xavier knew what Tony used to be like. How he was the funny guy. The ladies’ man. Someone you wanted to be around. Someone who exuded life, but it’s now been wrenched out of him.
We quickly finish eating and clean up. Xavier heads for the door and I join him, but I call out to Tony before he gets to the hall. “If you change your mind, we could really use you,” I tell him.
He nods without looking at me and continues to his room. Xavier steps out and I follow suit.
Xavier gives me a sideways stare. I know he’s got a million questions. I would too. And before he can ask any, I control the conversation. “I haven’t been able to get him to leave Fordlandia since I brought him here,” I tell him.
“Does he say why?” he asks, eyes scanning the surrounding houses.
“No, and he won’t even tell me about his kidnapping,” I say, kicking a stray rock down the dirt road.
“Well, maybe—”
Xavier stops abruptly and I turn and see his wide eyes and open mouth. What on earth—
Luca comes walking towards us; his shoulders rounded, hands tucked deep into his pockets.
“Hey, Luca,” I call out to him.
“Ciao, Becca,” he says as he heads over to us.
“Close your mouth,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth to Xavier.
His jaw snaps shut, and his whole demeanor shifts to the proud FBI agent he is. And as soon as Luca is close enough, Xavier extends his hand. Luca hesitates a moment. Aside from me, Tiberius, and occasionally Lucy, no one has touched him. Or even come close enough to touch him.
They shake hands, exchanging names.
“Want to come with us to Tiberius’s?” I ask him, because for some reason I think Eloise would really like him. “There’s someone there I want you to meet.”
“Va bene,” he says and joins us.
We turn down a lane and walk up to Tiberius’s front door. I reach my hand to knock, but it opens before my hand can reach it.
“Saw you coming,” Tiberius says by way of greeting, and I let out a laugh.
I walk past him, Xavier close behind.
“Good to see you, Luca,” Tiberius says.
“Ciao,” Luca responds in a soft voice.
I walk into the living room. “I brought him to meet Eloise,” I say as I take a seat on one of the couches.
“I’ll go grab her and Lucy. We’ve got a place to investigate, but I’ll let Lucy tell you all about it," Tiberius says, and then walks out of the room.
“Who is Eloise?” Luca asks, looking around the room before he takes a seat on the couch next to me.
“A little girl,” I tell him.
He lets out a shocked hiss, a little too close to snake-like for my liking, and grabs my arm. I see Xavier tense out of the corner of my eye.
“You know how bambini act around me,” he says in a harsh whisper.
I look down at his hand and he immediately removes it. I meet his gaze again and say, “I have a feeling this will be different.”
“She has a feeling,” he mutters to himself, along with a whole string of Italian that I’ve got no clue what it means.
The sound of footsteps causes all of us to look towards the hall. Eloise enters the room holding Lucy’s hand. She smiles at Xavier and as she turns to Luca, I feel his whole body lock. But then her eyes brighten and a huge smile spreads across her face.
She drops Lucy’s hand and rushes over to Luca’s side. His body is still coiled, probably ready to flee the room. Eloise climbs onto the couch next to him, her face beaming. She reaches out a hand to touch the scales on his arm, but stops and looks up into his eyes, asking for permission without uttering a word.
“Si,” he says softly.
She lightly touches his arm, running her fingers over the teal scales. And I’m pretty sure I hear her whisper the word “Joli.” But it’s so soft I might be hearing things, and she hasn’t spoken once since we rescued her. But the awe and wonderment on her face soothes something in me. We found her in a cage, being experimented on, and yet she’s able to put it aside and bathe in the joy of seeing a man with teal scales.
“Eloise, this is Luca,” Lucy says, her voice light and happy.
“See. I told you she would like you,” I tell Luca. He smirks at me, letting me know that I was totally right.
Tiberius clears his throat, breaking the little spell we’ve been under. Well, not Eloise; she’s still touching the scales on Luca’s arm. “Lucy, do you want to show them what you found?” Tiberius asks.
“Right,” she says, and walks over to her desk, grabbing a tablet. “So, I cross-referenced some of the words that Xavier saw on the stone wall. Apparently Collégiale Saint-Laurent is a church in Salone de Provence of France. It says it’s where Nostradamus is buried.”
“Nostradamus?” I ask, because I have no clue who that is.
“He’s the guy from the 1500s who made all these prophecies about the future. Some believe he predicted the French Revolution, Hitler, September eleventh, and a whole host of other events,” Lucy tells me.
“Seriously?” I ask, because that’s crazy.
“Well, some people believe in it, but there’re a bunch of people who think his prophecies are a little far-reaching. Though his prediction on the death of King Henry II of France was pretty accurate, actually,” she says, typing away at her computer.
“They’re doing experiments at a church?” Xavier asks, probably wanting to get back to the whole point of this conversation.
“I’m not sure, but you’re going to want to do a scouting mission first. This is all I’ve got to go on for now,” she tells him.
“You’re not coming with us?” I ask, because she’s always been there.
“Who else is going to stay with Eloise?” Lucy says.
“I can stay with her,” Luca tells us. Eloise is cuddled up to his side, her giraffe tucked under one arm, and her head resting on his shoulder. “She reminds me of my little sister I used to have, Filomena.”
I hear the pain in the words “used to have.” All of us can use that phrase, and I’m pretty sure all of us sound broken when we do.
“She seems comfortable with you,” Tiberius says. “Eloise, would you be okay with Luca watching you for a little while?”
She nods, not moving from her spot against Luca. “Guess that settles that,” Xavier says.
“We’re making a trip to France?” I ask. I’ve always wanted to go there, but obviously not under these circumstances.
“Yes. We need to scope out the place. I think we should transport here,” Lucy says as she turns her tablet towards us. “There’s a park not too far called Parc Du Pigeonier. Time wise, France is about six or so hours ahead of us. I’m thinking after lunch?” She directs the question to the room, and we all nod.
“Sounds good. Let’s meet back here after twelve o’clock,” Tiberius tells us.
We get up to leave. “Walter wants to see you, Becca,” Tiberius says when I reach the door.
“I forgot Walter was here. I’d love to see him,” Xavier says from behind me.
“Did he say why?” I ask, hesitating, because lately he’s been trying to get me to open up and I wish he’d stop.
“I think he wants to check your head again, and he mentioned Bronia,” he tells me.
“Your head?” Xavier asks.
I wave away his comment. “It’s nothing. Just a little knock on the head. No permanent damage. It’s fine.”
He lets out a startled whisper of, “What?”
“We’ll go stop by,” I tell Tiberius, ignoring Xavier.
And I hope it’s just that, because I don’t want to deal with anything else.
Ten
“Is your head okay?” Bronia asks from the swing next to mine.
“Yeah. Your JaJa said everything looked great,” I say, slowly swaying in my swing.
I
escaped out behind their home with her after Walter checked my head from the brawl the other night, and Xavier bombarding him with questions allowed me to slip out.
I watch Bronia out of the corner of my eye. It’s been almost six months since Ania died, but she doesn’t look any better. “What’s eatin’ at ya?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” she says, dragging her feet in the grass.
I stop swinging. And twist the swing so I’m facing her. And I wait, because I know it’s not nothing. It takes her a bit, but she finally slumps a little more in the swing.
“My birthday is next week. And this is the first one without Mamusia.” Her voice breaks on the Polish word for mama.
I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her to me. Knowing she needs it. Especially because she’s been hesitant to touch anyone since she received Ania’s power of strength.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her ear.
I let her silent tears soak my hair, but I don’t pull away. I don’t say any other words. Too often we try and say things like “it’s okay,” or “it’ll get better.” We try to get people to look on the bright side of things, when really all that person needs to hear is, “I’m sorry.” But we don’t need to find the words to make it better. Just be there, that’s all they want.
She pulls away and wipes her face on her sleeve. We start swinging again, both lost in our own thoughts.
The back door opens, squeaking as it swings. “You guys want to come in for lunch?” Xavier calls out.
I look over at Bronia. “Ready to go inside?” I ask, not wanting to rush her.
She takes a deep breath, and then nods. I’ve never been more in awe of this kid, only ten years old and dealing with things most of the world will never have to.
We head inside and dish ourselves some leftover feijoada that Walter got from one of the restaurants in town. And for that I am eternally grateful, because with it being the end of fall in Brazil, this hearty stew hits the spot.
I watch Bronia a little bit. You can still see the gentle way in which she pulls out a chair or shuts the fridge. But she’s gotten a lot better. And is probably saving Walter a lot more money now. The first time I met her, she ripped a door off its hinges like it was nothing. Now she’s learning, and a heck of a lot faster than the rest of us took to learn our powers.
