by A. L. Knorr
"I wouldn't have put it that way, since most times it feels like it controls me."
I began to talk. I explained about the fire at the tabacchi and how Isaia had pushed the fire into me, how he'd only have been able to pass it on if he was dying. I explained how Dante had some crazy scheme to sic me on his enemies. And finally, how Fed had invited me to the villa and Dante had trapped me there. Fed's eyes dropped to the floor. Raf's eyes darted to Fed, but I couldn't read his expression. When I finished, we sat in silence for a long time.
"You probably shouldn't go home," Fed said, finally. "If I were you, I would leave a note for the Baseggios and get on the first plane out of here."
"What about Elda and Isaia? He sent men to Gallipoli. He made it sound like he'd hurt them if I didn't do what he wanted. The only thing that makes me think that he might be bluffing is that Enzo has a favor to call from Elda..." I stopped myself from going further.
"For when Cristiano was kidnapped," Fed finished for me.
"You know about that, too?"
"I do. I was pretty young when it happened, but I remember the day Elda came to the villa. I didn't know who she was, but she was completely distraught so I eavesdropped on her conversation with Enzo. After she left, Enzo sent Nic to take care of it. I never saw her again after that day. I had no idea that Isaia was Nic's kid. Now it makes sense why Enzo hasn't called in his favor, yet."
"Why does it make sense?" I asked.
"Because, it means Enzo is just going to wait until Isaia gets a little older. If he's got the fire, he'll take him in and indoctrinate him."
"He'd actually take a kid from his mother?"
"Not necessarily. Enzo is smarter than that. It would be more his style to demand Isaia spend a few hours a week with him for five or eight years or something. He'd slowly gain his trust and lure him with all kinds of perks. Eventually, Isaia will want to work for him. He'll become part of the family, just like Nic was. Enzo has never been able to replace Nic. This is the perfect opportunity to do it. He'll bide his time. I've never known a more patient man. Elda is right to be afraid."
I shuddered. I couldn't let that happen. "Do you know if Dante told Enzo about me?"
"I have no idea," Fed said. "I didn't know you were a magus until yesterday. If I had to guess, I would say no because he wanted you for himself, maybe even to use you to overthrow his dad. Who knows with this family—we are so dysfunctional it's not funny."
"May I please see it?" Raf asked, speaking for the first time. "I feel like I can't listen anymore until I see it."
I looked from one expectant face to the other. Feeling mildly like a trick pony, I held up my right palm and lit a fire. It flickered like a little campfire -- white at the center and blue on the edges. There was no pain. Holding the fire felt completely different than it used to.
Raf jumped back from the bed, the flame reflected in his eyes. He said something in Italian that I was sure wasn't gentlemanly. I closed my hand and extinguished the flame.
"It's impressive," Fed said to Raf. "But it costs her. The fire hurts its host. Dante was trying to convince me that we were actually helping Saxony by forcing her to give him the fire. Is it true?" she asked me.
"About the pain? Yes," I admitted. I threw back the covers and stood up slowly. The tenderness had already faded. The hard callous feeling had grown, and I was feeling stronger by the second. I didn't voice this new sensation. For some reason, I didn't want to give Fed the satisfaction of knowing that the torture had somehow turned out in my favor.
Fed held a hand out to me in case I needed steadying.
I ignored her hand. I still didn't know how I felt about her, the part she’d played in my torture. Her deception.
She turned away, but not before I saw the hurt in her eyes. "I washed your clothes for you, they smelled like smoke. I'll get them. Are you sure you're feeling well enough to get up?" Fed made her way toward the door, and paused with her hand on the doorknob. She kept her back to me.
"Well if being hungry enough to eat a vat of spaghetti means I'm feeling better then I'm doing just great. I'm a little sore, but I'm fine. I'm ready to get up."
Fed nodded and left the room.
Raf and I looked at each other. He spoke first. "She's torn up about what happened, Saxony. She felt like she didn't have a choice. She's made an enemy of Dante. The worst thing you can do in that family is betray your own."
The old Saxony would have made a concession for her. But the new Saxony felt harder not only physically, but emotionally, too.
"There is always a choice," I replied. The hedge in my voice was foreign even to my own ears. Even though she'd done the right thing in the end, I had lost respect for Fed.
"That may be," Raf answered, "but try not to judge her too harshly. It's not been easy for her, growing up in that family."
I nodded. "I'm sure."
"What are you going to do? I can't help but think that you should just get out of here," he said, concern darkening his eyes.
"Trying to get rid of me so soon?" I joked.
He didn't smile. "I thought you were going to die, Saxony. I was going crazy trying to figure out what to do. I'm glad you're okay but, Madonna. A fire magus? I feel like I slipped into a different world."
He hadn't reached out to touch me since he'd seen the fire in my palm. Was it just in my head, or was he standing further back from me than usual? And why shouldn't he? I was probably terrifying to him.
Fed returned with my clothes and put them on the bed. "I made lunch. Come down when you're ready."
Raf followed her to the door and closed it behind him with one last look at me. I couldn't place his expression. Was he afraid? Mystified? Repulsed? Awed? All of the above? I shook the thoughts away; I didn't have time to worry about what he thought.
I pulled on my clothing, folded the nightshirt, and left it on the bed. My thoughts turned to Isaia and my hands shook with worry. Were there men watching the Baseggios even now? How could I convince Dante to call off his dogs without giving him what he wanted?
I left the room and found the stairwell. The wide wooden steps broadened as they descended. Paintings covered the wooden paneling, and gauzy curtains blew gently from the window at the landing. I followed the sound of clanking dishes through a parlor which looked like it hadn't changed in a hundred years, and into a kitchen. Fed was spooning pasta onto three plates.
Raf poured water into three glasses at the table, which was tucked into a semi-circular turret. The windows overlooked a canal. Taxi boats and gondolas floated by.
"I thought you lived on Murano?" I asked as Raf pulled out a chair for me. I sat as Fed brought plates of pasta to the table.
"This is my grandparents' place," answered Raf. "They go to Capri every summer and give me the key so I can water the plants."
"Beautiful villa," I murmured.
"Thanks." He and Fed sat down in front of their plates.
The three of us ate in somber silence. I turned things over in my mind as we ate. I was the first to speak. "Fed, do you know if Dante actually sent men to Gallipoli?"
Her face melted with real regret. "I don't know for sure. I'm sorry, I should have asked him when he still trusted me. As it is, I'm not sure I can ever show my face in Dante's presence again."
I chewed thoughtfully. Fed had her own consequences to deal with, whatever they were. My mind was full of Isaia.
The formless, smoky shape of an idea began to solidify in my mind.
Chapter 37
"I have to go back." I put down my fork. Fed stopped talking mid-sentence. Raf looked at me over his wineglass, swallowed hard, and then put his glass down.
"Where? To Dante?" he asked.
"No, not to Dante. To Enzo."
"Why would you do that?" asked Fed, her eyes widening.
"Well, I can't just run away." I pushed my chair back and stood. "The sooner I deal with this, the better. I don't see any other options better than going straight to the source, can you?"
/> I took my plate to the kitchen sink, shoveled the last of the gnocchi into my mouth, and barely chewed before I swallowed it down.
"Yes. Get on a plane and get out of here. I mean, much as I don't want to see you go, I'd rather see you safe," Raf said, his brows drawn together.
"And what happens to the Baseggios then?" I said, rinsing my plate.
The problem was clear: when Enzo came to call Elda’s debt, would Elda manage to convince him that Isaia was no longer a magus? It was highly doubtful. A mother would do anything to protect her child. What might Enzo do to Isaia to determine whether or not the boy had the fire? After what I'd been through with Dante, I shivered to think of Enzo and Isaia even being in the same room together.
I turned in time to see Fed and Raf look at each other, but neither of them answered.
"Where can I find Enzo?"
Fed shook her head. "I don't think that's going to go well for you. I know you're a magus and all that, but Enzo worked with one for longer than I've been alive. He'll know how to get the upper hand."
"I'm just going to talk to him like a civilized person, that's all. You can either help me or not, but I'll find him myself if I have to."
Raf and Fed looked at each other again. Raf crossed his arms over his chest like he was hugging himself.
"I'll take you," said Fed.
Chapter 38
Fed and I stared at the wall of ivy before us. The greenery was broken only by a wide metal gate made of intricate iron curls. Somewhere within these walls, a crime boss worked and lived.
"Do you want to come in with me?" I asked.
"I don't think I'm ready for that," she said, wringing her hands. She turned to face me. "Saxony, I am sorry that I let Dante use me to trap you. I was very weak. I've never been strong, and I'm not too proud to admit that I'm still terrified. But, I want you to know that..." She took a juddering breath. "I want you to know that even though I'll never have the power that you have, I've been inspired by your courage. I'll think of you when I face Dante."
"Why don't you come in and talk to Enzo, too?"
She shook her head. "For you, it makes sense. For me, it would only make things worse."
"So you will face Dante? I thought maybe you were preparing to move to Hungary or something," I joked.
A shadow of a smile touched her lips. "Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind. But then, I'd always be running. For better or worse, this is my family. I have to face it."
"Good luck, Fed." I held out my hand.
She took it, knowing that this was our goodbye. "You too, Saxony."
She walked back the way we'd come.
I approached the gates. A silver panel with a selection of buttons gleamed out from the leafy ivy. Each one had a label, but each label was in Italian. One of them said 'sicurezza,' which looked like it might translate as 'security.' I took a deep breath and pushed the button.
Almost immediately a male voice answered, "Prego?"
"Uh..." I began. Off to a good start. "Parla inglese?"
There was a pause and then, "Yes, go ahead please."
Wow, so polite.
"I need to speak with Enzo, please."
After another pause, the voice said, "You're early."
It took me a moment to recover after that one. "Mi scusi, I don't have an appointment."
"What is it regarding, please?"
"It is a sensitive nature. For Enzo's ears only." I winced—I sounded like a James Bond character.
There was a longer pause. "One moment."
I waited outside the gate, working on my calm and collected face. I flared the fire inside from dead to alive, just for the comfort it gave me. It was my security blanket. Time passed. Five minutes. Ten minutes. I grew antsy.
It's just a tactic, Saxony. He's letting you know who's boss.
Wait, am I overthinking this? Maybe the dude who controls the gate is just having a bad time in the bathroom.
I sat on the concrete lip in front of the gate. Another five minutes passed and I grew agitated. I got to my feet and was just reaching up toward the same button to give the sicurezza a piece of my mind when the voice returned, making me jump.
"Stand back, please."
I stepped back from the gate and the sheet metal door behind the bars swung open. A familiar man appeared.
“Karim?” I craned my neck up to look the bald hulk in his babyface.
"I thought I recognized your voice." He wasn't smiling but he looked friendly enough.
"I didn't recognize yours."
"That wasn't me, that was Luca. What's this about needing to talk to Enzo?" He hadn't opened the barred gate yet.
"It's important. Please, Karim? I need to speak to him urgently. He'll want to talk to me, I promise."
"What could Enzo possibly want with you? No offense intended, but you're not his kind of company, pretty as you are."
Something about the statement annoyed me. "No? How about now?" I put my hand through the bars and lit five small blue flames from the ends of my fingertips. If I was going to expose myself to Enzo, what would the point be of hiding myself from Karim? He'd find out sooner or later.
Karim reacted. He took a step back, the whites of his eyes visible.
"To Enzo," I said, extinguishing the flames. "Please." I sounded more commanding than I felt, but my confidence had increased at the shock on Karim’s face.
Karim took a hand-held radio from his waistband and spoke into it. He unlocked the gate and pushed it open, then stepped aside for me to enter. He'd managed to recover his cool. "Aren't you full of surprises."
As I entered the property, I just barely stopped myself from gushing 'wowee!' We'd stepped into a massive garden. Fountains and flowered shrubs dotted a perfect lawn. Everything was shadowed by huge old trees. A gigantic yellow villa with Turkish-inspired windows and doorways peeked through the foliage. Arches ran the length of a patio and three-leafed florets topped every arch.
Two large black dogs lay on the marble and they lifted their heads. I had a moment of fear until a tongue lolled out of one cute black face, and the other thumped his tail against the concrete. Karim spoke to them lovingly in Italian and bent to pat one as we passed. They got up and crowded toward him, their rear ends waggling back and forth.
I must have looked relieved because Karim said, "What, you thought they were killers? So many people have the wrong impressions about rotties. When they behave badly, it’s not the dogs fault, it’s the owner. Isn't it, Dan?" he added in a baby voice. He bent his massive frame to put his forehead against the dog's face. The dog half moaned, half growled with pleasure.
"Dan?" I said, raising an eyebrow. I was starting to feel a little more relaxed. It's just a conversation, remember?
Karim looked at me with enthusiasm, "Yeah, like Daniel who faced the lions? From the Bible? I love that story."
I blinked at him.
"Don't you read?" he said, almost exasperated.
"I know the story, I just..." I tucked my hair behind one ear and cleared my throat. This was getting a bit weird. Was he stalling for time? "Can we go? It really is important."
"Of course." He told the dogs to stay.
I followed him down a corridor. So far, I had not seen a single individual other than Karim. We ascended an outdoor stairwell and crossed the second-floor balcony.
A luxurious half-outdoor half-indoor room spread open before us. The space was wide open and had the feeling of a lounge. Several sets of furniture dotted the space, each set around their own private table and partially blocked off by gauzy curtains swaying gently in the breeze. Two men seated at one of these private tables acknowledged Karim and me. Both men made eye-contact with me but I felt neither threatened by them nor ogled. Both wore business suits.
One nodded and said, "Salve."
The other said, "Giorno."
We approached another set of curtains. Karim pulled the fabric aside.
"Saxony, meet Enzo. Enzo, this is Saxony Cagney."
Chapter 39
"Benvenuti, piacere!" Enzo exclaimed warmly. He set his espresso on the glass table in front of his knees and stood, extending both hands to me. I took his right and he pulled me toward him to kiss each cheek.
I was so surprised by this reception that I kissed him back.
Enzo and Karim exchanged some friendly sounding Italian.
"What would you like?" Enzo asked. "Cafe? Espresso? Cappuccino? I know you North Americans love the cappuccino. Grappa?"
"Solo acqua," I said. "Grazie."
"Sicura?"
"Si."
Karim left us alone.
"Please, sit down." He gestured to the chair across the table from him. His accent was the strongest I had heard yet. He enunciated every consonant and spoke slowly. His voice was rough but pleasant.
I sat in the lounge chair. He pulled up the thighs of his pants to allow himself more room and settled into the cushions. The only thing that told me he was related to Dante was the confident set of his chin and the way he carried his shoulders. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but the man with the round face and warm, interested gaze was not it. Though his hair was white and thinning, his eyebrows were thick and black. The most disarming part of him was his guileless expression. His chocolate brown eyes were too big for his face.
"Where are you from?" He leaned back against the couch and crossed one knee over the other.
"I'm from the East coast of Canada. I'm here on behalf of someone who owes you something."
"And who might that be?" As he laughed genuinely, his belly shook. "A lot of people owe me things."
"Elda Baseggio."
"You are a friend of Elda's?" Enzo said, and his black eyebrows jumped like he'd been poked in the ribs. "Elda and I have not spoken in over five year."
I didn't correct his English. "But you haven't forgotten her debt to you."
"Of course not, what kind of businessman would I be if I forgot who owes me," he said, laughing again. "But, excuse me, I seem to be confused. You are not here for a job? You are a magus, are you not? You are responding to our request? Our... How do you say it... Our advertisement."
