eyes again.
“Wait and see,” he said. “And tell me what Tommaso Strozzi told my grandfather.”
I blinked. It still surprises me, the way such a big city can be so like a small town—at least if your family has lived there for centuries.
“How did you know he’d come by?” I asked. Emilio smiled.
“Bernardo Tedesco stopped in at the bank to deposit last week’s checks. He said he’d seen Tommaso with you and Nonno this afternoon.”
“Nobody else dropped in. I don’t know Bernardo.”
“He was just passing by. You’ll meet him sometime. His grandfather was friends with Nonno, his father was friends with my father, and so on.”
“And you guys are friends?”
“I’m friends with his older brother. Bernardo just followed us around and bugged us when he was little.”
“Like Anna Maria?”
He smiled.
“Like her and Francesco, both,” he agreed, but he seemed distracted, looking over my shoulder. I tried to catch his eye.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Don’t turn around,” he said.
“Okay.”
Now he looked directly at me, and I felt afraid. He leaned across the table and gently took my hand.
“They’re actually a bit late. I thought they’d be here sooner,” he said. “Lucifero and his friends.”
My hand convulsed under his; he tightened his grip.
“Don’t turn around! It’s all right, Mia. They’ve been following us on and off for some weeks. Mostly you or me, as far as we can tell. They think I don’t recognize them. Somebody generally knows where you are, so I felt no need to tell you. You keep on the alert anyway, which is good.”
“I do,” I agreed, but it was hard to speak.
He should have told me
, I thought.
He should have told me!
And worse, I hadn’t noticed on my own, except that once at the Biblioteca Ambrosiana.
I thought back to that peculiar first date with Lucifero: how I’d snuck out to meet him, walking part of the way with Francesca and Francesco, how looking at him had made my stomach quiver. Not anymore, not in a good way, anyway. Why would anyone ask for possession? Yet Lucifero had. “Power, quick power,” Nonno would say.
“Where is he sitting?” I asked, when I was sure I could control my voice.
“Over your right shoulder, two tables down.”
I knew I shouldn’t, but I had to look. I caught one short glimpse of him. At first, I couldn’t figure out exactly why he looked abnormal. He seemed brighter—not like Emilio, who seems to shine in the dark, but bright and flat like an advertisement that grabs the eye without filling the heart. It was bizarre. I felt sick.
“What do you think they’re planning?” I asked Emilio.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I thought if we could give them a few moments where we seemed vulnerable, that might bring matters to a head. Nonno and Uncle Matteo will be here soon, and Anna Maria and Francesco, too, so we’ll have plenty of backup. Let’s just continue talking, and I’ll keep an eye on them.”
I couldn’t decide who I wanted to murder more, the serenely self-confident man in front of me, or the handsome Satanist at my back.
FOUR
A Weapon Hidden in Plain Sight
T ake out your case, slowly,” Emilio advised. “Set it open in your lap. I’ll do the same if something distracts them.”
I reached in my jacket pocket and clasped the heavy, leather-bound case in my fingers. I slid it onto my lap and opened it, touching the mirror, the candle stub, the tiny brass bell, the fountain pen I’d wedged next to the new leather notebook.
“You have no idea what they’re going to do?” I repeated.
“None.”
I glared at him, and he laughed.
“Life’s not interesting if you always play it safe,” he counseled.
“Just how unsafe do you think this will be?” I grumbled, and then, still glaring at him, I recognized the ice-cold feeling between my shoulders, a telltale sign of a demon.
Emilio saw me flinch.
“Pick up the bell and mirror and set them on the table,” he went on
“Wait and see,” he said. “And tell me what Tommaso Strozzi told my grandfather.”
I blinked. It still surprises me, the way such a big city can be so like a small town—at least if your family has lived there for centuries.
“How did you know he’d come by?” I asked. Emilio smiled.
“Bernardo Tedesco stopped in at the bank to deposit last week’s checks. He said he’d seen Tommaso with you and Nonno this afternoon.”
“Nobody else dropped in. I don’t know Bernardo.”
“He was just passing by. You’ll meet him sometime. His grandfather was friends with Nonno, his father was friends with my father, and so on.”
“And you guys are friends?”
“I’m friends with his older brother. Bernardo just followed us around and bugged us when he was little.”
“Like Anna Maria?”
He smiled.
“Like her and Francesco, both,” he agreed, but he seemed distracted, looking over my shoulder. I tried to catch his eye.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Don’t turn around,” he said.
“Okay.”
Now he looked directly at me, and I felt afraid. He leaned across the table and gently took my hand.
“They’re actually a bit late. I thought they’d be here sooner,” he said. “Lucifero and his friends.”
My hand convulsed under his; he tightened his grip.
“Don’t turn around! It’s all right, Mia. They’ve been following us on and off for some weeks. Mostly you or me, as far as we can tell. They think I don’t recognize them. Somebody generally knows where you are, so I felt no need to tell you. You keep on the alert anyway, which is good.”
“I do,” I agreed, but it was hard to speak.
He should have told me
, I thought.
He should have told me!
And worse, I hadn’t noticed on my own, except that once at the Biblioteca Ambrosiana.
I thought back to that peculiar first date with Lucifero: how I’d snuck out to meet him, walking part of the way with Francesca and Francesco, how looking at him had made my stomach quiver. Not anymore, not in a good way, anyway. Why would anyone ask for possession? Yet Lucifero had. “Power, quick power,” Nonno would say.
“Where is he sitting?” I asked, when I was sure I could control my voice.
“Over your right shoulder, two tables down.”
I knew I shouldn’t, but I had to look. I caught one short glimpse of him. At first, I couldn’t figure out exactly why he looked abnormal. He seemed brighter—not like Emilio, who seems to shine in the dark, but bright and flat like an advertisement that grabs the eye without filling the heart. It was bizarre. I felt sick.
“What do you think they’re planning?” I asked Emilio.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I thought if we could give them a few moments where we seemed vulnerable, that might bring matters to a head. Nonno and Uncle Matteo will be here soon, and Anna Maria and Francesco, too, so we’ll have plenty of backup. Let’s just continue talking, and I’ll keep an eye on them.”
I couldn’t decide who I wanted to murder more, the serenely self-confident man in front of me, or the handsome Satanist at my back.
FOUR
A Weapon Hidden in Plain Sight
T ake out your case, slowly,” Emilio advised. “Set it open in your lap. I’ll do the same if something distracts them.”
I reached in my jacket pocket and clasped the heavy, leather-bound case in my fingers. I slid it onto my lap and opened it, touching the mirror, the candle stub, the tiny brass bell, the fountain pen I’d wedged next to the new leather notebook.
“You have no idea what they’re going to do?” I repeated.
“None.”
I glared at him, and he laughed.
“Life’s not interesting if you always play it safe,” he counseled.
“Just how unsafe do you think this will be?” I grumbled, and then, still glaring at him, I recognized the ice-cold feeling between my shoulders, a telltale sign of a demon.
Emilio saw me flinch.
“Pick up the bell and mirror and set them on the table,” he went on
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