CHAPTER 22
Someone was watching. Awareness prickled as Lexi stood in front of the bronze Etruscan sculpture of a wounded chimera from the 4th century BC. She’d read the details in the guidebook clutched in her hand, trying to look like every other tourist while her heart began to pound. A group of Japanese students closed in and provided cover; it was a guided tour, but at least they weren’t carrying the umbrella or the large yellow flag that marked so many tour guides throughout Florence. The guide escorted her charges into the next gallery and Lexi joined a different group crowding toward the exit. Within minutes Lexi was back outside and wincing in the bright sunlight as she hurried down the street.
Arsen stood in her path.
“Having fun, Slick?”
Her gaze narrowed as she slid to a halt.
“You here to kick my ass?”
“I thought you knew how to read.”
Lexi had no idea why she felt so bad. Maybe it was the look in Arsen’s eyes. “I came here to help.” Crossing both arms, Lexi braced. Arsen was far too good a second-in-command not to rat her out, and she expected to find Christan lurking at her back. But they were alone.
“Where is he?”
“Busy.”
Arsen had matched her stance. Lexi realized he was angry. His arms were so taut the biceps flexed, and she didn’t like the way his gaze kept moving to scan the street.
“Was that you in the museum just now, following me?”
“No.” Arsen’s expression changed, and he pulled her into an alley. A Vespa motorbike was parked at the curb with two helmets hanging from the handle bars. He thrust one in her direction.
“Put this on.”
Lexi eyed the helmet warily. “We’re going somewhere?”
Arsen was already astride the bike. From his scowl, the bike wasn’t a preferred choice for transportation. “Get on, Slick. I ain’t gonna wait all day.”
Lexi took the helmet, slid on the saddle behind him. She’d never understood why people loved Vespas until Arsen navigated through the maze of traffic with such ease, slipping between stopped vehicles and up on to the curb a few times. He doubled back twice as if making sure no one followed. Lexi held on to his waist. Soon exhilaration surpassed fear. When he turned the engine off outside a four-story stone building topped with red tile, Lexi was smiling so hard her face hurt.
“This isn’t the flat, Bucko,” she pointed out as they stood on the sidewalk. “You get lost?”
“Nope.”
“Big warrior secret?”
Arsen made a rude sound that meant he wasn’t seriously mad anymore, only a little mad, and ushered her inside. “Upstairs.”
“Who’s waiting upstairs?”
“You remember that video conference with the Italians? They told us about Dante’s girl.”
The woman’s name was Renata, and she’d been running through an outdoor market near the Piazza di San Lorenzo. Luca said they’d recovered her, but she was emotionally wounded and would need time to heal.
“Since Renata refuses to talk to us,” Arsen continued, “Christan sent me to get you. If he’d come himself and found you gone, he’d be really pissed right now.”
“But you’ll keep my secret, won’t you, Bucko?”
Arsen didn’t answer. The lobby of the building was quiet, the first landing scattered with fliers, and the stairs to the second floor were covered with clean but threadbare carpet. By the time they reached the third floor Lexi realized it was one of those old buildings that held so many memories. They were warm and comforting, traces of happy families, echoes of laughter floating through the halls. Lexi caught snatches: a transparent image of a soccer ball bouncing down the steps, children, just sitting with their legs swinging through the black iron of the railing. There were the scents of lemon, sweet basil, the murmurs of old women sitting in the doorways when it was too hot to gossip in the sun. These were the imprints she enjoyed because they held no uneasy secrets.
They reached the top floor, and Dante met them at the entrance to the flat. Lexi was directed one way while Arsen and Dante disappeared in another. She found Renata waiting on a balcony filled with plants, red geraniums, ferns, something trailing over the ornate black railing. The sudden sprays of green reminded Lexi that the old town of Florence was a city made of stone. Stone buildings on narrow stone streets. Only the formal tourist gardens held trees. It was the absence of trees Lexi felt the most.
Two padded iron chairs were arranged around a table set with glasses of lemonade. Renata sat in one chair. Lexi slid back the other chair. Renata looked younger than expected, but perhaps the photos had aged her. Or the look of terror that had been in her eyes. When the woman spoke, it was in English.
“You have memory lines?”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I check?”
Lexi allowed Renata to take her wrist and hold it in the light. Two lines glimmered in the sun.
“You haven’t recovered many memories,” the woman said as she released Lexi’s hand.
“Does it matter?”
“I can’t expect you to understand if you haven’t remembered enough to know.”
“I understand what it’s like to have the dreams,” Lexi said. “That should be enough.”
Renata’s face tightened. Her right hand held a tracery of memory lines that looked like a spider’s web. The woman sipped at the lemonade and Lexi felt precious time tick by until Renata returned the glass to the table.
“What do you know about warriors?” Renata asked.
“I came to Italy with them.”
“Do you know what they are?”
“Yes.”
“Can you accept that?”
“I’m trying,” Lexi answered truthfully.
Renata’s gaze centered on the red geraniums where a bee darted through the curling petals. The buzz was distinctive and blended with the sound of nearby traffic. The heat of early afternoon was beginning to shimmer; all of the shutters on the upper windows were closed.
“Tell me about your dreams,” the woman said.
Lexi hadn’t expected the request. For a moment she felt reluctant, then spoke clinically as if describing a location to a client.
“The night terrors are of short duration. They’re full of violence. Overwhelming grief. It takes a long time to… shake the fear, and then I’m afraid to sleep.”
Renata nodded. “Dante helps me recognize the difference between the night terrors and the past life dreams. Does your mate do that?”
Lexi stared at the plants edging the balcony and said yes, Christan did. She didn’t elaborate.
“But you’re lucky.” Renata was staring at the bee as it moved from flower to flower. “You haven’t had many past life dreams.”
“Why am I lucky, Renata?”
The woman looked at Lexi. “You can taste the food, yes?” Lexi nodded. Renata shrugged. “You don’t want those dreams.”
Lexi remembered the dream of Gaia, trembling in a man’s arms. The sense of longing and loss. The touch and the taste. Sunlight cast hard shadows and Lexi shivered despite the heat. Recalling the purpose for this visit, sitting on this little balcony, Lexi leaned forward and asked, “Can you tell me about an American girl named Katerina Varga?”
The report compiled by the Italians revealed the long friendship between the two women. They had remained in touch for years. Were probably still in touch. Renata stared impassively. “Why are you interested?”
“We think she’s in danger.”
“She already knows.”
“Your warrior protects you, doesn’t he, Renata? Kat’s warrior wants to protect her, too.”
“I doubt he’ll find her. She doesn’t wish to be found, but she definitely doesn’t want to be found by him.”
“Why?”
“Because of the Agreement. You’re one of us. You know.”
“Perhaps I don’t understand, Renata,” Lexi said. “Why does the Agreement alarm you?”
“If they find you, they claim you, and you become a used thing, not even in control of your own choices. The only way to be safe is not to be caught.”
“Is that what Katerina is doing, hiding so she can’t be caught?”
“He traps her. We’re all trapped.”
Renata’s eyes were bright with moisture and her expression vacant, as if she was tangled in her own skittering thoughts. It was clear, now, that she’d been broken in a way that crushed the heart. Lexi felt a wave of compassion.
“Your English is excellent,” she said, moving the conversation in a safer direction. Renata seemed to refocus on the geraniums. The woman was fragile and violently strong at the same time.
“I lived in England for several years,” Renata said. “That’s where I met Katerina. Why she came to Italy.”
“To see you and for her research?”
“Yes.”
“Did you teach her Italian?”
“I helped with pronunciation. She speaks like a woman from Florence, now, not Rome. She’s very good with languages.”
Lexi leaned forward, placed her hand on Renata’s arm and took one more chance. “Do you know where Katerina is? If she’s having dreams like you have, like I have, I can help her.” Lexi paused. “Will you help your friend?”
Renata’s eyes tracked another bee as it flirted with the red flowers. The woman was so silent, Lexi thought she was lost again, running alone, down an alley in her memory. But when Renata refocused, her eyes were dark and clear.
“She likes a little cafe by the museum where you were today.”
“The Museo Archeologico?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” Lexi thought about that spider’s web and wondered what other spies were out there, since she hadn’t told Renata where she’d been before coming to this flat. “Will you talk to me again, Renata?”
Dante appeared. His hands curved around Renata’s thin shoulders and the woman rose, allowing him to guide her back into the darkened interior without giving an answer. Lexi closed her eyes, then got to her feet and followed Arsen to the Vespa.