Chapter Nineteen
The bed is so comfortable it’s like lying on a cloud, but I can’t sleep. Staring up at the ceiling, wondering why Adam Conte would put a human finger bone in an antique-looking box haunts me. Actually, it's several bones that make up a finger fastened together with wires. A slip of paper with an address written on it was underneath the finger. Hopefully, it doesn’t lead to a dead body.
There’s a blue hue hanging over the room. It’s coming from a light somewhere outside that’s seeping through the sheer curtains. Before getting into bed, neither one of us thought to close the thicker ones in front of it. Hints of furniture polish and our leftover meal linger in the air.
Marek’s on the twin bed that’s not even two inches apart from mine, breathing heavily, and it sounds like slow waves rolling in and out of a beach. I should be obsessing about how near he is and how we’re sleeping so close to each other, but I’m not.
Well, except for just now. Mostly, I keep going over everything that’s happened the last few weeks. My stomach should be in bigger knots than it is. Nothing makes sense. What will we find at the end of all this? At the end of this hunt for clues. I need a distraction.
I roll on my side, tug down the robe that has risen up my thighs, and stare at Marek as he sleeps. The sheet doesn’t entirely cover his bare chest, and I watch what little chest muscle I can see rise and fall with his breathing. How is he sleeping?
“Why this hunt? He could’ve just left a letter,” I wonder out loud.
“Because.” Marek’s voice startles me. I flip onto my back, so he doesn’t catch me staring at him. “He doesn’t want whatever it is falling into the wrong hands.”
“But ciphers. They’re so easy. Anyone can figure them out eventually.”
“It’s easy so that I can figure it out.” His voice has that tired, scratchy sound to it. “Except he didn’t realize a teen boy’s mind wanders too much and that I’d forget what he taught me about them. The part that was hard, the part meant to keep others from finding the clues, was the envelope with my drawing in it. Only I would’ve known there’d be a message on it. No one else could’ve guessed. It’s what starts the hunt. Without it, the other clues can’t be found.”
“Are you scared?” I ask.
Marek bounces onto his side. He props his head up with one hand and gives me a smoldering stare that threatens to melt me into a puddle. “A little. Bjorn and the others could have killed us, but they didn’t.”
“They killed Cain and that doorman.”
His lids lower as he thinks. “I believe they were already dead. At least that doorman was. I swear he didn’t have a pulse.”
I push myself up against the pillows. “That thing Inanna said…” I drop my gaze to my hands and pick at my cuticles. “She thinks I brought that doorman back to life.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think she’s right.”
Now he sits up. “Why do you say that?”
“I touched a dead frog, and it came to life. Those moths showed up. Just like they did with the doorman.”
He reaches across the tiny gap between the beds and grasps my hand. My heart jumps at his touch, and I gasp. His hand yanks away from mine.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, I mean, it’s okay. You just startled me.”
He adjusts to lie on his back and crosses his hands above his head. I mimic him and face the ceiling.
“Where do you think your grandfather got that finger bone?”
“He wasn’t a serial killer, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
That’s precisely what I’m thinking, but I’m not admitting it, so I choose to ignore what he said. Besides, by the look on his face, this has to be hard for him. After all, he lost his grandfather, and chasing his clues has to be painful.
“Is it another clue? It makes no sense.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I’ve been racking my brain over it all night. I got nothing. Maybe we’ll have clarity in the morning.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I tug the covers up to my chin and continue staring at the ceiling in silence.
…
The sun’s out, and the step I’m sitting on is just high enough to get a good view of the piazza and the fountain below. I cross my legs, bask in the warmth, and people-watch. Marek maneuvers the steps on his way down, looking for a place to get us coffee and pastries.
Sleeping didn’t give us any clarity on what the severed bone in Mr. Conte’s box means. It’s a creepy thought, using someone’s finger as a clue. Couldn’t he have just written down the clue and been done with it? To say I’m a little frustrated is more than an understatement, it’s an under-understatement. It’s the lowest of understatements.
Just then, a WhatsApp notice goes off in my pocket. I forgot Dalton installed it on my phone so he could contact me internationally. I wrestle the phone out of my pants pocket and read his message.
how’s it going? did you find anything out?
I type back.
Some wild stuff. It’s too confusing. Explain later.
I pause and wonder if I should ask about Jane. If I know she’s found out I’m not at camp, it will add to my stress. I sigh and send it anyway.
barely. shes on call this week. your good. check in later
Well, at least Jane has no idea I’m in Rome being chased by delusional people who think they’re immortal. Another message from him pops up.
stay out of trouble K?
Okay. Bye.
ttyl
Leaning back, I slip my phone back into my pocket, take in a deep breath, and slowly release it.
“It’s a beautiful scene, don’t you think?” The man from the hotel lobby last night sits down beside me, leaving little space between us. I snatch up my jacket and purse and rise to my feet, but he stops me with his command: “Sit down, Analiese.”
He knows my name. How does everyone know my name? I don’t move. “Who are you?”
“I think you should sit for this.” He’s dressed in expensive-looking clothes. Stylish. Sunglasses. Leather jacket.
I lower back to the step, making sure to leave enough distance between us. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
An amused smile tips his mouth, and his eyes watch me intently. He repeatedly clicks open and close a silver lighter in his hand. Rubies form an “A” on one side of it. It reminds me of my dad’s in my front pocket. His silence annoys me. Or scares the shit out of me.
“What do you want?” I press.
“Shall we make our introductions first?” He smiles as if we planned this meeting. “My name is Ares. I’m a god of war. You, my dear, have walked into the middle of a battle between gods.”
“So I’ve been told.” I’m not sure where my sass comes from, but I’m going with it. “I don’t see a war or any gods and goddesses. Where’s all the earth-moving, ocean-splitting, thunder-cracking power?”
He throws his head back and laughs. It takes him a second to compose himself. “You have spunk, I’ll give you that.”
I keep my eyes forward because I have a feeling if he sees them, he’ll know I’m terrified. If I took off down or up these steps, I’m pretty sure this man could catch me.
“Soon you will have to pick a side,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow at him, but keep quiet and let him continue.
“You see, there are those who want to kill you. Others, to use you. I want to make you an offer. Give you all that you desire.”
Now I’m pushing my eyebrows together. “An offer? I don’t have anything for you.” A quick glance down the stairs and I spot Marek balancing two to-go coffee cups and a bulging white pastry bag.
I want to call out and warn him not to come up here, but then I’d just expose him to this man.
“Oh, but you do.” His eyes go to where mine went. “Be careful of your travel mate. His grandfather wasn’t your ally. On the contrary, he held your fate in his hands.” He pushes up to his feet. “I will tell you more the next time we meet. When you know who you are. For now, I’ll let you and the boy play Adam’s game. There’s something precious at the end of the hunt. Something you’ll willingly give me.”
“Leave the girl alone, Ares,” a heavily accented male voice says from my other side. A leather satchel drops on the step, and the owner sits on top of it. He’s a young guy, light brown hair, blue eyes, wearing all white, except for a tan leather belt and shoes. “You do not have to listen to his rubbish.”
Ares smiles, but his eyes narrow. “What are you doing here, Jarilo? Don’t you have enough to worry about in Russia without concerning yourself with these matters? And where are your other six heads?”
Jarilo? A Slavic god of war and protector.
The guy’s gaze travels to a group of four men and two women wearing all white a few steps down from us.
“Of course,” Ares says, and there’s amusement in his voice. “You wouldn’t confront me alone.”
“There’s no ignoring the energy.” Jarilo has an innocent-looking face, but he can match Ares glare for glare. “Immortals flock to Rome. They thirst for power, and soon they realize, a side they must pick.”
“Be careful of wolves in sheep’s clothing, Analiese.” Ares stands and reaches a business card out to Jarilo. “When you’re ready to choose a side, call me.” His black boots thump up the concrete steps as he climbs, putting distance between us.
I turn to ask Jarilo about the energy he mentioned, but he’s gone, and so are his friends.
It’s as if spiders skitter across my skin. Ares said some people wanted to kill me. I stand and spin around. My gaze goes from face to face. How can I tell if any are murderers? They all look harmless to me. The warmth leaves my body, my hands shake, and even though I’m outside, I can hardly breathe.
“Who was that man?” Marek asks when he reaches me.
I shake my head.
“Are you okay?” He places the cups and bag on the concrete, then puts an arm around me and guides me back down on the step. “You’re shaking.”
“He—he said his name’s Ares, and he’s a war god. And the other one is Jarilo.”
Marek scans the stairs above us. “Who? Where did they go?”
“They’re gone,” I say. “Ares went up the steps, but Jarilo just disappeared.”
He sits beside me, and his eyes go to my face. “What did they want with you?”
“I don’t know what Jarilo wanted. Ares told me the same thing Sid had. Something about me being in the middle of a war between gods and that I should pick his side. Why would he want me?”
“Not sure,” Marek says. “Maybe it has to do with what Inanna said you did. We need answers. All we have are bits and pieces of things. And we’re carrying a bone around that could be from a murder.”
“But we’re at a dead end.” I rub my clammy hands across my jeggings, hands still shaking.
He passes me one of the coffees, then opens the white bag. “Let’s eat.”
“What about Ares and Jarilo?”
He looks over his shoulder again. “I don’t think they want to hurt you. Not Ares, anyway. Not if he was recruiting you for his side.”
“I like how we’re talking about this like he’s recruiting me to work at Hotdog World or something. I keep thinking we’re going to wake up any minute from this nightmare.”
“Hey.” He bumps my shoulder. “After you finish that, we’ll search for that address in the box.”
My gaze drops to my coffee. “Yeah, okay.”
The cup is warm in my trembling hand, and I take a careful sip. My mind wanders as I eat my second cream-stuffed sfogliatella. The pastry with its many flaky layers melts in my mouth. I’m not hungry, but I’m a stress-eater, and this stuff is a stress-eater’s dream. The pressure between my eyes loosens, and I’m feeling less scared.
“We need to hide better.” I lick the cream from my lips. “Sid says they’re sensing some sort of energy coming off one of us.”
There’s a deep swallow before he answers me. “I thought we did. Maybe we have a stalker.” His eyes scan the steps and square below. “Someone who’s with Ares. Or that other person. Jar-what’s his name.”
“Ares was in our hotel lobby last night. He was alone. So maybe he just felt us there.” I finish the last bit of my coffee. “If only we knew what this energy we’re supposedly emitting is.”
“Maybe it’s like a dog whistle. Only gods can sense it.” He crumples up his napkin and stuffs it into the bag.
“If we ever see Sid again, we need to get more details from him.” I ball-up my leftovers.
Our eyes meet, and I can see the worry in his. He smiles to cover it up, but I can still see it. I can feel it, too. Deep in the pit of my stomach. The same fear. It grows inside me like an unwanted weed, strangling.
“We need to find whatever your grandfather left at that address,” I say, omitting my suspicion that it’ll be a dead body.
He turns away, gathering up our cups and trash. “Okay, I’ve got the address programmed in the GPS. But first, we have to make sure no one’s following us. My grandfather taught me how to ditch a tail. He started teaching me survival techniques when I was six.”
“Mine taught me how to tie my shoes,” I say, a little salty, but not toward Marek—toward his grandfather, who obviously kept Marek in the dark. “He was definitely preparing you for this. I wonder why he didn’t tell you about whatever all this is.”
“He had to have his reasons.” His eyes dart around to the people passing us. “You ready?”
“Just a sec.” I pick up my purse and remove the meager contents from the main compartment—passport, wallet, pillbox, and lip balm—and slip them into the pockets of my jacket and zip them up. Traveling light seems like a good idea.
I retrieve my cell phone from the side pocket and I’m about to put it in my jacket when Marek stops me.
“I did a lot of thinking last night,” he says. “Replayed things in my head. I recalled my grandfather’s instructions. We don’t stop long enough for them to catch up to us. Keep moving. Only use cash. Get rid of our phones. We have the GPS I bought for directions.”
“I haven’t been using my phone.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “They might be able to trace them still. I say we dump them.”
“You want me to throw away my phone?”
“Sorry,” he says, an apologetic look on his face. “But it has to be done. I think that’s how that Ares guy found us. Not some bullshit energy Sid wants us to believe.”
He’s right, but I worry what Dalton will do if he can’t get a hold of me. He’d break down and tell Jane, fearing something terrible happened.
“Okay, but I have to send a message to my brother first.”
“All right.”
He waits as I type up an explanation and send it to Dalton.
After dropping my purse and our cell phones in a nearby trash barrel, I throw on my jacket and bound down the steps, catching up to Marek.