The Fortune Teller(44)

He finally spoke. “Semele, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely frank with you about my father. This isn’t happening like I expected.”

A chill burrowed deep inside her. So he knew. He had known all along about Ionna’s manuscript.

It was as if the veil between them was falling away.

“There are certain things I need to share with you, but it’s best to do so in person. I’m in Rome right now but can be there by the end of the week.”

“Friday,” she whispered. The thought she’d had this morning was coming true.

“Yes. Until then, be careful.”

“Theo,” she said, her voice sounding shaky, “if you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.”

“You’re in the middle of something you don’t understand. I’m not even sure I understand it.” He sounded frustrated. “I’ll call you when I’m en route. Please be careful.” Then he hung up.

Semele stood on the corner and a cold wind whipped around her. She was afraid to go back to her apartment, and reading the rest of Ionna’s story had taken on a new urgency. Someone wanted the manuscript enough to break in to Kairos, and now Theo Bossard was flying halfway around the world to tell her something that couldn’t be said over the phone.

She needed to get out of New York for a few days so she could finish reading and figure out what to do.

She needed to go home.

Even though she hadn’t spoken to her mother in months, suddenly home was the only place she wanted to be.

*

She headed to Brooklyn to pack a bag, sure that a five-minute stop at her place would be safe. But when she got off the train, a sense of foreboding enveloped her.

The black BMW parked in front of her building looked out of place.

Semele walked several more feet toward her apartment, but every instinct told her to stop moving. She ducked inside a nearby café and waited, looking out the glass window. Minutes passed.

Then she saw him. The man from the library was running out of her building.

He jumped into the passenger seat of the BMW.

Semele stood frozen inside the café, her world in free fall. Her paranoia had been justified. That man was watching her at the library. Ionna had really warned her.

God only knew what he had been doing at her apartment. Hysteria gripped her: Who the hell was he?

As the car drove past, Semele watched through the window. What she saw completely paralyzed her.

Raina was driving the car.





Message to VS—

We lost her.

From VS—

Watch the apartment.

Message to VS—

Theo Bossard is coming to NY.

From VS—

Of course he is.





History does not remember Hayl’s or Rinalto’s stories. But you should. Then you will start to understand.

Rinalto was not the most physical man. He usually spent his days hunched over a worktable painting miniatures. But his height and lean frame stood in his favor: the boy he was chasing couldn’t be more than six years old and shouldn’t be this hard to catch.

“Mi scusi, mi scusi.…” Rinalto pushed through the crowd apologetically. The market was busy today.

Rinalto had been browsing the items on display at one of the stalls when he saw two small, dirt-covered hands reach out and snatch a necklace off the shelf. Then the boy dashed off. Rinalto had no idea if the necklace had any value, but he knew the seller, Hayl, was too old to chase him.

Rinalto lost sight of the boy for a few seconds, then spotted him heading toward the piazza. There was a special mass at the Duomo today, and all of Milan had converged on the city square. Rinalto forced himself to run faster. He lunged forward and grabbed the boy’s shirt right before the little rat tried to dash between a man’s legs.

“That’s enough,” Rinalto gasped, catching his breath.

“Let me go!” The boy kicked and spit and tried to wriggle away, but Rinalto anchored him with a firm grip.

“Give me what you took and I will.”

People began to stare.

“If you don’t,” he threatened, “there’s a priest over there I’m sure you’re dying to confess to.”

The boy stopped fighting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. As soon as Rinalto had it in hand, the boy stomped on his foot with such force that Rinalto let go of him. He disappeared within seconds. Rinalto limped back to the market with a rueful grin. At least he had the necklace. It looked expensive; he was glad he had made the effort.

When Rinalto reached the stall, Hayl saw what he had recovered. For a moment the old trader looked too stunned to speak. He turned to the shelf and realized the display that had held the necklace was empty.

“The boy had a good eye!” Hayl bellowed as he took the necklace back, but his laughter rang false. “Thank you, Rinalto. Thank you.” The old man slapped Rinalto on the back.

“It’s very beautiful.” Rinalto had never seen firestones like those before. The iridescent red looked like a field of poppies lit on fire.

“From Edessa,” Hayl said.

Rinalto watched the old man gently trace the stones with his fingers and Rinalto wondered at the sadness behind Hayl’s smile.

Perhaps the necklace had belonged to a woman he once knew. Rinalto and his family had bought goods from Hayl for years, but he was always alone, unlike the other traders who were often assisted by a wife or child.