by Zoe Chant
"Uh, yeah." He relaxed and curled his arm as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Very important."
"Very," Jess agreed. And walking through an airport in Rome—Rome!—on the arm of a sexy guy in a motorcycle jacket was nothing to complain about.
Reive asked quietly, "Were you able to get in touch with—what did you say his name is? Your local book collector."
"Giovanni Romano, and I'm not sure, I had my phone off on the flight."
She booted it up as they walked through the airport.
"Oh," she said. "No reception. Is the building blocking it?"
"Does your phone have a plan that covers international service?"
"I don't know," she said, embarrassed. "I just had a cheap one. I never go anywhere."
"There should be a machine around here where you can get a temporary SIM card to use while you're here. We'll need local currency, too."
There were so many things to think of. She was already feeling overwhelmed, and thoroughly glad she was with someone who knew what he was doing.
"Oh, hey, there's what we need." Reive detoured, sweeping Jess along, to a row of automated vending machines, including an ATM and a machine selling phone SIM cards and prepaid phones. "The fees will be higher in the airport, but we need euros and local phone cards."
He stuck in an ATM card, and then deposited unexpectedly colorful cash in Jess's hands. She tried to shove it back at him.
"You don't have to give me money. I have my own."
"I know," Reive said. "I don't mean to insult you. But I would like to make this a vacation for you, on me."
How could he have this much money if he traveled around on buses with all his worldly possessions in a backpack? Maybe he was an eccentric rich person. Or he'd won the lottery. Or he was spending his life savings on this trip.
"Okay, how about this. You can handle the big expenses, like airfare and hotels. But I'll handle my own spending money. Deal?"
His grin flashed again. "Sounds fair enough."
While Reive got SIM cards from the phone machine, Jess withdrew some money from her savings. It was so colorful and different from what she was used to that she had to keep examining it as they walked through the airport, nearly walking into a luggage transport before Reive hastily caught her and pulled her out of the way.
"You really aren't used to traveling."
"I went to Toronto for work once. And I got shuffled around between foster homes as a kid." She backed off quickly from that particular topic. "But yeah, you're right, there isn't a whole lot of opportunity to travel on a librarian's salary. And mostly I was saving my money anyway. I was planning to eventually buy a house of my own, with a garden and some fruit trees."
"Is that where you'd like to live?" Reive asked, his voice quiet. "In Indiana?"
"I don't know. I guess it just made sense to stay there because I had a good job at the library."
Now she wondered if she had ever had a place there at all. She couldn't stop thinking of Reive saying I need you, Jess.
No one had ever needed her before. Not like that.
She liked Marion and her other colleagues at the library. But whether she came back or not, Marion and the library would be okay.
And now Jess had the feeling of her horizons expanding beyond the library that had been her world for so long, encompassing the entire world.
I don't care if there's some kind of warlock after us. I'm going to have fun anyway.
The sunlight was dazzling. Part of it was just that some part of her hadn't quite adjusted to local time—it was now early afternoon in Italy, though she still couldn't do the time zone conversion—but she also thought that the light was just different here. More golden, or more clear, or something, even with a slight haze of smog hanging over the city.
They took a train to the city center, and got off at a random stop; it didn't seem to matter much. Everywhere Jess looked, everything was made of stone, and very old-looking. There were occasional gargoyles on rooftops, something that Indiana was notably lacking. The first time she saw one, she had to stop and stare at it carefully to make sure it wasn't watching her, but it seemed to be a perfectly normal stone statue.
"So tell me about this reclusive billionaire of yours," Reive said, as they wandered the streets in the punishing sun. Most of the people around them appeared to be tourists; the locals had probably gone inside during the heat of the afternoon. Jess had rebuffed an offer from Reive to carry her suitcase, though she couldn't explain that it felt feather-light to her unusual, monsterish strength. At least he was a guy who took a "no" gracefully. "Is he here in Rome?"
"He's actually a ways out of the city in a different, smaller town. We'll probably have to take a bus there." She still hadn't heard back from the numerous messages she'd sent. She really hoped that wasn't a bad sign. "I hope he's at home. It would be awful if we came all this way and he's not even there."
"Or something," Reive murmured.
"Don't borrow trouble. We must be ahead of them, right?"
"We can't assume—" He swayed and put a hand to his forehead. Jess stopped, startled. Maybe it was just the unfamiliar quality of the light, but in the bright sun his tannish complexion looked washed out and gray.
"Reive? Are you okay?"
"Just a long night without much sleep," he muttered. He started to rub his eyes with the gloved hand and then lowered it.
"Can't you sleep on planes?" she asked. "I thought I'd have more trouble, but I slept like a baby."
"Planes, buses, beds," Reive murmured under his breath, and before she could even figure out how to ask about that, he took a quick step forward. "Oh hey, look, there's a gelato stand. Have you ever had it?"
She recognized the distraction for what it was, but she also couldn't resist the opportunity to have real gelato in Italy. Fumbling out her handful of unfamiliar cash, she said firmly, "My treat, okay?"
Reive waved a hand and nodded.
"Do you need to sit down?" she asked, turning around.
"I just need gelato," he said, mustering a smile.
She fumbled her way through ordering by pulling from her grab bag of Latin and other classical languages. It was clear that the gelato vendor thought she was a bit off, but she managed to read at least some of the menu and make herself sort of understood. She chose lemon gelato, deliciously cool and crisp, soothing to her dry throat.
"You know, I thought Midwest summers were a lot to deal with," she said as they stood in the shade of a doorway and scooped up their gelato, with her suitcase resting against her leg. "But I'm going to need to get a hat or something, and maybe some sunscreen."
"I'm thinking about checking into a hotel for a few hours," Reive said.
"Do you think that's a good idea? If that guy is here too—"
"I know. But I'm thinking it'll give us an opportunity to find out if we're being followed before we lead them straight to the rest of the book."
"Oh." She hadn't thought of that.
"And also, we can catch a couple hours of sleep to help deal with the jet lag. It can really get to you if you're not used to it."
Jess started to say that she was feeling fine—a bit manic, perhaps, but her body seemed to have gone straight past "tired" and out the other side. Then she took a closer look at his face. He looked utterly exhausted. She would have expected he'd be dying of heat in that leather jacket, but he hadn't even unzipped it.
Didn't he sleep at ALL on the plane? Maybe he's coming down with something ... can dragons get colds?
"Yeah, that's a good idea," she said, licking the gelato off her spoon. "You're right. I am tired. It's probably a good idea to take a nap."
They found a nearby hotel on Reive's phone map. As they walked through the streets, with Jess pausing occasionally to take pictures of fountains and statues, Reive asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to carry your bag for you? We can trade off."
"No, I'm fine." She had almost forgotten it was there. Hmm. Maybe she should
be acting as if it was heavy. She had no clear idea how strong human women typically were. She tried to let it drag her arm down a bit on that side. Ah, yes. That was better.
"If you think they might be following us, shouldn't we be trying to hide?" she asked, glancing around the sun-drenched streets.
"No. That's the last thing we want. If they're after us, they'll know when we got off the plane. We want them to get complacent and think we're not paying attention, so they'll show themselves. When we leave the hotel, that's when we'll try to give them the slip."
Jess glanced at him. "You seem like you know a lot about this."
"I've had a little practice at it," he said, and didn't elaborate.
He got them a hotel suite for three nights, which Jess assumed was part of the ruse; surely they weren't going to stay that long. She also wondered if he had picked an especially grand hotel, or if all hotels in Rome looked like this. The elevator gleamed; she could see her reflection in the instrument panel.
And when Reive opened the door to their suite, she gasped out loud. It looked like a hotel on TV, all gleaming, modern white-black-and-chrome furniture. There was a central sitting room with a bedroom and bathroom on each side.
She had a moment of mingled relief and disappointment when she realized Reive didn't plan to have them share a bedroom, but it was considerably eased by the absolute sumptuousness of the suite. She dropped her bag on the floor, ran to the window and pulled back the drapes. The view was stunning. The entire city lay at their feet.
"Oh my gosh, Reive, this is gorgeous. When I went to Toronto, I shared an AirBnB with three elderly librarians. I can't believe this place. Oh wow, there's a minibar!"
Reive grinned. He sat on the couch, started to unzip his jacket but then left it on. "Help yourself to anything you want. You can also order anything you'd like off the room service menu."
She crouched to inspect the minibar options. "I know this is a terribly nosy question, but I'm gonna ask it anyway. Is your family loaded or what?"
"Dragons live a long time, and therefore have a lot of time to accumulate investments," Reive said. "Also, what you hear about dragons having hoards is true."
Jess picked out a can of cold grapefruit juice and a mini bottle of vodka. There were also beers and wines to choose from, but she liked mixed drinks and, damn it, she was having greyhounds tonight.
"Do you have a hoard?" she asked, meaning it to be playful, but he looked serious.
"No," Reive said. "But I can draw on the family accounts."
"Wow. That's amazing. No wonder you can just buy tickets to Italy on the spur of the moment. Does your family mind at all?"
"They trust me," Reive said.
It sounded like a curiously loaded statement, so she decided not to push it. Instead she asked, "You want something from the drinks here? I know it's probably like seven a.m. back home, but I don't care. We're on vacation."
Reive's serious expression lightened, and he flashed her one of those knee-weakening grins. "Yeah, sure. Beer or wine, either one's good with me. Dark beer if they've got it, or red wine."
"Wow, you do not seem like a wine kind of guy." She flushed, then tried to clarify. "I mean ... not that you couldn't be. Just that it doesn't go along with the whole leather jacket, bad boy image. Um. Ale sound good?"
"It sounds great."
She opened the beer and brought the bottle—he seemed more like a bottle-of-beer guy than a glass-of-beer guy—along with her glass of grapefruit juice and vodka. When she handed the beer to Reive, he took it with his left, ungloved hand. His fingers slid over hers, a brief thrill along her nerve endings.
Jess undid the laces on her hiking boots and pulled out her sore feet, wriggling the toes. She was used to spending hours on her feet at work, but there had been a lot of walking around today and she hadn't thought to take her boots off on the plane. She tucked her feet up under her on the couch and sipped her drink. Like the gelato, it was cold and quenching, sliding down her throat and leaving the tingling burn of alcohol behind.
And she was very aware of Reive on the other end of the couch, acutely aware of each time he moved, the flex of his arms, the ripple of his throat as he drank from the bottle of beer. He was still wearing his jacket, halfway zipped up. Was he one of those people who just ran cold, or was it part of his disability or whatever was wrong with him?
"Do you want me to turn the air conditioning down?" she asked.
"What? No. I'm fine." He turned the bottle in his fingers, as if looking for something to do with his hands.
... hand, rather. He hardly ever used the one in the glove. Right now it was in his lap, lying there like an inert object with the fingers loosely curled.
Jess thought back once again to when she'd seen him change into a dragon. Had he used that leg as a dragon, either? She had been too caught up in OMG DRAGON to pay much attention to the details.
Thinking about that made her realize something she hadn't consciously noticed at the time. "You can keep your clothes on when you change into a dragon?"
Reive raised his eyebrows, and Jess remembered the last thing they were talking about was air conditioning, and blushed. "No, I, uh—I don't want you to get the idea that I was thinking about you with your clothes off," she floundered. Also, it wasn't true, because she sure was now. The blush got hotter. "I mean ... clothes. Dragon. Where do your clothes go?" In her flustered state, she almost got tangled up enough to blurt out that she didn't take her clothes with her when she shifted, but she managed to stop herself in time.
"Oh, that. It's just something that dragons can do. Other shifters can't, as far as I know."
Other shifters. Like werewolves. Like me. "Have you met a lot of, um ... other shifters?"
"Not too many. Dragons mostly keep to ourselves. We live in big family groups in secluded areas. A few of the mates—er, the people who married into my clan from outside are humans or other kinds of shifters, but normally we mate among ourselves."
Mate. What an odd, old-fashioned term. Yet she found it deeply charming when he said it, especially in this ultra-modern, mostly-white hotel room.
"Gargoyles, even?" she asked cautiously.
His reaction was clear from his face: a grimace, a sharp ripple of some dark emotion.
"Gargoyles are old enemies of my people," he said, and each word struck her like a dart through her heart. "Every time the hostilities seem to be dying down, something like this happens. I don't know what's wrong with them, why they won't leave us alone. I don't want to say they're inherently evil, but ..."
"I don't think anyone is inherently evil," Jess said, past the lump in her throat. I don't think I am. At least I hope not.
"Jess, those guys broke up your library. They almost killed you."
"You said yourself they were just after the book," she argued. And she had come around to thinking Reive was probably right about that: they were there for the book, not her. If that magic dude really could track her somehow, and was looking for her, the gargoyles would surely have found them at the airport if not sooner. And given the choice of getting her or the book, he'd gone for the book.
For now, they were almost certainly in no danger.
And she needed something to take her mind off what Reive had just said about gargoyles. If he only knew—
But he doesn't know. He will never know. Must never know.
"Speaking of the book," she went on brightly, "I think now might be a good time for me to start working on those page translations, don't you think? I only have my phone with me, but I can retrieve the scans that I have in the cloud and copy them for you. Unless you want to go out and see a little more of Rome before we crash."
Reive smiled, but it was weary. "If you'd like to, we can sight-see a little, but I don't mind staying in."
Now that the drink was hitting her, the jet lag was starting to catch up. "I don't mind staying in either. Let me find something to write with."
For a little while, there was a comfortable s
ilence. She sat on the couch with the phone in one hand and a thick pad of creamy hotel stationery for making notes. She missed her laptop, but this worked all right. When she turned the phone sideways, she could work on a few lines of text at a time.
Reading the book for the gist of its meaning was much less work than trying to decipher it page by page. The vocabulary was strange and archaic, the Latin debased and different from the classical version she had studied. She often had to switch to the internet to try to understand a passage.
There was a basket of snacks next to the coffee things—not cheap candy bars either, but good snacks, biscotti and wrapped pastries. She nibbled on a piece of sweet, puffy bread while she paged through the scans. She wished now that she had bothered scanning the entire thing, but at the time it had seemed like a bothersome task that she kept putting off. She'd only scanned the pages that she wanted to contact other researchers to help her with, mostly the ones with Viking runes. But it was better than nothing, and some of the rest she had read often enough to reconstruct roughly from memory.
After a while, she looked up at Reive, and found him looking at her with a distant, soft expression on his face.
"What?" she asked, with a nervous laugh. "Do I have something on my face?"
"No, I just ..." He looked away, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. "I like the way it looks when you're caught up in something."
"Well, that's good, because it's a look you'll be seeing a lot of." Now he looked puzzled. "What I mean is, I am a primo-class nerd, my friend. If we get in to see Signor Romano's library, I bet you'll see that look a lot. You won't be able to pry me out of there with a crowbar."
"Romano—your billionaire book collector?"
Jess nodded. "He's not mine. I even don't know him, I've just emailed him a few times. From what I can gather, he's an old guy with a lot of old money, and he collects rare, antique books for fun. He goes around to old-book auctions all over Europe and buys them. He is, essentially, living my dream life."
She could feel her pulse pick up just talking about it.