“Well, let’s escort you home, at least,” he said. “Protect you from all those nasty pickpockets.”
“No complaints here,” I said, though my goose bumps couldn’t possibly be attributed to Gypsy children. As long as we were moving away from Monte Testaccio, I’d be happy.
Even if it meant returning to the Cloisters.
The alley in front of the Cloisters was not lit by streetlamps, and the heavily wooded park across the street provided little in the way of illumination. Phil, who had, perhaps, imbibed a few too many test tubes that evening, practically killed herself by tottering onto the cobblestones in her steeply sloped espadrilles. Seth kept a hand around her waist, making sure she suffered no worse than a twisted ankle; and Giovanni and I brought up the rear.
“You’re staying here?” he asked, as we turned past the graffiti-speckled wall and into the entrance courtyard. No lights shone from the few windows facing the enclosure, but the moon, which had been hidden from view in the alleyway, bathed the stones in a pale, silvery glow. “What is this place?”
“It used to be a nunnery,” I whispered, which wasn’t really a lie.
“It’s kind of scary looking.”
“You have no idea.”
From the dark space under the external wall, we heard Phil giggle. I thought I saw the shadowed form of Seth put his hand on her cheek, and I quickly looked away.
“I had fun tonight,” I said. For a few hours, among the crowds of tourists and Romans, none of whom were afraid of suddenly being set upon by monsters, I almost forgot what it was I was doing here. Seth had kept his promise to sweeten the evening for us, though I wasn’t sure what had really done the trick—his gelato, Phil’s laughter, or my talk with Giovanni.
He was nothing like Brandt, that was for sure. Seth’s shortcut route had taken us through a medieval cemetery, overgrown with bougainvillea and clogged by moss-eaten headstones, and Giovanni had been back in his element. He’d even started translating some of the inscriptions on the monuments. I doubted he had problems in French class. I wondered if he had problems in French anything. Not that it mattered, what with my new, celibate calling.
“Me, too,” he said. He was examining the fountain. “This is very interesting. Do you know who designed it? Maybe Bernini, but I’ve never heard of this one before. What is the figure holding here? Looks like a magic wand.” He peered closer, then stumbled against the lip of the basin. “Ow!” Giovanni shook his hand and stared at it, then up at the fountain. “That thing’s sharp.”
“What is it? What happened?” I said, rushing forward. I took his hand in mine and examined the wound. A deep scratch ran across the heel of his palm. “What did you touch?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, a rough edge or something. Man, that stings!”
Or maybe the alicorn? Dread set up shop in my stomach. We were a long way away from mom’s magic bottle. If it would even work a second time.
“How do you feel? Are you dizzy?” I turned his hand over, searching for signs of poisoning.
“You really are into medicine, aren’t you? Don’t worry—I’ve had my tetanus shots. This’ll teach me to get too close to art.” He pulled his hand out of mine and turned to study the fountain again.
“Tetanus is the least of my worries,” I muttered. More giggles and whispers emanated from the corner, but Giovanni seemed preoccupied.
“This is really gorgeous,” he said. “I don’t know why this isn’t in any of the walking tour guides.” He kept his distance but squinted to get a closer look at the woman’s face.
“Well, they can’t cover every piece of sculpture in Rome,” I said, wincing every time he clenched his hand. Would a horn still be poisonous this long after being removed from a unicorn? “What was it you were telling me about earlier? Going ‘churching’? Wandering from church to church in hopes of stumbling across a forgotten Caravaggio or a random Raphael?” Brandt had reacted much more quickly when he was pierced with an alicorn. This one must have lost its punch.
He didn’t answer, and for a moment I wished Seth were here to shame Giovanni into leaving the statue alone. More giggles from the corner. Man, were they making out or having a tickle fight over there? I envied Phil’s ability to have fun with boys without ever letting it get to weird, uncomfortable places. She’d never lacked for dates in high school, nor had she fretted about sleeping with someone in order to get invited out. Phil had never put out, and she’d been superpopular.
Why couldn’t I be like that? Why couldn’t I kiss a guy without worrying where it would go? Was it thanks to Lilith’s obsession with my unicorn hunting eligibility? Was it thanks to her insistence that now I would be a hunter? That no matter what other ideas I’d had about my life, I’d be shut behind these stone walls and surrounded day and night by the grinning, empty-eye-socketed skulls of my childhood terror?
But Lilith wasn’t here, and neither was Neil or Cory. Why couldn’t I just kiss this guy right now?
I mean, aside from the fact that he seemed more interested in a block of marble than in me. Maybe it was the universe’s way of punishing me for not getting out of this mess by sleeping with Brandt when I’d had the chance.
“Ah, look,” he said, kneeling at my feet. “An inscription.”
I joined him, and our shoulders brushed as we crouched at the base of the fountain. “Is it Italian?”
“Latin, I think.” He leaned away from me and squinted, trying to decipher the lettering in the gloom. “‘In memoriam’…Obviously, ‘in memory of…’ I don’t know what this word means. ‘Pestilentia.’ ‘Pestilence,’ you think? Something something ‘honor,’ I think—and this word, I see it in churches all the time. This one is ‘sacrifice.’ ‘In memory of something something pestilence something and to honor her sacrifice, a sister of the order…’”
“Lioness,” I said dumbly, standing. “To honor the sacrifice of a sister of the Order of the Lioness.”
“Is that what the nuns here were called? The Order of the Lioness? That’s a kick-ass name.”
“They were kick-ass nuns.” Nuns who stopped plagues. Nuns who killed monsters. Nuns who had the power to save the world. Or so Lilith would have me believe.
“Are there any left?”
I swallowed. He was talking to one. Or one who was about to be. “They kind of died out, I think. Lost their purpose.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Do you think so?” My eyes felt hot. My throat felt clogged. Maybe I was the one who’d brushed against the alicorn. “Don’t you think that some things belong in the past? Like closing yourself off from the world, giving up everything you might want just because your parents decided to…tithe you to something else?”
He stood, brushing off his hands. “You’re right. That would have been rough. But nowadays, people who do things like become nuns or monks or whatever, they do it because they believe in it, because they want that life. It’s not what I want, celibacy and stuff”—at that, he ducked his head and looked away—“but I can respect that other people might. A sense of purpose is a powerful thing. Enough of that, and whatever else you give up doesn’t feel like much of a sacrifice, does it?”
Oh yeah? Try it.
Another giggle. I closed my eyes against the moonlight and tried to block out the sounds of my cousin and her conquest, the hot anger that banded my chest every time I thought of Lilith, the fear of whatever had been out there in the darkness, the frustration that Giovanni wouldn’t even hold my hand on the one night in weeks I could pretend to be normal again….
I took a deep breath, and again the sensation came, like hunger at dawn or weariness at dusk. My body clicked into place so naturally I barely had time to fight it. I turned my head toward the entrance to the courtyard and opened my eyes.
Again, the darkness quivered, deepest indigo on black. But then, as I had that night in the forest, I saw it more clearly. I…felt it. Just beyond the arch it stood, waiting for me, waiting for the boys, waiting to pounce. Far bigg
er than Bonegrinder. Far bigger than any zhi. Dappled skin, a heavy, dark mane, and a long, evil horn.
“Are you all right?” Giovanni asked, taking my arm and pulling me back toward him. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast,” he went on. “You looked like you disappeared for a second.”
I realized that we were somehow right at the gate. In the blink of an eye, I’d crossed the entire courtyard, flashed forward, just as I had chasing Bonegrinder that afternoon.
The unicorn at the entrance took a few steps forward, then paused, just beyond the reach of the moonlight. It was the color of midnight, of shadows, of nightmares. I’d never seen anything like it. Why was it waiting? We were defenseless. Tipsy and tired and weapon free.
“You should try for a track scholarship when you do get to college if you can sprint like that.”
I looked at him, blinking, trying to clear my head, but I only saw blood and death. “There’s something out there…. Get back. You’ll get hurt.” I couldn’t have another Brandt on my hands.
“What are you talking about?” He asked. He stretched his neck into the darkness, until he was inches from the creature.
Couldn’t he feel its breath on his face? Couldn’t he see how it taunted me with his death? One snap of its jaws and Giovanni would be gone. Almost two decades of art and nice hands and rare smiles. I pictured the corduroy lines on Brandt’s face, remembered his blood pouring into the leaves. We had no golden bottle. We had nothing.
The unicorn’s horn arced almost over Giovanni’s head. It stood still, flesh and not flesh, hallucination and threat all at once. Perhaps my uncle was right, and those who saw such things were indeed mad. This wasn’t Bonegrinder, all fluff and hoof and rabid-puppy attitude. This was a monster. This was magic.
“No,” I whispered. Get away. Get away.
“Hate to tell you, Astrid the Warrior, but there’s nothing out there.”
The kirin—for that was what it was—parted its lips above Giovanni’s scalp. I saw a flash of teeth. And in that moment, it looked me right in the eyes and dared me to come for it.
I kicked off my heels and sprang.
7
WHEREIN ASTRID DRAWS FIRST BLOOD
THE KIRIN WAS MADE OF night itself. I clung to its back, able to do little more than hang on to its cold, damp coat as it bucked and reared, tossing its head in a vain attempt to snare me with its horn. Up close I could see it wasn’t invisible at all, merely brindled in the colors of midnight. And yet, as it spun in silent struggle, its hooves making no sound on the cobblestones, the world around us flickered like a mirage, the figure of Giovanni blurring as we whirled away. Could he see me? Would he hear me if I screamed?
I crawled up the creature’s spine, grabbing handfuls of black mane that slid through my fingers like wet weeds. Now I could hear it breathe, hot puffs of air that stank of rot and singed my nostrils as I choked them down. My hand closed around its horn, warm and hard as a baseball bat on a summer day. I squeezed. I pulled. The kirin went berserk, twisting and twirling, leaping and jouncing me. I could hear Phil shouting my name, could make out three blurry figures at the gate, but I couldn’t draw breath to yell back. My hands slipped from the horn, down the creature’s face; and I dug in desperately, until I felt something squish beneath my thumb. Its eye.
I recoiled in horror, and the kirin bucked once more.
The moon swung in an arc and I crashed against the ground, fire starbursting through my arm. I cradled my hands above my head, certain any second I’d feel hooves crushing my skull into the pavement. Something warm dripped on my face, and then Phil was at my side, pulling me into a sitting position.
“Get up,” she hissed. “It’s gone.”
I rubbed the back of my head where it had bounced painfully against the stone. No cuts, but there would definitely be a lump tomorrow.
“Dude,” Seth said. “Are you some kind of acrobat? Lay off the back handsprings without a mat, huh?”
When I pulled my hand away, there was blood running down my arm. I blinked at it, half dazed.
“You’re hurt—” Phil said, frowning.
I looked beyond her, to where Giovanni stood, as silent as any kirin.
“Put pressure on it,” she went on.
Rivulets of blood were running from my elbow to my wrist from a deep, fiery gash on my inner arm.
“Seriously, though,” Seth was saying. “What did you think you were doing out there?”
“What was it?” Phil asked, ignoring her date.
“A kirin,” I whispered back. “I’m sure of it.”
“On the streets of Rome?”
Unable to get our attention, Seth turned to Giovanni. “What was she doing diving off the wall?”
Giovanni shook his head, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “I’m not…sure. The way she moved…she just vanished.”
Phil was still talking. “I guess if there can be coyotes at LAX, there can be kirin in downtown Rome….”
I shook her off—the cut wasn’t deep anyway—and stood. “I wasn’t doing gymnastics. There was something out there.”
“Some thing?” Seth chuckled. “Like what, a monster? You told this kid too many myths today, Jo. Now she’s seeing gorgons and cyclopses.”
“Hey,” Phil said, her voice turning dangerous. “Watch your mouth.” She turned to me. “Come on, Astrid. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Giovanni was still staring, but he hadn’t moved a step in my direction. Hadn’t even asked if I was okay.
“We can’t leave them alone out here,” I said. “What if it’s nearby?”
Phil closed her eyes like some whacked-out psychic. “It’s not. Can’t you tell?”
No. I felt covered in kirin. Filled with it. Kirin caked my body like oil, burned within my blood. I hugged my arms to my chest and shuddered.
“Uh, ladies?” Seth said. “We’re going to take off.” He tugged on his friend’s arm. Giovanni backed up a few steps but didn’t turn around.
I wanted to say we weren’t freaks, that whatever he saw, there was a rational, non-invisible-unicorn explanation. But what was the point? Brandt hadn’t believed the mad goat story. Not even Phil’s charm was having much of an effect on them. “Be safe,” was all I could manage.
Giovanni looked like he would speak then, but Seth strode off, and he only hesitated for a second before following.
“Jerks!” Phil stamped her foot. “I hate boys. One second they have their tongues down your throat, the next second they bail. I hope they do get eaten by unicorns. It would serve Seth right for making fun of you.”
I watched their figures recede into the darkness and held my breath, but if a unicorn was stalking them, I couldn’t tell.
“Well, that sucked. What a downer to end a great evening, huh?” Phil said.
“A great evening that started with me getting my purse stolen?”
Phil pursed her lips. “Oh yeah. Well, nothing we can do now. Come on, let’s take care of your arm. I can’t believe you went after it like that! What do you know about killing unicorns yet?”
I tucked my chin into my chest. “I don’t know why I did it—it was stupid. I didn’t even have a weapon. But it just…looked at me. It was going to eat Giovanni.”
“So you thought you’d let it get you instead?” Phil sighed, looped her hand through my uninjured arm, and guided me back into the courtyard toward the doors of the Cloisters. “Your mom would kill me if she knew I was letting you jump on unicorns your first week here.”
“Lilith would kill you if she knew you were taking me on dates.”
“That’s true.” Phil grinned. “I think it’s the curse of single moms. They’re afraid of their kid falling into the same trap.”
No, Lilith wanted to ensure my hunter eligibility. I glanced down at my arm. Dried blood crusted on my skin, but the wound looked like little more than a scratch. Phil pulled open the giant doors, and we tiptoed into the rotunda. It was even creepier by night. No lights glistened off the gi
lt mosaics, and all I could make out of “Bucephalus” was an amorphous, menacing bulk; the hint of the horn; and those two, glowing, pit-like eyes.
“Have fun?”
We both jumped. A light flicked on, and I blinked at Cory, who pointed a large flashlight at us like an interrogation lamp. Neil stood next to her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Where have you two been?” he asked.
Phil straightened. “We went out.”
Cory directed the beam of her light at my arm. “Must have been a wild night.”
“There was a kirin—” I began, but Neil cut me off.
“You are not to leave the grounds without permission. Imagine my shock when I was trying to introduce a new hunter and her parents this evening, only to discover that I’d lost a minor under my supervision.”
“What’s the big deal?” Phil asked. “I took her out for dinner. I’m her cousin. I can do that.”
“Astrid’s mother put her in our care, not yours. Though you’re not a minor, I don’t entirely approve of the fact that you’re here without the knowledge of your parents. But what I do know is that you arrived without invitation or announcement and the next thing I know, you’re vanishing with my hunters.”
“Your hunters?” Phil replied. “What is it that makes you qualified to be in charge?”
Neil ignored that. “Astrid, you will wash up and go to your room. Philippa, you will come to my office at once.”
I stepped forward. “Not without me, she won’t.” She’d defended me to Seth, now I could do the same. “Phil didn’t force me to go anywhere. If we’re going to get in trouble, we’re going to do it together.” What was the worst he could do—kick me out? Bring it on!
Neil frowned. “Fine.” He turned and stalked off to his office. We followed, and Cory trailed behind until Neil practically slammed the door in her face.
“Pardon the mess,” he said in a tone lacking any trace of apology. Neil’s office was crowded with books and papers, computer printouts of satellite photos, and yellowed sketches of unicorns. The walls, however, were painted a smooth cream, and there was no sign anywhere of unicorn bones.
Rampant Page 8