by A. L. Knorr
He looked deeply and searchingly into my eyes. "Yes," he whispered fiercely. "It's real. You're for real."
As his brown eyes shifted back and forth from my left eye to my right, I remembered what Elda said about the glow. I closed my eyes, cursing inwardly and searching for a way to turn off the red light. It was then that I could feel it, like a burning line of fuel. It traveled from my guts, up my spine, through my neck and through the thin stems of my eyes. I took a deep breath, kept my eyes closed. Mastering my emotions was supposed to be the secret.
"No," he said. "You never have to hide your power from me. Don't you realize?"
I opened my eyes and the look of adoration and desire on his face was so intense it made me gasp.
He bent even closer to whisper, "I've been searching for you my whole life."
Twenty-Three
My skin crawled and I stepped back. Dante seemed really unstable now. He knew what I was, and even though I had power in my control, I understood that he could use this knowledge against me.
"I need to think," I said. I felt like I was in over my head, and the only thing that kept me from running away from him was the fire and the power that came along with it. It gave me a feeling of security that I'd never had before.
I thought of the turn of events that had put me into this position, and a spark of rage went flying up from my pelvis. It spiraled through me and then went out like an ember from a bonfire. I had a moment of fear at the intensity of that spark, thankful that it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"You don't need to think," Dante was saying. "You just need to trust me. No one knows what you are better than I do. I'll take care of you. We'll be unstoppable together. I'll give you everything, and you..." He broke off, naked hunger and ambition lit his face. "You'll be my everything. My Inferno."
Dante's Inferno.
It was too much. I burst out laughing.
His face contorted with frustration. "You're failing to grasp what this can mean for you, Saxony. You'll be a Queen in Venezia, and at the rate my family's territory was increasing when we had Nicodemo, you'll be a Queen of Italy within a decade."
He was talking faster, his accent thicker because of his excitement and earnestness. The laugher died in my throat.
"Our rivals thought things equalized when Nic died. We'll show them how wrong they are. They will not be expecting you. Neither will my father." He took a step closer, reached for my hands. "It's too beautiful. It's... what do they call it in English? Poetic justice."
My stomach clenched as he grasped my fingertips. He wanted what he wanted, whatever the cost.
"Dante, what are you talking about? I can't... I'm not going to help you take over Italy." I fought and failed to keep the incredulity out of my voice.
He blinking at me like he hadn't heard me properly. "Of course you are. Surely you can feel it, too. We are meant for each other. This is destiny."
"I don't know what you think destiny looks like but you're sadly mistaken, this is accident. A week ago I wasn't a magus, I was just a regular girl."
He looked like I'd slapped him. "What do you mean? That's not possible."
"It is possible," I continued. "I wasn't born this way—it was forced upon me. I didn't ask for it and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."
When he grabbed my upper arms, his fingers dug into my flesh. His eyes narrowed. "Saxony, don't bullshit me. We don't have time for this garbage."
Anger flared. I pushed his hands off. "It's not garbage," I said, seething. "It's what happened. You remember the day my voice changed? It's never been the same since. That's when it happened, and I wasn't sick. Now, if you'll excuse me, we're done here."
"We're done when I say we're done, and I say we're not done," he said, grabbing my arms once again.
I looked down at his hand on my bicep and back up at his face pointedly, letting my expression do the talking. How dare you threaten a magus. Again. I knew what he was doing. He’d been so angry at me for responding to Elda's requests—he’d wanted me to manipulate her by ignoring her. I could see now how Dante worked people. He was trying to jockey into place as my dominant.
Screw that. I glared at him.
Fear flashed across his face, just for a second. He released me and held his hands up. "Sorry, I'm sorry. Just..." he sat on the bench. "Please let’s sit and talk like adults. We can figure this out." He patted the bench beside him, and then held out a hand.
My confidence boosted, I seized my chance. "Dante, no amount of talking is going to change my mind. I'm not going to help you take over Italy."
His eyes flashed with anger again, but it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.
"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Then just tell me what you meant by it being forced on you. I didn't think that was possible. At least, Nicodemo never told me that could happen."
I sighed. "I can't explain it to you, Dante. I'm collateral damage in all of this madness. I just have to figure out how to live with it."
"But don't you see, I can help you with that." He stood again, since I still hadn't sat.
"How?"
"Nic was part of my family for a long time. I know what a magus can do, I'll teach you. I can make it so that you never have to be afraid of your power, and so that you can use it to help people."
I scoffed. "Help people? Is that what you call what your family does?" The fire was crackling merrily in me now, melting my caution away.
His face hardened. "Careful. You don't know anything about my family, not yet." Then he smiled and said, "But you will, I'll tell you everything. You'll be my partner, my closest confidante. You'll have access to all of the resources at my family's disposal."
"Stop talking like that. I'm not interested. I know enough about the Barberini family—"
"What do you know?" he interrupted me.
I had already said too much. I turned away. "I have to go, Dante. I have somewhere I need to be." I made a show of checking my watch. I did have to pick up the boys from the pool, but I still had forty minutes.
"Who have you been talking to?"
"No one," I said, cursing myself. "Your family is infamous, you know that."
His eyes narrowed.
"Goodbye, Dante. Don't contact me again." I hadn't taken more than three steps when he grabbed me by the arm and spun me around. Rage blinded me but before I could react—
BAM!
A tightly coiled fist slammed into my stomach. Fireworks popped in front of my eyes. All the air whooshed out of me in one sickening, forced exhale. I dropped to my knees, my face an inch from the ground. Breathe, Saxony. Breathe. It felt as though the walls of my lungs were stuck to each other. My stomach churned and I thought I might throw up. Even as I was fighting for breath, the fire roared to life inside me, flooding my limbs with fury. I wanted to get up, to defend myself, but I couldn't breathe, couldn't move.
Finally, my lungs unstuck. I sucked in a painful breath. I coughed, and a spray of embers littered the grass. My eyes cleared and Dante's shoes came into focus. Adidas. White, with three black stripes. Just standing there. One shoe moved to snuff the embers I had spewed, one by one.
Hands jacked me up by my armpits. I coughed again, but this time only smoke curled from my lips. I sucked in more oxygen, starved for it. With every gulp of air, the fire inside me licked higher, hotter.
His body telegraphed another punch—the fingers curling, the fist drawing back, the shoulders turning. My eyes widened. Nope.
The fire shot to my right shoulder and elbow and exploded in my joints. I sent my fist into Dante's face with the force of a cannon. I heard Dante's nose break as his head snapped sideways. He flew off his feet and landed hard in a heap several feet away.
I covered my mouth, in shock at the power of my own punch. The feeling of breaking bone against my knuckles made me feel queasy. A wave of nausea washed over me again as I crouched beside him. I'd knocked him out.
"You idiot!" I said,
unsure whether I was addressing myself or him. Exactly how hard had I hit him? I reached for his neck to feel his pulse.
Before I could touch him, his eyelids fluttered. His upper lip was split and blood poured from his nose. To my horror, he began to laugh. It was a horrible wet sound. He groaned in the midst of his laughter and struggled to sit up. He wiped his nose with his hand but it was still pouring blood, staining his teeth and making him look like a Halloween mask.
He finally looked on the outside the way he was on the inside.
"You're so stupid, Dante. I have a temper at the best of times." I watched him crawl to a nearby fountain so he could wash his face. "Why did you hit me?"
My stomach still ached. Only the fact that I had retaliated had dampened my rage.
"All fire magi are hot-tempered. I knew you'd do something, but I didn't think you'd internalize," he said, and spat a gob of blood. He dipped his mouth and nose in the cold water. He rinsed and spat again and then put his hands to either side of his nose, feeling the break.
He had my attention. "Internalize? What are you talking about? I don't know about you but a right hook to the face is not 'internalizing'."
He barked in pain as he snapped his own nose sideways.
"What did you just do?"
"What, do you think this was my first broken nose?" He stood up. The flow of blood had become a trickle. He grinned at me with bloody teeth.
I shuddered. "I need to get off this crazy train." The only reason I wasn't running away was because he'd piqued my curiosity. "What do you mean by internalize? And if you hit me again, so help me..." I threatened. I could feel the glow in my eyes come out and I let it.
"Madonna. You're a thing of beauty when you do that." He spat again and wiped a hand across his face, leaving a streak of blood. "Internalizing is something that only mature fire magi can do. Usually. It means you used the power of the fire but you didn't show it. See? You don't even know how much potential you have."
"I don't get it."
"Young magi can't help but show their fire when they use it. It manifests as a glow that can be seen through the skin, or comes out as flames or sparks. But a mature magus can prevent this obvious show of power. It’s a skill they have to develop to maintain anonymity. The way Nicodemo explained it was that he could direct the fire to places in his body and sort of... " he paused. "What's the word? Detonate it? So that it would explode behind a kick or a punch, like gunpowder. That way a magus can use her power without tipping people off that she's supernatural." He cocked an eyebrow. "Hai capito?"
He swiped an arm across his face, wiping away the remainder of the blood, and then spat another red gob off to the side.
I did capito. I capito'd perfectly. What he described was exactly what I had felt. The fire had detonated in my shoulder and elbow - making me throw a punch like a two-hundred-pound hockey player instead of a one-hundred-and-forty-pound girl. My hand was still throbbing from the pain of the impact. It was a wonder I hadn’t broken every bone in my hand.
I didn't know what to say. Dante really did have some knowledge, but somehow, I wasn't really feeling a 'thank you.'
"You didn't have to hit me," I said, bitterly.
"Yes, I did." All trace of malice and anger was gone. He thought he'd gotten through to me. "And I'm sorry," he said, his eyes softening.
I'd heard it before, and he'd been about to hit me a second time. I wasn't going to fall for his silver tongue again. Maybe he did know some things that could help me, but I didn't need to ask him, because Elda was going to help me. If I took Dante's help I was going to owe him, and that was the last thing I wanted.
"Save it,” I said. “I'm finished with this insanity. I'm walking away now and if you jump me, I'll internalize you right into the hospital."
"Don't be such a stubborn redhead, Saxony. You know I'm the only one who can help you."
I turned my back and walked away.
He raised his voice. "Do you know what happens to a fire magus who doesn't know what she's doing?"
I kept walking.
"She burns to death," he called. "From the inside out!"
Twenty-Four
My phone chirped just as the boys and I arrived home.
"We're home!" I called up the stairs.
"We're home!" Isaia repeated, and ran to the second floor after Cristiano. I smiled every time I heard the sound of his perfect little voice. He no longer had any trace of the rasp that I had. I heard Elda greet her boys upstairs and I took my phone out of my purse and checked it as I kicked off my shoes. It was Raf.
Everything okay?
I smiled at his thoughtfulness. He was probably worried. My guts ached in response to his question, reminding me that I'd been punched today for the first time in my life. The fire flickered as I remembered, but I wasn't about to tell Raf what had happened between Dante and me; I didn't think Raf would react well. I also didn't feel as bad as I thought I should feel after taking a hard punch to the gut.
Me: I'm okay, thanks for checking. I'm sorry about that.
Raf: That's okay. You can make it up to me. :)
Me: How about tomorrow night? I'm free after nine.
Raf: Sure, Giardini again or somewhere else?
Me: Why don't we just go for a walk? Maybe get some gelato.
Raf: Sold. Let me know where to meet you.
Me: Will do.
I tucked my phone away and ran up the stairs to help Elda fix dinner. Tonight she was going to teach me how to make a Neapolitan ragù and steamed mussels for prima piatti. Once the boys had finished telling Elda in great detail about their day, they went down to the courtyard garden to play.
"I've been meaning to ask you," said Elda as she clipped the stringy bits from the mussels. She paused with the scissors. "Did you want to come to Gallipoli with us? You never told me and we're leaving in less than a week. If you do, then I'll pack some extra bedsheets."
I blinked in momentary shock at how fast the time had gone. I hadn't forgotten that they'd be leaving, but I had lost track of time.
"Not that we'll need anything more than sheets," she continued. "Even those might be too hot. It's been above 35 all week in Puglia and it’s supposed to climb."
"Davvero?" I said, using a new Italian word I'd picked up which simply meant 'really.' "That answers it then—that is way too hot for me." I had barely been able to handle the Venice temperatures, so there was no way I was going to go where it was even hotter.
Understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, I see. Hot weather makes it... hurt more?" She put down the scissors and tossed the mussels under running water. She peered into my simmering pot of red wine sauce and proscuitto. "Good, you can add the tomatoes now."
"Yes, it really does. Unfortunately." I added the skinned tomatoes and sauce and stirred. “Will it be okay with Pietro if I don’t come? He doesn’t know what you know.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Elda said. “I’ll tell him we need some family time, just us, and that I’d like you to have some time exploring Venice without having to worry about swimming lessons and soccer games.”
I grinned. “Thanks Elda. So…” I switched gears. “Please tell me you've had a chance to watch all the clips? Cuz I'm dying here." I blinked for a second at my own words. I had meant it figuratively but Dante's last words rang in my ears and I hoped that I hadn't just said something prophetic.
"I have watched them before - a few years ago, in case there was anything that would help Isaia. But I have to tell you, now that I watched them again I remember that I was disappointed the first time I saw them, too. I thought there'd be more information. Makes me think if I missed downloading some files somehow."
"Hit me with what you got anyway," I said. I peeked into the pot and felt rather pleased with the sauce I had made. I took out the casserole dish and put it on the counter, ready to layer with gnocchi, sauce and cheese.
"Hit you?" Elda repeated, looking confused.
"Sorry, I mean go ahead and tell me what you
know."
"Ah. Allora, first, he explains that those born with the fire are either killed by it, or made stronger by it. The saying what doesn't kill you makes you stronger is literal for a fire magus. It was clear that Isaia was going to die from it, but as long as you're smart, you won't."
"Comforting," I murmured. "What does 'smart' mean?"
"Most importantly, and I already told you this but I have to emphasize it, you must stay hydrated. He talked about the stages of dehydration for a magus, and Saxony"—she gave me an emphatic look—"it's serious."
"It's serious for everyone," I said. "People can only go three days without water. After that they're pretty much toast."
"Yes, but you have less time than that. Much less. You have about 16 hours before you die. Even that might be pushing it."
Less than a day. It wasn't a nice thought. But as long as I drank a lot, it should never be a problem. I resolved to carry a water bottle with me from now on.
Elda was studying my face intently.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am. Just... processing." I stirred the tomatoes.
She was still staring.
"What?" I repeated, my hands wide.
She shook her head, "I know that you wouldn't have chosen this for yourself, Saxony. But..."
"But?"
"But, you're an amazing creature," she blurted. "I know there's pain, but from what Nic says, that gets easier to manage. The power that you have, you're basically a superhero. I kind of wish I was a magus. It always made me so afraid, because of what Isaia was going to have to deal with..." she looked like she wanted to say more, but she paused.
"But now that I have to deal with it instead of your little boy, you're all about the fireballs, is that it?" I said, sardonically.
She cracked a smile. "You make me sound like a horrible person. And I am sorry for your pain, if I could take it away, I would. But, you're strong, Saxony. You can handle this. It's kind of... a gift. Don't you think?"
"You try carrying a campfire around in your belly for a few hours and then ask me that again," I said, as I poured the steaming tomato sauce over the gnocchi. In spite of my sarcasm, I did understand what she was trying to say. I had a lot of power at my disposal, if I could just learn how to use it properly. "Let's focus. What else did he say?"