Moving Target

by Christina Diaz Gonzalez

  “Cassie, come on.” Simone cocked her head to the side. “He can’t be the man that no one sees. He’s not even a real man.”

  “Excuse me?” Asher raised his voice.

  Simone waved off his comment. “You know what I mean. You’re, what … sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “Fifteen,” he replied dryly.

  “Only fifteen? Wow. Okay, well, that makes my point even more.” Simone continued, “Your father was definitely not talking about a fifteen-year-old boy being the key to this thing. Plus, we can all see him.”

  “You don’t get it.” I took the notebook from Asher. “Look at what my father wrote.” I pointed to the words. “In Spanish nadie means ‘no one,’ which is why we kept translating it to nessuno in Italian for everyone here, but I think the second nadie refers to the name Nadie, with a capital N.” I let the idea sink in. “That’s Signora Pescatori’s first name.”

  “But she’s blind, she doesn’t—” Asher stopped in midsentence and nodded in agreement.

  “What? I don’t get it,” Simone complained, looking back and forth between Asher and me.

  “She can see with her hands,” I explained. “When she grabbed me or touched Asher’s face. That’s how Nadie sees. We have to talk to her again. Have Asher be the person she sees, have him answer her question, and maybe she’ll tell us where the spear is.”

  Asher’s shoulders slumped. “Problem is, she didn’t really ask us anything besides who we were. She threw us out, remember?”

  “Maybe you didn’t say it the right way.” Simone had a glimmer in her eye. “You might have forgotten something.”

  “Oh, please, enlighten us. How would you suggest we do it?” Asher crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And don’t say that it’s by using the magic words like please or thank you.”

  “Nope.” She pointed to his pocket. “Magic comes from the sound of euro bills rubbing together.” Simone paused. “Cold hard cash will get her to open up. It always works.”

  “That’s stupid,” Asher answered with disgust. “You can’t just buy people’s help.”

  “Sorry, Simone, but I think he’s right,” I added gently. “She’s not the type. There has to be something we’re missing.”

  “Pfft.” Simone pursed her lips. “Everyone has a price … even if they don’t know it.”

  “Maybe she wanted our full names,” Asher said. “We only told her our first names.”

  “Or she needs to know about being a Guardian or that I’m marked. Maybe she can only tell her secret to someone like us. It might even be that she has the spear!” Suddenly, I was excited. This felt like a real possibility.

  “But what if you’re wrong? We shouldn’t be telling people—”

  “This has to be it!” Simone grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the apartment. “Let’s go!”

  Simone and I ran as fast as we could, but Asher quickly passed us, hurdling over a couple of potted plants and scaling the half wall that divided one building’s patio area from another’s before sprinting up the steps. By the time I got there, he was already looking through a small window. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

  “Signora Pescatori?” I waited. “Signora Pescatori!”

  Nothing.

  “You think she left?” Simone asked.

  “No, I see her sitting in a chair in there,” Asher said. “She’s ignoring us. Signora, we’re here to answer your question!” he said loudly in Italian as he rapped on the window.

  “There’s a Guardian here!” Simone shouted at the old woman.

  “SHHH!” Asher jumped in front of Simone. “Do you not know the meaning of secrecy?”

  Simone shrugged.

  Asher turned and leaned against the wall. “We’re missing something. She wasn’t angry with us at first. What did we do to get her so upset?”

  “I don’t know. She was fine when we told her our names.”

  Asher nodded in agreement. “It was when we were about to leave that she reached out and touched my face—that’s when she got all crazy.”

  “Well, that could upset anybody,” Simone declared with a grin.

  I gave her a disapproving look. Now was not the time for snide remarks.

  “Maybe the answer is in your dad’s book.” I passed it to him, and he flipped through the pages. “Or think back, maybe he told you something about it and you just forgot …”

  “My dad didn’t go around teaching me how to answer cryptic questions from old Italian women. I think I’d remember that. Plus, all she kept asking was ‘Where are you?’ And there’s no other way to answer that except the way you did.”

  “Actually.” Asher paused his search through the book and looked up at me. “She didn’t say that. She asked where was I standing.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Simone said. “Weren’t you standing in front of her?”

  Where are you standing? The question triggered a memory of my dad. Papi had always loved to use art to talk to me about life. His favorite was “You are the artist of your own life—what colors do you want to use?” but I now remembered him asking me when I was little, “Where are you standing in the painting—in the light or in the shadow?” I’d purposely say in the shadow, so he’d chase and tickle me until I gave up and said the answer he wanted: “I stand in the light.”

  Could that have been his way of teaching me to say the right answer?

  “I think my dad did tell me,” I muttered. “We needed to say ‘I stand in the light.’ ”

  “You sure?” Asher didn’t seem convinced. “That sounds a bit strange.”

  “If Cassie says it”—Simone gave me an approving nod—“then that’s what it is.” She waved her hands, pointing to everything around us. “And seriously, what about all of this hasn’t been strange?”

  “Signora!” I yelled through the window, but the old woman was no longer in her chair. “I stand in the light!”

  Nothing.

  “Mi trovo nella luce!” Asher repeated in Italian.

  Before we could say anything else there was a click of the door. Signora Pescatori stood there … a big, toothless smile on her face.

  “Finalmente!” The old woman stretched out her hands, her fingers touching Simone’s face and hair. “No!” She recoiled and pushed Simone away as if she had just touched something vile. “No, no, no!” she repeated, swatting her away. “Where is he?” she asked in heavily accented English. “The one who stands in the light.”

  “You speak English?” Simone asked, a surprised look on her face.

  Before Signora Pescatori could answer, Asher rushed over, stuffed my dad’s notebook in his jacket, and took her wrinkled hands in his own. “I’m the one who answered the question. Asher … from a little while ago.”

  “Yes, yes. I had hoped you would come back.” She hugged him tightly. “I can see that you are handsome and brave. A true protector.”

  “Ha!” Simone made a face. “She really is blind.”

  Asher glared at Simone before turning his attention back to the old woman. “Signora Pescatori, do you have the spear?”

  Signora Pescatori gave him one more squeeze and whispered something in his ear. Then she began feeling his hands.

  “She said she has something to give us, but that she first needs to read our palms,” Asher explained. He looked at Simone. “Even yours.”

  “Of course she does, because this hasn’t been weird enough,” Simone muttered.

  Signora Pescatori finished analyzing Asher’s hand and reached over to touch his chest. She spoke slowly enough that I could understand most of what she said. “Stay true and trust your heart. Don’t listen to what others tell you, for the wrong decision will haunt you.”

  Asher glanced at me for a moment before nodding.

  “Here.” Simone thrust her palm into Signora Pescatori’s hands. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The old woman stroked the center of Simone’s palm, concentrating on every line and curve. She didn’t sa
y anything while doing this, but would occasionally shake her head and sigh. Finally, when she was done, she grabbed Simone’s wrist and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “You are not as strong as you pretend, and submission will be your undoing. If you remain weak, you will lose what is most important.”

  Simone pulled her hand back. “I never submit … to anyone.” She turned and faced me. “You can listen to this stupid stuff if you want, but I won’t.”

  “Simone …” I pleaded. She couldn’t just leave when we were so close to possibly getting the spear.

  “Uh-uh. No way. This lady is crazy. Calling me weak?” She stormed down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” I called out.

  She stopped on the last step. “I don’t know.” Then, a split second later, she corrected herself. “Actually, I do know. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I’m going to see if Giovanni has any more information.”

  “You can’t wait a few more minutes until we’re done?” Asher asked.

  Simone narrowed her eyes and looked up at Signora Pescatori. “No.” Then she took off down the street.

  A tension hung in the air. We couldn’t afford to have Signora Pescatori shut us out again if she had the spear, but I hated having Simone go off by herself. I had to get us back on track.

  “Read mine,” I said, giving her my hand. “Tell me what you see.”

  Signora Pescatori traced the lines of my palm, then touched every bit of skin up to my fingertips. She again said nothing, but when she was done she reached up and put both hands around my face. “Difficult choices to be made by someone so young.” She looked pained. “Each choice we make determines destiny, so think wisely before choosing. The time is close at hand.”

  It was those same words the gypsy had said in the subway station. Choices and destiny. It was like the idea was haunting me.

  Signora Pescatori took a step back into her dark apartment. She felt her way around a chair and then to a small desk. I could see her opening a drawer and pulling something out.

  “Do you think she’s getting the spear?” Asher whispered.

  I shrugged as the old woman came back to the door carrying something wrapped in blue velvet. I held my breath as she slipped off the cloth to reveal a wooden box. It was intricately carved with a leaf pattern all around except for a circle on the top that resembled a pinwheel, where each wedge was a different shade of red. “I’ve been waiting many years to give this to someone. And you will both play a part in what is coming.” She ran her fingers over the leaves and the smoothness of the circle. She held it out for us to take.

  “Grazie,” I said, reaching for the box.

  “No.” Asher took it from her hands. “I’ll hold it.”

  Signora Pescatori reached over and touched the side of my face. “Such beauty,” she said wistfully. “I was once young like you.” She took a step back into her apartment. “Very important that you know that the key is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “All right, but what did you mean about both of us playing a part in something?” I asked.

  “I have fulfilled my duty,” the old woman said with a content look on her face. “Just remember that it is important to …” She lifted her nose and sniffed the air. Her expression changed, and her blue-glazed eyes narrowed. “You must go … quickly.”

  “Why? What’s happening?” Asher turned to look past the stone building and over to the piazza. I followed his gaze and saw the same desolate scene from the morning. The empty, dusty street led to the piazza, where the only sign of life was the open door of Giovanni’s restaurant. Looking in the other direction, there was only the railing that ran alongside the crumbling cliff about fifty yards away.

  “You must open the box when you can no longer see,” Signora Pescatori said quickly, then grabbed the edge of the door. “And now you must hurry and leave.”

  I stuck my foot in the doorway, not letting her close it on us. “Why? And what do you mean when we can’t see?”

  “Go! Get out!” She kicked my leg away and slammed the door in my face.

  I stood still, dumbfounded at having the door slammed on me for a second time by the old woman. She had once again gone from strange to absolutely nuts in the blink of an eye.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Asher nudged me, carrying the box down the stairs like he was balancing glasses filled with water, making sure its contents weren’t jostled or shaken.

  “It’s in there, right?” I asked, following him down the steps. The intricately designed box had to house the ancient spear.

  “I can’t tell.” Asher gently moved the box up and down, testing its weight. “It might be cushioned against something. We’ll have to open it and see.”

  “Hold on. I want to get Simone.”

  “Why? She took off. She doesn’t deserve to see us open it.” Asher pointed to a narrow alley between two stone buildings. “Let’s just go over there in case someone is watching.”

  “No, we’re a team. We open it together.” I pulled him by his sleeve and headed toward Giovanni’s restaurant. “Come on.”

  It was obvious the moment we stepped into the restaurant that no one was there. It was eerily quiet. Immediately, I regretted letting Simone go off by herself. Something was definitely off. Even for a place like Civita di Bagnoregio.

  “Simone?” Asher called out, but there was no answer. “Giovanni?”

  I stepped back outside and scanned the area. Signora Pescatori was nervous about something. Maybe we weren’t safe standing around.

  Asher walked up behind me. “No one’s in there.”

  I had the strangest sensation of wanting to run. It was like every instinct was telling me to hurry up and get out. “We need to find Simone and go.”

  “Agreed.” Asher checked around the corner of the building. “But we can’t attract attention. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  I was relieved to know that it wasn’t only me being paranoid. “She’s probably around here looking for Giovanni. Maybe where we saw him last time carrying the potatoes.”

  He put the wooden box in his backpack. “Let’s check there.”

  We hurried up the street, staying close to the buildings and in the shadows. “I really hope she isn’t stupid enough to go too far or get lost,” Asher whispered as we approached an alley.

  “She isn’t,” I said, trailing a couple of steps behind him. “Simone’s one of the smartest people I know. She’s not only book-smart, but street-smart.”

  “What does a spoiled rich girl know about the street? Chances are—”

  Asher didn’t finish his sentence; instead, he whirled around and pushed me away from the corner and back against the building. “Shh.” He raised a finger to his lips.

  I could feel his heart beating against my chest. “What is it?” I could barely get the words out.

  “The half-eared man is here,” Asher whispered. “He has Simone.”

  Survival instincts sometimes come down to a simple choice: fight or flight. In this case there was only one choice … fight. Leaving Simone was not an option.

  “We have to get her.” I pushed Asher away and took a step forward.

  “No.” He pulled me back. “They won’t hurt her. The one the Hastati want is you.”

  “I don’t care. If you don’t want to save her, that’s fine, but I’m not letting them take her.”

  “You can’t just rush over there. That won’t help anyone.” He looked up and down the street. “Don’t move.” He crept along the wall until he could take a quick peek around the corner.

  I followed him so when he stepped back he bumped into me. He scowled, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to sit around and do nothing while my best friend was in danger.

  “He has her cornered at the end of a dead-end street,” Asher muttered.

  “Uh-huh. So what do we do?”

  He looked up at the building next to us. I could tell he was coming up with a plan.

  “Okay. I think I can get up
on the roof of this place, but you have to do exactly what I tell you.” He took off his backpack and put it on the ground.

  “Go on.” I wasn’t going to make any promises until I heard his plan.

  “I’m going to go up there and jump down on the guy while—”

  “You’re what?”

  “Listen, I know how to make jumps like that. I’m going to knock him down, but you have to be ready to run.” He pointed across the main piazza. “If Simone and I don’t catch up, you have to leave and get back to the monastery. Take the backpack with you, but don’t open the box. Understand?”

  This was a repeat of what had happened with my dad. Except this time I wasn’t going to do what I was told. “Got it,” I answered, knowing it was a lie. I wouldn’t abandon Simone.

  I tried to calm myself down while Asher disappeared around the other side of the building. The more I thought about his plan, the more worried I got. I needed to find a weapon of some sort so I could help. I tried picking up one of the nearby potted plants, but they were too heavy. If only I could find something.

  “Psst.”

  I looked up to see Asher on the edge of the roof. He pointed back toward the restaurant and mouthed “Run that way.”

  That’s when I saw his right hand. He had a wooden stick, a broom handle, in it. He wasn’t completely unprepared. Maybe this would work. Besides, there wasn’t much else we could do.

  I nodded.

  He disappeared, and I peered around the corner for the first time. Simone was sitting on the ground, but she was talking to the half-eared guy. Was she trying to buy her way out? That would be typical Simone. But it might be working, because whatever she was saying, she definitely had his attention.

  That was when Asher jumped.

  It was like straight out of the movies. He came flying down, landed right on the half-eared guy, knocked him to the ground, then rolled away from him.

  As Asher tumbled, the impact of the fall forced the broom handle out of his hand. It bounced and clattered against the cobblestones.

  “Run!” Asher yelled as the half-eared guy started to get up.

  Simone didn’t waste a moment. She ran down the street toward me as Asher tackled the half-eared guy.