“I came to Italy with them.”
“Do you know what they are?”
“Yes.”
“Can you accept that?”
“I’m trying,” Lexi answered truthfully.
Renata’s gaze centered on the red geraniums where a bee darted through the curling petals. The buzz was distinctive and blended with the sound of nearby traffic. The heat of early afternoon was beginning to shimmer; all of the shutters on the upper windows were closed.
“Tell me about your dreams,” the woman said.
Lexi hadn’t expected the request. For a moment she felt reluctant, then spoke clinically as if describing a location to a client.
“The night terrors are of short duration. They’re full of violence. Overwhelming grief. It takes a long time to… shake the fear, and then I’m afraid to sleep.”
Renata nodded. “Dante helps me recognize the difference between the night terrors and the past life dreams. Does your mate do that?”
Lexi stared at the plants edging the balcony and said yes, Christan did. She didn’t elaborate.
“But you’re lucky.” Renata was staring at the bee as it moved from flower to flower. “You haven’t had many past life dreams.”
“Why am I lucky, Renata?”
The woman looked at Lexi. “You can taste the food, yes?” Lexi nodded. Renata shrugged. “You don’t want those dreams.”
Lexi remembered the dream of Gaia, trembling in a man’s arms. The sense of longing and loss. The touch and the taste. Sunlight cast hard shadows and Lexi shivered despite the heat. Recalling the purpose for this visit, sitting on this little balcony, Lexi leaned forward and asked, “Can you tell me about an American girl named Katerina Varga?”
The report compiled by the Italians revealed the long friendship between the two women. They had remained in touch for years. Were probably still in touch. Renata stared impassively. “Why are you interested?”
“We think she’s in danger.”
“She already knows.”
“Your warrior protects you, doesn’t he, Renata? Kat’s warrior wants to protect her, too.”
“I doubt he’ll find her. She doesn’t wish to be found, but she definitely doesn’t want to be found by him.”
“Why?”
“Because of the Agreement. You’re one of us. You know.”
“Perhaps I don’t understand, Renata,” Lexi said. “Why does the Agreement alarm you?”
“If they find you, they claim you, and you become a used thing, not even in control of your own choices. The only way to be safe is not to be caught.”
“Is that what Katerina is doing, hiding so she can’t be caught?”
“He traps her. We’re all trapped.”
Renata’s eyes were bright with moisture and her expression vacant, as if she was tangled in her own skittering thoughts. It was clear, now, that she’d been broken in a way that crushed the heart. Lexi felt a wave of compassion.
“Your English is excellent,” she said, moving the conversation in a safer direction. Renata seemed to refocus on the geraniums. The woman was fragile and violently strong at the same time.
“I lived in England for several years,” Renata said. “That’s where I met Katerina. Why she came to Italy.”
“To see you and for her research?”
“Yes.”
“Did you teach her Italian?”
“I helped with pronunciation. She speaks like a woman from Florence, now, not Rome. She’s very good with languages.”
Lexi leaned forward, placed her hand on Renata’s arm and took one more chance. “Do you know where Katerina is? If she’s having dreams like you have, like I have, I can help her.” Lexi paused. “Will you help your friend?”
Renata’s eyes tracked another bee as it flirted with the red flowers. The woman was so silent, Lexi thought she was lost again, running alone, down an alley in her memory. But when Renata refocused, her eyes were dark and clear.
“She likes a little cafe by the museum where you were today.”
“The Museo Archeologico?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” Lexi thought about that spider’s web and wondered what other spies were out there, since she hadn’t told Renata where she’d been before coming to this flat. “Will you talk to me again, Renata?”
Dante appeared. His hands curved around Renata’s thin shoulders and the woman rose, allowing him to guide her back into the darkened interior without giving an answer. Lexi closed her eyes, then got to her feet and followed Arsen to the Vespa.
CHAPTER 23
It was near dusk when Christan returned to the safe flat in Florence. He nodded to the watcher who was kicking a soccer ball in the courtyard with a few lanky boys. They were dragging out the last, golden moments of the day. Christan watched, then jogged up several flights of stairs to the heavy arched door
The apartment was quiet. Through the open French doors, Christan could see the bell tower and the rusty-colored dome of the most famous cathedral in Florence. He had always liked that view. It calmed him. A constant that hadn’t changed. Still, his instincts tightened and he glanced around the tiny kitchen, searching the shadows until he heard the sound of her voice. Lexi was out on the balcony, talking to herself, something she did when she was alone.
She was sitting on the tiles and leaning back against the wall, deep in shadow except for her right ankle, which was still warmed by orange sunlight. She was having a silly argument with herself before probing the black railing with her foot: she wanted to see how far her sandal could go before the narrow opening trapped her toes.
And she looked nervous.
Christan knew why. When Arsen reported the empty flat, Christan’s reaction had been anger. Later, his second-in-command explained how she’d tried to swear him to secrecy, and that had left him coldly amused. But he told Arsen to protect her confidences. Lexi needed a friend. Since Marge wasn’t here, Christan would trust no one else but Arsen.
Now he wondered if she would confess her sins or continue to trust Arsen with her secrets.
“What part of don’t leave did you not understand?” he asked, leaning against the doorway and enjoying the startled jerk of her body. She reminded him of a guilty little girl; he wanted to touch her just to see if she was real.
“Technically this isn’t leaving,” she answered archly, refusing to look in his direction. “The balcony is an extension of the kitchen through the French doors.”
“Are you going to come in, then?”
“Um, not yet.”
“Is your foot stuck?”
“No.” The sandal was now caught on the iron railing and she was trying to twist free. Perhaps she thought he wouldn’t notice, but he always noticed with her.
“Here, you’ll bruise the skin.” Christan was beside her in an instant, silent as he eased the sandal from her heel. He tossed it aside, loosened the other sandal, tossed it with the mate. Her skin glowed. He wrapped his hand around her ankle until he felt her stiffen.
“What were you doing out here anyway?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, pushing upright. He wished she was still arguing with herself about something silly, like poking her toes through a railing. Her loneliness was palpable.
“You look tired,” she said as she walked barefoot to the small counter in the kitchen as if she didn’t know quite what to do. He followed her inside, waited for a moment before answering.
“It was a long day.”
Silently, Lexi handed him a glass of red wine. It wasn’t his normal preference, but since she’d poured one for herself Christan took it. There was something… nice about drinking wine in the shadows that had grown so deep all he could see was her shape and not her expression.
“You visited with Renata?” he asked, even though he’d received a full report.
“Yes, although I have a confession to make. I left the flat. I asked Arsen not to say anything, but that was wrong. It was my decision and I accept responsibility.”
“I’m sure you had a reason.” Odd, Christan realized, that he didn’t point out the promise to follow his rules. She looked so uncomfortable with the confession he didn’t have the heart.
“You’re not yelling at me,” she said.
“No.” He sipped the wine.