Page 19 of Bloodlines and Birthright

Signore Scala’s smile vanished. He glanced at the largest painting on the wall then at his majordomo.

“Please, don’t throw us out,” Oscar said quickly. “We want to make you an offer to buy the books you recently received from the Abbazia di San Vittore.”

Signore Scala arched his brows before dismissing his majordomo. He invited us to sit. “You spoke to the abbot.”

“We did,” Oscar said. “He says he gave them to you. We’d like to buy them.”

“We’re starting a library,” I said. “It will contain books about magic, and be open to the public. We believe the books now in your possession will be worthy additions to the collection.”

Signore Scala turned his dark eyes onto me. Crossing one long leg over the other, his forefinger stroking his moustache, he was the cliched fashionable Italian gentleman. The lighter shade of his suit set off his tanned skin superbly, and the golden cravat matched the thick gold band of his emerald ring and the gold watch chain. He cut a trim, fine figure that some would call handsome, but I wouldn’t be one of them. There was something too perfect about him, too manicured and unnatural. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it until I realized I couldn’t guess his age. Despite wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead, his hair was black and thick. Middle-aged men did not have hair that luxurious, not even Italian men. It must be a wig.

“You are enthusiastic, Professor,” Signore Scala said, smiling. “I like this.”

“The history of magic is my specialty.”

“You are a magician?”

“No. But Oscar is.”

“Ink,” Oscar added.

Signore Scala pointed at his chest. “Wood.” He acknowledged a fellow magician with a nod of his head in Oscar’s direction before turning back to me. “Did the abbot spit on you when you told him about your library?”

I blinked at him. “Er, no. He did not.”

Signore Scala grunted. “He does not like magic. He says it is the devil’s work. He says I am an abomination against God.” He grunted again, and this time the corners of his lips lifted with a half-smile. It seemed the accusation didn’t bother him too much. Unless that was a fake reaction, much like the fake hair.

“Simply because you’re a magician?” I asked.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Not just that.”

It took me a moment to realize he could be referring to what Brother Eduardo had alluded to, that Signore Scala was an aesthete, and not in the sense that he admired beautiful things.

“If he doesn’t like you, why did he give you the books?” Oscar asked.

“I do not think he cared who got them, just that they were not in his abbey a moment longer. I have a large library, and so the librarian of the abbey gave them to me.”

“Brother Eduardo,” I said, for no particular reason.

Signore Scala smiled at me as he traced his moustache with his finger.

Oscar cleared his throat. “Would you be willing to part with the books, Signore?”

Signore Scala put up a hand to stop him. “I am afraid I cannot sell them to you.”

“But you haven’t heard our offer yet!”

“I cannot sell them because I do not have them. I sold them to an antique bookseller.”

“Then may we have his address?”

Signore Scala regarded Oscar for a moment then slowly nodded. “I will give it to you. But first, you must do something for me.”

“Go on.”

“You must steal back a spell that was stolen from me.”

Chapter 7