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For protection, she'd said.
Protection against what?
I closed my eyes, the sunlight turning the backs of my eyelids as red as the rubies. I would not be sucked in by an old woman's superstitions, no matter how odd the circumstances. I wasn't Vanessa. There was a perfectly rational explanation for all of this.
And I was even more determined to find out what it was.
18
Back in Kulmeira, I stayed out past dark, partly because I wasn't sure how I'd justify wearing my sunglasses in the dorm, and partly because I didn’t know what I was going to say to Theo when I saw him. I'd responded to his intermittent texts throughout the day with one or two words, so he'd know I was still alive, but when he’d asked me what I was planning to do next, I didn’t have an answer.
"Another?" asked the bartender, who hadn't even blinked at my eyewear. It was a small, quirky pub right off campus, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and yellowing lace doilies on the worn wooden tables. There were only three other people drinking.
I swirled the honey-colored krupnikas in its tall, narrow glass. "I better not.” I tipped the glass to my lips for the last fragrant swallow. "Probably ought to head out."
I slid a few bills across the bar, sighed, and stood. I couldn't postpone a return to the dorm forever—I did have to work in the morning, after all. I turned to go, my gaze falling on a row of peeling Hardy Boys novels on a shelf near the door.
Books.
The bookshelves in Luca's apartment: two full rows of antique archaeological and theological texts. They hadn't been in Italian—they'd been in Velartan.
I checked my phone: eight-thirty. Not too late to text. It was as good an idea as any, and in any case, it would mean I could avoid Theo's worried gaze for at least a little longer. I sent the message before I had a chance to second-guess myself: Are you up?
Luca’s reply was immediate. Yes. Are you all right?
Can I come over?
A word balloon appeared with three dots, then vanished. I waited impatiently until his next message appeared. Where are you?
I sent him the name of the bar. I'd figured I'd get a cab, but if he wanted to come get me, I wasn't going to complain.
Ten minutes, he sent back.
Although the wind had picked up, it was still warm, and I waited outside under a streetlamp until I saw the headlights of a little orange car.
"You are safe?" Luca leaned over to open the passenger door, his expression worried.
I slid into my seat and buckled the seatbelt. "Yes. Why?”
An odd look crossed his face. "I was not expecting you to contact me," he said. He straightened up and put the car into gear, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled away from the curb. "Your friend Theo—he seems—"
"Theo's Theo," I said, a little startled at the way my body tensed at Theo's name in Luca's mouth. "I was wondering if I could look at your books."
His eyebrows went up. "Oh. I thought—yes. Of course, you may."
"Thanks."
If he thought it was odd that I was wearing sunglasses, he didn't mention it. In fact, he didn't say another word until we were walking into his apartment.
"The books." He gestured vaguely at his living room. "Shall I leave you, or…” He let the question hang.
I hesitated. I'd told him so much already, and yet I felt strangely reluctant to take the glasses off and show him my eyes. That acrid coil of intuition in my stomach was becoming harder to ignore, and Luca's reaction might cement the truth: that perhaps there truly was no perfectly logical explanation, after all.
My pause was a beat too long. Luca's expression went flat, and he turned toward the kitchen.
I balled my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms, and made the words come. "Luca," I said, "wait."
He stopped, but didn't turn around. "I do not wish to interfere," he said tightly.
