Twenty-Four

A

mighty flame follows a tiny spark.

My fingernails dug into the seat cushion. After a few stuttering attempts at speech, I found my voice again. “There’s a name for people with silver auras? Are there more of us somewhere? Why do we have no color?” Questions tumbled from me. This was better than any book from Say Chi’s.

Giovanni held up his finger, hovering just over my lips as if to quiet me. I wanted to be offended, to swat his hand away, but I couldn’t seem to conjure up enough insult to override the other sensations I felt. “Do you know why we have this little indentation above our lips?” he asked in a hushed voice.

My lips snapped with electricity. I could hardly breathe. “No,” I murmured against the shadow of his finger, which slid slowly away from my mouth.

“My mother told me that when we are new babies, needy and helpless, an angel comes to quiet us. Presses its finger to our lips and forever marks us with the touch of an angel. You are like that baby now.”

I bristled. “Does that make you the angel?” I asked with a bit of shaky sarcasm.

“Hardly. But I can see you feel very alone. I do as well. I’ve been alone most of my life.”

I leaned away from him. It was one thing for me to see into people’s energy, read their emotions. But I’d never had anyone do it to me. It was creepier than the naked-in-school dreams.

Giovanni looked away, as though he knew I needed a break from his gaze. “I’ve spent my life studying this,” he said. “And searching for people like myself. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you. I’m afraid we are extremely rare. I think, Miss Cora, we are an endangered breed.”

Fear and incredulity slithered into my body, raising every blade of hair on the way. He meant it literally. It brought to mind my mother’s letter about changing our very beliefs about humanity.

“But we’re humans, not breeds. We may have differences, but there isn’t more than one kind of human.”

Giovanni’s head rolled against his seat. His eyes were serious and unwavering. “You are wrong about that.”

I could have argued, but my notions about humanity had already been rocked. I looked down at the clover tattoo around my finger. I had to be willing to concede there was a lot I didn’t know.

“Why endangered?” I didn’t like that word. It made me feel like I was surrounded by hunters, with red dots of lasers trained on my skin. It made me feel one shot away from death.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. There are so few of us. I’ve heard of Scintilla hiding in pockets around the world, but I can’t seem to find them.”

“I think I’m looking for one myself.”

His gaze shot back to me, blond eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

I rubbed the smooth bed of my thumbnail over and over. “My mother.”

“How long has she been missing?”

“More than twelve years.”

He studied me with a haughty expression. I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t know this guy. I only knew we were the same. And he had more information than me. Information I might need. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Well, good luck to you.” His tone was a bitter young apple, hard and sour. “She is likely gone forever.”

The bus rolled to a stop. He rose, but I pulled him back down.

“Where do you get off quashing my hope like that, you—?”

“This is my hotel,” Giovanni said calmly, pointing to an old but classically lovely building on a busy street corner. “Where are you staying?”

I looked around with no idea where I was or where I was supposed to be. I’d been so absorbed in talking to Giovanni that I hadn’t paid attention to our route. He smiled sympathetically and stood again. “You are not alone, Miss Cora. Come with me, and I will buy you something to eat. We can talk more. Then I’ll help you find your lodging, yes?”

Somewhat reluctantly, I followed him through the elegant lobby of his hotel, which gleamed under tiered chandeliers. Polished marble floors reflected everything, like I could dip down into it, into an alternate reality. I took off my wet hoodie, squished my damp self into a leather chair, and watched Giovanni as he checked in and arranged for our bags to be taken to his room. I leaped up and rushed to him.

“Don’t assume you can send my bag to your room,” I fumed, staring up into his eyes.

“You misunderstand—” His hand swept to my shoulder. A charge ran down my arm. “I merely wanted to give you the opportunity to have a hot shower, maybe warm your chill.” His fingers traced the goose bumps on my skin. I shrugged his hand from me, unsure whether the shiver came from the rain or from his energy. “Perhaps you’d like to change into dry clothes before we eat. I’m going to stay down here and have a drink until you return.”

“Really? I—well, I—” There was the uncomfortable chill of my wet clothes pressing against my skin. I glanced at the clerk behind the desk, who tried to look as though she wasn’t listening. “Thank you,” I said with as much grace as I could muster. Giovanni handed me his room key.

Once in the room, I bolted the door shut. There was something too knowing and canny about him for his age. Giovanni Teso was worldly, as if he had walked this earth for hundreds of years.

The hot water did warm me, though, and I was grateful for his thoughtfulness. I slipped into jeans, a soft emerald-green cardigan, and my favorite polka dot scarf. From the looks of this hotel, I’d need something better than a wet T-shirt for dinner.

Downstairs, I could see through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby that the rain had washed the day away and night had fallen in its place. I found Giovanni in the bar as he’d said. He was on his cell phone but uttered a hasty good-bye and clicked it shut as I approached.

“My God, that was no time at all,” he said, taking in my new appearance. “You get ready faster than any woman I’ve ever known.”

“Yeah, I pitch my tent in the low-maintenance camp.”

He appraised me with his silver-blue eyes. “Not all women are so blessed. Please, sit. I’ve ordered a cheese and fruit plate for us to start.”

I’d never had the experience of being with someone other than my father who was so in command. I wasn’t sure I liked it. I’d spent the last six months, and certainly the last day, breaking free of my father’s imposing will.

Then again, I’d never had much experience with guys, other than Finn. It stung to think of him, mostly because I’d never understand his abrupt departure. I sighed and sat, deciding it wasn’t such a bad thing that Giovanni ordered fruit and cheese for me after the long and dramatic day.

“I want to say,” Giovanni began, “that I am sorry about earlier, about your mother. I only said it because both of my parents disappeared when I was a boy and were never seen again. They were both Scintilla, and now they’re gone. I had to face it long ago.”

His parents disappeared? My mother’s parents had disappeared, as did she. “Oh.” Shocked breath rushed out of me. “Wow. Both of them? Who raised you?” I asked, fighting the urge to comfort him but knowing I couldn’t. Not really.

He smiled sadly, shaking his head. His stormy eyes said I couldn’t possibly understand. “I did,” he answered with a proud lift of his chin.

It was the first hint of the boy in him.

Raised himself? What kind of lonely life had he led? No wonder he seemed so worldly. Sympathy surged in me for Giovanni Teso, and admiration as well.

Domineering as my dad could be, at least I’d had him. We’d had each other. “I’m sorry, too.” I touched his hand softly, and we both jolted at the current of energy spilling into our skin.

“Very intriguing. I haven’t touched another Scintilla since my parents. I don’t remember it feeling quite that way. I like it very much.”

I blushed. It was impossible to speak on just a surface level with him. Everything seemed deeper. “You definitely speak your mind.”

We gazed hard at each other before he spoke again. “I see no point in trying to hide from someone so like myself. I assume you can see the truth.” Then he looked at me with scrutiny. “But this is new to you. Perhaps you’ve not yet learned all you can do.”

“I bought some books—”

He waved his hand dismissively. “The best teacher is experience. I will help you.”

My toes tapped excitedly on the marble floor even as my stomach crackled with jittery energy. With it came a smattering of guilt. I felt strange about this sudden alliance. But that was probably because I liked the exhilaration of putting my hand on the wire.

“Any idea where you’ll begin your search for your mother?”

“I have some ideas, yes. I need to go to a library. A big one.”

“There is, of course, the library at Trinity College.”

My mouth hung open. “Of course. Trinity!” I’d seen pictures of it. That’s why it looked familiar. And my God, the name…

“Pardon my asking, but why would you think any information about your mother would be hidden at Trinity College?”

I nibbled a square of sharp Irish cheddar and a tangy green grape. “Because she put it there.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw it.” I expected Giovanni to question me further, and I didn’t know how, or even if, I could answer, but he simply nodded his head in acceptance. “I’m going to go there tomorrow.”

He took the last bite of the cheese and fruit. “Would you like more to eat?”

I rocked my head from side to side, stretching my tight neck. “Honestly, no. I think I’m ready for massive sleep.”

Having settled the bill, we stood to go. I thanked him, but Giovanni’s eyes latched onto something over my shoulder. Behind me, a television hung in the corner of the bar. Many of the patrons stopped talking to watch the big news headline of the day about the mysterious deaths at Dublin Airport. The newscaster spoke of the couple who had collapsed outside the airport, and then footage from an airport security camera showed the scene: their bodies buckled on the ground, and a side view of me, kneeling among them with my hood over my head. All that could be seen of Giovanni was his hand grabbing my arm. Our silver auras were invisible, of course. We looked normal. Well, except for the fact that dead bodies lay at our feet. It was surreal to watch the scene from an outside perspective, like it wasn’t us. I could almost pretend it wasn’t. Until now.

Above the reel read a caption: “Authorities seeking witness for questioning about mysterious deaths”.

And then the newscaster’s voice: “Authorities are searching for the person seen on this airport security footage, who inexplicably ran from the scene where an unfortunate elderly couple mysteriously collapsed and died outside Dublin international airport today.”

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. My legs went numb. “They’re looking for—”

Giovanni wrapped his arm around my waist and led me from the lobby bar out into the cold night. It wasn’t until we were a good block away that one of us finally spoke. “It’s not just me, Giovanni. You were on there, too. They showed you grabbing my hand and running.”

His jaw was rigid. “I realize.”

“What do we do? I can’t let them find me. Oh God. If my father sees the footage, he might recognize me.”

Giovanni stopped and turned me to face him. “You mean he doesn’t know you’re in Ireland?” When I shook my head, he nodded decisively. “Well then, luck would have it you had your hood partially covering your face.”

I gave Giovanni the address to my hostel, and I followed him toward it. “Do you not wonder how those two people died at the same time like that?” he asked me. “And why you didn’t?”

“Of course I wonder. There was a man there with a white aura. You saw him, too. We’re obviously rare, being nothing but silver, but the pure white ones are also different from everyone else. They scare me. I think he had something to do with the deaths. I don’t know. This is,” I said with a sigh, “it’s all new to me. I wish I knew more.”

“I saw him, yes, and I have reason to share your fear about the people with all-white auras. I have a contact, a doctor, who is very keen to help us know more about ourselves. Perhaps you would consider coming with me to see him? He’s one of the reasons I’ve come to Ireland.”

I nodded. I wanted to meet anyone who knew about the Scintilla.

“But first, I will help you find information about your mother.”

I stared hard at the silver halo of light around him, suddenly frustrated that I couldn’t see more of his true temperament like I could with other people. If he thought my mother’s case was hopeless, what was his motivation to help?

“Why do you want to help me?”

“I have an interest in doing so.”

I’m sure my eyebrows shot up about a mile.

“Survival,” he added.

I began to ask him what he meant, but he stopped walking and pointed to a modest brick building on a side street. “This is your place here,” Giovanni said. “I will come by in the morning, yes?” He looked at me intently and added, “Meeting you, Miss Cora, has been a delightful surprise. To have met another like myself is… Well, I was beginning to feel quite solitary in the world.”

I would have said the same, though maybe in a less aristocratic way.

Giovanni went into himself for a moment, thinking. “I believe it’s important we help each other. It’s our best chance against them.”

“Them?”

He smiled, ruefully. “There’s always a them, isn’t there?”