Standing on the fringe of the forest, I whuffed out a breath, digging both hands into my pockets and studying the pristine grass as though the blades would miraculously spell out the answers. I'd ended up on the edge of the lawn, behind the long, low kitchen building, where the gravel kissed the wood's edge. I could see the back of the house from here- not that there was much to see apart from brickwork...
Wait. What was that?
I squinted through the gathering gloom, trying to make out the two dark-suited figures blotting the red of the house. Actually, three: I'd overlooked one on account of the fact that he was cowering. Thinning grey hair, long nose, clipboard: with a jolt, I realised that I was looking at the disdainful clerk from earlier. Except that he wasn't disdainful any more. He'd foregone disdain in favour of downright terror. And I couldn't blame him. The men facing him weren't tall as such, but even from here, I could see that they radiated a sort of controlled ferocity that gave them an almost palpable aura of menace.
I edged closer, trying to see their faces.
And then the bottom dropped out of my stomach.
I recognised the bald head, the grey spectacles and the neatly pressed suit- although last time I'd seen him he'd been in hospital. The man who'd attacked us in the café, the man whom my brother had ordered to attack my sister's Soulfinder- and had gotten me instead. And here he was again, bringing up all those unwelcome memories.
I couldn't pretend I didn't feel bitter that he'd missed and hit the wrong person. My hands fisted and I sucked in a convulsive breath. That man could control minds. What was he doing here?
As I watched, the clerk stiffened, turned slowly on the spot and vanished inside the Vincetti mansion. The others followed.
I was suddenly very aware of the warm sun on my skin; of the flower-perfume hanging in the air; of my suddenly-sweaty hands on the thick weave of my jeans.
I wasn't a member of the Net anymore. I wasn't even a Savant anymore.
I shouldn't be curious; should just turn, walk away and forget. Blot it out- a beetroot stain on an otherwise spotless recipe sheet. It was none of my business.
It didn't matter. He was up to something- and it couldn't be anything good. Curiosity gripped me with vicelike claws and didn't let go, as somewhere within me, a tiny voice screamed out revenge.
I set off after the men.
The inside of the house was cool and dark, but everything- from the lamps to the tables- screamed taste and expense. Thick carpets, patterned wallpaper- a sort of National Trust style house, complete with random china ornaments and modernist sculptures. The three men weren't too far ahead- as I watched, they turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Every nerve straining, I followed.
A floorboard creaked; I almost jumped a mile. Heart pounding, I flattened myself against the wall- drilled through force of habit. But no- it was the clerk's voice, worryingly distant. "I assure you...won't be seen."
Won't be seen? Not if I could help it.
Their footsteps led upstairs, and I followed, sneaking up the banister like a rather persistent shadow. They turned up the staircase- me staying behind for fear of being seen- and vanished.
Cursing, I sped up, but –damn! I'd lost them! Doors curved away from the main landing, every one identical. I stabbed a hand through my hair, wondering what my chances were from here on in...
A creak snapped me to attention, standing as I was like a moron on the middle of the staircase. I turned and saw a crack in the door- leading to a polished desk ostentatiously carved with the initials R.V. This guy fancied himself, didn't he?
Had they gone in there?
Cautiously, twitching like a meerkat on steroids, I crept over and put my eye up against the crack. Nobody...I thought.
Was it safe? Heart hammering against my ribcage, I risked another glance.
There was an eye staring right back at me; hazel surrounded with white.
I choked on a swear word, stumbling backwards in shock. What? What was that? Who was that? Had I been rumbled? How was I going to explain this away?
There were voices behind me...
The clerk was coming, voice conciliatory, wheedling... "So sorry, Mr Vincetti will be here shortly. In the meantime, gentlemen, why don't you wait in the study..."
I hissed out a breath, palms clamming up. Panic fought my mind for control of my body- I was trapped. And any moment now, they'd see me...
Behind me, the door creaked some more- and then a hand grabbed my collar and hauled me inside.
Shocked, I spun on the spot, instinctively catching my would-be attacker's wrist and shifting for maximum grip. As the world spun, I readied myself for defence- or a reasoned argument, either one- before coming face to face with the dumbfounded (who else?) Rosa Vincetti.
All thoughts of gratitude shrivelled on the spot.
"You!"
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Her small wrist fitted exactly into my palm, sparking fire up my face- from the shock. Her face registered a mixture of astonishment, anger and- was it possible?-fear.
Very precisely, I removed each finger, and let go of her wrist.
She was the first to recover. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't have an answer to that one. "I...uh..." What could I say? "They're coming!"
They were. They were right outside the door!
Without thinking, I seized her arm, and all but threw her across the room, towards a side table covered with a large, ugly tartan cloth. Disastrous fashion-wise, but great hiding-wise.
"What-" She started.
"Shut up! Quick! Get under here!" I dived under the table, letting the folds straighten and cover my body. After a moment- possibly spurred by my urgency- she followed, to my immense relief. Nobody deserved to be caught by those men, especially not a mundane.
Crammed together in the mothball-smelling space, we waited. Huddled together like this- tables didn't generally permit much in the way of personal space- I could smell hay and roses coming from her, making me feel self-conscious about my own body smell. Sadly, perfume generally isn't an option for guys- I probably smelled of cooking. I could only hope it wasn't onions or garlic.
What had she been doing skulking in her father's office in the first place?
Then they started talking, and I started paying attention.
"We'll wait here. Go back to the entrance." The man had a soft, almost lulling voice.
"But-" The clerk started to protest, but was cut short.
"Go back to the entrance. Don't let anybody else enter until the conversation is finished. Say its personal business." I shivered as the words- each one as heavy as iron- stamped themselves into the clerk's brain. I knew that particular feeling of hopelessness all too well, and curled up tighter in my ball. The lock clicked; we were alone. With the two men.
"Are you sure this is wise?" The other asked. His voice sounded familiar...of course. It was the colourless grey man. I hoped that he still remembered the thrashing my sister had dealt him, half a year ago. Beside me, Rosa Vincetti frowned, and made to move. I held a finger urgently to my lips- mercifully, she subsided. She'd saved me on a whim- I had to hope that she'd trust me on one, too.
"What? This is what we've been working for! Don't tell me that you're having second thoughts after your more recent...failure." Ooh, burn. These people weren't friends- the room was swimming in testosterone and veiled threats.
"No, no. But...who will do the talking? There's no use trying to control him...is there? I mean, he won't give up his business, support- or daughter- lightly."
"Use your head." The other sounded withering. "We've done a fair bit of that already. And we'll have to do a lot more. But no. He won't give us that by force. We'll have to use persuasion here. Finesse. De-li-ca-cy."
"Ah. You, then." My man- if I could call him that- sounded almost humble. No guessing who was in charge here, then.
There was a quiet hissing; I looked sideways to see my fellow spy almost spitting tacks. I didn't need any paranormal power to figure out what she was thinking here.
But just as I was starting to seriously consider restraining her, the door opened yet again.
"Gentlemen." Rosa deflated as though somebody had stuck a pin in her. It was Big Daddy himself- the victim.
"Ah, Mr Vincetti, sir. How are you? How's the campaign going?" The sounds of grovelling oozed under the cloth. I winced. There was enough oiliness there to grease an engine.
"Well, evidently. What is it, gentlemen?"
"We were just in the area, and thought we'd make a visit to discuss the finer points of the...deal being made between you and our employer."
"Ah."
"Sir?"
"Yes." My boss' voice had changed; it now held an element of both dread and excitement. "I see. Well, I shall discuss this presently with your employer in person."
"I'm afraid he doesn't often leave-"
"Well, if he wants what I have to offer, he'll have to."
"If you think that's necessary. He'll be here on Friday, of course." The penultimate day of the gala, I thought. Why?
"Of course. Why else would I ask? Now, gentlemen. If you'll leave the premises as soon as possible. I expect you'll understand the reasons why..." Several padded footfalls; the click of a door; a breath of relief.
We were alone.
I wiped my forehead and leaned back against the wall.
"Jeez. That was-"
"What. The hell. Was that?" Momentarily, I'd forgotten Vincetti's daughter. A mistake, as it turned out. She surged up from the carpet, almost spitting tacks. The fabric almost withered as she raged, furious, her cultured voice slipping into a melodic Italian accent.
"Give up his business? Decide my future-è il mio futuro! I can't believe this. I'm going to shut them down. What do those two creeps want?"
Feeling less-than-dignified, I crawled out from underneath the table, feeling a lot more curious but no more satisfied than before. The game was afoot! A powerless Sherlock and a furious, belligerent Watson were on the case...only what case? What did a bunch of Savants want with an Italian millionaire? Was he a Savant, too? Or just an innocent- if brusque- victim?
Maybe eavesdropping hadn't been the best idea after all.
"And you!" I glanced up to see that Rosa's fury had come crashing down on where I sat, head resting against the edge of the table. Not wanting to meet her eyes, I shut them. "What are you doing here? Why did you come to my father's office? Sneaking around like that- I could have you arrested!"
"But you won't." I told her, eyes still closed. "You were in his office too-why?"
"I live here." Her tone dripped sarcasm.
"Yes." I matched her tone. "But you hid from Vin- your father too. In his office. You're not allowed here...because you want to know what's going on."
"Don't tell me what I think or not." She snarled. A pause. "Do you know what's going on?"
Oh boy, did I. I held the key to a world which she never knew existed- and right now, that same key was in the lock.
"Do you know these people? And open your eyes, for God's sake!" She'd taken my silence for a yes, and was pacing up and down the room- angry, scared, confused. I ignored her order, feeling a certain stab of smugness at doing so. But the other half of the question...
"Yes." I said heavily, and she flinched with surprise. "One of them attacked my sister about a year ago."
"Attacked? But Dio, then let's put him away!"
"The police won't lend a hand." I said forcefully. I had to make her understand this, if nothing else. "They have contacts- nothing you tell them will help. It'll only make them notice you."
"Who's 'them'? How do you know so much?"
I gritted my teeth. She was young, non-magical, and pig-headed, and she would be run into the ground by them: members of the criminal Savant ring. The world was a sucky place: feral, and vicious. No matter how much I disliked her (and how much the little voice in my head was telling me not to interfere) I had to keep her safe- and safe meant not involved.
"I know the rules of the game. I've played it. And trust me-" I stood up, fight gone, a head taller than her, and glared down into her angry- vulnerable-eyes. "-it's not a game you want to play. Because you always lose."
She swallowed, then, and met my eyes, clear hazel piercing through my skin- seeing right through me. "I don't want my father to lose. Who are those people? Can you help? Per favore."
I almost wanted to laugh. Once upon a time, I could. Now, I was useless; hopeless.
"You are a girl." I said slowly, wanting to make sure every word sank in. "You can't do anything; you can't interfere. Otherwise they'll get rid of you. Nothing you've learnt in your spoiled, rich life will help you here- the world doesn't work the way you want it to! It's cruel, it's vicious, and it'll sniff out your every weakness and use it against you. Take it from me- don't get involved!"
I didn't want to be cruel- guilt stabbed viciously at me as I said the words- but her only response was a quick, sucked-in breath, and a hardening of her eyes. "I'll go after them anyway, so tell me what I'm up against. Tell me, per carità!"
"Criminals more powerful than anything you can imagine." I warned her, and left, anger still buzzing in my veins, feeling a complete and utter coward.
