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Erik
Chapter 57
The Cat
I was thirteen, a year after I'd come to Giovanni's inn, when I at last decided that I was ready to venture out into the world. To learn to be a thief. To be an official part of the family.
Giovanni sent Salvatore on lone missions - the man liked to work without company, at his own pace. He was most successful this way. Luciana, he continued to teach self-defense skills to; I could see in her face every time that she felt she was ready to be a thief as well, but Giovanni adamantly refused. I could see a hint of fear in his eyes when she asked to go, but he would pat her on the head and comment how like her mother she was.
Vincenzo and Carmelo were a pair. Always a pair. Carmelo, as it was explained to me, was a very quick pair of hands flitting from pocket to pocket with ease without detection. Vincenzo was nearly always the decoy.
If Giovanni was a fox, and Carmelo was a dragonfly, and Mario was a wolf-
Then Vincenzo was a cat.
Handsome, sleek, and charming when he wanted to be; he was also cold and vicious if rubbed the wrong way. But when he desired something, he had little trouble putting on an irresistible face, purring his way down the path to obtaining it.
Mask on my face, their faces bright and bare, we walked down the streets of Venice at dusk. The purple sky was dotted with tiny white dots as the two boys in front of me laughed and talked. Their shoulders weren't tight like mine, nor were their gaits stiff. They looked entirely easy. I wished I could be like them.
It was as though Vincenzo read my mind. He turned around to look at me. Despite being three years older, he and I were the same height. He turned back to Carmelo, pulled him in to whisper in his ear, and then let go. Carmelo gave a small salute and walked a bit quicker, into a crowd in a large courtyard ahead. It was flanked on either side with large, flat buildings. At the end was a tall brick tower.
"Piazza San Marco," said Vincenzo, falling into step beside me. "It's enormous. And busy. Always. And for us, a place to prosper and thrive."
I nodded, feeling very ill indeed at the thrumming crowd. So many people. More people than had ever attended my performances in a single night back in France. I imagined each and every one of them turning to look at me, suddenly silent, as I reached up to my face and peeled off my mask.
In fact, a fair few of them did look, with interest, at my mask. I wanted to hide.
"My God, Erik, with the rigid way you're standing, the whole world will know we are up to no good." Vincenzo frowned at me. "Are you positive you're all right being here? I swear you won't be doing any stealing this first time around. Just watch."
"I know," I whispered. I stared into the crowd. I knew that, at least once, there had been patrons from Venice. I wondered if any of them would recognize me now.
We continued in silence, picking a spot to stand at one of the buildings, at one of the large stone pillars on its façade.
"You don't like big groups of people, do you?" he asked.
I shook my head.
A pause.
"You know," he said then, softly; from somewhere in the chattering crowd, I heard the soft sound of a string instrument, "Giovanni would probably never bring this up, but we had a thief a few months before you came who'd been travelling Europe. He'd just come from France, too."
I looked at him, but he wasn't looking at me. He had his arms crossed, and one knee was bent so that his foot rested on the pillar.
"There was an article in the back of a newspaper about some writer who'd recently been to France as well and saw some show - a three-headed dog and a boy with the face of death."
I felt the ground fall out from under me. I nearly stumbled, limbs numb.
"The thief told us he'd seen the show, too," Vincenzo continued. "He told us that there was a lot of pain in the boy's eyes, and that he had to leave the show early or he'd vomit. But not because the boy was ugly, though he certainly was, but because he couldn't stomach the meanness of it." At last he turned to look at my no-doubt shocked expression. "Would you know anything about that?"
I turned away from him. "Perhaps I do want to go back."
"No."
I whipped my gaze to him. "Excuse me?"
"I said no." He gave a half-smile. "You made it this far."
"And I can turn back and go if I want to." I stiffened further. "I know the way back home."
"Home?" He looked at me, tilting his head.
My face heated. "The inn," I corrected in a breath.
"No, you can call it home. I was just surprised you did." He stepped away from the pillar and went in front of me, facing me. "Listen, we all have a hard past. All of us. Salvatore was a slave. My clan was destroyed. Giovanni and his children lost their wife and mother, and are now being targeted by a dangerous and powerful man. You? You were a showpiece to be mocked. There is no shame in it."
I looked away.
"We all have demons," he said. "Whether you choose to let them possess you is entirely your decision."
Just then, Carmelo came from the crowd, a smile on his face. "Vincenzo," he said, who turned to look. Carmelo nodded and scratched his chin.
Vincenzo repeated the gesture, and whispered to me, "Follow, stand back, and watch."
We walked around the crowd to the other side of the plaza. Once there, Carmelo nodded toward a young couple standing a few meters from a pillar. I was told to wait and pay attention to Carmelo's hands.
I nodded.
Vincenzo winked at me. "But," he added, "don't forget to see how a professional-" He put a hand to his own chest- "works as well."
Carmelo rolled his eyes as Vincenzo went in for the kill, a feline stalking a pair of mice. He put on a charming smile and went to the girl. She looked to be about his age, the man with her perhaps ten years her senior.
"Signorina," he purred, "I needed to inform you that you have something in your hair."
She looked alarmed. "I do?"
"Moonlight," he said. "It's in your eyes as well."
The man bristled as the young woman blushed.
But while the man was distracted, I watched as Carmelo moved his hands in and out of the man's pocket. He pulled out a purse, took a handful of coins, and replaced the purse. The whole thing took mere seconds, and when it was done, Carmelo walked away, pocketing the coins, and went back to me. The man didn't seem to feel a thing.
"Signora," the man corrected, voice a warning. "We were married a month ago."
Vincenzo hummed his disappointment. "A shame. Well-" He smiled at the man. "Not for you, obviously." He nodded a bow to the girl, who appeared entirely flustered, and returned to us.
"So," he said, as I watched the man take his young wife by the hand and pull her far away from Vincenzo's vicinity, "did you catch it?"
I nodded.
"You will watch a few more times, then you will practice on me back at the inn before trying it for real," said Carmelo. "I think that-"
"Well! Look at this little trio!"
We all three turned to find two men in green uniforms, walking between the building and its pillars toward us. They were smiling widely, genuinely pleased at our presence. But there was a sinister nature to the pleasure that nagged at my mind.
Vincenzo crossed his arms. "Mario let his dogs out for a piss, I see."
One of the men tsked. "Careful now, Gypsy. There is bound to be police in this crowd, and we wouldn't want to alert them of the presence of thieves, would we Antonio?"
"We certainly wouldn't, Luca," said the other.
Luca turned from Vincenzo to me. He narrowed his eyes and then whispered to Antonio, who nodded and moved to my side. I felt my every muscle tense, ready to run. "And who is this spindly little masked spider?" Luca inquired. "It's not polite to hide your face."
Antonio unmasked me.
I gasped at the same time Luca did.
"What the fuck?" he said, and Antonio went around to see what the fuss was. He paled, not saying a word.
Luca looked between the three of us. "You're all three freaks. You know that? A filthy Gypsy, a corpse, and the fidgety low-born son of a bastard." He sneered. "Get out of the plaza."
Carmelo snatched the mask from Antonio. Vincenzo grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the street. As we ran, Carmelo handed me the mask. I held it to my face, not wanting to stop to tie the ribbon.
But even as we sprinted home, Carmelo was smiling.
"What's that shit-eating grin for?" asked Vincenzo.
"Erik spooked them." Carmelo laughed.
After a few moments, Vincenzo laughed too.
And at the sound of their glee, for the first time in my life, I felt grateful for my face. I laughed as well.
