Prosper's gaze fell and he sighed, taking Bo's little hand in his. "Come on, Rae," he said, and then we walked into the dark room.

I tuned out Mosca, looking around at the faint outlines of the photos. When the others came in, I tuned them out also. Thus ignoring the world, I managed to position myself in a way that I was in front of Bo and Prosper. The reason for this was that I didn't know if Ida's gun actually worked—I had forgotten that little detail. I didn't want to take chances, though. Bo squeezed my hand.

"The wing's got to be upstairs," Mosca whispered.

Suddenly the little room was filled with red light. We turned around in surprise (well, I was already facing the right direction). Ida stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thick winter coat, holding her rifle under one arm.

"I do beg your pardon," Signora Ida Spavento said, pointing the gun at Riccio, who was standing closest to her, "I don't quite recall having invited you."

"Please! Please don't shoot!" Riccio whimpered. Bo's grip on my hand had tightened, and I could tell that Prosper was holding him tightly.

"Oh, I don't really intend to shoot," Ida said, "but you will understand that I had to fetch the old gun when I heard you whispering. So, I decide to go out for once, and when I come back what do I find? A gang of little thieves with flashlights, creeping around my house! You should be grateful I didn't call the police."

"Please! Don't call the police!" Hornet whispered. "Please don't."

"Well, perhaps I won't. You don't really look terribly dangerous." Ida lowered her gun, and looked at me, the tallest of the group in here (Even Mosca was a few inches shorter than me). "Ah, hello again. How's your boyfriend?" she asked.

I grimaced. "He's not doing so well, in reality," I replied.

"So these are your little friends," she said, looking around. I nodded. "Were you after my cameras? You could get those easier out there on the streets."

"No, we…didn't want to steal anything valuable. Signora," Hornet said. "Really, we didn't."

"No? What then?"

"The w-wing," Riccio stuttered. "And it's only m-made of wood." He was still holding up his hands, though the gun was pointing at the floor.

"The wing?" Ida shouldered the gun, probably a more comfortable position. The barrel pointed over her shoulder, behind her and towards the ceiling. I saw a few shadows move, and caught the glitter of a dark eye. He could grab the barrel any moment now and just slip it from her grasp…

Riccio put his hands down, and I shifted as Bo peered out from behind me. "Well, well," Ida said, spotting him. "Here's another one. How old are you? Five? Six?"

"Six and a quarter!" Bo said, his usual enthusiasm gone.

"Six and a quarter, oh-ho! You're really very young for a bunch of thieves." She leaned against the door frame.

"He's my brother. I don't like this but we've got to keep him alive somehow," Prosper said, his voice cold.

"What am I going to do with you now?" Ida asked him. "You break in to my house, you try to rob me… What do you know about the wing?"

"So you have it?" Riccio's eyes were wide.

"What did you want with it?"

"Someone asked us to steal it," Mosca muttered.

"Asked you?" Her face was shocked. "Who?"

Before anyone could answer, a gloved hand had pulled the rifle out of her hands and had its barrel pointed at her nose. "My client wishes to remain anonymous," Scipio said, his voice icy. "Now move and let them leave."

"Scipio, what are you doing?" Hornet called out, her expression horrified. "Give that gun back!"

"I've got the wing, Rae," Scipio said to me, obviously the only one out of the group who'd listen to him. "It was in her bedroom."

Riccio exploded at the mention of Scipio having the wing. "Oh you-you—you lying piece of scum!" he raged. "Give it to us and go crawl back to your posh palace and your filthy rich daddy!" Scipio winced with every insult, as though he had been slapped by the words.

"Scipio? Who's that now?" Ida asked, crossing her arms.

I couldn't help but give a wry smile, a feeling of affection swelling in my chest. "That's my boyfriend," I stated. Ida raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well, he is pretty handsome," she said, looking Scipio over with an amused eye.

"Oh Lord." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and gave me a look that plainly said, What the heck is up with you girls?

"Yes, I know. He has wonderful eyes," I said, grinning at him. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, obviously in a Why me? And then he looked back at Ida, his gaze hardening.

"Oh, now put that gun down," Ida said. Scipio took a step backward. "There are a lot of mysterious stories associated with this wing. Did your client tell you about them?"

Scipio ignored her. "If you're not going to come with me," he called to the others, "then I'll go alone. And I won't share the money with you." His gaze darted from my face, to Prosper's, to Bo's. "Are you coming or not?"

At that moment, Ida stepped forward, grabbed the barrel and yanked the rifle out of Scipio's hands. "That's enough!" She said. "That thing doesn't work anyway. And now, give me back my wing."

It was wrapped in a blanket and Scipio placed it on the floor in front of Ida, not knowing what else to do. He didn't say anything, and I felt a bubble of pride come up through me. Truthfully, in this part of the book, he sounded a bit like a brat. But now, here… I smiled.

He hesitated as he got up, his fingers trailing across the exposed wood of the wing. Any of us would have done the same thing if it had been us, felt the wing that had caused us so much trouble lately. "Get your hands off it, you crazy old toad!" Riccio snapped.

Scipio stared at him as he straightened up. "What's wrong with you, Riccio?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Just shut up!" Mosca shouted. "You've completely lost it—waving a gun around like that!"

"I was never going to shoot!" Scipio retorted, hurt that anyone would even think that. "I just wanted us to get the money—I said it before, I was going to give it all to you anyway; you said yourself how much you need it!"

"Whoa, whoa," I said, intervening. I caught Riccio as he made a move towards Scipio. "Watch it. All of you!" I barked at Mosca, who had made a threatening step towards me. "You may be bigger muscle-wise, and stronger, but I'm more skilled. I can take on you guys, you can't take me." He considered this and stopped. "Alright, now stop it. Let's just focus on the matter at hand—we'll deal with your hurt feelings later."

"The money?" Ida murmured to herself. "Of course! How much did your client offer you for my wing?"

"A lot," Hornet said truthfully. She took a hesitant step forward and stood beside Ida. The wing's slightly tan paint was faded and cracked, just like the wing in the Conte's photograph. This one, however, still showed sprinklings of gold.

"Tell me his name," Ida asked, replacing the cover and holding it as she stood. "You tell me his name and I'll tell you why he wants to pay so much money for a piece of wood."

"We don't know his real name, but he calls himself the Conte," Riccio answered.

Scipio shifted uncomfortably.

"What are you staring at, Thief Lord?" Mosca shouted at him. Scipio winced. "You think we shouldn't tell her? Why not!"

"Thief Lord?" Ida raised her eyebrows. She gave Scipio a glance full of mockery and gentle amusement. He saw it and his eyes dropped to the floor, his cheeks reddening. "Anyway, I need some coffee. I suppose you kids can't wait to get out of my house, right?" She looked around at us enquiringly. Nobody answered. Only Hornet shook her head. "Fine, then you can keep me company," Ida said. "If you want, I'll tell you a story. A story about a lost wing and a mysterious merry-go-round. You may stay too," she said as she walked past Scipio, "but maybe the Thief Lord has more important appointments to keep?"

Scipio came downstairs with us to Ida's kitchen but he kept his distance from the others, instead choosing to lounge elegantly against the doorpost as we gathered around the table. The wing lay on the table in front of us.

"It looks beautiful," Hornet said as she stroked the wood. "It's the wing of an angel, isn't it?"

"Angel? Oh no," Ida said, taking the espresso pot from the stove, the coffee still gurgling as it touched the table. "This is a lion's wing." Bo nodded empathetically.

"A lion?" Riccio looked at her in disbelief. She nodded.

"Indeed." She fetched the sugar and a cup for herself. She got some juice and some glasses for the others. There was one for Scipio and me too. I took one of them, poured some juice, and offered it to Scip. He took a sip.

"So, what about that story?" Mosca asked as he poured himself some juice.

"I'm coming to that," Ida said. She took a sip of her coffee, and then leaned back. "Have you ever heard the story of the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters?"

The others shook their heads, but I nodded silently. Scipio's eyes flickered to me.

(A/N: Alright, this part is the story of the Merry Go Round. You don't necessarily have to read this. It's mostly for those who need a refresher or haven't read the book yet… [Why they would be reading this if they didn't read the book escapes me])

"Doesn't the orphanage in the south of the city also belong to the Merciful Sisters?" Riccio asked.

"Exactly! About one hundred and fifty years ago—so the legend says—a rich merchant gave a very valuable gift to the orphanage. He had a merry-go-round built in the courtyard. It had five beautiful wooden figures on it. There's still a picture of them above the door to the orphanage. In it, a unicorn, a sea horse, a merman, his mermaid and a winged lion do their rounds beneath a colorful wooden canopy. Back then, some wicked tongues claimed that the rich man wanted to relieve his conscience because he himself had once brought the unwanted child of his daughter to the orphanage. Others, however, disputed that and said he was simply a warmhearted man who wanted to share his wealth with the poor orphaned children. Whatever the case, soon everyone in Venice was talking about the amazing merry-go-round—and that's saying something with as many wonders as this one. The rumor soon spread that, because of that merry-go-round, magical things were happening behind the orphanage's walls."

(You can read again.)

"Magical things?" Riccio looked at Ida wide eyed, just the way he looked at Hornet when she read to them.

Ida nodded. "Yes, very strange things. People said that a few turns on the merry-go-round made adults out of children and children out of adults."

For a few moments there was silence, the only sound was the sound of Shasta's breathing. Then Mosca laughed. "And how's that supposed to work?"

Ida shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm just telling you what I heard."

Scipio leaned forward. "What's the wing got to do with this merry-go-round?" His voice was a husky whisper, laden with curiosity and longing. It hurt to know how much he wanted to be an adult. The thing that pained me most was the fact that I didn't know...didn't know if he wanted to be an adult more than he wanted me.

"I was just coming to that," Ida replied as she poured Bo some more juice. "The sisters and the orphans weren't to enjoy their present for long, as it turned out. After only a few weeks the merry-go-round was stolen. The sisters had taken the children on a day trip to Burano and when they returned they found the gate had been forced open and the merry-go-round taken. It was never seen again. However, in their hurry, the thieves had left something behind…"

"The lion's wing," Bo whispered.

"Precisely. It lay unnoticed in the courtyard until one of the sisters discovered it. No one really believed her when she claimed it was a piece of the original merry-go-round. So she kept it, and after her death it ended up in the loft of the orphanage. And that's where I found it many, many years later."

"What were you doing up there?" Mosca asked.

"I used to play up there by the dovecotes," Ida said. "They're very old. They date back to when people still used pigeons to send their letters. That used to be quite popular in Venice. Whenever rich Venetians moved to the mainland during the summer, they'd use pigeons to send their messages into town. I used to play a game where I imagined that someone was keeping me prisoner up there and that I would send my pigeons for help. And that's how, one day, I found the wing, in the middle of the pigeon droppings. One of the sisters who knew the old story guessed where it had come from and told me about the Merry-go-Round. When she realized how much I loved the story, she gave the wing to me."

"You played in the orphanage?" Hornet asked. "What were you doing there?"

Ida sighed. "I lived there," she answered. "I was there for more than ten years. They weren't exactly my happiest ten years, but I still visit some of the sisters from time to time."

Hornet looked as if she were seeing her face for the first time, suddenly recognizing another lonely child. Then she reached into her jacket and pulled out the photo the Conte had left for them. She pushed it toward Ida. "Behind the wing there—don't you think that looks like the head of a unicorn?"

Ida bent over the photograph. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "From your client?"

Scipio walked over to the kitchen window, closing his eyes as the cool breeze caressed his face. I felt my eyes sting at the look of ecstasy on his thin face. "The merry-go-round can turn you into an adult?" he asked.

"Yes, after a few turns on it. It's a strange story, don't you think?" Ida placed her mug in the sink. "But your client could probably tell you more about it than I can. I think he must know where the merry-go-round is now. Why else would he have asked you to steal my wing? It probably doesn't work without the lion's second wing."

"He's quite old," Prosper said suddenly. "He can't have much time left to get the merry-go-round to work."

"You know, Signora…If this wing really belongs to the lion, then you don't really have much use for it. So you might as well give it to us, right?"

Ida smiled. "I might, might I?" She opened the door to the garden to let more air in. She stood there for quite a while, her back to us. My vision was blurring, the horrible thought of Scipio riding the Merry-go-Round gnawing at my chest. I felt my lips tremble and I bit down on them. Hard. "How about a deal?" she asked suddenly, turning around. "I let you have the wing so you can take it to the Conte and he can pay you for it, and in return…"

"Here comes the catch!" Riccio muttered.

"In return, we will follow the Conte when he disappears with the wing. Perhaps we can find the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters. I'm saying we because I will be coming with you. That's the deal." She looked eagerly around at us. "So, what do you say? I won't ask for any share in your reward. I already make more money than I can spend with my photographs. I'd just love to see the merry-go-round once. Go on, please say yes!"

The others didn't look very enthusiastic.

"I'm not so sure…the Conte's pretty odd. What if he catches us? I think he could get pretty nasty," Mosca said.

"But doesn't this photo make you curious?" Ida closed the door again and went back to her chair. "Don't you want to see it? It's supposed to be very beautiful."

Mosca still wasn't convinced. "The lion in St. Mark's Square is beautiful too. Why don't you just look at that?"

Scipio spun around. He couldn't ignore the others' hostile glares, but he tried his best. "I think we should take her offer," he said. "It's very fair. You get your money and even if the Conte realizes we're following him we can always outrun him."

"I keep hearing we," Mosca growled. "We are finished, you lying toad. You don't belong with us anymore. You never belonged with us, even when you pretended you did!"

"Yeah, you just go back to that fancy house you live in!" Riccio sneered. "We real orphans don't want to play with the Thief Lord anymore!"

Scipio stood still, biting his lip almost as hard as I bit mine. Hornet looked miserably at the table and Bo pushed his head under Prosper's arm as if he wanted to hide.

"Could someone explain to me what's going on here?" Ida asked.

I burst out, "I'll tell you what's going on here!" Then everything that had happened lately came tumbling out, and I only managed to keep myself from spilling everything about me.

When I had finished and the tears were brimming in my eyes, Scipio said, "I'm not going back." He sounded as choked up as I was. "I will never, ever go back there! That's it. I don't need them! If that merry-go-round really exists, then I'll be on it faster than the Conte, and I'll only get off when I'm at least a good head taller than him! If you don't want to take the deal then I'll do it alone. I'm going to find that merry-go-round so nobody can treat me like a stupid pet animal ever again!"

After Scipio's outburst the kitchen fell so quiet that everyone could hear my near-silent sobs.

"Rae, what's wrong?" Hornet asked quietly. I shook my head frantically, my eyes wide to make her understand that no one should know that I was crying again. She nodded and looked back at the others who were still shocked my Scipio's outburst. "I think we should accept the offer too," she said. "Anyone against the agreement?"

Nobody moved.

"Then it's decided," said Hornet. "Signora Spavento, you've got yourself a deal."

As we walked out of the house, Scipio walked over to me. "Rae, are you alright?" he whispered. His eyebrows were drawn together, his dark eyes worried and warm. That only made it worse. I shook my head and held his hand tight.

"Nothing," I whispered.

Bo was so sleepy that Prosper had to carry him till we reached the Stella. Of course, as soon as we reached it he was wide awake again so we let him capture Sophia. While the pigeon pecked at the seeds in his hands he carefully carried it to the emergency exit. "Take her to the canal before you let her go, Bo!" Mosca whispered, holding the door open.

When she disappeared and Prosper asked "the day after we sent our message? She can't be flying far then," and Scipio said, "Pigeons can fly hundreds of miles in one day. This evening she could easily be in Paris or London," I stood back, letting the cold wind buffet my face and numb it. "I read that somewhere," Scipio said timidly.

"The Conte's not likely to live in Paris!" Riccio said scornfully. "Who cares anyway? The pigeon's on its way and you'd better go home now."

Scipio gave a start. He looked at Prosper who looked away. Scipio turned away again. He didn't seem sure where else he could look for help. Bo pretended nothing was wrong as he fed his kittens.

"Riccio's right, Scip," Hornet whispered. "You have to go back. You said it yourself; we can't have your father tearing up the entire city because his son has run away. I mean, how long would it take him to think of this place? He'd get half the police force in Venice out here in a second."

Scipio nodded. "I see," he said, his voice soft and sad. "And I know that at least four of you are grateful for what little I've done. I showed you this place. I gave you money and warm clothes. I even brought you the mattresses—and I nearly drowned doing it. When it got cold, I brought you blankets and heaters. Do you think it was easy to steal all those things from my father?" The last thing was directed at Mosca and Riccio.

"Of course it was easy!" Mosca gave Scipio a look of loathing. "They probably suspected the maid or the cook or another of your slaves!"

Scipio didn't even redden. He just remained silent.

"Bingo!" Riccio exclaimed nastily. "Got it in one!"

"Do you mean they suspected someone else?" Hornet asked Scipio in shock.

He swallowed. "My governess."

"And? Did you at least defend her?"

"How?" he asked her angrily. "You don't know my father, Hornet! If he ever caught me stealing a look at his things he'd make me walk around with a big sign around my neck saying: Kick me, I'm a thief! And then he'd do it!" His voice cracked. "Over and over again, until I couldn't move for a month. He does that anyway, so maybe I'm just a chicken and should not care. Tell me, you two, if someone did that to you would you do anything different? What's that? I don't hear you!" His fists clenched, but his voice had fallen to a miserable whisper, and his eyes didn't leave the ground.

Bo, despite his efforts to tune them out, had heard it all. "Did they lock her up, like in a real prison?" he asked.

"No," Scipio murmured, even his voice relaxing at the thought. "They couldn't prove anything. They let her go, that's all. If I hadn't taken those darn sugar tongs, they would never have noticed it. I took most of the stuff from the rooms that are never used anyway… So now I don't have any friends, not even a governess anymore."

The others looked at him as if he had snakes growing out of his nose. "Jeez, Scip!" Mosca muttered.

"I only did it for you!" Scipio bellowed. "Have you forgotten how you used to live before I looked after you?"

"Get lost!" Riccio screamed back at him. He shoved Scipio in the chest. "We can do without you! We want NOTHING to do with you! We should never have let you back in here again!"

"You shouldn't have let me in here?" Scipio was yelling so loudly that Bo put his hands over his ears. "Who do you think you are? Face it Riccio, you're just a little kid who got let down—once! Think of how many times I've been let down! By my father, by my mother, by everyone in the damn world!"

"Oh, sure!" Riccio yelled back. "Why don't you go tell on us and make us see how 'bad' your stupid rich father is, you little--!"

I'm sorry, I can't let you hear the rest of his sentence.

Scipio went for him. The two of them got so entangled that the others (and Mosca) needed me to step in. I ducked a punch and lashed out. My fist connected with something and the fight seemed to dissolve. I had hit Riccio's nose. When Bo saw that Riccio's nose was bleeding he let out such an anguished sob that everyone turned to comfort him. Hornet was there first. She put her arms around him and stroked his hair which was already almost back to its normal color.

"Go home, Scipio," she said sadly. "We'll let you know when we're meeting the Conte. Perhaps we'll have a message by tomorrow afternoon. One of us will go to the Redbeard's right after breakfast."

I tuned Riccio out and turned to Scip, trying to look at his feet instead of his face. His cheeks were stripped raw from Riccio's bad fingernails. He turned and walked slowly past the rows of red chairs, running his fingers along the red velvet and looking intently at the embroidered stars on the curtain. He walked very slowly. I followed him.

"I'll be back later," I whispered to the others. "Don't stay up waiting."

Nobody seemed to hear me.

3rd POV

Scipio turned to Rae a few alleys away. "Rae, what's wrong?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, and he was about to cry himself, but this time he felt he had to be the strong one out of the two of them. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at him. Her cheeks were rosy and her lip was bleeding from biting it so hard; yet it still quivered.

"I don't want you to be a grown-up," she whimpered.

He felt an angry pang inside him. "Why not?" he asked her harshly.

The tears clung to her eyelashes, almost spilling now. "How much do you care for me?" she asked. "Enough to not ride on the carousel?"

He saw fear in her shining, swimming eyes. She doesn't want to have to follow me, he realized. She doesn't want to grow up so fast... He was silent, wondering at how much he wanted to be an adult, and weighing it against how much he felt for Rae. She stared at him in shock, and then a sob ripped from her throat. She turned away from him, taking his silence as an answer. He shook himself and reached for her, wrapping his arms around her shaking form.

"Rae—"

She cut him off, pushing away from him. "Just leave me alone!" she shouted. The tears splattered from her eyes, hissing as they hit the freezing cobblestones beneath their feet. The anger and raw hurt on her face burned him as surely as if she had pushed his heart into a fire. "I don't need you!"

"Rae!" he exclaimed, his dark eyes flashing. "You and I both know that's not true! I need you too! You know that I love you!"

She stared at him for a moment, her face blank. "No, I don't," she whispered. Her eyes were streaming, and he wanted to hold her close and brush the tears from her cheeks, like she had done for him.

"Rachel," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "Yes you do. You and I both know it." She sobbed and turned from him again. "Rae…I know it's tough," he continued, "and I know that you just want to give up. You want to curl up in the corner and cry until you pass out—then never wake up."

His words didn't hurt; instead they caressed her, as surely as though he had been pushing the tears from her eyes. It was infuriating. "How do you know?" she demanded, rounding on him.

His eyes became pained. "Every time they yell at me, or he does something… That's how I feel," he said.

For a few moments they stood there, the moment frozen around them. Tears splattered loudly against the ground, running down her face and across her trembling lips and down her neck. He looked down at her through his long, dark lashes, eyes deep and somber. He knew he couldn't say anything more; it was totally up to her now. Even though he kept his thoughts to himself, his eyes spoke clearly.

Her face twisted and the floodgates burst. He held out his arms and she fell into them, her shoulders heaving with racking sobs. He smiled to himself sadly, resting his face in her hair. It wasn't that he liked her crying; it was that he had been the tough one, and this time he had a chance to repay her for every time she had been the one to hold him.

He pulled her to a wall around a canal and sat down, holding her tightly as she curled up in his arms. His cheek rested against hers, feeling her silky skin cold and wet. Her dark hair curtained both of them from the outside world—and neither of them noticed three pairs of eyes watching them.