Scipio had asked Ida to drop him off about two streets away from his father's house. He wanted to talk to Rae, and then when she left—assuming she did—he wanted to walk the last few steps along the snowy bank of the canal. The cold air gave him the feeling of being strong and free—as long as he didn't think of the others, or of the big house that would soon make him feel small and weak again.
He and Rae stood still and silent, watching Ida's boat disappear. Neither of them moved, slowly becoming covered in white. Everything seemed so quiet…
Rae turned to him and sighed, putting her hands in her pocket. "I haven't been treating you very well, have I?" she murmured.
"What?" He frowned at her.
"Think about it, Scipio. I've been treating you like Christine would treat Erik, like how Marius treated Eponine. Sorry, bad examples…Hm…" She bit her lip for a moment, making a three-sixty on her heel. "The fact is, I haven't been treating you like a human being. I've been treating you like a character in one of my stories." She looked at him for a moment, a smile playing on her lips. "I've been treating myself like I'm a character. For a while now, somewhere in my head I'd accepted that this wasn't reality. That this was just a dream, or just me going crazy. But now I have to accept that this is real; alternate reality or not, it still is reality."
"What are you saying? That you've been using me?" Scipio's hands clenched, and something in his chest tightened. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, like his lungs, his heart; everything had suddenly been tied together with a rope, constricting their movements.
"No!" She exclaimed. "No! But in a way I have…Not the way you're thinking, though." She sighed again, and shook her head, sending some of the snowflakes flying, but the others were still caught in her locks. "I still feel for you, it's just that before I was clouding that with the idea of a story… An idea of fiction, a work of art—someone else's work of art. Now, however…" She smiled and the tight feeling in his chest dissipated. "Now, even if this isn't my reality, this is a form of it." She laughed suddenly. "In short, I've only just accepted that this—you—are real."
He was still confused. He felt as though there was something more she wanted to say, that she was keeping back. "Rae…" He paused.
She shook her head. "I've got to go now," she said.
"OK," he answered and then reached out. She met him half-way and gave him a hug, her small, spidery hands tight around his thick coat. He pulled away enough to look at her face. She looked much softer in the snow, with white, sparkling flakes clinging to her dark lashes, casting a halo on her hair. He smiled at her and—unconsciously—he squared his shoulders.
"Goodnight, Scipio," she said, and then walked away through the crisp white blanket.
He turned and began to scrape patterns into the snow with the toe of his shoe. Then he crouched down to draw a wing, a mask, and a lion with his fingers.
When he lifted his head he saw the police boat. It was moored just a few steps away from his father's house.
Scipio stood. Thoughts raced around in his head. Did this have something to do with the others? With him? He winced slightly, already feeling the rain of blows.
"No!" he whispered, trying to calm himself. He could hardly manage to get the key into the lock. Opening the door gingerly, trying not to make a sound, he saw a light was burning between the stone columns as usual. The courtyard was empty of people. Holding his breath, Scipio crept toward the stairs. He was a master creeper—he had scared Hornet, Rae… The most cautious people. He'd never been caught—until now.
His foot had barely touched the first step, when suddenly he heard voices from above. No, not from Heaven. He lifted his head guiltily and stopped dead, his lips parted in shock. Two policemen were coming down the stairs with Hornet. She looked tiny and fragile between the two huge men. His father was standing upstairs by the balustrade. He frowned as his lazy eyes fell on his son.
"Gentlemen!" boomed the voice Scipio loved to imitate because it sounded so much more impressive than his own. "As you can see, the matter seems to have resolved itself. My son has decided to come home after all, even if it is at a highly inappropriate time. But it proves he had nothing to do with these children hiding in the Stella."
Scipio bit his lip hard and looked up at Hornet. She slowed down as she saw him.
"Do you know this boy?" one of the policemen asked. He had a very narrow mustache. "Go on, speak." Hornet shook her head.
"Where are you taking her?" Scipio was surprised at the sound of his own voice, high and shrill.
The policeman with the mustache laughed while the other one grabbed Hornet's arm. "So, you think you have to protect her? You're a little gentleman. Don't worry; we didn't take her away from anybody. She's a naughty girl who doesn't even want to tell us her name. We came here because we thought your father might learn something from her about your disappearance."
"Our maid called me away from my reception, completely hysterical, Scipio!" Dottor Massimo called down at him. "Because she didn't find you in your bed at midnight. And just as I got here the police called to tell me that they had found a gang of street kids in the Stella. You know, the movie theater I had to close? Of course, I immediately explained to the gentlemen here that your disappearance had nothing to do with that. And what childish fancy drove you out of the house in the middle of the night? Were you running after some stray cat again?"
Scipio didn't answer. He didn't care. He was using all of his will to not look up at Hornet. She had looked so sad and lost. This was not the Hornet who had driven him crazy with her teasing and stinger-tongue.
"I just wanted to have a look at the snow," Scipio finally said, remembering the snow on Rae's lashes, the snow disappearing into the black waters, the snow covering the city as Prosper and the others left.
"Ah, the snow! It drives everybody mad, not just the children," the mustachioed policeman said with a wink at Scipio.
"Let me go, I can walk by myself!" Hornet spat at the other policeman. She jumped down the last step and pushed past Scipio with her head down. "Bo's with his aunt!" she hissed.
"Hey, what's the hurry?" the policeman soothed, taking her arm again. "Buonanotte, Dottor Massimo!" the Carabinieri called out as they left. Hornet didn't turn around again.
Scipio slowly walked up the stairs. He heard the front door slam.
His father looked at him in silence.
Who had given away the secret? What about the others? What about Rae? What if? Why, who, when? What now? Scipio's mind raced.
"So, where did you really go?" His father scrutinized him from head to toe. There appeared to be genuine concern on his face, but then Scipio stopped himself. His father was probably asking himself what he had done to deserve this stupid creature he called his son. He wasn't as big as him, as interesting, as 'disciplined', 'controlled', 'dependable', or 'reasonable'. He wasn't like him at all; a reality that constantly irked him.
"Why do you care?" Scipio muttered bitterly. "I just wanted to see the snow before it got dirty with people stepping on it. And I ran after a cat. Mine is feeling better, she's eating again."
Dottor Massimo frowned. "As long as this silly snow is causing you to behave even more childishly than usual, your door will be locked. Is that understood?"
Scipio was silent.
"God, how I hate that stubborn face! If you only knew how stupid you look." Scipio's father took a step forward.
"What have you got against me, Dad?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to bite them back. Instead he clamped his teeth together. His father seemed shocked at the pleading in his tone. Seeing that he'd had an effect, no matter how simple it was, Scipio continued. "I've only ever wanted you to care, to really truly care about me, but you're always so condescending! You never care a damn thing about what I feel, always about how you look, how I'd make a great deal of money for the family—for you—if I was just like you. It's all about you!"
His voice had risen, but not in pitch. He was surprised at himself; he wasn't actually angry. Just so…so tired. His shoulders slumped and he turned. "No. For God's sake, no!" he shouted at the wall. "Do I have to know that girl to feel sorry for her? Can't you just be human? I thought you were such an important man in this city—if you were so dependable and considering, why didn't you spare her a second glance?"
"Go to bed, Scipio," his father answered sternly. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"You have no idea how much I do know, Father." He didn't like giving his father his back like that. His spine was vulnerable; if the Dottore hit him then he could cause some very, very serious damage. Regardless, he continued to walk. "Goodnight, Father," Scipio murmured and continued to walk.
"Scipio, I—"
"Save it, Dad. It's too late." Just before he walked into his room he turned his head. His father looked different now, not the man who had beat him just a few nights before. Scipio didn't feel the happiness that he thought he should feel; there was a look of genuine, fatherly concern on the man's face. "You're not my father. You never were. And now that you want to be…It's too late."
He closed the door behind him and for once he didn't bother locking it.
His near-empty room was silent and dark. The windows were closed tight, but the drapes were pulled aside to allow a view of the white balcony. The picture on his nightstand stared at him, and he thought, distantly, that all three of them looked happy. Like a family.
And so Scipio stood there and cried.
I had spent the last few days trying to find Shasta. He'd run off when the police had gotten Hornet and Bo, and when I finally found him he was rather skinny and very wet. By the time I'd gotten to Ida's, Hornet was already there and they were in the middle of dinner.
They welcomed me back and put another spot in for me at the table. Riccio and Mosca fooled around so much that Victor grumbled that it would have been quieter with a bunch of monkeys at the table. Prosper never said a word, hardly looking up from the table. Hornet held his limp hand in hers, her face anxious.
Shasta fell asleep under the table.
After dinner, while the others went to play cards with Ida and Victor, Prosper went upstairs. Ida'd found a couple of air mattresses so that they wouldn't be crowded on the beds that Riccio had pushed together. Hornet had claimed one and pulled it by the wall, piling her books around it. Riccio and Mosca hadn't dared to leave any one of her novels behind. Prosper had dragged the second air mattress to the window so he could see Ida's garden and the canal behind it. The blankets smelled like lavender. He curled up in them but couldn't fall asleep.
There was a window seat, and I sat down on it. He didn't look up at me. "It's going to be alright, Prosper," I said finally. He made a soft noise. "Trust me," I said.
"You said that no harm would ever come to us. You promised!" He glared at me half-heartedly.
"I know, and I said harm. I haven't broken that promise. Bo's going to be fine. And we're going to get him back, don't worry. Just stop moping, OK? You're making me depressed."
He didn't answer.
It was eleven at night when Victor finally said goodbye. Prosper pretended to be asleep. He lay with his face to the wall and waited for the others to doze off. I pretended to be sleep, also. When everyone else was fast asleep, Prosper got up. The floorboards creaked under him, but the others didn't wake.
I followed him out, avoiding the squeaky places he'd stepped on. The door squeaked gently as Prosper opened it. He stepped out into the darkness, and I followed. He went to the canal, and carefully climbed into Ida's boat. He sat down on the cold wooden bench and looked up at the moon.
"What should I do?" he asked. "Tell me, what should I do?"
The moon did not answer.
I sat down next to him, and we stared upwards in silence. The tears ran down his face silently. His arms wrapped around himself, and he slowly slid down to the bottom of the boat. He curled up there, and he fell asleep after a while. I pulled my legs up to my chin and waited through the night. A motorboat came down the canal towards us.
The engine stopped and I heard Scipio curse under his breath. His boat bumped hard against Ida's.
He smiled with such happiness when he saw Prosper and I that I smiled back. "Look who's here!" said my Thief Lord. "Well, if that's not a coincidence. I've come to pick you up!"
"Pick me up? And take us where?" Prosper jumped to his feet. "Where'd you get the boat?"
"It's my father's," Scipio answered. He patted the boat like it was a horse. "It's his pride and joy…unlike me. And now it's got its first scratch. Also unlike me. I've got too many to count."
"How did you know we were here?" Prosper asked.
"Mosca called me." Scipio looked up at the moon. "He told me about the Conte's trick and Bo." Prosper wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry," Scipio said gently. "We shouldn't have left him alone."
Prosper didn't reply.
"Prop? Rae?" Scipio cleared his throat. "I'm going out to the Isola Segreta. Will you come with me?" Prosper stared at him. I pulled myself into Scipio's boat, yawning. "The Conte cheated us." Scipio lowered his voice. "He took us for a ride. Either he gives us the real money or he lets us take a ride on that merry go round."
Prosper shook his head. "You don't really believe in that story, do you? Forget it—forget the money. So we were cheated? Tough luck. Riccio's already working out how he can spend the fake money. And nobody wants to go back to that island, not even for a whole bag of real riches."
Scipio fiddled with the string of his mask and looked at Prosper. "I want to go there," he said. "With you. You're my friend. I want to ride that merry go round. And if the Conte won't let me, then I'll run away anyway. Come with me, Prop? What have you got to lose?"
Prosper stared at his hands. "Come on Prop. You don't have to ride…Just come with us," I said gently. He thought silently for another moment, and then suddenly jumped into Scipio's boat.
Prosper
We'd been out in the freezing air forever, searching for a way past the wall that surrounded the island. I was starting to lose my patience, but Scipio lost his faster than I. "That's it," he whispered. "We're climbing over." He switched off the engine and then dropped the anchor into the water.
"How are we supposed to get to shore?" I asked as I regarded the dark span of water between us and the island. "We can't swim in that! It's got to be freezing!"
"No, of course we're not going to swim!" Scipio said, carefully stepping over Rae, who was nearly asleep. "Give me a hand here." There was a hatch by the steering wheel from which Scipio pulled out a dinghy and two oars. It was amazingly heavy for a piece of rubber—it seemed to be made out of an elephant.
Rae helped us shove it overboard, and as she climbed into the dinghy she refused to take Scipio's scarf. I could tell, though, that she was cold; her breath didn't seem as white as ours did, which meant that it was already colder than ours.
We hid the boat in the reeds growing at the bottom of the wall. From standing next to it, the wall seemed even higher—and that was saying something. I craned my neck to try and see the top. "I wonder if only mastiffs guard the gate," I murmured…
We were all out of breath when we sat next to each other on top of the ledge. Our hands were grazed but we'd done it and made it to the top! There was a huge overgrown garden lay in front of us. The hedges were all white with snow and ice. Rae seemed dazzled by it. "Wish I'd brought my sketch-pad," she said to me, smiling.
"Can you see it? The merry-go-round?" I looked around, but I couldn't see anything but a huge gloomy house between some trees.
Climbing down the wall was even harder than climbing up. We landed in thorn bushes and when we managed to get out of that we found ourselves in the middle of a hedge maze.
"The merry-go-round's got to be behind the house," Scipio muttered. "Otherwise we would've seen it from up there."
"Right," I whispered. "Just how do we get to the house, then?"
Rae knelt down in the snow and shuddered. "Hey guys," she called quietly. "Look at these." We walked over and saw big, big paw prints deep in the white. Rae put her palm in one of them… And it was dwarfed by the size of the paw.
Oh, joy, right?
"Let's try that way," Scipio said, walking ahead. I noticed that he took the path with the least dog prints.
The path was lined with mossy statues. Some had almost been swallowed up by the thicket, and some had had their faces entirely worn away by the elements. One appeared so suddenly in front of me, with what seemed to be a tortured look on its face that I jumped and fell over into the snow. I heard Scipio curse softly as he found our own footprints again.
I was about to answer when I heard something—and it wasn't a bird this time, I was sure of that. Rae had also heard it; she'd frozen in her tracks, knees bent and tense as though ready to jump out of the way.
I heard panting, short and sharp, followed by a growl; it was low and threatening. I forgot how to breathe.
I turned my head very, very slowly…and there, hardly three steps away as if they'd risen right out of the snow, were two huge white mastiffs. "Don't move, Scip," I found myself whispering. "If we run, they'll hunt us down."
"Will they bite if I shake with fear?" Scipio whispered back, and I heard the touch of biting sarcasm in his voice. It almost made me smile. Almost.
The dogs were still snarling, and they took a step forward, their heads lowered, hackles raised and teeth bared. My legs are just about to start running whether IJ tell them to or not…
"Bimba! Bella! Basta—enough!" a voice called from behind us. The dogs immediately stopped growling and leaped past Rae and Scipio and I. We turned around to find ourselves staring into a flashlight. The girl who held it couldn't be more than nine, but was probably only seven. She was so small that she could have ridden on the dogs' backs: she only came up to their shoulders.
"What have we here?" She said, and she held her nose up much like Scipio's father. "How fortunate that I like to go for walks in the moonlight. What are you doing here? Don't you know what happens to people who sneak onto the Isola Segreta?" I exchanged a look with Rae.
"We want to see the Conte," Scipio answered. He sounded totally nonchalant, as though there was nothing strange about the fact that we were walking in someone else's garden in the middle of the night. Maybe it was because the girl was smaller than him that Scipio sounded less frightened. Personally I thought the mastiffs made up for that advantage and more. They guarded the little girl as if they'd tear to shreds anyone who came near her.
"The Conte? Well, well, so you like to pay visits at midnight?" The girl shone her flashlight into Scipio's face. The she pointed it at me.
"We had a deal with the Conte," Rae said calmly as she relaxed her stance. "He cheated us. We'd let the matter rest, though, if he lets at least one of us take a ride on the merry-go-round. The merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters."
"A merry-go-round?" The girl's face was rigid with hostility. "What do you mean?"
"We know it's here, show it to us!" Scipio growled and took a step forward; the dogs immediately crouched and snarled. "If the Conte doesn't let us take a ride on it, we'll go to the police."
"What a generous offer!" The girl looked at us with amusement. "And what makes you think he'd ever let you go? This is the Isola Segreta…you must know the stories. Nobody who's ever visited this Island has lived to tell the tale. Now, MOVE!" She pointed down the path to our left. "That way. Don't try to run, believe me, my dogs are faster than you."
Scipio and I hesitated.
"Do as I say!" the girl shouted. "Or you're dead meat!"
"Come on, Scip!" I grabbed Scipio's arm. Reluctantly, he let himself be pulled along.
The dogs stayed so close behind us that we could feel their breath on their necks. From time to time Scipio would look back to see if it would be worth making a run for it, but each time I tugged on his sleeve mercilessly.
"Caught by a girl!" Scipio moaned. "I'm just glad Mosca and Riccio aren't here."
Rae muttered something along the lines of, What's so wrong with being caught by a girl?
"If she really takes us to the Conte," I muttered to Scipio, "then you'd better not threaten him with the police. Who knows what he'll do to us?" Scip nodded and turned around again to look at the dogs.
Soon the house I had seen from the wall emerged from between the trees. It was huge, even bigger than Scipio's. It looked abandoned, even in the usually flattering moonlight. The plaster was coming off the walls and the shutters hung crookedly in front of dark windows. The roof had enough holes in it for the moon to shine through.
A set of broad steps led up to the main entrance. Stone angels leaned down over the balustrade—the salt air had eaten away their features just as it had the coat of arms that hung above the door.
"Oh no, not up there!" the girl grabbed Scipio's arm as he tried to go up the steps. "The Conte will most certainly not see you tonight. You will spend the rest of the night in the old stalbes, over there." She made an impatient gesture at a low building next to the house. Scipio, however, didn't move.
"No!" he snapped, and folded his arms. "You think you can order us around just because you've got these hell-hounds with you? I want to see the Conte. Now."
The girl clicked her tongue and the dogs pushed forward. We quickly backed away towards the stable.
"I have a feeling we won't be seeing anyone tonight," Rae muttered.
"You will be seeing the rats in the stables," the girl said, hearing her. "The Conte is sleeping. He will decide tomorrow morning what we will do with you. And think yourself lucky. At least you won't be thrown into the lagoon right away."
Scipio angrily chewed his lip, but the dogs began to growl again.
"Better do what she says, Scip!" I urged as we walked toward the stables. "We've got all night to think about what to do next, and we can't do that if we end up as dog meat. And you won't be riding the merry-go-round then either."
"Okay, okay already." Scipio flashed the girl a vicious look.
"Please enter, gentlemen and miss!" The girl said, opening the stable door. It was pitch black inside and we were greeted by a stench that made all of our faces screw up in disgust. It smelled like old hay—much too sweet and musty.
"In there?" Scipio called. "Do you want to kill us?"
"Would you rather I left the dogs with you?" the girl asked. She put her hands on the mastiffs' huge heads.
"Come on, Scip!" I pulled him into the dark building. A few rats pushed over my feet.
"There should be some old sacks back there," the girl said, shining her flashlight towards a pile of relatively new hay. "They should do for the night. The rats aren't very hungry. There's always enough for them to eat around here, so they won't bother you tonight. You can forget about finding a way out of here—there isn't one. I will also leave the dogs outside. Buonanotte!" With that, she shut the door.
There was the sound of a heavy bolt sliding across it. It was so dark in here that I couldn't even see my own hands in front of me. "Prop!" Scip whispered. "Are you afraid of rats? I'm scared to death!"
"I've gotten used to them," I answered. "We had lots of them in the movie theater…" I listened closely—the girl was talking to the dogs outside. She spoke to them with a soft, tender voice as though she were talking to her little siblings.
"How sweet," Scipio muttered in reference to her words.
"Scip? Prop? Where are you—I can't see," Rae muttered. I felt hands groping at my shoulder and took one of her hands, guiding it to Scipio's too—just in time for a rat to pass over my foot towards Scipio, who gave such a start that he nearly knocked both of us over.
"Hold on…Hey, Scip, can you hold my jacket for me?" Rae pushed something past me into Scipio's arms. I felt her elbow brush against mine as she rummaged through the pockets on her jacket. "There!" She clicked something and a flashlight turned on, illuminating her face. "How's that?"
"Thanks, Rae," Scip and I said in relief. We turned to try and find the sacks, and we did but then decided not to sleep on the rat infested ground. I opted to sleep on a large barrel that I'd found and propped up against the wall. The others went to sleep on the hay loft.
I lay down and listened to everything settle back down for the night…
Suddenly I remembered Bo. It was the first time I'd thought of my brother since I'd jumped into Scipio's boat.
I wondered if I'd ever see Bo again.