Chapter 30

Dafne was woken the next morning by Ignacio insistently nudging her face.

"What's the matter?" she said, pushing the cat gently away so she could sit up, "You want to go out?"

The cat's eyes stared intently back at her.

"I'll take that as a yes."

As Dafne slipped out of bed, Fiammetta stirred but didn't wake.

The cat followed her downstairs, almost tripping her as it got between her legs.

She tiptoed past Basta and Silvio and opened the door as quietly as she could.

As soon as the crack was big enough to squeeze through, the cat slipped out.

The sunlight stung Dafne's eyes and she shut them against the glare.

But she opened the door fully anyway. The warmth on her skin was pleasant. She stood in the doorway, basking in it.

"Dafne," said a husky voice behind her.

She started and turned around. Basta was watching her from the armchair, his eyes barely open.

"Morning," she murmured.

"Morning," he said then his mouth turned into a muddled frown, "Is that my shirt?"

Dafne looked down with certain horror at the white shirt she was currently attired in.

"Yes," she said with embarrassment.

Basta smiled though he blushed at the same.

"It suits you."

"Shut up," she hissed at him, her cheeks burning.

She was conscious that the shirt barely covered anything of her legs.

"I'm going to change now," she said, dashing back to the bedroom, hearing Basta chuckle as she went.

Fiammetta woke up briefly while she was donning her old dress.

"Hey Dafne," she mumbled before rolling over and falling back asleep.

Basta had made his way into kitchen by the time she came back down the stairs.

"What happened to the red dress?" he asked her.

"I'm not wearing that stupid thing," Dafne said.

Basta shrugged. Her refusal to wear it didn't appear to concern him.

"Did you hang my shirt up?" was the more pressing question.

"Yes," Dafne said, rolling her eyes.

This was lie. It was still on the floor where she had discarded it.

"Make us some coffee will you," Basta said.

"Why can't you make it yourself?" Dafne said. She could see that he had already made the effort to put the kettle onto boil before taking a seat.

"You're the maid remember?" Basta said.

"That's no excuse to be lazy," Dafne huffed.

"I'm not asking you to dress me or anything," Basta pointed out.

Dafne shuddered, remembering the humiliation of having to dress Capricorn.

Basta was right aggravatingly. Coffee was a breeze compared to something like that. So she yielded and made the coffee.

She settled in the chair across from him.

"So," she said unable to stop herself, "You and Fiammetta."

Basta had been sipping his coffee. In his shock he took a big gulp instead and burnt his mouth. He gave a yelp of pain, looking at her with alarmed eyes.

"What? What are you..." he began, sounding like he was going to deny it, but then he hung his head with a sigh, "You know about that."

Dafne nodded.

Basta slammed his mug down, the contents spilling over onto the table. He looked towards the staircase with furious eyes,

"That treacherous little..." he muttered threatening.

"What are blaming her for?" Dafne said.

"Because she told you," said Basta, his tone full of upset betrayal, "She said she wouldn't."

"Why didn't you want me to know?" Dafne asked.

"Because of what you might think," Basta said shamefully, his expression pained, "of me."

Dafne had been angry last night but now the anger had faded and it did not return. Compared with all the cruelties he had committed in the past, a dalliance with a woman of Fiammetta's repute seemed harmless, undeserving of her condemnation. No one had been hurt or threatened or killed. He had not known her then. He had not loved her as he professed to do now.

She watched him. He looked so distraught, tearing his hands through his hair. It showed how much he cared for what she thought of him.

Knowing all this, she couldn't be angry at him. It would be unfair. There had been men in her past too, romances that hadn't lasted. She had been single at the time of her kidnapping but she was no innocent.

"It was a long time ago Basta," she said, "It doesn't matter to me."

Basta looked with disbelieving gratitude. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Really? You mean that?"

Dafne nodded.

"Oh good," Basta smiled tentatively, "That's good. I thought you might have been angry," he scrutinised her face for any trace of this emotion, "I'm glad you're not. It was just a stupid mistake."

"Fiammetta thinks you went to her because you were lonely," Dafne said, "Is that true?"

"What would Fiammetta know," Basta snapped defensively.

Dafne didn't answer. She simply sat and watched his anger flicker away. He had little fuel to feed his indignation, lacking the conviction to oppose the opinion.

"I don't know," he said helplessly a moment later, "Maybe. That makes me sound really pathetic."

He looked miserable making this pronouncement.

"It's not pathetic to be wanted," Dafne told him.

"I want you want me," Basta said, turning her words against her, "Are you telling me that's not pathetic?"

"Of course it isn't," Dafne said, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

Basta starred at her longingly,

"You looked so beautiful standing the doorway before. You were surrounded by light, like you were made of light, wearing white."

Dafne blushed at this. She was surprised too. It was quite poetic.

"Basta," she said, leaning back in her chair uncomfortably, "That's lovely of you to say but it's also a little embarrassing."

"Sorry," Basta said unhappily, fetching a cloth to mop up his spilt coffee.

Dafne sighed. She felt like the bad guy. Why should she feel this way? The reason she couldn't be with Basta was because he was the bad guy. But he had only been giving her a compliment. She sipped her coffee, trying to busy herself in the ensuing awkward silence.

"So," she said finally, when she couldn't take any more, "what are you doing today?"

Basta shrugged,

"I guess I'm taking you to the next village like Capricorn asked me too," he said, adding after she began smiling, "Excited are we? Let me just warn you now I don't want any funny business."

"Funny business?" Dafne said innocently.

"You know what I mean," Basta said with a stern expression, "No trying to escape."

"I won't," Dafne promised but Basta wasn't convinced.

"We'll see," he muttered.

"If we're going to next village, why don't we take Fiammetta with us?" Dafne suggested, "She was asking for a lift there last night."

Basta didn't look at all pleased with the idea.

"Why would I do her another favour?" he snapped, "Stupid wench. What I should do is cut her tongue out."

"Think of it this way," Dafne said, "If you drop her off, she won't be around to annoy you anymore."

Basta's face became less angry, more thoughtful. She took this as a good sign.

Then he sneered.

"She always comes back. Like a stray who knows where it can get fed," he sighed, "But if that's what you want, she can come."

"Thank you."

Basta might have agreed but that didn't mean he was happy with the arrangement. He wasn't.

"She had better keep her mouth shut the whole way," he warned.

This proved an impossible task for Fiammetta. She was naturally talkative. She chatted away almost to herself as Basta and sometimes Dafne didn't answer. It was mostly to do with future plans. What she was going to do with her earnings. The dress she had an eye on. But this was relatively harmless. What was worse was that she appeared very smug at Basta changing his mind given his fierce refusal the previous night. She kept smiling to herself while Basta glared at her through the rear view mirror.

"Are we there yet?" she said impatiently, not for the first time since the journey had yet.

"Stop asking that!" Basta exploded, "You know how long it takes."

Dafne was in the passenger seat beside him and he threw her a look of blame.

This is your fault!

She didn't reply. She turned her gaze out the window, leaving him to grip the steering wheel like it was someone's neck, presumably Fiammetta's.

She wasn't going to let either of them spoil this moment for her. The excitement of leaving the village, watching the trees and farm land go whizzing past, she could barely keep still. Soon they would be in a normal village with normal people walking around going about their normal lives. No identically dressed men carrying gun. No identically dressed women burdened with the weight of servitude. No Mortola. No Capricorn.

She dimly heard Fiammetta laughing.

"What's with you Dafne? You have your nose practically pressed against the glass."

She sat back in her seat, blushing slightly.

Basta chuckled, looking at her almost indulgently,

"She's just excited."

"What's the big deal?" Fiammetta said, "Where we're going isn't that impressive. Just a small boring village. No different from any another small boring village in this part of the world."

"I don't care," Dafne said softly, "I can't wait to see it."

"I suppose there is a nice cafe there. Cockie took me once," Fiammetta said, adding slyly, "Maybe you can take Dafne there Basta. You know as a date."

Basta turned bodily around to yell at her,

"Do you want to walk the rest of the way?"

Fiammetta didn't reply, she was giggling.

"Basta please keep your eyes on the road," Dafne said anxiously. He was an erratic driver as it was.

In the end they made it to the village in one piece, all three of them despite Basta's threat to abandon Fiammetta on the road side. Once they had arrived, the latter didn't stick around. She drew Dafne into a tight hug.

"Thanks," she whispered in her ear, "I owe you one for convincing frowny."

"No problem," Dafne said, "You take of yourself."

Fiammetta winked.

"I always do," she said, "I guess I'll see you next time I'm in the village."

This prospect was disappointing to Dafne, not because she didn't want to see the other woman again but because it reminded her that her stay in Capricorn's village was considered permanent. She was classed as a resident. She was not like Fiammetta or Dustfinger, drifters, drifting in and out as they pleased, free to wander the rest of the world and not return if they so pleased. This was only a temporary outing for her. She would be back in Capricorn's village, back in Basta's house by the end of the day.

So she envied Fiammetta in this moment, envied her freedom. Envied her as she swaggered over to Basta,

"Thanks for the ride Bastie. Do you want a hug too?"

Basta glared at her in warning,

"Get lost," he growled.

As with Basta's threats, Fiammetta took his harsh farewell with good humour.

"Bye bye," she said, blowing him a kiss.

With that she went, turning back once to wave at Dafne.

"Good riddance," Basta said looking relieved the ordeal was over.

The village was perhaps only slightly larger than Capricorn's village. Though unlike the one they had left, this village was not in a state of deterioration. However Dafne's heart sank when they passed two of Capricorn's men, immediately recognisable by their attire. Then she spotted several others. They seemed to be just wandering aimlessly around, going in and out of shops. Their presence made the village seem like a better-kept extension of Capricorn's.

Dafne's excitement deflated depressingly. There were locals going about their business too but they avoided the men, keeping their heads down, walking at a quickened pace. Their behaviour gave the impression of routine as though they were used to the men's visits. They gave Dafne and Basta wide berth too but not so wide that Dafne couldn't hear them whispering to each other. She couldn't catch what they were saying but she knew who it was they were speaking about. She felt very self-conscious.

"There are a lot of Capricorn's men here," she remarked to Basta.

"They come here in their spare time," Basta explained, "We don't have shops in our village."

They reached the village library. There was a middle-aged man sitting at the front desk. He gave them a wary look as they passed. Dafne sighed. She wasn't used to people reacting to her in this manner. But it wasn't really her she told herself it was the man walking beside her. Basta in his symbolic black jacket. Maybe they even recognised him personally. Basta seemed to know his way around the village quite well, well enough to suggest he had been here on more than one occasions.

Swallowing her disappointment and by now discomfort, she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. She knew the book's title and she knew what section to look for it in. It was only a small library. She tried not to notice the other patrons peering at her over the top of their books or out of the corner of their eyes as they moved cautiously along the rows. Basta didn't pay them any attention, trailing behind Dafne as she scanned the shelf.

"What's the book called?"

"Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea."

"Have you read it?"

"No, but I've heard of it," she said, becoming distracted by familiar titles, "Oh Vanity Fair, that's a good book. Anna Karenina..."

Basta scowled at his surroundings.

"Can you hurry up? I hate these places. I spent too much time in them looking for copies of Inkheart."

"It should be here somewhere," she murmured, running her fingers along the spines, "Aha."

Here is was. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea by Jules Verne. She prised it out of the line and showed it to Basta.

He took it from her, squinting at the cover,

"Good. Let's go then."

He went to stow it in his jacket.

"Wait, we can't just steal it," Dafne hissed.

Basta rolled his eyes at her,

"Why not?"

"Because this is a library. You need to check the books out and then return them."

"I don't care," Basta said.

"Well I do," Dafne said, "Please Basta, let me check the book out."

Basta made a noise of exasperation. But in the end, he handed it over.

"Fine," he growled, "Just don't take all day."

Dafne went over the front counter and put the book down in front of the librarian. He looked at her in surprise.

"Excuse me," she said with a smile, "I'd like to register for a library card and check out this book."

"Oh," the librarian said, glancing distractedly over her shoulder at Basta. The man was loitering in the background impatiently, "Of course, um, do you have identification, a driver's licence?"

Dafne's face fell.

"No. But my name is Dafne Palumbo."

"What's your address?"

Dafne almost said Capricorn's village. She didn't know the village's former name. Or the street Basta's house was in. Or it's number.

"I don't know," she said helplessly.

"I see," the librarian said, pursing his lips, eyes still on Basta, "do you have a contact number?"

From what she could recall Basta didn't have a telephone.

"No."

The librarian sighed heavily.

"Unfortunately its library policy that to register for a card you need to provide proof of your identity along with an address or phone number," he said.

Dafne starred at him with disbelief and embarrassment.

Why can't you just give me one anyway! She wanted to yell at him. I'm trying to do the right thing and borrow this book legitimately instead of simply stealing it.

"Basta," she turned to her companion miserably, "There's a problem."

"What?"

"I can't check out the book because I can't register for a library card."

"What's a library card?"

"It's a card with your name on it that you need when you check books out."

Basta gave a snort of derision at the concept. It was the same snort he had given her when she had enquired about whether he had a driver's licence.

"Well why can't you register?"

"I don't have proper identification."

"What?"

"I don't have proof of who I am."

Basta marched up to join her at the counter. The librarian withered.

"I vouch that this woman's name is definitely Dafne. She's named after nymph," he glowered at the librarian, "Now give her the card or whatever it is."

"I need an address or a contact number," the librarian said meekly.

"That's none of your business," Basta said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He snatched the book off the counter. "This is pointless. Let's go."

The librarian watched him go without uttering a word of protest.

Dafne shook her head at him. You wouldn't give me a card but you'll just let him take a book.

She followed Basta outside.

"Cheer up little mouse," he said to her, patting the book happily, "The boss is going to be pleased with us."

This was nothing to be optimistic about. Capricorn only wanted it so Darius could read a monster from it. But Dafne was more focused on what had happened in the library.

"Great," Dafne said unenthusiastically, "Capricorn gets his monster but I can't even get a stupid library card."

"If it means that much to you I can go back in there and make him give you one," Basta offered eagerly, hand straying in the air near his knife.

Was it awful that Dafne almost wanted to say yes? But she shook her head.

"No. Just leave it. We got what we came here for."

To be continued...