Chapter 31
They were heading back to the car when they passed a busy little cafe. At one of the tables two of Capricorn's men sat drinking coffee and smoking. There were two girls with them. Local girls by the looks of them.
"Is that cafe Fiammetta was talking about?" she asked Basta, intrigued by the woman's earlier recommendation, "Can we go in?"
Basta wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea.
"What for?" he said.
"For coffee of course," Dafne said, tugging on his arm, "Please can we?"
Basta sighed, looking reluctant.
But she kept up insisting and he relented in the end.
"Okay but just one coffee," he said, "After that we need to get back."
She wondered why he was in such a hurry to return to the village. Was it so he could hand Capricorn the book and receive his praise for a job well done?
"I used to go to cafes all the time before, well, you know," she told Basta as they took their seats, "I'd take books with me and read."
"That's great," Basta said distantly, he didn't appear to be paying attention. He kept glancing around.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He laughed in a way that sounded a little too forced.
"Nothing's wrong," he said, flicking Twenty Thousand Leagues onto the table, "Here. You can read that since you've never read it."
Dafne drew the book towards her but frowned all the same. Why was he acting so strangely?
"Don't you want to talk to me?"
He didn't answer. He was looking over towards the front counter.
"Basta?"
"Hello," a third voice said, startling both of them. It was the waitress. She was pale skinned and freckled with short blond hair. There was a welcoming smile on her face, "How are you today?"
"Good thanks," Dafne said.
She noticed Basta was regarding the woman with a tense look on his face. He seemed to know her.
"I remember you," the waitress said to Basta, "You were here last week."
Basta smiled weakly.
"Um yes that's right," he said.
"You came with your friend. The man wearing red."
The man wearing red?
There was only one man Dafne knew who had a preference for wearing red, everything red.
Basta said nothing. It was the waitress who confirmed her suspicions.
"His name was Capricorn wasn't it. Like the star sign."
Her Italian didn't sound natural. Dafne guessed she wasn't a local. Perhaps English or American. She looked like she was in her early twenties.
"I'm Sara," she introduced herself to Dafne, "I apologise if I'm hard to understand. I'm a foreigner. Australian."
"No you speak very well," she said, "I've never met an Australian before. That's a long way away from here."
"I'm backpacking through Italy with my boyfriend," Sara explained, "We're living with a farmer's family. Paul – my boyfriend – he works on the farm and I work here," she glanced between Dafne and Basta, "are you two a couple?"
Dafne and Basta both shook their heads in unison.
"No, just friends," Dafne said.
Sara giggled.
"I don't mean to be rude asking. What would you like to order?"
"What was that about?" Dafne asked Basta as soon as the girl had left after taking their orders.
"What?" Basta said defensively.
"You were acting weird around her."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were."
"No I wasn't!"
"What was Capricorn doing here the other day?"
"What we're doing now. Having coffee."
Dafne couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Why would Capricorn come all this way to have coffee? Why when he could have coffee brewed and brought to him without leaving the comfort of his bedroom? The change in Basta's behaviour couldn't just be coincidence.
"You're hiding something," she told Basta, "I can tell. I can see it in your face."
"Just leave it alone would you," Basta said wearily.
"Tell me," she demanded.
Basta opened his mouth. But whether he had been about to confess or further evade her questioning she never found out. At that moment Sara reappeared with their orders.
"Thank you," Dafne said speaking on behalf of both of them as Basta accepted his in silence.
"Are you part of a club?" Sara asked him.
Basta looked at her in confusion.
"The jacket," Sara said, "I've seen other men wearing the same jacket. Those two over there. I wondered if you were part of a club."
Basta paused a little too long before nodding,
"Yes, we're in a club."
"A gun club," Dafne said.
Basta glanced at her uncertainly. She nodded, taking a sip of her espresso.
"Er yes," he said, "A gun club. We like to shoot things."
A look of discomfort crossed the girl's face. But she masked it with a smile.
"Oh that's nice," she said out of politeness, excusing herself, "Enjoy your coffee."
As she hurried off, Dafne shook her head at Basta,
"We like to shoot things? She seemed very charmed by that."
"Why else would you be in a gun club?" Basta shot back.
"At least you didn't go into specifics and mention cats," Dafne said.
"Well I don't shoot cats," Basta said, "It's unlucky."
"So Ignacio has nothing to fear from you," Dafne said brightly, "I'll be sure to let Silvio know."
Basta scowled at her over his espresso. He drank it all in one go, grimacing at the bitterness.
"Drink up," he said as he set the drained cup down, "I want to go."
Dafne shook her head stubbornly,
"Not until you tell me why you've been acting so strangely ever since I wanted to come in here."
Basta sighed.
"I'll tell you in the car," he said in a hushed voice.
He stood up, picking the book off the table as he did.
But Dafne didn't budge.
"No. Here."
"No, not here," he said, looking around worried, "you'll make a scene."
"So it's that bad is it?" Dafne said.
"Knowing you I doubt you're going to like it," Basta replied.
To her surprise, he threw some money on the table. This was the first time she had seen him pay for anything. But this was only a temporary distraction.
"Tell me Basta. Or you'll have to drag me out of here and cause a scene anyway."
"Damn you," Basta growled impatiently, "Why are you being so difficult?"
"You're the one being difficult," Dafne said, matching his tone.
Basta leaned across the table, bringing his face close to hers.
"It's about the girl. The waitress," he hissed, his eyes darting over in Sara's direction, "Now please let me explain the rest in the car."
At that moment Sara turned to look at them. Basta straightened and waved.
"The money's on the table," he called to her, muttering at Dafne, "Come on let's go."
Dafne downed the last small mouthful and reluctantly rose.
"I have a feeling I know what this is about," she said before they had even reached the car.
Basta looked at her out of the corner of his eye,
"Really?" he said, his voice carried no trace of enthusiasm.
"It has something to do with Capricorn and that girl Sara," Dafne said, "I can put two and two together. He likes her is that it?"
She could tell she was right by the sombre look on Basta's face.
A chill went up Dafne's spine, pitying the poor cheerful girl who had unwittingly drawn the attention of the man in red with the star sign name. She had said "likes" but that was really a fallacy. Capricorn didn't "like" anybody. To like was to have genuine affection. Desire was more fitting. He desired this girl. It was the girl's misfortune that Capricorn was not someone who would pine from a safe distance. He was a possessor.
"What's going to happen to her?"
"It's none of your concern little mouse," Basta said, trying to steer her away from the subject.
Surely he knew that was useless, given the magnitude of what she had just discovered.
That poor girl, she kept thinking, that poor girl, picturing her smiling face weeping.
She knew how small and helpless it felt to have Capricorn leer over her. She could never forget the sensation of his hands. They were cold, like being plunged into water and sharp, like being torn at by a bird.
"What's he going to do, have her kidnapped or something?" she said with quiet horror.
Basta watched her reaction with distress.
"Please," he pleaded, "you'll just make yourself upset. There's nothing you can do about it. When Capricorn makes his mind up about a girl, he makes up his mind."
"And Capricorn always gets what he wants, doesn't he?" Dafne said through gritted teeth.
This was the truth and it enraged her. His appetite was cruelty was continually fed but never punished. He would use this girl and tire of her and find another and another, a growing collection of broken dolls. But who would stop him? Not the police. Not Basta. To his merit he looked discomforted but that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to make him stand up to Capricorn, his beloved master.
"That's right," he said with resignation, "He gets what he wants. So what's the point of fretting about it?"
But there was a point, even if she was helpless to do anything. She was appalled at Capricorn but she was also appalled at Basta.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," Dafne cried, "Sitting in that cafe having her serve us coffee and you knowing what's going to happen. Are you the one who's going to kidnap her for him?"
Basta didn't answer her question.
"You think that was easy for me?" he said defensively, "I didn't want to go in there but you insisted," he looked angrily up at the sky, "I knew this would happen. I knew it. I knew you would find out and here we are."
"I'm so sorry it was uncomfortable for you," Dafne hissed, "But compared to what that girl is about to go through, I don't think you have anything to complain about."
"Where are you going?" Basta called after her as she stormed off, unmindful of the direction, "Dafne stop!"
He caught up with her, took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face. By the time he did, her eyes were full of tears.
"You don't know what its like," she said in a choking voice, "You don't know what it's like for him to take hold of you and watch you squirm. You don't know... You don't!"
She was remembering the time Capricorn had strangled her with his tie. She had never forgotten the terrifying sensation of not being able to breathe.
She was suddenly pulled into Basta's embrace. He pulled her in, her face falling against his chest as the tears streaked down her cheeks.
"Sorry," he murmured, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
He kept repeating it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. There was no elaboration or if there was it was being said in Basta's head.
He held her tight as though he were afraid she might break away. But she didn't, she stayed and cried as his apologies caressed her ear.
His apologies ceased just as her tears were running out.
"I'll protect you from now on," he said, stroking her hair, his hand was trembling slightly, "I promise."
Dafne shook her head, smearing tears onto his jacket.
"You can't promise that," she said hoarsely.
He couldn't. Not Capricorn's dog.
"No I will," Basta said fiercely, "I will. On my life I will. Please don't cry dear heart."
Dafne looked up at him,
"Dear heart?" she sniffed.
Basta looked embarrassed.
"It's what men call their ladies in my world. Before you start in on me, I know you're not my lady but it just slipped out."
Dafne wiped her face,
"It's sweet," she said.
"You aren't mad?" Basta said tentatively.
"Well not about that," Dafne said.
It was then that she noticed the other sets of eyes on them, the eyes of other people in the street. Their display had drawn their attention.
"What are you starring at?" Basta snapped at them and the spectators all went hastily about their business, "Nosy busybody peasants."
Dafne slipped from his embrace,
"Let's go," she said. There was more to say but it didn't need to be said here.
"Er, wait," Basta said as she was moving away, "I think I left something in the cafe."
"What?" Dafne said. The only thing she remembered him leaving on the table was money. Surely he wasn't going back for that.
"You can find your way back to the car, can't you?" Basta said and when she nodded, he tossed her his keys, "Go wait there for me. I won't be long."
He took off, leaving her question unanswered. She made her way back to the car and sat in the passenger seat, jangling the keys idly as she waited.
You know there's nothing stopping you from taking off in this car, she realised.
She considered this. She even crawled over to the driver's seat and put her hands on the wheel.
It had been thoughtless of Basta to give her the keys and let her head back to the car alone.
Thoughtless or...
He trusts me, she thought, he trusts me to be here when he gets back.
She sighed.
She could drive away. But she wouldn't.
When Basta arrived, she was sitting back in passenger seat.
He smiled.
"I see you're still here."
Dafne smiled back.
"I can't say I wasn't tempted," she said, "Did you get whatever it was you left behind?"
Basta started up the engine.
"Oh yes," he said but that was all.
It was several days later when she found out the answer.
To be continued...
Dear heart was a medieval term of endearment. As the Inkworld is based on this time period albeit with fantasy elements, I thought it was appropriate. It's also very cute *sigh*.