I shrugged. “My wife told me so.”
“And Nemours,fratello?” Romeo said. “What about him?”
The one part of our future that was still dark.
The hunt for him still raged on, but as before, the rat had friends in high places, even if he lived among the sewers. It wasn’t a question ofifbut ofwhenwe would meet again.
I’d learned that chasing him was useless, though. He would come to me, and we’d crash when the time was right. And when it was?
“I’m going to kill him,” I said, “if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Part II
Unmasked
8 Years Later
4
Brando
The moon over Florence seemed almost romantic. Maybe a sign of things to come, and it had me in the mood to reminisce.
The orb claimed almost the entire sky, its light shimmering down, almost like a mirage. When my youngest son, Marciano, looked up, pointing at it, its reflection shone in his brown eyes.
At only two years old, he was curious about it, and his questions spilled over, or comments that were almost too unintelligible to understand, depending on if he was speaking a foreign language or not. Unlike his older sister, he wasn’t as articulate with English. Though he was going to be as strong as his two older brothers, and all three of them preferred to use strength before verbal skills.
“It’saso big,Papà,” Marciano said, resting his head against my shoulder, yawning. His stuffed lion was clasped in his other arm, and if the thing would’ve had a breath, he would have long ago squeezed it from its neck. He refused to sleep without it.
“It is. That is why it is called a full moon, son.”I kissed his head, his dark brown hair soft and clean. His mamma had given him a bath, and he smelled fresh, though she couldn’t wash away the scent of boy. My boy. “Because it fills the sky with light.”
He pointed to my chest. “Marciano like the moon,Papà.”
“I know you do. Are you sleepy, my man?”
He shook his head, his eyes blinking, because his lids were heavy.
As soon his two older brothers came into the room arguing, though, he perked up. It didn’t take much for them to get their second winds.
Only a year apart, both born on the Eleventh of August, my birthday, they were always together, Mariano following Matteo like a shadow. Matteo didn’t always appreciate this. He considered himself a man for his age, and he was more like me than I cared to admit.
As young as they were, I saw the potential for great love and for great competition. Matteo was born to lead. Mariano had it in him, too, but whatever he did had to be compared to his older brother.
“Matteo,” I said. “Did you bathe?”
Matteo met my eye and nodded once. Just like a man.
“I did, too,Papà!” Mariano said, coming to stand next to me and Marciano.
These boys were all mine, but the one thing all my children had in common was their mamma’s love for all things celestial. I loved to tell her that all those residual stars in her eyes had been passed on to them. Her face always brightened at that.
“Good,” I said. “Now it’s time for bed.”
“We get to slay the great monster of sleep!” Mariano said, pulling out a tale from his grandmother’s book. “I will do it with a magical sword.Swooo!” He made a cutting motion in the air. “Swoo! Swoo!Nonnosaid he will teach me how to be a great swordsman. Like him!”
“Mamma,” Marciano whispered, his voice raspy, squirming to get down. “Kiss her night.”
“Marciano,” I said, giving him a straight look. “She already kissed you goodnight.”
