Wait,Lazzaro’s eyes started to shine with newfound hope as an idea crossed his mind.I will stick around and watch the blind guy training. It should be both interesting and instructive to see how he manages to defend himself and attack without knowing his opponent’s height and constitution. I have all the time in the world to watch and learn.
CHAPTER 4
Sforza. Lazzaro made Brian flinch when he said the name, and the man wanted to ask him a million questions at the same time. However, he resisted the temptation, preferring to focus on Callum and the Braille reading lesson instead. When the former guard was present, usually when no one else was around, the librarian made him the center of his attention.
For the sightless young man, the name of Sforza didn't present any importance, as he wasn't familiar with the history of the Old-World Mafia. Brian wanted him to discover it by himself, from the books he was going to read once he'd master Braille. The librarian smiled thinking of all the progress Callum made in the few short months that passed since he started the lessons.
It was a busy day, but in the evening, when he lay in bed next to Bart, listening to the man's peaceful breath, Brian couldn't stop thinking about what that young man said.Did he do that knowing I'd be impressed, or his last name is really Sforza, and he îs not aware of its significance in our world?
The bitter coldness, the telltale sign of a ghostly presence, started to descend over the room, it made Brian smile.I love communicating with spirits, he thought, leaving the bed and wrapping the robe around him. Whoever his otherworldly visitorwas, the man hoped they could offer him an answer to the many questions he had about Lazzaro.
To Brian's surprise, the ghost was already waiting for him in the library, comfortably seated in an armchair. Well, it seems you know this house well, which means you and I are friends, so let's skip the formalities and get straight to business, he mentally joked. The air shifted around him, as if the specter agreed.
The spirit's shape began to materialize, but to his surprise, it was almost solid, not transparent. This is a special encounter, Brian thought, as he sat in the armchair facing the specter; and indeed it was, because the otherworldly visitor was none other than Don Giovanni Sforza. Unlike the other encounters, when he appeared in the clothes he wore when Ottavio killed him, this time the mafioso was clad in a large, black robe, similar to the one worn by the judges.
The essence of Don Giovanni’s spirit did something that scared Brian out of his skin: he sighed. This is a very human sound, the librarian thought, only to mentally scold himself a few seconds later, afraid that his silent comment might have offended the ghost. However, he didn’t have too much time to think about that, as the mafioso started to move his lips, words leaving his mouth.
“I have a huge favor to ask you.” Don Giovanni started in a faraway voice. “Help Lazzaro, he's my nephew. His father, my cousin, got involved with the wrong people, who used him as a scapegoat for their crimes. When he was sentenced to ten years in prison, his wife suffered a heart attack and died. Lazzaro wastaken to an orphanage, a horrible place, that he ran away from when he was fifteen. After living on the streets for a few months, this man took him and tricked him into becoming a cage fighter. The kid has potential; with proper training he could become a great champion. Will you help him, my friend?”
“You know I will, sir.” Brian nodded, his voice solemn. “Is there anything I need to know, or is this all you have on him?”
“Sir...” Don Giovanni smiled, shocking the librarian again. “You are my closest friend, more like a brother, and I'll always respect you. Please, call me by my first name.”
“Okay…Giovanni” Brian tried the name, and he felt good saying it. “I'll do my best to help him, I promise.”
“I know you will. You are un vero uomo d'onore (a real man of honor).” Don Giovanni left the armchair. “I'm going to watch my grandson sleeping. He's so peaceful!” He spoke affectionately.
“Gianluca is the sweetest baby.” A warm smile brightened Brian’s face, reaching his unique eyes “He is named after two honorable men.”
“Thank you for everything you did and do for Luca and Martino.” Don Giovanni paused for a moment, then continued in a somewhat hesitant voice. “The things Ottavio told you about his younger brother are all lies. Martino is my son, my own flesh and blood. What he told you about Luca, though…these things are true.”
“I love them very much and will do anything to protect them both.” Brian cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“Not for now.” Don Giovanni’s voice sounded like he was hiding something. “I have to go soon, amico mio, my time in the mortal realm is limited, in spite of the new privileges that were given to me.”
With those words, the one who was once The Council’s War headed to his grandson’s bedroom and walked through a wall, instead of dissipating in tendrils of fog, like it happened before. Brian stayed in the library, then left it and went upstairs, a million questions roiling through his mind in search of an answer, like a hive of mad bees.
First, there were all the changes in Don Giovanni’s appearance: his almost solid form, the black robe, the abilities to actually speak instead of telepathically communicating his thoughts, and to disappear without disintegrating. That was the easy part of the mystery; a conversation with Reardon would probably offer the librarian all the answers he needed.
The things Ottavio told you about his younger brother are all lies. Martino is my son, my own flesh and blood. What he told you about Luca, though…these things are true.The words of Don Giovanni’s ghost stuck with Brian for a long time after he went back to bed, making him wonder what the Sicilian mafioso meant.
After thinking intensively for a while, the man remembered the last conversation he and Ottavio had, less than twenty-four hours before the disgraced member of the Sforza family was brutally murdered, in the maximum security prison where he paid for his many crimes. The inmate mentionedhe knew something about Luca. Information that would have changed his life for the better when it's revealed, but it wasn’t the right time yet.
Brian also recalled how insistent Ottavio was when he said Martino wasn’t a Sforza, by either blood or adoption. The red-haired, green-eyed baby appeared in their family out of the blue, without Donna Lucrezia showing any signs of pregnancy in the months before. He wasn’t his father’s bastard, either, because he didn’t have any of the Sforza family’s traits, on the contrary, he stood out at the family events.
The first time Ottavio brought the subject up was when he had Brian under his power, after managing to kidnap him from The Base. He came to savor his victory, a very short-lived one, the failed attempt making The Council ban him and his lineage from the Old-World Mafia. Back then, the librarian didn’t pay attention to his enemy’s words, and it was the same the last time the two of them met.
More likely, Brian thought, as his eyelids grew heavy with sleep, the truth was somewhere in the middle. The two people who could offer answers were both dead, and, anyway, their versions of the story would have been very different. After being put through so much during the past four years, Martino was finally happy, and the librarian was determined to keep things that way, no matter what.
************
Brian wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep for a good while that night; Lazzaro was also tossing and turning in his bed in the dorm he shared with a boy in his late teens. He found work in The Base’s kitchen, and, at the end of the day, was dead tired, but the whispered conversation between a group of guards was keeping him awake.
Rumors had it, a big cage fighting championship, backed up by a lot of hotshot sponsors, was going to be organized very soon. Lazzaro didn’t doubt that the piece of shit he ran away from put his name on the list with participants, and was going to need his favorite loser boy back; it was just a matter of time until he would send a couple of his gorillas to drag him back.
Although he delivered a fast punch and also put his legs to good use, Lazzaro couldn’t stand a chance against his so-called boss’ henchmen, solid like the Great Wall and high as the Tower of London. Without no one to fight by his side, he would be easy prey for those mountains of muscles. That was the young man’s last thought before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Lazzaro’s fears came true the very next morning, when a group of four men whose faces looked vaguely familiar, circled him, big, evil grins on their faces.One of them pushed him into the open arms of another, who passed him to another the next second, not giving him time to react, let alone put up any fight.
