I shoot him a blazing scowl to match his own, though I know he can’t fully appreciate mine.How does he even know about my sleep aide?Bes must’ve told him about the dose I took after we left the Temple of Seti I.
Bes straightens abruptly, his attention set on something over my shoulder. “As your people would say, Miss Hawkins, step lively.”
He strides out from the protection of the shaded arch when a crowd of young people around our age mosey on by, talking and laughing. Cec and I follow suit.
They don’t seem to notice or care that we’ve joined their group. In fact, they don’t seem to notice much of anything.
Looking at them dressed in their fine clothes, one might think they’re happy and carefree. Perhaps off to dinner or a party. Upon closer inspection, however, their smiles are strained. Neither are their clothes new; they’re slightly frayed at the edges, and some even have holes. And the colors, which must’ve been bright at one time, have faded. It’s a strange contrast against the deep pinks and oranges and yellows of the sunset, the vibrant hues washing out their olive skin.
Without any sort of warning, Cec places his arm through mine.
“Is everything alright?” I murmur.
“Fine, just walk with me, Hawkins. It’s not every day one is graced by the presence of a blind bloke, and we need to blend in.”
Oh.I do as Cec asks without argument. He knows a lot more about the intricacies of his own disability than I do, and I’m not about to question it.
“Where are we going?” I inch closer to Bes until my hand brushes his. He doesn’t acknowledge it beyond a tick in his jaw.
“We’re meeting one of Uncle Arturo’s acquaintances later tonight, at a place called Club Sotterraneo.” He speaks so quickly and quietly, I struggle to keep up. I don’t ask him to repeat, though, as another crowd of people pass us by.
An acquaintance… Is this acquaintance like Ailsa? How many friends does he have?As long as they’re not like Claude or Ingrid, we should be fine.
My stomach groans. “Any chance we’ll pass by somewhere to eat on the way?”
Bes smiles fondly. “I already have a place in mind.”
Cec’s arm stiffens around mine. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about—”
Bes cuts him off. “Of course, I am. Where else could we possibly go?”
Cec’s shoulders droop like hydrangeas in heat out of the corner of my eye. “Grand.”
What’s got him so down?
“Not hungry, Cec?” I wonder innocently.
“I was—but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”
“If Cec is so worried about this place, then why are we going there?” I ask Bes. “I imagine there are dozens of places we can go for a bite to eat.”
“There are, but none that I know the layout of and can guarantee our safety while we’re there,” Bes reasons.
As he says this, the throng in front of us starts to slow down. Standing on my toes, I peer over the tops of people’s heads. I spot a pair of men in gray-green shirts, with distinct flaming grenade badges on their collars, slowly wading through the crowd.
“That’s the Carabinieri,” Bes murmurs, “performing random checks of people’s national identity cards.”
Worry hollows my stomach. “Of which we have none.”
Not waiting for Bes to come up with a plan of how to get us out of this, I glance around, finding an alleyway directly to our right. Wordlessly, I grasp Bes’s hand and lead both of them down it.
Unfortunately, it dead-ends.
Time to improvise.
Exercising some force, I gently shove Bes against the brick wall. Then, I swing Cec around to his other side, so that Bes blocks his cousin with his slightly larger size.
Bes’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open. “What the bloody hell are you—”
