Page 461 of Shadowblood Souls
Even if we could get through the full story before he knocked us out.
As the car slows with the thickening traffic, I take in the buildings outside the window. I’d probably be more awed by the towering yellow and white-washed facades and intricately carved window frames if I hadn’t been surrounded by similar architecture for the past two weeks in our fancy jail.
But there is a weird relief to seeing so many normal people walking along the streets: locals striding briskly or ambling with casual confidence, tourists peering at their phones or foldedmaps. The storefronts and restaurants we pass remind me of the thin wad of cash Toni handed me for this outing.
Fifty euros isn’t going to get us far, but it should allow a decent sort-of date.
Our driver parks at the edge of a broad, stone-tiled plaza surrounded by Medieval-looking buildings built out of warmer shades of stone. With a grunt, he motions for us to get out.
Riva and I exchange a glance and slide out on the same side of the car. I assume Balthazar has at least a couple other vehicles staked out nearby, his employees monitoring our movements to ensure we don’t make a run for it and scanning our conversations for shows of rebellion.
Still, being able to walk away from the car with just Riva by my side lifts a weight I hadn’t even realized was pressing down on my chest.
Riva cranes her neck toward the street we drove up. “I think I saw a tourist information office. We should grab a map if we’re going to make the most of the time we have here.”
I let out a dry chuckle. “And to make sure we can get back here when it’s pickup time.”
Balthazar said he’d give us “a few hours” and that our bracelets would signal us when it was time to return. I suspect he likes keeping us on our toes, not knowing exactly when the call will come.
We set off down the street at a quick pace. Riva points out a sign declaringInformazioni Turistichewith a lower caseinext to it that I recognize as the universal info symbol.
Inside, Riva grabs one of the free maps on offer… and uses her supernatural speed to pilfer one of the pens off the counter when the staff person isn’t watching.
“Do you know where you want to go?” I ask as we step back onto the street. The breeze is a bit nippy, but the bright mid-day sun warms the air in its wake.
Riva inspects the map, and a sudden gloom comes over her expression. “I’m not sure.”
I hate seeing her spirits sink before my eyes. If she hasn’t figured out the best course of action yet either, we might as well get something good out of our time here rather than just stewing on it.
I tuck my hand around her elbow. “Let’s start with something simple, then. I’m ready to get something to eat.”
Riva nods hesitantly. “I want to take a look around first… Maybe we can just stroll and get an idea of what’s in the neighborhood.”
Is she looking for something specific? If so, she obviously isn’t comfortable saying it out loud.
It could be she’s simply hoping for inspiration to strike.
I give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Sure. Let’s admire the scenery.”
Riva’s grateful smile in return transforms my false cheer into a little more genuine upbeat mood.
We wander along several streets and through a couple of plazas, pausing a couple of times to gaze up at the particularly spectacular buildings. I can’t tell what has changed for Riva when she declares, seemingly at random, “All right, let’s get some lunch.”
I pick out a café that gives me a friendly vibe and do the ordering, since I can make more sense of the menu. Riva rewards me with a grin when a tall glass of lemonade arrives for her.
I have to beam back at her. “I’m sure it’s not as sour as your custom creation, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten to have any.”
The anguish of our captivity might be an unspoken presence in the back of both our minds, but I have to take a simple pleasure out of her wordless murmur of pleasure as she digs intothe pasta I picked out for her—a spaghetti carbonara with the bacon sprinkled liberally. It’s some kind of miracle that I now know this woman well enough to offerhera simple pleasure so easily.
She eats quickly, so I gulp down my penne in marinara sauce to keep pace. But after checking with me about how much cash I still have, she orders another lemonade to go.
There’s an air of anticipation around her as we meander back down the street—the way we came, by Riva’s choice. She sips at her lemonade, but her small smile fades into a pensive expression.
Something in her face sets with visible resolve. She grabs my hand and tugs me over to a bench.
The chatter of voices in a language neither of us knows winds around us, but we’re both aware that’s not enough to cover a conversation between us. Riva pulls out the map and pen and writes something on the back.
“There are a few things I’d like to take a look at,” she says, and slides the map so I can read what she wrote.Your memories of Rollick. Any time he talked about helping us. I don’t know whether we should have trusted him.
