Page 58 of Skotos
Thomas snapped. “We don’t have time—”
“Give me one day,” Marini said. “Return tomorrow morning. If there is something buried here—anything at all—I will find it.”
Thomas and I exchanged a glance, then Thomas nodded slowly. “One day.”
We left the Archives through a side passage, exiting beneath the quieter colonnades of the Vatican. The air outside was bright, almost too bright after our time in Marini’s dim world. I blinked at the sunlight like I’d forgotten what the sky looked like.
“I’m starving,” I muttered, my stomach rumbling again.
“Already?”
I shrugged. “It’s my process.”
We stepped through the wrought-iron gate and onto the street beyond, but the moment we rounded the corner, I felt it. Something shifted in the air,subtle but undeniable. It was the kind of shift that made the back of my neck itch.
A sudden hush fell over the nearby piazza.
A man playing violin stopped mid-phrase.
Pigeons burst skyward in a flurry of wings and panicked coos.
The world had tilted slightly.
“Left side,” I said softly.
Thomas gave the briefest nod. “Dark suit, blue tie, tall. What about the right?”
“Gray coat, too warm for today, shoes look military or police issue.”
I caught the gray coat again in the mirrored glass of a café door we passed. It was just a flicker of movement, but it felt wrong. The man’s reflection paused as we walked, hesitating a heartbeat too long before continuing.
We didn’t stop.
We didn’t speed up.
We just kept walking.
“Think they’re Vatican?” I asked.
Thomas shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. The Vatican loves secrets, but tailing people isn’t their style.”
“Soviets?”
“Not unless they sent the B team. The Reds are too good to be discovered the moment we stepped outside.”
“Shit,” Ibreathed. “Thereisa third actor. Have we been chasing our tails this whole time?”
We turned onto a busier street where the crowd grew thicker.
The shadows followed.
A scooter zipped by. In the reflection on its chrome side panel, I caught our gray-coated friend again.
He was closer now.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m officially uncomfortable.”
Thomas—the asshole—smirked. “At least you’re not hungry anymore.”
