The Demon Catchers of Milan #2: The Halcyon Bird (23 page)

“One thing gets me,” I said.

“And that is?”

“How were we supposed to know? I mean, were we supposed to just leave the demon hanging around, driving him crazy?”

“Do you know, I think I know the answer to that, and then I think of him in a locked ward, and wonder if I know after all.”

“So he, and his family, chose madness and wealth over sanity and, perhaps, poverty? That’s just dumb,” I said. “My mom and dad have never had much money, and maybe they aren’t happy all the time, but Dad doesn’t go around thinking his hands are rotting off.”

“Our family hasn’t been rich for centuries. If we were, we would lose more than the brass plate by the door, Mia. We would lose much of our identity … if not all of it.”

“Everybody’s got to figure out who they are on their own,” I said, feeling wise. “You can’t depend on an identity like that!”

“You and I may know that, yes. Yet do we know the real cost, to one who has always had everything?”

I couldn’t be sure that I did. “Have you had a chance to work out where the demon came from?” I asked. “Has he always been in the Strozzi family?”

“I have not. I have just been making my notes, in as much detail as I can, and adding a card for the Strozzi family to the catalog, because now we must track the family. I do not know if they have some way of calling the demon back.”

I blinked.

“We have a catalog?”

“Yes. I have been meaning to show you. One thing at a time, though,” Nonno said.

We went into the back office, where he unlocked a cupboard that seemed to blend into the wall. Only a small brass keyhole gave it away. Inside was a nine-drawer card file, made of light wood with black metal fittings, and faded cards in the label slots in front, in alphabetical order. He drew open R-S-T, and reached into the back for a fresh index card.

“A new invention, really. My father had it made. We are still compiling it. Now, of course, Emilio wants to go onto the
computer and have a searchable database. I say, ‘What if one day you can’t turn it on?’ We can’t afford to do anything that won’t work for centuries. I notice that Nonna and I keep having to buy a new computer, more than once in a decade even!”

I tried not to smile. Even my parents know that you need to replace your computer about every three years, and they took a geologic age to get cell phones.

He showed me how to fill out a card for the Strozzi family, with brief details of the case and who participated in the ritual. He showed me the family tree that he had begun that morning, not having found one for the Strozzi among our family’s notes, and demonstrated how to figure out the code for the generation and branch of the family tree that Signore Strozzi belonged to, so that later, we could refer back to it. He reminded me to note the address of their apartment, and to include as many details as I could about that location, since years from now our family might attend another case in the same area or even, he feared, the same apartment, since this was a demon of place as well as of family. He showed me how to make a second card for the address. Finally, he wrote in his own neat handwriting the name and number of the notebook where an account of the exorcism could be found. “Leave room for more names and numbers, because you will be writing your own, and so will the others,” he said. I read what he had written:
Giuliano Della Torre, Taccuino numero 154
.

Nonno was on his 154th notebook. I was on my first.

That thought stayed with me as I read history, trimmed wicks, dusted shelves, and turned the pages of notebooks while wearing the white cotton Mickey Mouse gloves.

In the evening, Nonno came back from errands and brought out a bottle of wine. It was unlabeled, from friends outside of Genoa. He set out three glasses and poured slowly; I didn’t have to look at the clock to know when the shop door would jingle and Emilio would come in, smelling of pinesap, wishing us a good evening.

“How was the rest of your day? Still recovering all right?” he asked me, taking a glass from his grandfather and settling into a chair.

“Yes, thank you. I have a lot of questions, but I don’t know where to start. And seeing Signore Strozzi like that …”

“Yes,” Emilio nodded. “
Par-ti-to
. Gone.”

“Yes,” Nonno agreed.

They shared a look. Giuliano pushed himself up out of his chair and went upstairs, to consult with Nonna about the plan for dinner.

“It’s not often a case goes wrong for my grandfather,” Emilio said.

“I was wondering about that,” I said. “I mean, we succeeded in getting rid of the demon, right? So why is everyone so dissatisfied? I know why I am, but is it the same reason?”

“Because Signore Strozzi isn’t better?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. We don’t come into people’s lives to make them worse. So yes, I think we are all disappointed.”

“But surely, his life is better without the demon?” I asked.

“Do you think he thinks so?” countered Emilio.

“What did you think of how his wife and son took it? Did they have anything more to say?”

Emilio compressed his lips and looked out the shopwindow, looking more like his grandfather than usual.

“They talked about suing when I saw them this afternoon. They wanted results, they said, not a locked ward. Because it may be permanent, you know. He may never recover. It’s not been a full day, but he looked very, very bad, Mia. I don’t hold out much hope. And, of course, they need him, not just because he is her husband, his father. They need him for the money, I think. The money the demon was bringing in.”

“So he wasn’t good at his job on his own?”

“It seems not.”

“That is so bizarre.” After a moment, I asked, “And how would they sue? What would they say?”

Emilio gave me a grim smile. “That gets tricky, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, smiling grimly back.

The shop bells jingled, and we both looked up.

Bernardo stood on the threshold. He seemed taller than I remembered, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he looked at me.

“Come in,” said Emilio, since I didn’t seem able to speak.

F
or a split second, I felt nothing. Then I felt my heart jump up from the table and start dancing. But the rest of me sat perfectly still.

“Ciao,”
he said. “How is everyone today? I came to check on you.”

“I didn’t have a chance to thank you last night,” said Emilio. “Good job.”

“
Niente
. But how are you doing?” He was looking at me when he repeated the question.

“Fine, fine,” Emilio said easily.

“Me, too,” I said, wishing my voice didn’t creak with longing and embarrassment.

“I’ll go get a glass for you,” Emilio told Bernardo.

“No, I can’t stay, I’m on my way to dinner,” Bernardo replied, and my heart did actually sink in my chest.

“I really came to check on Mia, and to ask you, Mia, if you could ask your
nonno
and
nonna
if it is okay if I take you out to dinner some night this week? If you would like to go, that is,” he added, and he actually seemed shy about it.

Emilio was grinning. “Should I be here?” he asked.

“Shut up,” advised Bernardo, smiling. “If I were some kind of coward, I would have waited until you weren’t around.”

Emilio shrugged, accepting this.

Bernardo looked at me. “Mia?”

“Yes!” I gasped, then decided I sounded way overeager. Never mind, it was too late. He smiled warmly at me.

“Good,” he said. He pulled out his phone. “Let me text you so that you have my number.” He looked up, chuckling. “I said I’d call you, but I couldn’t …” I smiled back and gave him my number. “Call and tell me their answer,” he said. “And don’t forget to tell me what kind of food you like, when you call back.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Good,” he said.

Then he was gone, and I was left facing my cousin’s enormous grin.

“Excellent,” he said. “Now you can stop stripping screws, and he can stop asking me about you.”

“We’re not building anything right now,” I said absently. His words settled in my brain. “Wait. What do you mean, asking about me?”

Emilio started laughing like an obnoxious boy.

“Really?” I persisted.

“Oh, yes! Asking, asking. How old are you? How long have you been here, how well do I know you? Do you have a boyfriend at home? Does he have a chance? On and on and on.” He caught himself. “I shouldn’t be informing on him,” he added, “but I couldn’t help it. Now you know.”

He was still laughing as I went up the stairs two at a time to find Nonno and Nonna.

“Giuliano is on the phone,” Nonna told me.

“Oh.” I thought maybe if I asked her alone, she would say no. She seemed crabby.

“He’ll be off in a minute. Do you have guests downstairs? I heard Emilio laughing.”

“No, it’s only the two of us.”

“Go get him. I need you two to help with dinner.”

When I hesitated, she asked, “What?” still looking annoyed. “I have a pot boiling.”

“It’s just …”

“Come into the kitchen.”

I followed her. She stirred the pot, tasted the sauce she was making, frowned, added a large pinch of salt, and stirred again. I waited, then blurted out, “Bernardo Tedesco wants
to take me to dinner, and he said to ask you and Nonno if it was okay.”

She blinked, then frowned again.

“Bernardo? Is that the older brother?”

“No! That’s Rodolfo,” I said. “This is the youngest one.”

Her face lightened; she began to smile.

“That tall boy is old enough to ask girls out?” Nonna asked.

I knew she wasn’t really asking me that question.

“And he told you to ask our permission?” she said. “That’s good. Things have changed a lot since I was a girl, and it’s nice to see a boy with some sense.”

I waited.

“I like him,” Nonna finished.

“Like who?” asked her husband from the doorway, sliding his phone into his pocket.

“Bernardo Tedesco.”

“Yes,” agreed Nonno. “He’s a good boy.”

He looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “We are talking about him because …?”

“He wants to take Mia to dinner, and he says she must ask us,” said Nonna.

Nonno lifted his chin, pressing his lips together. “I don’t think any young man has come to me with a question like this in many years,” he said.

I wasn’t sure who these young men would have been asking about. Francesca? Probably. I tried to picture Égide asking, and
found I could. I watched Nonno look at Nonna, raising his eyebrows again. She nodded.

“You may go,” he said. “But take your cell phone, and don’t stay out past eleven, not this first time, yes? We will be up listening for you, you know,” he added kindly, and gripped my arm. “This is good. I like him.”

I danced down the steps to get Emilio.

“Well?” he asked. “I don’t need to ask, I see,” he added as I came into the shop.

I blushed. “Emilio?” I asked.

“Yes,
carina
.”

“Can we not mention this to the entire family? I mean, for a bit?”

“You told Nonno and Nonna that an actual boy asked you out on a date, and you think they won’t talk about it?”

“You don’t have to sound like it’s such a miracle that somebody asked me out,” I reproached him.

He grinned again. “It isn’t,” he said. “Not a miracle: a matter of time. Good first choice, too.”

He was nice enough not to count Lucifero as my first choice. I didn’t tell him that Bernardo felt like the
only
choice.

“Call him after dinner,” he advised.

“I don’t want to look too eager,” I said.

“Too late. But that’s all right,” he added, standing up. “They want us to come up and help cook, right?”

“Yes.”

I followed him up the wooden stairs again, grinning my head off. I thought of everyone I’d ever known who’d been asked out on a date—at least, one they wanted to go on. Now I understood the dorky looks on their faces.

Of course, I should have known that, after nearly seven months among my relations, it would be hopeless to keep this secret. Anna Maria showed up with a loaf of bread and a knowing smirk. “About time,” she said, pinching my arm hard. “I couldn’t figure out which one of you would burst first.”

I grabbed at her arm and whispered, “Did
everyone
know before me?”

She laughed. “Just those of us that were working with you all the time,” she said. “Though my parents are pleased. I think my mom was worried he was going to ask me out,” she added wickedly. “As if I would have said yes.”

I glared at her. “He’s awesome.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied, waving a hand. “And I’ve known him for a hundred years. I can’t get interested in some boy I can still remember from when he was covered in snot.” She laughed. “Don’t get all heated up. You know it doesn’t matter anyway:
I
wasn’t the one he wanted to ask out.”

I hadn’t known, but I didn’t say that.

“Let me give this bread to Nonna,” she said, leaving me to answer the doorbell and get pinched on the arm by her brother as he came in. “Good job, Mia,” Francesco said. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s not a Satanist, I’ve known him all my life.”

I gaped at him, feeling like I had been slapped. He caught my arm and added quickly, “I can’t believe I said that!”

“You are such an idiot,” Anna Maria said to him, having emerged from the kitchen just in time to hear him. She looked at me and mused, “Not that somebody wasn’t going to say it, you know. In this family, no stupid action ever gets forgotten. But you should still punch my brother,” she advised. “It would do him good.”

Francesco still looked as stricken as I felt.

“That’s okay,” I said. The door opened to admit Égide, who smiled broadly at me, pinched my arm, and said, “What restaurant are you going to?”

I looked around at all of them and asked, “Is everyone telepathic or something?”

“Yes, of course,” Égide said. “But having a cell phone helps, too.”

He clouted me on the shoulder. “Go to Alhambra, near the Corso Buenos Aires. The food is great.”

“Yes, but you’ll never get to talk alone with Bernardo,” put in Anna Maria. “It’s the neighborhood restaurant, everybody is always sitting at everyone else’s tables.”