Chapter 12 #3
The inside of the building was just as unimpressive as the outside. All signs of modern life had been stripped out, leaving Roman concrete and wooden scaffolding. A metal donation box was mounted near the entrance. Jesse fed it a handful of euros without breaking stride.
I wandered toward the far wall, where faded frescoes created an optical illusion of rows of pillars extending into a marble hallway.
A geometric border ran around the top. Deep in the distance, tiny figures moved through a garden visible between the pillars.
Time had worn the white-robed men and women to blurry suggestions, their details as faded as the paint.
A metal barrier rose to my hips, but the fresco was still within arm’s reach.
“They just leave this here where anyone can mess with it?” I asked. Back in New York, a town north of Hale Valley paid a security guard to watch over a single Civil War cannon.
Jesse came to my side. “Rome has more ancient sites than it knows what to do with. There are only so many resources to go around, and the people here live their whole lives surrounded by the past. Scratch the surface of any basement or parking lot and you’ll find a dozen layers of history.
You can’t section off all of it when you’re living on top of it. ”
I reached out, fingertips an inch from the painted hallway. “Do they know what this place was?”
“A private home, I think. Whoever lived here wanted visitors to think their house was bigger than it actually was.”
“Someone was a size queen,” I murmured.
Jesse’s soft snort echoed in the barren space. “Are you going to touch it?” He gave me a sharp look just as I bit my lip. “Don’t answer that.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
His sigh was louder than his snort.
I leaned forward and touched the fresco.
The room disappeared.
Color roared back first—an explosion of reds, creams, and yellows so bright it was like stepping into the sun.
Marble stretched under my feet. Lamps dangled from chains attached to the ceiling. More light blazed in the corners. A bird trilled from a tall, green cage on a side table next to a wooden sofa with long, red cushions and pillows shaped like fat sausages.
The rumble of voices made me turn. Men lounged on more sofas arranged around a low table laden with food. Their tunics were embroidered with thread as rich as the walls. Sandals littered the floor.
One of the men spoke in a tumble of consonants that sounded vaguely Italian. The rest broke into laughter. The first man swung his legs to the floor and stretched toward a glass pitcher sweating on the table.
“Caleb!”
I blinked hard.
Jesse stood in front of me gripping my arms like he worried I would vanish. The men were gone, the room flooded with the same dreary afternoon light as before. Rain pattered the roof. Outside, car tires splashed through water. The wall behind Jesse was gray and barren again.
“It used to be red,” I rasped.
Jesse cupped my jaw, then pressed the back of his wrist to my forehead. “You’re burning up.” He turned me toward the door, one hand going to the small of my back. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
“I’m fine.”
“No arguing.”
I looked around as he shuffled me to the door. “This was a dining room. It opened into a bigger space, but…” I slowed, craning my neck so I could see behind me.
“We’ll talk about it outside,” Jesse said, tightening his grip. He steered me through the door and onto the narrow sidewalk. Cold raindrops pelted my face and shoulders. Car taillights glared red in the damp afternoon light. Jesse kept his arm slung low around my back.
The vision sat behind my eyes, the colors refusing to fade. But why that one? I’d spent all day trying to peer into the past—or grab a glimpse of the future. Why did the fresco work when all my other attempts had failed? When I’d touched Carlo’s invitation, I’d seen the future without even trying.
I stopped so abruptly that Jesse stumbled at my side.
“Caleb, what are you—?”
“I didn’t try,” I said. “I was too tired.”
His dark brows drew tight. Glancing around, he pulled me under a green-and-white striped awning. “What are you talking about?”
“When I touched Carlo’s invitation, I was tired from the morning. Same with the fresco just now. I’m wiped out from walking all over the place and dealing with crowds.”
Jesse studied me. “When you’re exhausted, your guard is down.”
“Maybe that’s how my gift works. I can’t force it.”
“That’s consistent with certain kinds of psychic magic,” he said. “You need to be in a receptive state, not an active one.”
A horn blared. I spun without conscious thought, my teeth bared before I’d decided to act. Irritation surged like acid, and a growl rumbled in my throat. My wolf paced my mind with impatient steps.
“Caleb,” Jesse said sharply. He punctuated the rebuke with a tight hand on my shoulder. Steps away, cars and scooters jockeyed for position at a traffic light.
I shoved back my beast. “Sorry,” I said, hot and cold flashing over me. Sweat beaded my upper lip, and I wiped it with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry.”
He tugged me from under the awning. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, we’re going home before you fall down.”