Emanuele can’t help but notice my reticence.
He raises his hands and takes a step back. “If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, Lilia. Tell me if you want me to do something or if you prefer me to leave.”
In the world of illusions I seem to have fallen into, all I can do is be honest. There is no other weapon than the truth in the face of the shadows that besiege me.
«I don’t want you to leave... The thing is, I don’t know if I can trust you.»
He’s about to say something, then suddenly turns toward the door. The sound of the lock disengaging freezes my blood. Emanuele, on the other hand, reacts instantly. He drags me into the bathroom and presses me against the wall, his body shielding mine. He puts a finger to his lips, then plants his hands on the wall. I’m still clutching the letter, but all I can think about is my face pressed against his chest. That contact is the only thing keeping me from losing it when his image starts to shimmer, becoming translucent, semi-transparent.
I bite my lips to stifle a scream as three or four heavily armed people burst into the room. I catch glimpses of them through the bathroom door—they’re dressed like special ops soldiers, holding assault rifles or something like that. Their visored helmets hide their faces, which only worsens my already fragile emotional state.
They don’t say a word, moving quickly and efficiently. I don’t know what they’re doing in the room, but they’ve definitely seen the open safe. When they enter the bathroom, I nearly die of a heart attack. I stay frozen, barely breathing, until they exchange a signal and leave as swiftly as they came.
What just happened? Am I really awake? I have a million questions to ask him, and I have to start somewhere.
«Who were they?» I whisper when he becomes visible again.
«I don’t know. Maybe Truesight agents.»
«True what?»
Emanuele mutters a curse under his breath. «They didn’t manage to collect your DNA this morning, right?»
I’m trembling like a leaf. «DNA? Are you talking about the medical checks they were doing in class?»
He lets out a dry laugh and talks to me like I’m a child. «You think those were actual health service doctors?»
«And how would you know?! They came to your class too, didn’t they?»
Why did I say that? I just saw him disappear, and it’s pretty clear he’s nothing like a student. The truth is, I’m still trying to process it.
«They collected samples from everyone, but I managed to avoid them. If you’d just followed the instructions right away, it would’ve been easier.»
My eyes widen. «You’re the one who left that note in my locker?»
«Yeah, but you’re stubborn, Oronza.» Emanuele walks out of the bathroom and back into the room.
I follow him, tempted to strangle him. «Oronza here doesn’t just do whatever some random crazy note says!»
He shuts the safe and puts the lithograph back in place. «I noticed.»
«And the principal—he’s involved too? And what about what you did earlier? You disappeared, for crying out loud!»
«Take a guess.»
When I find myself face-to-face with the school principal, I stumble backward over a chair, nearly falling. He’s identical, real in every way.
«What the hell!» I shout, stunned.
He, on the other hand, talks like it’s nothing. «Shapeshifter is the correct term. Or rather, the most common. Here, they call me something like Polymorphus.»
Then he’s Emanuele again. But I can’t pull myself together.
«I would’ve preferred to spare you the shock, but circumstances weren’t on my side.»
I sit on the edge of the bed, pressing my palms to my forehead. I can’t believe this. It has to be some kind of vivid dream—or better yet, a nightmare.
My father’s letter slips from my hand, but I snatch it up before he can reach for it. If I had doubts before, now I’m certain—I can’t trust him. He could’ve been anyone in my life. Elisa, my mom, my teachers. Anyone.
«Don’t come any closer!» I snap, sliding backward into the tangled sheets.
I feel like a pawn, just a little ball being pushed toward the right hole. If those soldiers hadn’t barged in, maybe he never would’ve told me.
He sits on the chair, elbow on the table, pressing his fingers to his eyes. He stays like that for a moment, and for the first time, I think I see a crack in his armor.
«I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.»
The silence between us feels like a boulder. I thought I liked him. Fine, I admit it—I thought he was cute. But his appearance is an illusion. It’s nothing.
«How does this thing you... you do, work?»
He drops his hand from his face and leans back in the chair. «I don’t “do” it. This is what I am.»
«Are you... human?»
His eyes lock onto mine—sharp, glinting like shards of ice.
«You tell me. Do I look human to you?»
What kind of answer is that? God, I just want to storm out and slam the door. But the image of those rifles is too fresh in my mind for me to do that.
«Can you at least tell me your real name?»
«What do you mean by real?»
«The one you were given at birth. You have parents, don’t you?»
«Not exactly.»
«So you’re some kind of... alien?»
«Trying to slap a label on me will just waste your time.»
«What do you have to do with me?»
«I can’t tell you that.»
I jump to my feet. «Why not?! Don’t you realize I can’t trust you if I don’t know?»
He shakes his head, rubbing his face with both hands. «I didn’t think things would turn out like this.»
I’m not letting it go. I take a step toward him, shoulders tense, fire burning in my eyes. «And how exactly were things supposed to go, huh?»
This time, it’s his turn to snap. His voice is sharp, cutting. «You follow the instructions, unlock the damn safe, and find whatever’s inside—without me having to sit here answering an interrogation.»
I throw my arms up, exasperated. «Oh, excuse me for wanting to know who the hell I’m dealing with!»
«What does the letter say?»
The nerve of him, changing the subject like that. It makes my blood boil.
«And you expect me to tell you?» I hiss, venomous.
His lips tighten into a hard line, a storm brewing beneath the surface.
«Do whatever you want,» he snaps back, blunt and cold.
He gets up and heads for the door. He’s not really going to leave, is he? But yes—he opens the door and walks out. I stare at the instructions my father left me. They’re coordinates, I’m sure of it, but I don’t have a phone to check where they lead.
«Shit...»
I go into the bathroom, shove the paper under running water until it turns to mush, and flush it down the toilet. I rush out, but the hallway is empty.
«What an asshole!» I mutter, then dart toward the stairs.
I take them two at a time, leaping over the last four steps all at once. I nearly crash into the cleaning lady’s cart full of towels.
«Sorry, sorry, sorry.»
I sprint toward the hotel exit, only to be met with speeding cars and a couple of guys smoking.
«Where the hell did he go?» I whisper between ragged breaths.
Pointless to wonder. He could be anyone. Or maybe he’s invisible... But what does invisibility have to do with shapeshifting? My brain feels scrambled. I part my lips, struggling to breathe.
Okay, maybe I could’ve been less harsh. But seriously, who wouldn’t lose their cool in my situation? I don’t know what to do now.
Actually, I do.
If I can’t trust him, I’ll have to trust my father. What other choice do I have?
***
I watch her. Alone, standing at the edge of the sidewalk. So young, yet strong enough to withstand things that would’ve driven anyone else insane. I wish I could be by her side right now, but I wouldn’t be able to dodge the questions she’d throw at me.
I don’t blame her. She has every right to know, but that would only complicate things. Someone else mapped out her destiny, and I was supposed to follow orders. But I’ve lived too many lives to let a cage trap me—or anyone else.
Of course, I don’t expect her to believe I mean well. I wouldn’t, if I were her. But that won’t change anything. I’ve been watching her for two years in that stupid school. I know every gesture, every expression. I can tell when she’s having a bad day and when she’s not. And now, she pulls me in like a moth doomed to burn in the flame. I know what that means. I can recognize it long before it happens. But this time, I wish there were a way to stop it. To stop my emotions from getting in the way of the right choice, if it comes to that. My nature is a curse, but that’s my burden to bear—a meaning I still haven’t found.
Lilia is saying something to one of the men smoking outside the hotel. One of them hands her a phone. I don’t know what she needs it for, but I hope she doesn’t call anyone. Whatever she’s planning, it’s better if no one else gets involved.
She holds the phone, staring at the screen. Maybe she’s looking something up. Her face darkens, faint lines creasing her forehead. She hands the phone back and glances around. I imagine she’s looking for me. I have to resist the urge to show myself. Not until I understand what she’s about to do.
I follow her to the bus stop. I get on with her—luckily, it’s not crowded. I’m so close I could smell her hair, if I were capable of that in this form.
«You’re an asshole,» she mutters, staring at her shoes.
I’d smile if I had lips. I know she can’t see me, yet somehow she knows I’m here, in a way. She gets off near the metro station, slipping a hand into her pocket. Maybe looking for money to buy a ticket. I doubt she has any. Sure enough, she waits for the attendant to look away and slips past the turnstile unnoticed. I can feel her tension in the tremble of her hands, her quick steps, the way she sticks close to the wall as if it could protect her.
The train arrives almost immediately, and I slip through the doors beside her. Silent, imperceptible, except to the touch. I watch the people around her—each lost in their own world, clutching their bags. They don’t know they’re being robbed every day by a few who control decisions, shape opinions, and hide the true nature of things. Or maybe they do, but the weight of their own helplessness crushes them. I get it. I wish things were different too, but it seems like every attempt to change them only makes them worse.
Nothing seems out of place, but the break-in at the hotel leaves me uneasy. I don’t know how they tracked her. Or rather, I can guess—but if I’m right, we’ve got a huge problem.
«What if I say I’m sorry?» I hear her murmur.
How can I resist? I brush her hair lightly, and she turns her head in my direction. It almost feels like she can see me. She runs a hand over her forehead and shakes her head.
«Idiot.»
She gets off a few stops later at Termini—the city’s main railway hub. What’s she planning to do here?
She could catch a train or take one of the many bus or metro lines. But no, she wanders aimlessly for a good half hour. She’s tired, maybe even hungry. Lunch time passed a while ago.
She weaves through the crowd, rides the escalator to the upper gallery, and stares at the arrivals and departures board. Then she stops in front of a map of the station with traveler information.
Suddenly, her eyes widen, and she takes off running. She catches me off guard—I think I’ve lost her for a moment. Luckily, I find her again shortly after and follow her to the station’s administrative offices. I have no idea what she’s doing here, and I know my assignment with her technically ended the moment she opened that safe. But I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. It never could be.
I watch as she heads toward the control room. That area’s under constant surveillance. What does she think she’s doing?
Editing : Priscilla Gullotta
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