“I have to help him,” Geena said.
“What?” Domenic sounded surprised, and angry.
“Nico. He’s not … in his right mind.”
“You’re not fucking kidding,” Finch said.
“Geena, he just walked in here and tried to kill you,” Domenic said. “If I hadn’t—”
“No,” she said, sitting up, closing her eyes against a brief spell of wooziness. “Domenic, thank you. But no. He wasn’t trying to kill me. Not Nico.”
“I won’t let you go looking,” Domenic said. “That’s the police’s job now. They’re on their way, and they’ll want statements. This was assault, at the very least.”
“Looked like attempted murder to me,” Tonio said. He was breathless, sweating slightly, and his eyes were wide and shocked. The look did not suit his usually suave self. “He ran across the piazza and disappeared. Ramus went after him, but I saw him stop on the other side. I called him back, but he’s pacing the square.”
“He’ll come in when the police arrive,” Domenic said.
“What about Sabrina?” Geena said.
“Don’t worry,” Finch said. “My boys have signaled them to make their way back up. They’ll help them out. There’ll be plenty of time for more dives, but next time …”
“More security,” Tonio said.
“Yeah,” Finch agreed. He was still glancing across Geena’s body, his eyes flitting again and again to her covered wound. Looking after me, she thought, and she felt an overwhelming rush of affection for this man she had until now thought of only as an intruder, an inconvenience.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. Finch nodded and smiled back, and she knew that her gratitude was appreciated.
Doors slammed open out in the foyer and then Ramus returned to the reading room. He was sweating and wide-eyed, excited more than afraid. He was an intelligent kid with a sharp mind for antiquities, but right then he looked so young. “Gone,” he said. “Disappeared before I caught up with him. Damn, he was fast!”
Geena stood, accepting Domenic’s help. He held her right hand and forearm, soft yet firm, and his was a comforting presence. Am I so damn needy? she thought, but this wasn’t about being needy. There was something terribly wrong with Nico, and a friend was exactly what she wanted.
“We’ll get you to a hospital,” Domenic said.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, wincing slightly as the act of standing twinged her wound.
“You need stitches,” Domenic said softly. “And that cut will need cleaning. There’s no saying where he got that knife from. Is there?”
Geena nodded slowly, because he was right. No saying at all. She remembered those flashes of vision she’d had as Nico had approached the Biblioteca, and then that stronger, harsher flashback to a time long gone, when a man called Zanco Volpe had stood outside this very building, watching Il Conte Rosso emerge having just …
Just what? Had she really seen some twisted memory of the Count just after he had overseen the slaughter of two of the Council of Ten? But it felt much more than a memory. She could remember the smell of old Venice in the air, not so dissimilar to how it smelled now, and the raw feel of the city as it was back then, younger and more vital with possibilities. But until she could find Nico, comfort him, and find out exactly what was happening, it was difficult to know exactly what to make of what she had seen.
“Okay,” she said. “Hospital. But …” She looked around at the array of equipment, the laptops even now displaying flashes of murky images as Sabrina and the two divers made their way back up, and the shocked, pale faces all looking her way.
“We’ll take care of things here, won’t we?” Tonio asked, glancing at Finch.
“Of course,” Finch said. “Plenty of time to carry on over the next few days. If you still want to …?” He glanced back and forth between Tonio and Geena, and she felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. Even though Nico was not her fault, this was her project, and he was her lover. No one was making her feel responsible but herself, but that did not make it any easier.
“Of course we still want to,” Geena said, and Finch visibly relaxed. “And Howard, thank you for helping me.” She nodded at the bloodied handkerchief.
“You can keep it,” he said straight-faced. “And I hope Nico …” He trailed off, because he had only started saying what no one else there could. Nico had crossed a very serious line, and whatever his problems, the relationship between him and everyone there had changed forever.
“I’m going to help him,” she said. Finch blinked in surprise. Domenic’s hand on her right arm squeezed. “That wasn’t Nico. Not the Nico I know, anyway.” Ramus averted his eyes—embarrassed?—but it had gone too far for her to be abashed now. “Something’s upset him, made him the way he was when he came in here. Didn’t you see, Domenic?”
“I saw Nico, but not as I’ve ever seen him before.”
“Ramus?” Geena asked.
Ramus shrugged. He was the youngest of them all, but sometimes she thought he was also the most brilliant. She’d sensed his startling intellect battling with the need to be young and have fun, and sometimes there was an intensity to his gaze that spoke of colossal internal conflicts.
“He only looked like Nico,” Ramus said. A chill ran down Geena’s spine. A stab of pain sang in from the slash across her left arm.
“I think he’s been asking for my help since he fell that first time in the chamber,” she said, “and I’ve failed him. But no more.”
“Geena, a day or two. Whatever you need,” Tonio said, though she could tell that he didn’t really want her to take time off, not now. Petrarch’s library was one of the greatest finds ever during his time at the university, and perhaps one of the greatest in Venice over the last few decades. There was a mountain of material that needed cataloging, preserving, and analyzing, and the BBC interest would likely be only the beginning. Tonio would soon be flooded with requests from scholars all over the world who wished to come and view the collection, so it was more vital than ever that the head of the project be present. But she also knew that he was not a man to offer something like that lightly, and he meant what he said.
She nodded her thanks, and then the wail of the water ambulance reached them from outside.
“Come on,” Domenic said. “Let’s hurry. Hospital first, and then the police. I’m not happy with you being held up here any longer than necessary. That cut needs seeing to.” They left the library together, and stepping out into the piazza, Geena glanced around nervously. Ramus had said that Nico was gone, but she could not help worrying. If Domenic hadn’t pulled me aside … But no. Even if he hadn’t acted quickly, Nico’s blade would have done no more.
Because he’d been fighting. Something had him—that was obvious from the fragmented flashes she was receiving from him, tortured and strange and sometimes just so far away. And after seeing his face as he lunged at her, she was convinced. He’d attacked her, but he was the one who needed help.
People watched as Domenic held her arm and steered her toward the dock. Tourists stared, a few took pictures, and a young girl continued licking her ice cream as she stared at Geena’s bloody arm. Geena smiled at her, but the girl’s expression did not change. She never had understood kids. One day, she had hoped, she and Nico would have one themselves and learn together. But where did that dream stand now?
The ambulance was just bobbing against the jetty, and two paramedics jumped out and dashed across to her. While they assessed her and Domenic answered their questions, Geena tried to relax, soaking in the sunshine after being in the cool of the library, breathing in the familiar mixed scents that were uniquely Venice. And she opened her mind to Nico.