Chapter Twenty-One:
As God Is Her Witness
Lazily, Nunzio Moreno rolled the stem of his wine glass between the pads of his fingers, watching the few remaning drops of crimson liquid catch the noonday light. It had been a pleasant meal; he so rarely could fully relax around another person. Of course, Derek Lukas only ranked the classification of person by default. Zio reckoned his new acquaintance was more along the lines of a mobile landshark. Whatever he was, though, he was damned amusing company. Clearing his throat slightly, the dark-haired Italian set down his glass once more and redirected his gaze at his companion. "So, yes, Lukas, I couldn't resist driving the price up on that painting. Your... Friend Samson is a completely putrid example of humanity."
His golden-haired friend was finishing his coffee, laughing immediately at his statement. "Don't call him my friend, Moreno, it's 'business acquaintance' at best. He'll be whining at the office branch tomorrow, though, believe me. I'll have to put on a pious glance and tell him what an outright fucker you are or he'll think that we're screwing around."
Grey eyes opened wide in utterly false innocence. "And what's to stop him declaring both of those charges?" he asked solemnly. "As in, I'm an outright fucker who is screwing you?"
"Stop using logic against me," Derek complained languidly, setting his mug down. "I'll claim I regularly bang your relatives, that'll seal things."
"... If you must. Please. Do start with my father. I suggest a rough tact as well." The smallest sliver of a smile curved his thin lips, snake-like. "Feel free to make him your bitch, mio amica."
"Does he have a soft mouth like a girl's, just like you?"
"Wouldn't know. I never bothered to meet the bastard."
"Have him shot, doll," the Australian blond advised kindly. "I'd do it to my father in a second, except that he's expecting it, I gather."
"He's honestly not worth the bullet," Zio admitted candidly. "No, I'd much rather drop a letter in the post and see what he and his lovely wife think of the things their youngest is getting up to."
"Christ, Zio." The other man looked at him admiringly. "You're a freaking bunny-boiler. What do you do, keep a webcam in their family home?" He paused. "So what is their youngest getting up to?"
"Actually, I suppose it would be more to the point to say what is getting up their youngest." The Italian relaxed back in his chair and smiled, content. "And the answer would be the chauffeur. Little Matthias is quite the accomplished bottom."
"Oh, that's beautiful." Derek pretended to wipe away a tear. "It's always the chauffeur. Or the butler. Chauffeurs tend to fuck better than butlers, though, I find."
Zio merely raised an eyebrow at his companion.
"Oh, I just had a boring childhood," Derek said dismissively. "And our chauffeur was a really sexy woman."
"And the butler?"
"Middle-aged man. Nothing exciting."
Zio sighed, long-suffering. "Mio amica, please. You needn't protect my gentle ears. I'm sure I've heard worse stories than how you've spent your misguided youth fucking everything that breathes."
"I didn't fuck everything that breathed, mate." Derek fussily fixed his tie, warm chocolate eyes sparkling in a distinctly wicked way. "Promise you I never did animals. Not even sheep."
"And quadrepeds everywhere sighed in sorrow at missing out on an earth-shattering experience, I'm sure."
"Did you know that pigs can orgasm?"
"No, but that's fascinating." Glancing down at his watch, Zio made a face. "Oh, hell. Sorry, Lukas, but I have to run. I promised an appearance at the church. Doing good deeds to cleanse my soul and all." Standing, he dug in his briefcase for his wallet.
"It's on me. You can pay next Sunday." His golden-haired friend flipped his wallet out on the table in a well-practiced movement. "Can't be late for those altar boys, huh? They bending over in preparation? You're such a good little Catholic, Moreno, I can hardly bear it!"
Ignoring the jibe, Zio tucked his wallet away and smiled. "You know, mio amica, some of the more modern parishes employ altar girls and they're just charming, eager, little things." He picked up his case and straightened. "Ever had a nun, Lukas? Delicious and the cries go straight to God's ears."
"Don't tempt me or I'll start going to Mass." Derek waved his fingers at his Italian companion, smirking broadly. "What about those confession booths? Any room in there to stretch?"
"I've heard one of the parishes supports the discreet use of glory holes." A vindictive snicker slipped from him and then Zio nodded his dark head at Derek. "Right then. I'm off to do my duty, to please Mama, and to view the wares. We'll meet later?"
"Of course. And you'll have to tell me all about the altar girls." The blond winked slyly. "If you can't find anything to say, make it up."
"Creative embellishments are my specialty, mio amica." With a slight bow and a laugh, Zio spun on his heel and strode out of the small cafe. Interesting way to prepare for an afternoon spent amongst the holy, he mused. An hour or two spent with an utter bastard who, more than likely, broke all ten commandments before he brushed his teeth in the morning. He chuckled under his breath, turning onto the sidewalk. At least it would bolster him for his next act.
It was warm out that day; nobody noticed a plump bumblebee swarming high above the heads of the crowds, wings flitting with humming speed as unbeknownst to others it searched. She'd been searching for quite a while now; her target hadn't been at his apartment, which had been the first place she'd looked. Thankfully, due to reincarnated speed and stamina, she wasn't tired out yet. Still, her little legs were relieved when she landed squarely on her target's hair.
"Hail, Nunzio," she whispered hesitantly.
The Italian started, stride stumbling for an instant before he caught himself and moved onwards, hand raising to summon a taxi. "Lucretia," he murmured, mouth barely moving. "What a pleasant surprise."
"I was in the area and wanted to check on you," Lucretia supplied, lying through her nonexistent little bumblebee teeth. "Is everything in order, signore? You have been in no fights since last we met?"
"None whatsoever and, before you ask, bella, yes, I've been going out." A car screeched to a halt at the curb and he swiftly walked to it. "Four times in the past week," he added, returning a lie to a lie. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go to meet my mother."
"I should probably accompany you," Lucretia said in superior, ringing tones, just to emphasise to Zio that she was a matriarch. Then she coughed lightly, silvery voice going much more humble. "I promise to remain silent and out of sight. You will not even know I am there. I will not give you away to your mother."
He sighed heavily. There was no way the bee was going to take no for an answer; her tone made that much crystal clear. "Fine," he finally murmured. "Join me, little one, but silently. Mama doesn't know any of this and I'd prefer her to not think her only son has lost his mind."
Then, without another word, he slipped into the taxi, bee hidden in his hair, and ordered the driver, "Sant' Angelo in Pescheria." Closing his eyes, he sat back and prepared himself for his next tightrope act
Speranza Fiorella Fabrizio, informally known as Enza, practically beamed as she jotted a note down in her notebook. Beaming made her very pretty, moreso than usual; what with her hair drawn back in a tight bun and her fashion sense usually only extending to small, light cotton button-up shirts and calf-length navy skirts, it served to soften the severity of her. Even her Sunday clothes were plain.
"Of course, yes," she murmured to her much older companion, an Italian housewife dressed in Sunday blacks. "The children of the Santa Maria della Piet� are all organized; they'll meet in here at eight o'clock sharp on the Saturday morning. They're bringing flowers."
"Well, so long as you're all organized, Enza," the other woman said approvingly. "There's nothing more but to go over the times with Caterina, won't you? Signora Moreno?"
The younger girl nodded to show the fact that did, in fact, know of the lady in question, and got the urge to be slightly indignant that Violetta thought otherwise. The other woman continued on, in more hushed tones. "Well, just go and get it approved by her, my dear, she's the pretty woman over there next to that man in the suit who, if you don't mind me saying so, is fortunate enough to take after his mother. That's her son, wouldn't you know it, she still looks like she's twenty years younger than she is and, of course, it's due to him. Rich as Croesus, wouldn't you know, and of course she's his pet and what wouldn't I give to have him for a so - "
The look on Enza's face managed to convey wide-eyed innocence and excessive, pious disapproval at the same time. Violetta rolled her eyes inwardly. "Well, take your notes, signorina. Thankfully, we're running on time. God bless you."
"God bless you, signora."
Gossip! Enza's tongue had twitched with despair at it. It was nothing for all these older Italian women to give you the life stories and lurid details of every single parishoner at a church if you let them; they should be stopped, of course, but she was eighteen and keenly felt her lack of authority at times. One day, she thought dreamily, she'd be wearing a wimple and be able to give defining passages from the Holy Bible at people and that would be absolutely wonderful.
Her step quickened with determination, head held high. Even if she wasn't a nun, she would be in every action a Bride of Christ. Time to finish the preparations for the charity events for both of the churches; both needed repair work done.
The man heard her approach first and looked up, grey eyes contemplative as he gazed on the advancing young woman over his mother's shoulder. He quickly ran through his mental rolodex and, not placing her face, he assumed she was from the other congregation. It wasn't as if he could have forgotten that face, at least, he reassured himself. Not someone so potentially attractive so set on looking like the dourest Mother Superior ever to wear a wimple. Delicately, he cleared his throat. "Mama? I believe someone wishes to see you."
Caterina Moreno started slightly, attention diverted from a sheaf of papers in her small hands. "Yes, Zio?" Turning she followed his gaze and a benevolent smile lit her sweet-featured face. "Oh, yes," she murmured. "You are Enza Fabrizio, correct?"
Enza beamed at the recognition and nodded her head demurely. She had gotten the sudden strange urge to blush when the male next to her had raised his head, remembering talkative Violetta's words; both Morenos were indeed very handsome. "Yes, ma'am. And you are Mrs. Moreno? I was told I should pass on the times for Saturday to you."
Another positively beatific smile rewarded the younger woman and Caterina neatly handed off her own papers to her son and extended her hand; the smile lines on her face made it all too clear that sweet smiles were her forte. "Thank you, dear. It's so wonderful of you to help like this." She laughed softly. "So many other children would rather do anything other than help with their churches."
"Mama," the dark-haired man sighed, accepting her papers and automatically reorganizing them for his mother. The sigh was long- suffering but he glanced at Enza with a gleam of teasing in his eyes. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, Biagia, I know. You're a good boy, though." Caterina's eyes brightened and she turned back to Enza. "Signorina Fabrizio, this is my son. Nunzio Moreno."
Zio smiled whitely and lifted Enza's hand, dipping a tiny bow over it. "Charmed, Signorina Fabrizio," he murmured.
Enza, who lived with a number of men who would never bow or hold a lady's hand, finally went slightly pink. She nodded at Zio, light brown eyes wide, in return. "Mr. Moreno," she acknowledged. If only the men at our church had such nice manners.
"Please." He released her hand and stepped back slightly, one hand ruffling through the hair at his temple. "If we're both going to be helping Mama, you might as well call me Nunzio." He grinned, almost- winking. "Or Zio if you like. I'm afraid 'Biagia' is strictly my mother's perogative."
Babbler? She couldn't imagine him babbling. She tried to move her lips around 'Nunzio' mentally and gave up, a few seconds before her brain fizzled around the information. Oh, he was helping. Enza gave him a small smile, attempting to reclaim her composure. "Yes, Mr. Nunzio."
He laughed softly. "That'll do for now."
"Nunzio, don't tease."
"Yes, Mama." He immediately sounded contrite and trotted off to one side to retrieve a briefcase.
Caterina sighed but a smile still hung on her lips; she clearly adored her son and never meant the scoldings. "You'll have to forgive him, dear. I blame his career for his manners."
"I thought he had very good manners," the girl murmured, eyes downcast, and suddenly wondered why she was saying it at all. It sounded so silly. "I wasn't offended, ma'am."
"Oh, good." Caterina glanced after her son. "He truly is a good boy."
The "boy" in question was busily digging in his open briefcase and pretending not to be listening to his mother sing his praises to the young nun-would-be. He was also trying to ignore an increasing buzz behind his ear. Finally, he sighed and hissed, "Yes, signora ape?"
"... I am afraid it is like how it was with Stavros, Nunzio."
There was a long pause. "You better not be telling me that my mama is chosen for this nonsense, Lucretia."
"Of course not!" There was laughter in her tone. "I would have told you that much earlier, Gods keep your mother anyway. No, signore, it's the girl."
"Dio mio, no." Casually, he glanced over his shoulder at the young woman talking to his mother and groaned inwardly. So the little would-be-nun was like him, hm? He sighed. "So what would your suggestion be, donna?"
"You can use your wit and charm," Lucretia said innocently. Then she sighed. "Or you can just let me fly onto her and I'll tell her once she's isolated, people seem to like doing that to me."
"Don't be that way, little one." Zio grimaced; the things he did to keep women from hysterics. "Can you be patient for an hour or so? Perhaps I can arrange to give her a ride or something."
"So long as you do not let her get away, Nunzio. Rome is a big place and Jupiter only knows where she might live in it; there's a good chance I would never find her again."
"... Relax, signora." The faintest of smiles curved his mouth. "I have her name and her church. I could find her again easily."
Lucretia hmphed slightly, mildly put out at the Italian man's force of logic. "Thank goodness for that, then."
"Indeed." He straightened. "Trust me, little one. You'll have your girl." Turning, he strode back to the other two, beaming. "Now, then, signorina Fabrizio. Please tell me that Mama hasn't be telling wicked stories about naughty little boys who could never sit still for Mass?"
Enza went slightly pink again. "N-No," she said immediately, eyes huge. "Of course not, signore. Your mother only speaks good of you," she affirmed primly. "Which is more than can be said for other men and their mothers."
"Which is both a shame and a sorrow. Do you have any such louts for relatives?" he asked suddenly, seeming to not even notice the strangeness of the topic change.
"I have five brothers," she answered, warming to him even more. How did he know? "Of course, I love them, but..."
"But they don't know how to treat a lady properly," he finished. Pleased, he noted that his mother had wandered away with the papers and Enza's notebook, undoubtedly off to check schedules, bless her. Her absence gave him more room to maneuver and he smiled kindly. "Though, if any of them are older, I'm sure at least one is married by now. It's the proper Italian way for our sort. Usually."
She nodded. There was still faint pink remaining in her olive cheeks. Enza was feeling irritated with herself; she was not normally so tongue-tied. She was acting like Camellia, though God forbid the day her sister Camellia became tongue-tied. "The two eldest, signore. They are nice men."
"Hm. I suspect their wives had a hand in that then." He studied her with amused grey eyes. She really was a sweet young thing and more innocent that a six-year-old.
"Are you married, signore?" She could have stabbed herself through the foot for asking.
"Much to my mother's disgust, no." Zio sighed heavily, fixing a vaguely puppy-eyed look on her. "I haven't found the right woman yet, I suppose. How about you? Is there some nice boy waiting on you?"
She looked down again, eyes demurely hidden by sooty black lashes. "I hope to take my vows in two years, signore."
"Ah, so the nice boy is our Saviour." For a moment, he sounded believably regretful. "It's a loss to the rest of us but I suppose it would be a sin to wish otherwise, hm?"
"I've wanted to be a nun ever since I was a little girl," she said truthfully. "I wanted to take my vows on my eighteenth birthday but..." She gave a Gallic shrug. "My madre."
He returned her shrug neatly. "Fifth Commandment. Honor thy father and thy mother; that thy days may be long."
He quoted the Bible to her. Speranza Fiorella Fabrizio fell in passionately, wildly and completely in love. "And you, be ye fruitful, and multiply; bring forth abundantly in the earth, and multiply therein," she said lightly. "She pins that on my door."
"Clever, clever woman." His smile was winning and amused. "Then again, most mothers know just how to work your conscience. I think, when we are handed to them after, lo, those many hours of pain to bring us into this world, they get a little pamphlet on how to do it."
She raised her hand to her mouth and giggled, looking as if it might be a very illegal thing to do and that God might strike her down afterwards. "You must be speaking from experience, Mr. Nunzio."
"Mama is getting increasingly worried that I haven't settled down yet," he admitted frankly. He shrugged. "I tell her it takes time. Surely she wouldn't want me with the wrong woman."
"Of course not," she agreed admiringly. "You have plenty of time, signore, to be bound with a woman before God."
Zio smiled, instinctively knowing that Lucretia was only half right about his charm; he was even better than she thought and this girl was caught for a spell. "And forever is the only way to do it," he replied gently.
She nodded, huge-eyed, catching her bottom lip with her teeth absently as she watched him. "Yes, Mr. Nunzio. As God dictates."
"Of course." Suddenly, his voice changed, slipping easily from serious to light once more. "So, signorina Fabrizio," he smiled, "since my mother has wandered off to do good deeds, it looks like I'm at your disposal. What would you have me do?"
Enza went bright red again, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments like a fish. Then she snapped it shut again, composing herself, hands clasped demurely in front of her. "Well, signore, what are you doing for the charities?"
"Whatever I'm told to beyond my usual tithing," he answered with a slight shrug. "I'm useless with construction but I can lift things and Mama can vouch for me obeying orders." Even for others sometimes. When I feel like it.
"Still a worthy job," Enza murmured. "Mostly the church charities are left to the women of the parish. It is very good not to see a man standing idly by, though I had no thought in my head that you would."
He chuckled darkly and offered her another slight incline of his head by way of bowing. "Flattery noted, poco angelo. Now, then, onto work." Subtly, Zio led the young woman in the direction of the tables. If he could only stay by her side, warm her up, he should be able to get her alone. He smirked, the supremely self-confident expression carefully hidden from her. He had never failed in isolating a fresh-faced girl before.
Enza hid how pleased she was all while they worked; it wasn't proper to grin stupidly, anyway, not that there was anything wrong with it - so she admired this man! Who wouldn't? He was gentlemanly and wellspoken and everything a man should be, including... well... Being good-looking. She wasn't interested in men, of course, but she admitted that Mr. Moreno was handsome. His mother was very lucky to have him as a son; she made a mental note to tell her as much later. He would also be the focus of a private, happy speech she was making up to hurl to Argento.
She dusted her hands demurely on the front of her skirt, clearing up the tables with an air of happy finality.
"Well, that was certainly productive." Zio adjusted one final flower in a centerpiece and stepped back, hands slipping into his pockets and his head tilting to one side. Somehow, a daisy had made its way behind his ear and hung ridiculously against his dark hair. Of course, as always with Nunzio Moreno, the "somehow" was most deliberate; he had a feeling that a bit of whimsy would go far in this case. "I think we did a very good job, signorina Fabrizio, don't you?"
"Of course. You did wonderfully, signore." She found herself repressing giggles, which was very odd because she normally didn't giggle at all. "Oh, Mr. Nunzio - " She reached up, warm-cheeked, and plucked the daisy out of his hair. "You had a flower in your hair," Enza finished lamely.
"Ah, I was wondering what was tickling." He offered her a dazzling smile. "Grazie mille. You have saved my dignity." Delicately, he paused. "May I reward you?"
The crimson flush on her face was obvious now. "Oh, I don't deserve any rewards, signore. It was nothing."
"But I think it was something. Hmm, let's see... This has been thirsty work, signorina Fabrizio. I wonder if you'd allow me the pleasure of buying you something to drink in the cafe across the street?"
He was such a gentleman! Concerned and kindly and gentle and... Enza had been asked a few times out for a drink, but it usually ended in harsh words on her part to the poor boy who'd been so foolish. And Bible verses. She loved Bible verses. "I'd only like a drink of water, signore," she murmured, eyes shining. "It is so very kind of you to offer."
"Not at all. You're sure only water? If I remember correctly, they do lovely sodas as well." Already, consent obtained, he was unobtrusively steering her towards the doors, firing off a quick wave at his mother along with an indication of the cafe outside.
Enza glanced back a little worriedly, but decided there was absolutely nothing impolite or dangerous in going off with somebody like Mr. Moreno. It was a hot, dusty day; the traffic was a little less for that hour on Sunday than normal, but it was still terrible. "I try not to drink soda," she said earnestly. "It's unhealthy."
"I suppose you're right." Exiting the church, he stopped her at the top of the steps and, with a questioning tilt of his head, offered her his arm. When she hesitated, he smiled. "Merely to get us safely across the street, poco angelo. I assure you."
She took his arm delicately, blushing at her hesitation. Of course he just wanted to get her across the street without getting mowed down. She felt awful that she'd doubted him. "Yes, signore. Of course."
His smile was warmer than the sun and he laughed softly as if at a private joke. "Indeed. Ready? Good, we're off." With a sudden tug and another chuckle, he pulled her down the steps and wove across the street, dodging traffic. In the next few minutes, Enza found herself politely seated, her chair pushed in by Zio before he took his own chair across the tiny table from her. "Comfortable?"
Enza nodded, still slightly dazed. She never let herself get lead around so; she'd never even had her chair pushed in before. It was like being in a novel. "Very, Mr. Nunzio. Grazie mille."
"Excellent." Beaming, he raised a hand and a waiter scurried over. "Two waters and two lemon gelatis, please." Price quoted, Zio handed over a few bills and then waved off the waiter, returning his attention to his guest. "Thank you for humoring an old man, bella," he teased gently. "I'm now the envy of the cafe."
She went red again. "But you're not an old man," she protested immediately. "You must be... twenty-nine, signore?" Realizing what she was saying, she ducked her head again. "Forgive me my rudeness, Mr. Nunzio, it's wrong to guess at somebody's age."
"Perhaps but, in this case, I'll bless you for your guess." Unwilling to reveal his real age, though, he neatly swung the conversation back to her. "So you belong to our sister church, hm? When you're not being an angel of pure and devoted mercy, what do you like to do?"
"Housekeeping," she answered promptly, warming in relief to the subject. "And looking after my family, and engaging in bible studies. What do you do, signore?"
"My job, mostly. I'm a junior partner at an art gallery so they generally send me off on errands and to haunt auction houses."
Art gallery. No wonder he looked so affluent. "You must be someone quite important."
He laughed. "Only to some, I suppose. I'm nothing special." Actually, I am but, you know, it's not polite to trumpet your own praises.
He was modest and humble, too. Her eyes were huge and filled with something close to fervent adoration. "I'm sure you're lowering yourself, Mr. Nunzio."
"Never. False modesty is a sin." Which is why I do it. He smiled genially. "If I may ask a more personal question, signorina Fabrizio... Have you left school already?"
"I leave at the end of this school year, signore," she said politely. "My madre wanted me to finish my education before I went into a cloister. She's talking about colleges, but I don't think that a religious degree is necessary for a Bride of Christ."
"Oh, dear. You're set on taking vows?" He managed to sound genuinely sorrowful, managing to ignore a slight buzzing near his ear.
"When I'm twenty-one, signore." She smiled at him sweetly. "I would have taken them earlier."
"Ah, well. Mankind's loss is the good Lord's gain, I suppose." He smiled faintly. "Though you do realize that you're bound to be sending a good dozen boys or so to confessional on that day for both begrudging the Lord and taking His name in vain."
The pretty dark-haired wannabe nun blushed, still smiling, hands folded in her lap. "I try not to pay attention to boys," she said primly.
Whatever Zio had been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of waiter, water, and gelati. He waited until the young man had left and then leaned in slightly, voice gentle as he toyed with his spoon. "Do you pay attention to fairy tales and stories from other lands?" he asked teasingly.
"They're for smaller children, aren't they?" She was still smiling, having forgotten to replace it with a more demure expression. She sipped at her water. "I haven't read them in ages, signore," Enza lied, thinking about her romance novels.
"What about... Mythology?"
"No, signore." She shook her head. "Unless you mean Judaiac."
"Hm." Zio sat back in his chair and studied the young woman opposite him for a moment. "In my line of work, we must often learn of classical mythology. Greek and Roman. Strictly out of national pride, I must say I prefer the Roman versions of things. Much less... Petty."
She giggled, setting her water down again. "I won't argue your choice, signore."
He smiled. "Ah, so you do know those myths, after all?"
"Madre told us a few. They were all very... primitive. Rough. Gods stealing women, people stealing people back from the dead, women with the bodies of swans."
"Rather far-fetched, isn't it all?"
"Well... Yes, signore, in my mind."
"Mine, too," he murmured easily, expression meditative. Suddenly, he raised a hand, finger extended. He knew Lucretia was hovering; he heard her buzzing incessantly around. "So many talking animals and petty fights."
"I wouldn't trust talking animals," Enza said fervently. "I remember the snake in the Garden of Eden and the donkey of Balaam."
"But what about burning bushes? Are they not in the realm of implausibility as much as donkeys and snakes?"
"God was speaking through the burning bush, signore," she answered happily, finally able to be able to talk biblical with a fresh new face. "The Devil was the Snake, and the donkey was in the presence of an angel."
"And angels give warning." Handsome face gone serious, Zio pushed aside his untouched gelati and leaned across the table, grey eyes intent on the young woman. "Signorina Fabrizio," he murmured, "please breathe deeply and, if it would comfort, meditate on the paternoster and trust me. I'm about to bring a... Friend out and what she has to say might surprise you. As her form will. Are you ready?"
She stared at him, eyes huge. Then she clasped her hands together and nodded.
Lucretia immediately flitted into view, causing Enza to blink. "Ave," she said quietly, which caused Enza to then go white as a sheet; the bumblebee sighed inwardly. "Grazie mille, Nunzio. That was nicely done. We may be able to teach you something yet."
"That's like a compliment by an angel, signora ape, grazie." He held up a hand for Lucretia to perch on and smiled reassuringly at Enza. "This is Lucretia, bella."
Enza just stared, shaking slightly, ashen underneath her olive skin. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't. With a shaky hand, she slowly crossed herself.
"There, there, dear," Lucretia eventually said, softening. "It's all right. My name is Lucretia and you are a very special young girl. I won't be hurting you. Just ask Nunzio."
"I wouldn't let her harm you, signorina Fabrizio."
She swallowed, still shivering. "... You're not playing a cruel joke, signore Nunzio?"
He met her eyes, solemn and the most open he had been with her. "I swear on my mother's honor that I am not."
"Is the bee a... Demon?"
"No. The bee is... An angel speaking." Gently, he extended his hand, offering the bee for closer inspection.
She looked it over, offering her hand; Lucretia flittered on to her open palm. Enza almost jerked her hand away, but then a deep look of calm and contentment came over her face. She looked at the bee. "Are both of you angels?"
Lucretia swore to sting Zio later. Hard. In nasty places. "... In a way," she said evasively. "Nunzio is somebody who is reborn with... a spirit in him, Speranza. So are you."
"Are you from God?"
The small ex-woman, who hated God, bit her nonexistent tongue. "In a way," she repeated.
Zio smiled and rested his chin on a hand, studying the two. This was amusing as hell and he was pleased that Lucretia had picked up on their new teammate's extreme religious fervor.
Enza could readily believe that angelically beautiful (in her mind, anyway) Nunzio was an angel; and if God wanted to speak through a bee, it was God's business. "Do I have a spirit in me?" she asked, trembling.
Lucretia made up a number of lies on the spot that she would hate herself for afterwards. "Did you listen to what Nunzio said about Roman gods, Speranza?"
"Are they servants of God?"
She was careful not to agree. "You are their servant. You must fight in a righteous battle against all those who would take your birthright away, Speranza, as the warrior of femininity."
The young Italian girl nodded, eyes burning with the type of fervour that would have gone down well in the Crusades. "I understand, signora."
A low chuckle left Zio and he quirked a grin, winking at Enza. "Should have realized you would be in charge of something delicate and womanly, poco angelo," he teased gently. "Like is drawn to like."
Enza shook her head, still troubled, looking mildly shellshocked. "... I still don't understand, signore."
"I understand. It is rather... A lot to take at once." He paused and tilted his head, considering his words. Not that he had scruples about lying and distorting the facts of the situation for her. "There is a holy war going on, signorina Fabrizio. Throughout Rome. Some of us have become avatars, vessels for divine power." He smiled as she looked about to interrupt. "A fraction of power. We're none of us perfect or invincible. However... We have enough to protect ourselves... And our world from the others."
"But how?" She watched him, enthralled, warming nicely to the idea of becoming a holy saviour. "I don't know how to, Mr. Nunzio. I don't fight. Well... I wouldn't fight, signore."
He smiled, amused. "Magic, of course. I am Mercury and I control... Commerce, I suppose is the term. It's really only silly principles of economics." He moved a hand in a dismissive wave. "Nothing too impressive."
Of course, the dark-haired girl looked impressed anyway. "It suits you, signore," she was quick to comment. "It's a very masculine thing."
"Then, if I remember Lucretia correctly, you are my opposite. Femininity personified. Correct, signora ape?"
"Parthenope," Lucretia said promptly. "The Siren of Femininity. Maiden-face. Hold out your hand, Speranza."
Not shaking so much any more, the girl dubiously held out her hand. The bumblebee trailed a shining circle in the air; Enza almost pulled her hand back with something pink and half-glowing dropped into it, crossing herself quickly again before staring at it.
"Makeup?"
"That's your transformation item, signorina," Lucretia advised her. "Nunzio also possesses one."
"A silly little abacus." Zio paused and then leaned foward slightly. "Shall we go somewhere a bit less... public for the next portion of the lesson?"
She nodded, still somewhat whey-faced but strengthened by her obvious doting trust in him. "Yes, signore. That would probably be best."
Standing, he moved to pull out her chair and then, once she had risen, he offered his arm reassuringly. "Come then," he murmured. "We'll go to the alley."
Somewhat dazed, Enza took his arm, Lucy settling as a gold lump on her dark hair as both of them moved. Her mind was going three hundred miles an hour; she felt as if she would probably wake up any minute or so.
Gently, the older man led her through the maze of tables, out the door, and, silently, through to the back alley. "Just a little farther," he whispered. He took a moment to glance around and then smiled as he spotted a large dumpster towards the back of the alley. "There." One more look around assured him that they were alone and he led her to stand behind the dumpster, out of sight of passersby. "We should be safe here, ladies."
"It's a lovely alley," Lucretia commented politely. "Speranza, dear, if you'd just take that little make-up case, it will soon transform you into the avatar that awaits you. You need only say 'Parthenope Siren Power, Make-Up!'."
"And then what?" Enza murmured dubiously.
"Then your life changes, bella."
She looked at Zio's kindly face, then at Lucretia, and took a deep breath. Enza crossed herself once, making a quick and fervent prayer to Jesus and the Mother Mary before murmuring, hesitantly, "Parthenope Siren Power, Make-Up - "
As always, it was instantaneous. There was an impression of flowers and pink and light; when it disappeared, Enza was gone and Sailor Parthenope was in her stead. She was far different to the plain, soberly dressed nun-hopeful; her piled-up hair glittered with seed pearls and pink diamonds, feathers behind her ears and rose gold glittering at her throat, forehead and wrists. A pink whip was gripped in one lace-mittened hand, cascades of fine white fabric bunched from her shoulders to hands; she suddenly felt a draft, and the reason became horrifically obvious. Parthenope dressed only in what appeared to be low-cut ice-pink knickers, a tiny camisole paired with this and nothing to hide it. A long piece of ruched rose-pink material pretended to be a train at the back, still revealing all, and she tottered forward a little on heeled white ankleboots.
Parthenope gave a low despairing wail of complete anguish, crossing her arms over herself and going bright red, looking as though she might cry.
"Oh, dear," Lucy commented vaguely. "I never did trust those Sirens."
The change was startling enough and attractive enough that Zio was temporarily thrown off-balance, something rarely achieved indeed. With an obvious wrench, he pulled his interested gaze from her mostly-exposed form and locked on her face. "Madre Maria, hm?" he murmured. Then, shaking himself back into control again, he pulled off his suit jacket and moved forward to drape it over the shivering girl's shoulders. "Calm, bella, calm. It's okay."
She pulled it around herself, expression that of abject misery, whimpering softly in distress as she shivered. "I didn't mean to," she moaned. "I'm sorry, signore, I didn't do it, it just went like that, I would never - it's so horrible!"
"... No, bella, it isn't horrible at all. Simply... Inappropriate to wear in public."
She looked down at her bare legs and tucked herself in the coat like a turtle, embarrassed face peeking out. "Grazie mille, Mr. Nunzio," she said, still mortified. "Why did the loving God and his Son choose for me to wear this?"
"I'm sure it's merely a test," he replied after another split- second's hesitation. Perhaps a test for the stability of our trouser fabric.
"A test?" she said tearfully. That made sense. If God was testing her, it was a true, strong, horrible test. "A test. That must be it; He is testing me."
"Of course." Zio glanced at the hovering bee. "Lucretia? Would you mind telling signorina Fabrizio what she has to call upon? So she can return to her own clothing swiftly?" He smiled kindly at the young woman. "It's allowable to go slowly."
"A kindly decision." Lucretia had pitied the poor girl the moment her getup had been revealed. "I think that, for now, it would be best if we did not school Speranza in her attacks. It is too light and too exposed, even in this alleyway. Simply think of yourself as you were before you transformed, Parthenope, and concentrate."
The senshi immediately screwed her eyes shut desperately. After a shimmer, she managed to detransform; panting slightly and looking pink with relief, she absently pocketed the makeup compact and conscientiously slipped Zio's coat off her shoulders.
Hand out, he accepted the coat. "Feeling better?" he asked mildly. "I'm truly sorry about your costume."
"Much, thank you, signore." She looked up at him, eyes shining in gratefulness, hands going to her hair selfconsciously to make sure everything was in place. "You were very good to me, Mr. Moreno."
He didn't answer, merely inclined his head slightly in a bow, smile playing around his mouth.
She flushed again, hands clasped in their usual movement down in front of her. "But what does it all mean? What am I supposed to do when I'm... like that? What does He have planned?"
"Protect yourself and those of us like you. I will not lie to you, poco angelo," Not about this, anyway, "but there will be others, like us but different, who will attack us."
She nodded firmly. "And I have to... protect? God's mission? But," she said fretfully, "I can't fight, I'm just a woman..."
Lucretia cleared her throat with no small amount of annoyance. "You have powers within you that we will awaken at a more convenient time, signorina," she said. "And I'd advise you not to say things like that around the other women of the Romanus."
"And, truly, Enza... May I call you Enza?" Zio's grin was dazzling as he once more took her by the arm.
Her wide-eyed look was very close to worshipful. "Of course, signore."
"Grazie mille, poco angelo." He turned the smile up another notch on the charming scale. "As I was saying, women can be very brave and powerful. Think of Mirriam and Ruth and Deborah. Your friends at the church might have told you that my madre raised me on her own, with so little help as to be laughable. Being a woman does not mean being weak, Enza."
"Of course, signore. I know that. A woman's spirit can be as strong as a man's and with faith we will endure anything, any sort of pain." She smiled. "But, Mr. Nunzio, I don't... fight. I don't brawl."
"And we won't let you." He chuckled. "Few of us resort to actual physical violence, to be honest. We trust to our magic."
"I'll trust you on that, Mr. Nunzio." She didn't like the sound of 'magic', but was sure he was just using it as a word. God didn't suffer witches to live. "You will be there if we... fight, won't you?"
The look on his face was just short of a smirk as he led her back down the alleyway. "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else, bella."
"Good," muttered Lucretia in his ear, who was halfway torn for being amused and being disapproving. "I do not want Diana leading this one, signore."
The only indication that he had heard the little bee was a faint, quicksilver quirk of the corner of his mouth closest to her. To Enza, he remained courtly as he directed her back through the tables outside the cafe. "Perhaps, Enza, we should exchange phone numbers?" he suddenly suggested.
She went bright red again and she nodded. "My number is on the church register anyway, Mr. Nunzio," she said shyly. "Calling me on church business wouldn't be... Odd."
"Of course not." He smiled. "And I promise not to abuse the privelege."
She flipped her notebook out of one pocket again, writing down carefully her full name and number before presenting the piece of paper crisply to him. Enza was nothing if not organized. "Grazie, signore."
"A gentleman would do no less, hm?" Neatly, he plucked the notebook and pen from her hands and scribbled his own information for her - name, home number, cell phone number - labelling everything clearly. Handing it back, he chuckled. "Feel free to abuse it as necessary."
She folded it up, trying to choke her blush back still in vain, and sticking it in her pocket. "I won't abuse it at all, signore, I promise. I won't bother you."
Seizing his chance to further charm the young woman, Zio stepped back and executed an elaborate bow. "You could never bother anyone, bella."
Sadly, it was obvious that Enza was charmed to the point where any more would have had her seriously considering asking the Pope to canonize Zio before he even died. If her sisters had seen the way she was behaving, they would have taken her to the doctor. "You're very kind, Mr. Nunzio."
"Not at all." Well, it was good to tell the truth every now and then, wasn't it? "Come, Enza." He offered his arm again. "I'd best get you back to the church before my mama worries that I've eloped with you."
"I'm only eighteen, signore," she said primly, not even hesitating now about taking his arm. "I'm sure nobody at all would think that."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you're just the sort of lovely woman that Mama hopes I'll settle down with some day." Chuckling, he picked up their pace and wove them through the suicide traffic, back to the church. "Most mothers can only hope for such a charming daughter-in-law."
She blushed again. "Well, I hope your mother gets the daughter-in-law she desires," she murmured. "She truly is a lovely woman."
His smile was genuine as they mounted the steps. "She is. She is wonderful."
"You must feel lucky to have her."
"I believe blessed is the better word."
"You're right, signore. A true blessing from above."
"Indeed." Gently, he pulled away from her and opened the door, holding it wide. "After you, poco angelo."
Poco angelo; little angel. She had half not realized the pet name before then. The entire ordeal and he were making her heart feel strange; a sort of clutching in her chest, which she also attributed to fright. Well, if she had to admire a man other than her father, Nunzio was certainly a good choice; a strong, honest, pure man, devoted to God and his mother. She respected God's choice in choosing this man as His servant; she would just have to try to do as well as he did.
Once she got used to the outfit.
Maybe the Holy Trinity wouldn't object to her wearing a coat.