Chapter 19: Aye-Aye
For a short moment, Mara did nothing but stare at Dante. Then she scratched her head with the barrel of her gun.
"Okay then, I guess," she said with an indifferent shrug. "I’ll stand watch outside as protocol demands." Her voice then grew dangerously nonchalant. "But let me say this. If anything happens and I can’t react in time, that’s on you."
She turned and unlocked the oak door with one of her keys.
Vincenzo, who stood a few steps away, had cold sweat running down the back of his neck. The man was probably afraid. Afraid of Ezio? Well, just a bit. Afraid that he might lose his life here? Not that much. However, more than anything, he was terrified that if something were to happen to the young signore, it would somehow be his fault. After all, he was the one who had secured the permit to this place in the first place.
’Even though he instructed me against it, I already informed Signora Isabella. What I don’t know is why she would agree with this,’ he thought.
His hand drifted down to take out the glass bottle of ordinary water inside a small bag hanging on his belt.
With that in hand, he took a step toward the gloomy room.
Behind him, Dante also stepped forward without saying another word while placing both hands behind his back. Just as he was about to pass by Mara across the threshold, his senses, granted to him by his Class, suddenly brushed against the faint divine energy emanating from her. It felt howling, and expansive, giving him the feeling of floating in the air.
As one who had come across a number of Apostles in this current life, he could recognize this divine energy.
’So she’s an Apostle of the Sky,’ Dante thought.
He didn’t let his expression change as he went past her into the gloomy room. The space was lit only by a single flickering gas lamp on the far wall and the pale afternoon light filtering through a high, narrow slit in the stone.
There was nothing else in the room except an oak table in the center, two bolted-down iron chairs facing each other, and a man seated quietly on the far side.
The man was just as Dante remembered him. He looked much younger than his actual age; in fact, one would think that he and Dante were the same age, though that was far from the truth. He had tanned skin, long messy black hair, black eyes, and an unmistakable aura that practically screamed, "I will kill you if you keep looking at me like that," written across his surprisingly handsome face.
Despite his heart thumping in his chest, Dante smiled.
Just then, the door was shut behind him with a bang.
Dante took a breath, but he didn’t move at first. Instead, he gritted his teeth against the sharp sting as he imperceptibly drew a line across his own wrist using the sharp edge of the ring on his finger.
The copper smell of blood began to fill his senses as red droplets seeped out. It was only after the first drop hit the floor that Dante began walking toward the oak table, muttering under his breath, "Aid me, Goddess."
By the time he reached the man, his purple eyes had turned blood-red.
Without greeting, he dropped down onto the iron chair. He crossed one leg over his knee, resting his arm casually across it as he leaned back to study the man before him.
Seeing the scars on his hands, which were bound by thick iron manacles resting on the table, along with the deep scar on his neck and the bandaged wound on his forehead, Dante smiled and said in a calm voice:
"You don’t look so good, signore."
Ezio stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then, his raspy, unimpressed voice broke through the quiet.
"I didn’t know that. Thanks for the observation, smart-ass. What gave it away? The chains, or the fact that I’m sitting in a dungeon?"
He leaned back with an exasperated exhale, his dark eyes remaining fixed on Dante’s red ones. "Who the hell are you, and why are you wasting my time?"
’He speaks like this, but I’m sure he’s screaming inside, "Please help me get out of this place,"’ Dante chuckled.
"I’ll get straight to the point then," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I want you to work for me."
Hearing that, the man scowled and huffed. "Get the fuck out of my face, you red-eyed, aye-aye looking fellow."
’Aye-aye?’ Dante’s smile slowly disappeared. ’Aye-aye?!’
He couldn’t believe his ears. It was like someone had suddenly poured him cold water.
In both his lives, Dante had received insults from many people, but none... absolutely none, stung quite as painfully as this.
He genuinely wanted to cry after the picture of what an aye-aye looks like flashed through his mind.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just sat there, and the two of them locked eyes in a staring contest.
"Well... if that’s all you came for, I’m leaving." The man stood up, but just before he could take a step back toward his corner, Dante smiled again and spoke.
"Luca Valenti."
The moment the name left his mouth, Ezio froze. His features twitched, and the color drained from his face for a split second.
Then, in the next second, his expression twisted into murderous fury. He lunged across the oak table, and his hands flew out to grab Dante by the collar of his cloak.
"How do you know that name?!"
He had barely finished yelling when Vincenzo rushed forward, "Hey! Let go of him now!"
Meanwhile, Dante just smiled. And at that exact moment, the bright, innocent laughter of a child echoed through the cell.
Both Ezio and Vincenzo turned their attention toward the doorway to see a young boy leaning against the frame, laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach.
’Did he just say that master looks like an Aye-aye?’ The boy wiped a tear from his eye, and his shoulders were shaking with amusement.
When he eventually stopped, he exhaled and straightened up. Then, his grin instantly vanished. He placed both hands behind his back and, as he began to walk slowly toward the table, he muttered in a deep voice.
"You. Let go of us this instant."
’What’s happening? Who is this? Where did he come from? I didn’t even hear him enter!’ Vincenzo panicked as his eyes darted frantically between the child and Dante.
Meanwhile, Ezio gritted his teeth and spat. "Who the hell are you?"
Hearing that, Edward smiled smoothly. "That’s right. You don’t even know who we are. Or what we are capable of. So tell me... where did you get the audacity to lay a hand on us?"
Ezio frowned.
Right then, the scent of blood entered his nose, causing him to snap his gaze away from the boy and back down to Dante.
Only then did he notice that Dante was now holding a long dagger made entirely of crimson blood.
As it turned out, while Ezio had been distracted by the boy, the blood pooling from Dante’s cut wrist had flowed upward, solidifying into a sharp, gleaming blade that was now pressed directly against Ezio’s exposed throat.