conversation with Stuart who, I noticed, hadn’t scooped up Timmy. Instead, he was fondling a finely crafted briefcase while our son plonked down on the floor and started digging through baskets filled with leather wallets.
I cleared my throat to get his attention and then looked pointedly at our busy little boy. Stuart shrugged guiltily, then retrieved the kid, who howled in protest and made a move to eat a billfold. I quelled my maternal urges and looked away, hoping that Stuart could wrangle the wallet free before we had to buy it.
“Mom!” Allie thrust her arms out, demanding my attention. “Hello? Can we get it?”
“How much?”
She shimmied out of it and started searching for a price tag which, naturally, she didn’t find. I asked the sales girl who, as far as I could tell, had decided we were nothing more than annoying tourists, and it was in her best interest to ignore us. Even my Italian didn’t loosen her up.
“Four hundred and twenty-five American dollars,” I told Allie, trying to not reveal my sticker shock to the girl while at the same time communicating to Allie that there was no way in hell she was getting that jacket.
“So can I get it?”
Apparently my communication skills left a lot to be desired.
“We’ll think about it,” I said. “Come on. It’s already past noon.”
“What’s for lunch?” Stuart asked as Allie sighed and moaned and made a show of returning the jacket to the rack.
I reached for the tote bag with the sausage and bread, then realized that I must have lost it at the market. “Ah, right. Well, I thought we’d go to this fabulous little café I remember near the Spanish Steps,” I said, leading my troops out the door. “Assuming it’s still there.”
“I thought we were picnicking.”
“That was my first plan,” I said brightly. “But the lines at the market were insane. And then I remembered the café and thought that would be a fabulous place to have our first Roman lunch. Besides, they have an amazing wine list. Or they did. Okay?”
“Sure,” Stuart said agreeably. Allie, however, was peering at me with much more comprehension.
What happened? she mouthed.
I looked pointedly at Stuart, who was occupied with coaxing Tim back into the stroller. Later , I mouthed back.
Stuart didn’t notice our exchange, as he was already running down the itinerary he’d planned while I’d been in the market. “We can have lunch first, of course, but if we’re already in the area, I’d like to do as much as we can. The Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain. Maybe even the Colosseum and the Forum. What do you think?”
I thought it sounded like way too much for a family that included a toddler, but I kept that opinion to myself. The truth was, I wanted away from the Borgo Pio . I wanted to get lost in a crowd. I was feeling exposed—and that wasn’t a feeling I liked.
Not that there weren’t demons in all those places Stuart listed. In fact, there were probably more. You might think that the looming presence of St. Peter’s basilica would keep the nasties away, but you’d be wrong.
As a general rule, demons avoided places with a lot of holy relics and holy ground, but there were exceptions, and Rome was high on that list. Because while demons couldn’t walk on holy ground—not without a whole lot of pain—they’d endure the torment if there was something they really wanted. And Rome had a lot of stuff that demons wanted. Relics, icons, mystical doo-dads. Holy, yes. But black magic rituals usually required something sacred. And demons were all about the black magic. Which meant that Rome was the big leagues, and any self-respecting demon wanting to pull off something major was going to make a pilgrimage sooner or later.
To be fair, it wasn’t all about the snatching of holy items and the desecration of sacred places. It was also about being close to the enemy. If the Church was training Demon Hunters, well, it only made sense for the demons to hang
I cleared my throat to get his attention and then looked pointedly at our busy little boy. Stuart shrugged guiltily, then retrieved the kid, who howled in protest and made a move to eat a billfold. I quelled my maternal urges and looked away, hoping that Stuart could wrangle the wallet free before we had to buy it.
“Mom!” Allie thrust her arms out, demanding my attention. “Hello? Can we get it?”
“How much?”
She shimmied out of it and started searching for a price tag which, naturally, she didn’t find. I asked the sales girl who, as far as I could tell, had decided we were nothing more than annoying tourists, and it was in her best interest to ignore us. Even my Italian didn’t loosen her up.
“Four hundred and twenty-five American dollars,” I told Allie, trying to not reveal my sticker shock to the girl while at the same time communicating to Allie that there was no way in hell she was getting that jacket.
“So can I get it?”
Apparently my communication skills left a lot to be desired.
“We’ll think about it,” I said. “Come on. It’s already past noon.”
“What’s for lunch?” Stuart asked as Allie sighed and moaned and made a show of returning the jacket to the rack.
I reached for the tote bag with the sausage and bread, then realized that I must have lost it at the market. “Ah, right. Well, I thought we’d go to this fabulous little café I remember near the Spanish Steps,” I said, leading my troops out the door. “Assuming it’s still there.”
“I thought we were picnicking.”
“That was my first plan,” I said brightly. “But the lines at the market were insane. And then I remembered the café and thought that would be a fabulous place to have our first Roman lunch. Besides, they have an amazing wine list. Or they did. Okay?”
“Sure,” Stuart said agreeably. Allie, however, was peering at me with much more comprehension.
What happened? she mouthed.
I looked pointedly at Stuart, who was occupied with coaxing Tim back into the stroller. Later , I mouthed back.
Stuart didn’t notice our exchange, as he was already running down the itinerary he’d planned while I’d been in the market. “We can have lunch first, of course, but if we’re already in the area, I’d like to do as much as we can. The Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain. Maybe even the Colosseum and the Forum. What do you think?”
I thought it sounded like way too much for a family that included a toddler, but I kept that opinion to myself. The truth was, I wanted away from the Borgo Pio . I wanted to get lost in a crowd. I was feeling exposed—and that wasn’t a feeling I liked.
Not that there weren’t demons in all those places Stuart listed. In fact, there were probably more. You might think that the looming presence of St. Peter’s basilica would keep the nasties away, but you’d be wrong.
As a general rule, demons avoided places with a lot of holy relics and holy ground, but there were exceptions, and Rome was high on that list. Because while demons couldn’t walk on holy ground—not without a whole lot of pain—they’d endure the torment if there was something they really wanted. And Rome had a lot of stuff that demons wanted. Relics, icons, mystical doo-dads. Holy, yes. But black magic rituals usually required something sacred. And demons were all about the black magic. Which meant that Rome was the big leagues, and any self-respecting demon wanting to pull off something major was going to make a pilgrimage sooner or later.
To be fair, it wasn’t all about the snatching of holy items and the desecration of sacred places. It was also about being close to the enemy. If the Church was training Demon Hunters, well, it only made sense for the demons to hang
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