Read Online Strega (Strega Series) by Karen Monahan Fernandes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Monahan Fernandes
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laptop case was slung over his shoulder.
"Hi, Mr. Baker!"
Mr. Baker was about fifty, I guessed. But he treated us like his peers—not like kids. His shiny black shoes and pressed dress shirts defined him. I never saw him in anything else. As we stepped into his office, I quickly closed the door behind me. When he heard the click, he turned and looked at me and his face sunk with worry.
"Is everything all right?" he asked, as if sensing my agitation. I was itching to get down to business. As I sat down, he handed me a tissue.
"What happened?"
He pointed to my bottom lip. I touched it and felt the wetness soak my fingertips. It was bleeding.
"I don't know," I said, blotting it with the tissue, recalling the reflection in the blade. This is crazy . I tried to focus. I just needed to find out what he might know about the blade. I unwrapped it and placed it on his desk.
"Have you ever seen a blade like this...or these symbols before?" I asked.
He leaned in close, adjusting his glasses and tilting his head as he analyzed it. He didn't say anything at first. I couldn't stop fidgeting as I waited for his response.
"Hmmm," he mumbled. "Fascinating."
"What?" The word burst out of my mouth as I stood up in anticipation, still holding the tissue against my lip.
"Well," he said, furrowing his brow as his mind churned. "The craftsmanship is outstanding. The design and materials are reminiscent of much older blades, yet it's in spectacular shape. Looks brand new. Where did you get this?"
"Uh...I found it," I said with unintended exuberance. "Last night. In my aunt's basement."
I was nervous. There were way too many details I didn't want to share with him, and I was afraid he would see right through me.
"Do you recognize those symbols?" I asked, hoping my previous answer satisfied him and he was ready to move on.
"I'm almost certain they are ancient European," he said, picking up the blade and continuing to study it. "But they are a bit different than anything I've seen before. Daggers that date back to the Roman Republic...their design is similar to this. But these symbols are not Roman."
He paused for a moment, and I hoped that he was about to reveal a critical piece of information.
"Did you know that a dagger was used to kill Julius Caesar?"
My heart sank. This was the start of a tangent. In class, he always threw in interesting tidbits for us to digest amidst our review of drier material. I usually loved it, but I didn't have the patience for it now.
"They are very powerful weapons. Do you know much about them?"
"No," I said, deflating and sitting back in my chair. I stared at the silver blade, the unique stone, and the strange symbols. "I don't know a thing about them."
"Well, the distinctive shape and use of the dagger dates back to human prehistory. Its defining characteristics are its short blade with two sharp cutting edges, a central spine, and a sharply-tapered point. Also a full crossguard to protect the hand from sliding forward," he said, indicating each of these parts on the blade as he spoke of them. "And in various ancient cultures, daggers were often adorned with symbols like this —usually to represent gods or spirits.
"Daggers have long been the weapon of choice in close combat. They are symbolic of treachery and deceit," he continued. "They are easy to conceal, which makes them the perfect weapon when sneaking up on an unsuspecting victim. The Roman Senators that assassinated Caesar concealed their daggers in their flowing robes. A weapon like this allowed them to get courageously close to their enemy."
An abrupt knock at the door interrupted us. Before Mr. Baker could say "come in," the doorknob turned and in walked a tall, young man. His dark hair and short-trimmed beard sharply contrasted with his pale white skin, and his face startled me like a strong, cold wind.
"Oh. Hi, Ron. Come on in." Mr. Baker waved his hand to invite him. "Ron, this is Jay...Jay, Ron. He and I have a meeting at ten to
"Hi, Mr. Baker!"
Mr. Baker was about fifty, I guessed. But he treated us like his peers—not like kids. His shiny black shoes and pressed dress shirts defined him. I never saw him in anything else. As we stepped into his office, I quickly closed the door behind me. When he heard the click, he turned and looked at me and his face sunk with worry.
"Is everything all right?" he asked, as if sensing my agitation. I was itching to get down to business. As I sat down, he handed me a tissue.
"What happened?"
He pointed to my bottom lip. I touched it and felt the wetness soak my fingertips. It was bleeding.
"I don't know," I said, blotting it with the tissue, recalling the reflection in the blade. This is crazy . I tried to focus. I just needed to find out what he might know about the blade. I unwrapped it and placed it on his desk.
"Have you ever seen a blade like this...or these symbols before?" I asked.
He leaned in close, adjusting his glasses and tilting his head as he analyzed it. He didn't say anything at first. I couldn't stop fidgeting as I waited for his response.
"Hmmm," he mumbled. "Fascinating."
"What?" The word burst out of my mouth as I stood up in anticipation, still holding the tissue against my lip.
"Well," he said, furrowing his brow as his mind churned. "The craftsmanship is outstanding. The design and materials are reminiscent of much older blades, yet it's in spectacular shape. Looks brand new. Where did you get this?"
"Uh...I found it," I said with unintended exuberance. "Last night. In my aunt's basement."
I was nervous. There were way too many details I didn't want to share with him, and I was afraid he would see right through me.
"Do you recognize those symbols?" I asked, hoping my previous answer satisfied him and he was ready to move on.
"I'm almost certain they are ancient European," he said, picking up the blade and continuing to study it. "But they are a bit different than anything I've seen before. Daggers that date back to the Roman Republic...their design is similar to this. But these symbols are not Roman."
He paused for a moment, and I hoped that he was about to reveal a critical piece of information.
"Did you know that a dagger was used to kill Julius Caesar?"
My heart sank. This was the start of a tangent. In class, he always threw in interesting tidbits for us to digest amidst our review of drier material. I usually loved it, but I didn't have the patience for it now.
"They are very powerful weapons. Do you know much about them?"
"No," I said, deflating and sitting back in my chair. I stared at the silver blade, the unique stone, and the strange symbols. "I don't know a thing about them."
"Well, the distinctive shape and use of the dagger dates back to human prehistory. Its defining characteristics are its short blade with two sharp cutting edges, a central spine, and a sharply-tapered point. Also a full crossguard to protect the hand from sliding forward," he said, indicating each of these parts on the blade as he spoke of them. "And in various ancient cultures, daggers were often adorned with symbols like this —usually to represent gods or spirits.
"Daggers have long been the weapon of choice in close combat. They are symbolic of treachery and deceit," he continued. "They are easy to conceal, which makes them the perfect weapon when sneaking up on an unsuspecting victim. The Roman Senators that assassinated Caesar concealed their daggers in their flowing robes. A weapon like this allowed them to get courageously close to their enemy."
An abrupt knock at the door interrupted us. Before Mr. Baker could say "come in," the doorknob turned and in walked a tall, young man. His dark hair and short-trimmed beard sharply contrasted with his pale white skin, and his face startled me like a strong, cold wind.
"Oh. Hi, Ron. Come on in." Mr. Baker waved his hand to invite him. "Ron, this is Jay...Jay, Ron. He and I have a meeting at ten to
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