Ring of Fire by Pierdomenico Baccalario

Author:Pierdomenico Baccalario
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780375892264
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2006-11-27T23:00:00+00:00

The three kids left in the room look around. Harvey leafs through Mistral’s sketchbook, admiring her talent. There are drawings of the four of them at the Caffè Greco, the Hertziana library, the columns in Largo Argentina. “I’m not interested in chasing after a secret like this, guys,” he concludes, shutting the book and resting it on his lap. “And I don’t feel like being chased by a gang of mysterious … ‘thems’ … who are out to get me.”

Elettra’s face is full of disappointment. “If that’s what you want, nobody can force you to stick with us.”

Harvey gets up from the bed. “Exactly. I think we should let things slide for tonight. Forget about the map, the weird guy on the phone, the Ring of Fire. … It’s all crazy. There’s nothing solid here to—”

Harvey stops in midsentence.

Someone’s coming up the stairs.

* * *

“Do you guys hear that, too?” he asks the others in a low, small voice.

“Where’s Mistral?” Sheng asks, looking around.

“Mistral?” whispers Elettra.

No one replies. The three kids freeze beside the professor’s bed, listening. Distant cars. The perfectly still air of the apartment. The refrigerator in the kitchen humming and then kicking back into action with a gurgle.

“Mistral?” Elettra whispers again.

A noise. Harvey grabs her wrist.

Elettra nods. She heard it, too. Something clanging against the railing outside.

Footsteps on the stairway.

Someone’s coming.

Elettra peers out through the bedroom door and gives a start. Mistral is on the other side of the hall, as still and pale as a ghost. Her round eyes are open wide with fright.

Elettra lies down on the ground and peeks over the threshold, toward the front door to the apartment, which they left open.

Her heart in her throat, she sees the beam of a flashlight dart across the stairway.

Sheng crawls up to her. Harvey stays behind them, crouching down.

“They’re coming up here …,” whispers Elettra.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

They listen to the footsteps.

There are at least two of them.

Whoever they are, they’ve reached the last flight of steps. Elettra waves Mistral over, but the girl shakes her head and points down at her feet. Drawn on the floor right beneath her is a red circle.

The flashlight has reached the top floor.

The first person to appear in the doorway looks like a vampire. He’s all dressed in black, is tall and thin, has totally gray hair and is holding a violin. Hobbling behind him is a sort of two-legged whale holding the flashlight and dragging his feet as he clings to the railing.

“It’s them,” whispers Sheng. “They’re here.”

The tall, thin man stops at the doorway and slowly raises his violin, tucking it between his shoulder and his chin. Gleaming in his right hand is a bow. He rests it gently against the strings and begins to play a gripping, hypnotic melody, which flows through the professor’s apartment like honey. They’re delicate, perfectly rounded notes. Slow and sweet, they creep their way around the books and gently caress the kids’ ears.

Elettra feels her eyelids go heavy. She blinks once, twice, and then closes her eyes.

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