Warrior Genius Read online

  “Northern Rapallicci,” Pietro said, sounding more energetic. He pushed himself up with his walking stick.

  Milena gazed up the hill. “There’s a villa covered in ivy and moss that looks centuries old. Pietro, whose house is that?”

  “It belonged to one of my former students…” Pietro hung his head. “Before Nerezza killed him.”

  Everyone fell silent, and Zanobius felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t a coincidence that Nerezza had begun wiping out artists and their Geniuses shortly after Ugalino had created Zanobius.

  With Zanobius leading, the group crested the hill and approached the villa. To everyone’s shock, a man’s voice shouted from inside. “You better get lost, Tulpa, before I make you get lost!”

  Zanobius clenched his three fists. He had a feeling the man wasn’t referring to Giacomo.

  “I thought this place was supposed to be abandoned,” Savino complained.

  “Me too,” Pietro said.

  Zanobius looked up at a broken window on the second floor where the sunlight glinted off a long, tubular barrel. He ushered the children back. “Get away, he has a gun!”

  BLAM!

  Smoke billowed from the window. The bullet hit Zanobius in the shoulder. He recoiled but held his ground. The children screamed, and their Geniuses squawked and scattered.

  Zanobius dug his fingers into his wound, which oozed gray liquid. He pulled out a round metal ball and tossed it into the grass. His skin began to grow back almost immediately.

  The man with the gun poked his head out the window, his eyes wide with fury. He had long, stringy hair and a scraggly beard. “I warned you, Tulpa! I don’t want any trouble. Now, turn around and leave.” He packed the gun barrel with powder, preparing his next shot.

  “Time to go!” Giacomo said, holding the Compass at the ready.

  “Wait! Not yet.” Pietro strode past Giacomo and Zanobius and approached the villa.

  The bearded man raised his gun again. “Hold it right there, old man!”

  “Niccolo? I thought I recognized your voice,” Pietro said. “Is that really you?”

  “Depends who’s asking,” the man hollered back.

  “It’s Pietro Vasari.”

  The man slowly lowered his weapon and scrutinized Pietro. “Impossible…”

  “I thought you were dead!” Pietro said, sounding elated.

  “I thought you were dead too!” Niccolo erupted.

  “Now, stop being a fool and put that gun away!” Pietro ordered.

  “Yes, of course! Hold on, I’ll be right down!” Niccolo disappeared from the window.

  “Uh … what’s going on?” Giacomo said. “Who is that guy?”

  Pietro turned to face the group. “Niccolo is the former student I was telling you about. He and his Genius must have escaped Nerezza somehow.”

  Zanobius looked to the rooftop, but didn’t see any sign of Niccolo’s Genius. He probably kept it inside for its safety, Zanobius reasoned at first. But if that were the case, why had Niccolo fired at him with a gun and not sacred geometry?

  The front door burst open, and Niccolo rushed to Pietro, embracing him. “Where have you been hiding all these years?” Niccolo said, holding Pietro at arm’s length. Some of his teeth were missing, and those remaining were rotting. Dark rings hung under his eyes.

  “Long story,” Pietro said.

  “Your irises are cloudy…” Niccolo said in a hushed voice, then looked over at Pietro’s Genius, who had two holes in place of eyes. “You and your Genius are both blind?”

  “For many years now,” Pietro said. “But our connection is stronger than ever.”

  “Are you able to perform sacred geometry anymore?” Niccolo asked.

  “Oh yes, and Tito still loves to fly when he gets the chance.”

  Zanobius had witnessed the old master and his Genius in action and had been astounded by how well they functioned together. Pietro explained to Niccolo that Tito’s gem emitted a vibrational signal that helped him navigate the world. It was also what allowed him to sense other bird-Geniuses nearby.

  “But enough about that,” Pietro said. “We need your help. We’re on the run from Nerezza, and we’ve been trying to find somewhere to hide out.”

  Niccolo’s friendly demeanor turned sour and his bloodshot eyes locked on Zanobius. One pupil was a large black orb, the other a speck. The man’s unbalanced stare put Zanobius on edge. “I’m sorry, Pietro, but you can’t stay if you’re keeping company with this abomination.”

  Zanobius tensed. He’d been called that before. And worse. But the names still pricked.

  “Zanobius isn’t dangerous,” Giacomo insisted, stepping forward. “He helped us get away from Nerezza.”

  “And he helped save my life,” Enzio added.

  Niccolo cocked an eyebrow, looking dubious. He studied the pattern emblazoned on Zanobius’s chest, then pointed at his amputated arm. “What happened there?”

  Zanobius crossed his arms, covering his injury. “A mercenary cut it off.”

  Niccolo scratched his cheek, shedding flakes of gray skin. “And why hasn’t your loathsome master fixed it yet?”

  “Because Ugalino is dead,” Zanobius said. “He doesn’t control me anymore. I’m no threat to you.”

  “I doubt that,” Niccolo snarled. “You need to go.”

  “Go where?” Zanobius said sharply. “I’m a walking target, as you well know. I made a promise to help Giacomo. I’m not going to abandon him and his friends now.”

  Niccolo’s gaze darted to Giacomo. “And what’s so special about you?”

  Giacomo looked up at Zanobius and gave him a committed nod that said, We’re in this together. He turned back to Niccolo. “I’m also a Tulpa.”

  Niccolo scrutinized Giacomo. “You look pretty human to me. Did Ugalino create you too?”

  “No, my parents did,” Giacomo replied.

  Niccolo looked surprised. “What were their names?”

  “Orsino and Amera Ghiberti,” Giacomo said proudly. Then his voice lowered. “But they’re gone now…”

  Niccolo seemed like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself and let out a frustrated groan instead. He scratched the back of his neck and looked off toward the horizon. “You know how risky it is if I let you stay here?”

  “Please, Niccolo. We need your help,” Pietro said.

  “If Nerezza finds us, she’ll kill our Geniuses and turn us all into Lost Souls,” Giacomo said.

  As he pondered Giacomo’s request, Niccolo reached up and touched the chain of a necklace he wore, running his fingers down its links.

  “And we have something that might be of great interest to you,” Pietro added.

  Niccolo looked intrigued. “What’s that?”

  Pietro nudged Giacomo. “Go ahead, show him. We can trust him.”

  Giacomo pulled the Compass from its sheath; it glimmered in the sunlight.

  Niccolo’s eyes widened in awe. “The Creator’s Compass … Then it’s true, the Sacred Tools are real.”

  “After all these years, we finally have the means of removing Nerezza from power,” Pietro said.

  From his time with Ugalino, Zanobius understood that an artist who controlled the Sacred Tools held the power to shape the course of history, for good or ill. In the hands of a tyrant, their combined energy had the potential to destroy an empire, so it was crucial to find them before Nerezza could.

  Niccolo looked around the group. “Do you have the Straightedge and the Pencil as well?”

  “Not yet, but I think I can find them,” Giacomo said. “That’s why we need somewhere to lie low for a while. Please, signor. If you and your Genius were able to escape Nerezza, then you must understand what we’re going through.”

  “You’re right, I don’t have any love for the so-called Supreme Creator,” Niccolo said.

  “Does that mean you’ll let all of us stay?” Giacomo asked hopefully.

  Niccolo swung open the door to his villa and waved everyone i
n. “Come on.”

  Once everyone was inside, Niccolo slammed the door and latched it. His hand reached down the front of his stained tunic and rubbed what appeared to be his necklace’s pendant. To Zanobius’s surprise, a faint purple glow appeared.

  3

  A STRANGE HOST

  Giacomo crossed the threshold into the dank villa and eyed Niccolo’s gun leaning against the wall. Its vented metal barrel was attached to a long wooden handle, similar to the gun that one of Ozo’s mercenaries had carried.

  Niccolo slung the weapon over his shoulder, then reached for the Compass Giacomo carried under his arm. “If you want, I can lock that in a cabinet where it’ll be nice and safe.”

  “Uh … that’s all right, I’ll keep it with me,” Giacomo said, clutching the Compass close. He had nearly died finding it, and he wasn’t about to turn it over to a man he’d just met.

  The villa was packed with antiques, floor to rafters, and the only way to move through the house was to navigate the narrow passages that Niccolo had kept clear. Giacomo followed his friends through a labyrinth of tables, chairs, mirrors, chandeliers, vases, and armoires. Mixed in with the furnishings were countless decorative items: sculptures, bowls, carvings, stuffed animal heads, and piles and piles of books. There were enough suits of armor, shields, swords, and spears to equip a small army.

  “Why do you have all this stuff?” Giacomo asked.

  “Several of my family members were enthusiastic collectors,” Niccolo said brusquely, then disappeared behind a dark cherry cabinet and into another room.

  Giacomo thought he noticed a strange expression cross Pietro’s face, but he wasn’t sure. Right now, he was more concerned about Mico. His hummingbird and the other Geniuses were circling overhead, letting out a chorus of distressed squawks.

  “Think they’re trying to tell us something?” Giacomo whispered to Savino, who looked around warily.

  “Maybe coming here was a mistake,” Savino said. “Do you think we can really trust this guy?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Giacomo admitted, dread creeping over him. “But it’s not like we have anywhere else to go.”

  “Just keep your guard up.”

  Niccolo reappeared, dragging an old trunk. He dropped it with a thud and opened the top, revealing dozens of pencils, brushes, inks, and sketchbooks. “You’re welcome to whatever’s in here. It’s not doing me any good.”

  Giacomo snatched up a leather-bound sketchbook and a pencil. After two weeks without any art supplies, he was eager to draw again and resume his sacred geometry lessons.

  “I don’t suppose you have any clean clothes we could wear?” Savino asked. “I’m getting pretty tired of my own stench.”

  “One of those should have some garments that might fit you all,” Niccolo said, gesturing to a row of armoires at the back of the room.

  “Where’s your Genius?” Aaminah called out to Niccolo. “I’m sure our Geniuses would love to meet it.”

  “Yes, how is Furio?” Pietro said. “He must be nearly as big as Tito by now.”

  Niccolo turned away and busied himself opening and closing some drawers. “Oh, Furio is probably outside hiding in a tree.”

  “Come on, Luna. Let’s go find him!” Aaminah exclaimed. Her purple-and-orange-plumed robin Genius swooped to her shoulder, and they headed for the door. “Luna’s still learning to track other Geniuses, but she found Giacomo’s Genius and—”

  “No, stay in here!” Niccolo snapped.

  Luna let out a startled squeak. Aaminah froze. “I’m sorry … Did I say something wrong?”

  “Furio doesn’t like to be bothered, is all,” Niccolo said, then quickly changed the subject. “Anyone care for some roasted-barley tea?” He kicked aside some wooden crates to reveal a hearth, then wound his way toward what appeared to be a kitchen. “I know I have some cups around here somewhere…”

  “I’ll look for some kindling,” Zanobius offered. Then he added, “I’ll be sure not to disturb Furio.”

  Enzio followed Zanobius. “Let me help.”

  Pietro used his walking stick to make his way around the furniture. Aaminah helped him into a seat at a large table near the fireplace. “I don’t suppose you have any food, Niccolo?” Pietro called after their host. “We’ve been eating nothing but berries and squirrels.”

  While Niccolo was out of sight, Giacomo huddled with Milena and Savino. “Anyone else get the sense that Niccolo’s not giving us the whole story?” he whispered.

  Milena nodded. “There’s definitely something off about him.”

  “Way off,” Savino added. “What if he’s actually working for Nerezza?” He cast a furtive glance around the room. “I mean, maybe his ‘family of collectors’ doesn’t even exist and he actually stole all this stuff from artists after he turned them over to Nerezza.”

  Giacomo shivered. “You think that might be true?”

  “That’s just Savino’s paranoia talking,” Milena said.

  “You have to admit, after what happened with Signor Barrolo, Pietro might not be the best judge of character,” Savino argued.

  “What are you three whispering about?” Pietro said.

  “Nothing!” With a glare, Milena signaled to Giacomo and Savino that their conversation was over. “We were just admiring Niccolo’s collection. It’s very impressive.”

  “So, so impressive,” Savino parroted.

  The clatter died down in the next room, and Niccolo emerged with a stack of cups and a teakettle, along with a plate of crackers and moldy cheeses. “This should stave off the hunger. I wasn’t expecting guests, so my stores are a little low. While you all get settled in, I’ll head into town to stock up.”

  Giacomo and Savino shot each other worried looks. If Niccolo went into the village alone, there was a chance he’d inform on them.

  “Maybe Savino and I could go with you,” Giacomo suggested.

  Niccolo pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the cabinets. “It’s safer if I go alone.” He took a handful of gold impronta from a chest, locked the cabinet, and turned to leave. “If I show up at the market with a couple of travel companions, people are going to start talking. And we don’t want that.”

  Savino grabbed Giacomo’s arm and pulled him down the hall. “Come on, we can’t let him leave.”

  “Where are you boys going?” Pietro hollered, but they were already at the back door.

  Outside, Niccolo was hitching two horses up to a decrepit covered wagon. Once he finished, he took a seat on the cart and grabbed the reins.

  Savino and Giacomo skirted the horses and climbed onto the bench next to Niccolo. Nero landed on Savino’s shoulder while Mico circled overhead, chirping worriedly. “You’re probably going to need an extra pair of hands to carry all that food,” Savino said.

  “Or two,” Giacomo added.

  Niccolo glared at the boys. “I can handle it fine on my own. Now, leave me be.”

  Mico flitted around Niccolo, his chirps turning to angry squawks. “Shoo!” Niccolo swatted Mico away, but Giacomo’s Genius darted closer, jabbing his beak at Niccolo’s chest, where the outline of a round pendant was visible under his dingy tunic. Niccolo swiped again, but Mico avoided the strike and dove down the front of Niccolo’s tunic, sending the man into a violent squirming fit. “Ah! Get out, you meddling miscreant! It’s not safe!”

  “Mico, that’s enough!” Giacomo patted down Niccolo’s tunic, trying to grab Mico.

  “Hands off!” Niccolo shoved him away, and Giacomo fell backward off the cart, slamming to the ground with a thud.

  Zanobius was still collecting firewood with Enzio a little way from the house, but upon seeing the sudden violence, they both came running up the path.

  Mico shot out of Niccolo’s collar, his talons yanking the necklace’s chain. The clasp snapped, and Mico flew away with a black pendant trailing behind him.

  Niccolo scrambled out of the cart and fell to his knees. “Give that back!”

  The rest of th
e group ran outside to see what all the commotion was about.

  “What’s going on?” Pietro asked.

  Niccolo gasped for air. “Help…”

  Pietro looked concerned. “Niccolo? What’s wrong?”

  Aaminah went to Niccolo, flute in hand. “You’re going to be all right,” she told him as Luna fluttered onto her head, ready to assist. “Try to take deep breaths.”

  Niccolo pointed at Mico, his voice weak. “My necklace … I need it back…”

  “Mico! Drop it! Now!” Giacomo whistled, and Mico finally released the pendant. It fell into the grass with a soft thump. As Giacomo picked it up, his breath caught. At first glance, the pendant had looked like a polished octagonal stone, nearly the size of Giacomo’s palm. But on closer inspection, Giacomo noticed a pale glimmer emanating from within.

  Giacomo’s stomach fell. “Is this…?”

  “Give it here!” Niccolo wrested the gem from Giacomo’s grasp and frantically fastened the necklace back on. He rubbed the gem, which glowed purple.

  “How could you?” Giacomo said, disgusted. “You took your Genius’s gem off its crown?”

  “No wonder you were lying about Furio,” Zanobius said, dropping the sticks he had gathered. “You’re just as bad as Ugalino!”

  “You two don’t know what you’re talking about,” Niccolo shot back, still catching his breath.

  “Niccolo, why are you keeping your Genius’s gem tied around your neck?” Pietro demanded. “Tell me. This instant.”

  Niccolo let out a heavy sigh. “I was able to escape Nerezza. But Furio didn’t. All I have left of him is his gem.”

  An icy chill shot through Giacomo. “You’re … you’re a Lost Soul.”

  Niccolo nodded and the others fell silent, shock visible on their faces.

  “I’m so sorry, Niccolo,” Pietro said. “I didn’t realize…”

  The last time Giacomo had encountered a Lost Soul, the man had stabbed him and left him for dead. Giacomo slowly backed away from Niccolo.

  “How long ago did your Genius die?” Aaminah asked.

  “Fifteen years,” Niccolo said softly. “Furio’s gem is the only thing that’s kept me from meeting the Creator all this time. When I touch it, I’m able to regenerate myself a little. But the gem is highly volatile.” He looked at Giacomo. “That’s why I didn’t want your Genius near it. One crack, and the remaining energy could escape.”