Raphael (The Immortal Youth Book 1) by Monica La Porta Read Free Book Online Page B

must leave tomorrow morning from Livorno. You know the drill.”
    As Raphael finished the new task she gave him, she came back once again with yet another folder.
    “I forgot about the terracotta tile cargo that was stopped at customs in Los Angeles, earlier this morning. They need a copy of the original contract you filed two days ago,” she said.
    Reaching for the folder Iris had deposited on the desk as far away from him as she could, Raphael collected all his strength and smiled at her.
    Past dinner time, Raphael was finally able to leave the premises.
    The secretary had stayed as well. “Look how late it is,” Iris said, as she punched the security code to lock the office and broke one of her manicured nails.
    The venom in her eyes and the twitch on her lower lip gave Raphael enough fuel to hastily retreat to the ground floor, from where he was still able to hear her tirade. Too exhausted to care, he took the stairs to the garage, but decided to leave the bicycle there instead. After buying a slice of pizza and a soda from the pizzeria at the corner of Quintilius’s offices, he hopped on the first bus to Testaccio and the Mattatoio. There, he met Lina, whose shift was ending, and inquired after the werewolf girl.
    “She’s awake. Another girl would’ve died with that amount of blood loss.” Lina walked him to one of the stalls separated from the rest of the infirmary by fabric screens. “Don’t feel bad if she doesn’t want to talk to you. She screamed at the doctor who saved her life too,” she whispered before disappearing behind the screen.
    Only wanting to check that the girl was okay, Raphael waited for Lina to announce him. A few hissed words later, Lina reemerged, and he was allowed behind the beige curtain where the girl lay huddled under the thin duvet, depressingly matching the color on the walls. Green hope covering red blood.
    “Only a few minutes, okay?” Lina patted him on his arm and left.
    Raphael shuffled closer to the footboard, one hand holding his messenger bag in place over his shoulder. “Hi.” Tilting his head to move his long bangs out of the way, he gave the girl a smile. “How do you feel today?”
    Emotionless, the girl stared at him, resembling a statue in her stillness.
    When he realized she had no intention to answer him, he stepped back and turned with a parting, “Okay.”
    “Wait.” Her voice reached him on the other side of the curtain.
    He pivoted on his heels and walked back to her bedside. “Let’s try this again.” With a wave of his free hand, he said, “Hi. How are you?”
    The girl shook her head. “Alive.” Tears shimmered in her blue eyes.
    “And you aren’t happy about it?”
    “No. I can’t say I am.”
    “That’s a shame.”
    Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything. Shaking, she raised the duvet to her nose. The scars on her wrists were healing. Next full moon, they would be gone.
    “It gets better.”
    “Says who?”
    His right eye twitched, the harbinger of a migraine that would soon wreak havoc on his fatigued system. “Someone who thought more than once that dying was preferable to living.” He looked for a chair, but there was none.
    Frowning, she hid both hands under the blanket. “Why?”
    “Because the pain was too much.” He massaged his temples.
    She looked down and brought her knees up. “Then why didn’t you?”
    “Kill myself?” The green and the beige mixed as he swayed.
    She nodded.
    Too tired to stay on his feet anymore, Raphael patted the bed in a silent question. The girl shrugged, he took that as a yes and let himself down by the footboard. “Because I really hate to lose.” His back throbbed, as it often happened when he revisited his past. The RYS psychologist had explained to him the pain wasn’t due to any physical reason but triggered by his memories. The man had used a few acronyms, but the only one Raphael remembered was PTSD because he liked the post prefix; it gave him hope to think his problems