WARDENS OF THE WORLD — Book 1
Hex Powers and Secrets — Prologue & Chapters 1–3

(English translation by Agbes Broome)

Prologue
22 November 1963

The TV screen flickered, black-and-white and grainy, as though reality itself was tearing at the edges. The voice coming from the speaker quavered.
“From Dallas, Texas… The flash, apparently official. President Kennedy died at 1:00 p.m. Central Standard Time…”
No one in the room moved. A coffee cup clattered as someone set it down too hard. A woman was clutching her throat with both hands as if trying not to scream.
The room smelled of coffee, dust, and hot electronics from the machine parked in the middle of the living room, which had turned the whole world into a tragedy.
Jayne Heimdahl didn’t hear the rest of the broadcast. All she heard was her own heartbeat.
She’d already known this.
She’d seen it before it happened. Except that was impossible. The TV screen wasn’t the only thing flickering – things were flickering before her inner eye too. Images, surfacing like a memory that shouldn’t be there: a car moving slowly through Dallas, a hand raising a rifle, shots echoing before anyone had even heard them ring out. She’d known it was going to happen. And still, she’d stood there, powerless, trapped in certainty, defeated by inner doubt. A premonition that contradicted everything she understood. Knowing things before they happened wasn’t possible. But what frightened her even more than what was unfolding before the shocked eyes of an entire world was her second vision. The one of total devastation. A red eye suspended in the sky like a wound that could never heal, pulsing and alive. A figure standing beneath it. A man with an icy, terrifying stare. The figure was cloaked in darkness and held a staff that emitted waves of power so strong the ground around him cracked.
Jayne gasped, gripping the edge of the table. None of the grownups around her seemed to notice. No one had seen what she’d seen.
Tearing her eyes away from the TV, she looked around the room. Everyone seemed frozen in the same mute shock. No one had any idea what she’d seen and understood.
Her heart was pounding. It wasn’t just a vision – it was a warning. She knew that now. And she knew it was a signpost to her life’s path.
She had to find out what the symbols meant. The red eye. The staff. The shadowy figure with the piercing, ice-blue gaze.
Because if the vision had not yet come to pass… then maybe it wasn’t too late to stop it.
Jayne closed her eyes, and in the darkness, she saw the clear red symbol again, pulsing high above the world. It almost seemed… as though the red eye in the sky was staring directly at her. She opened her eyes. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was steady when she whispered, so quietly none of the adults around her would hear:
“I’m going to find you. And I’m going to stop you.”

Chapter 1
The Most Boring Livia in the World

Livia Holm is seated at the very back of the church during the service, staring at the yellowed hymnal in front of her. She’s genuinely trying to pay attention, but her dad’s voice keeps fading into a low background drone.
“Let us not forget Matthew’s words when doubt came to Jesus on the cross and he said, my God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Blah, blah, blah…”
Old men, old men, and then some more old men, Livia grumbles inwardly.
She sighs as quietly as she’s able. Were things this boring back in Jesus’ day too, or is this something the adults have invented just to torture children? She knows she’s supposed to find the words of the Bible interesting, valuable, and meaningful. The way her older sister Emma and mom Beth always seem to. But Livia can’t muster so much as an ounce of interest when she tries to take in her dad’s sermons. They make her want to yawn and nod off. The stories are all thousands of years old, and nothing new or exciting ever happens in them. It’s the same old, dry tales about various old men who are apparently important and significant.
Sometimes, Livia suspects she was born into the wrong family. Or that she’s a changeling someone sneaked into the maternity ward. The thought occurs to her any time family photos are brought out or a relative comments on their family resemblance.
With her wild, bushy red hair, she doesn’t fit in. It blazes like a lone torch in a sea of brunettes. Her mom and sister have virtually identical dark hair, always neatly combed, shiny and obedient as though it would never even think of resisting a hairbrush.
And then there’s Tomas. He’s the only dad Livia’s ever known, though he wasn’t with them from the start. He moved into their lives seven years ago and has since become the center of the family. Dad has no hair at all on his head. His bald scalp gleams like polished marble in the sunlight, but he more than makes up for it with facial hair. His beard is thick, dark, and always carefully trimmed, as neat as Mom and Emma’s hairdos.
In this family of order and tidiness, Livia sticks out like a flaming protest.
If only something interesting would happen for once, she muses. If I could at least get an article published in the newspaper.
Livia dreams of becoming a journalist one day, of writing about the world as it is now – exciting, curious, alive. Not like church on Sundays, where her dad goes on and on about things that happened thousands of years ago. Important, maybe, but hardly topical. No one cares about Jesus being nailed to the cross anymore. It was terrible, sure. But shouldn’t it be forgiven and forgotten by now?
Livia sighs loudly and receives an annoyed look from her big sister Emma, who is sitting next to her. In a bit, Emma will go up to sing with the church choir. Livia won’t. She refuses to open her mouth to sing at church. If she ever were to do it, she’d probably ruin everything by getting the words wrong or starting in on the wrong hymn.
“You should be more like your sister.” Livia has been told that countless times in her twelve years of life. She’s not like Emma. But what is she like? Livia Holm. Twelve years old and already world champion at being bored. She can sense that there are a lot of things in life that could be fun. Why does she even have to start sixth grade, where she’ll be every bit as bored as she has been all previous years? Why should she consent to remain an insignificant person no one cares about? Her mom likes to say that change is the only constant. Everything is always changing.
Livia feels those changes could hurry up a little. She can’t wait forever. Her dad is still yammering on about Jesus in the pulpit. Livia can’t help herself. She sticks her tongue out at him. And just as she does, a crucifix with a mournful Christ falls from the wall. It’s as though he was so taken aback by Livia’s bad behavior, he collapsed from shock. Livia and the rest of the congregation give a start. What just happened?
Dad looks around the church irritably, trying to figure out who’s behind the prank. He doesn’t seem inclined to believe it was some restless spirit, out to undermine him. But several members of the congregation do seem to believe just that, and they look nervous as they stare at Jesus, now lying on the floor, enjoying the short respite.
Livia feels ashamed and immediately regrets what she did. She knows that’s no way to behave in church. The rules are there to be followed. Jesus had done nothing except hang there on his cross, looking generally sad and dispirited. So even though it’s not Livia’s fault, she worries someone might think it was, since Jesus fell right after she openly disrespected her dad’s tedious sermon.
Livia glances over at the person at the end of their pew, an older, gray-haired lady wrapped in a large, beautiful shawl. The woman is studying her intently. It’s as though she can see right through Livia. An icy chill runs down her spine. The woman’s eyes feel like laser beams.
Livia swallows nervously and turns to Emma. “Do you know who that is?” she whispers.
Emma frowns. “Who?”
“The lady next to us. The one staring at me.”
Emma looks over her shoulder at her little sister and shakes her head. “You’re cracked. There’s no one there.”
Livia turns around. The old woman is gone. The pew where she was sitting is empty. How could she disappear so quickly?
A while later, the family is back home in the large old house that used to be a farm once. The property has been in Mom’s family for generations. There aren’t any animals anymore. Only Sigge, the family’s deaf and almost completely blind cat. His eyesight is so poor he doesn’t even notice mice scurrying right under his nose. According to Dad, Sigge will soon be meeting his maker in heaven. Livia doesn’t believe that. Sigge has always been part of her life and seems to be the only one who’s content to let her be who she is. Sigge can’t die. It would simply be too unfair.
God seems like a peculiar figure. Livia has never seen him or her. Most people think God is a man. Livia does too, because the Bible is all about men doing stuff. But at least God seems really good at one thing. Spying. Because apparently, he sees and hears everything. Livia isn’t exactly thrilled about that. Because honestly, she’d like to be able to go to the bathroom without being watched.
When the family gathers around the kitchen table for a late Sunday lunch, Tomas looks at Livia with concern.
“I know you don’t always appreciate my sermons. But you could at least pretend and not bother the rest of the congregation, who actually want to listen.”
“Hold on, you made that crucifix fall down?” Emma eyes her little sister worriedly. “How did you do it?”
“No, of course I didn’t! I didn’t do anything. I was sitting right next to you the whole time!”
Livia feels ashamed when she sees the disappointed look on her dad’s face. As usual, she gets blamed whenever anything goes wrong. Livia’s used to being the scapegoat. Even when it isn’t her fault in the slightest. She realizes it must have been obvious the sermon bored her.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I’ll do better next time.”
Her dad fixes her sternly. “You do understand I need to be able to do my job, don’t you? I can’t have you sighing and sabotaging my sermons.”
Livia turns bright red. She knows no one in her family understands her. Her Mom and Emma don’t share the kind of doubts Livia’s overcome with every time she’s forced to go to church. Livia doesn’t feel she has much of a relationship with God. There seems to be something wrong with the connection between them.
No one seems to understand that Livia wants more from life. Dusty old stories aren’t enough. She wants to question things and understand the meaning behind everything that happens in life and the world. But not everyone appreciates Livia’s endless questions.
Mom pulls her attention back to the table by starting to talk about a dream she had the night before.
“I dreamed there was a huge, white owl perched on the roof of our house. When I climbed up to it, it started talking to me.”
“Really? That’s cool,” Livia says. “What did it say?”
“No idea. I don’t recall,” her mom replies. “I think it wanted to tell me something important. But I can’t remember any of it.”
“You always have the weirdest dreams,” Emma says dismissively. “That’s almost kind of creepy.”
“Oh stop. It was just a silly dream,” Mom sighs.
“I’ve read about dream interpretation,” Livia pipes up. “I think owls are supposed to be messages from the unknown.”
“That’s enough,” Dad cuts in sternly. “We do not discuss dream interpretation in this family!”
“Why not?” Livia asks.
“Because there are actual crazy people out there who believe in that kind of nonsense.”
“Oh come on,” Mom interjects sharply. “It was just an innocent dream.”
“Be that as it may, in this family we don’t believe that kind of humbug.”
“What makes it humbug?” Livia can’t help but ask.
“Dream interpretation is for quacks,” Dad declares firmly.
“What’s a quack?”
“Can you just drop it!” Emma snaps. “Why do you always have to ask so many annoying questions?”
“A quack is a person who takes advantage of people’s sincere longing to find meaning in life by filling their heads with nonsense. Like that old lunatic in the Skyburg. And you kids know perfectly well that you’re…”
“Not allowed to go there, ever,” Emma finishes for him. “We know.”
Emma and Livia know they’re not allowed anywhere near the house on 1 Winter Way. Livia doesn’t understand why it’s called number 1, given as how it’s the only house on that street. The house sits atop a hill. It’s as though it’s always watching the town and its residents. Dad’s convinced the old lady who lives in it is insane and that people who visit her are manipulated or hypnotized somehow. He thinks it’s important not to let yourself be influenced by any of the foolishness the old lady gets up to. Livia says nothing, but she disagrees. Why should being curious about the unexplained be so dangerous and forbidden? The Bible is full of unexplained things, so why should learning more about stuff like that be off limits?
But for now, she keeps her questions to herself. She knows Dad would worry if he could hear her thoughts. He’d make her read more Bible passages and say more prayers. And Livia doesn’t want to do either. So she keeps quiet until she’s allowed to leave the table and then writes her questions down in her top-secret diary, which she keeps hidden in her room.

Chapter 2
The Sky Tribune

As July turns into August, Livia can smell the start of the school year in the air. It’s been the same every summer. Soon, it’ll be time to begin sixth grade. She figures it won’t be all that different from previous years. Probably all the same classmates. And the same teachers. Livia will continue to keep a low profile and do her best not to stand out unnecessarily. So many of the others are more than happy to do that. Take Torkel, for instance. He makes all the decisions in their class. He probably expects to be a politician someday. He thinks it’s extremely important that they all maintain a high GPA. It can be a pivotal factor in their futures, according to Torkel. He hates anyone who’s lazy or ignorant. And if someone happens to be careless or bad at something, Torkel’s always the first to point it out.
Livia knows most things will be the same as ever when school starts. But for the first time in her life, she can feel something beginning to change. Something in Skybury is vibrating with a new kind of energy. Something she can’t quite put her finger on. Livia worries the change will happen suddenly, without her noticing. She knows she has to stay vigilant. Livia has wondered if she’s supposed to fall in love with a boy, or something like that. Not that she knows why she’d want to. She has zero interest in boys, who are all annoying and exhausting. All of them except Dante.
She grabs her bike and heads over to his house.
Dante Ahlström is Livia’s best friend. Or, more accurately, her only friend. Unless you count her cat, Sigge. Dante’s a pretty funny guy who’s almost as unorganized and confused as Livia herself. They make a good team. Dante’s mom Miriam and Livia’s mom Beth are cousins, so they’ve known each other their whole lives. Dante is secretly in love with Beatrice from their class. To him, she’s absolutely perfect. But the strange thing is that whenever Dante’s goes to say something to Beatrice, his tongue stops functioning. He can’t get a single sensible word out, he just mumbles or babbles incoherently.
When Livia gets to Dante’s house, he’s outside, throwing pinecones. He’s trying to hit the trash can but keeps missing. He’s wearing a large yellow raincoat and an equally garish yellow rain hat.
“Hi,” Livia calls to him. “Why are you wearing a raincoat?”
“Because it’s supposed to rain today.”
“It is? How do you know?”
“Mom’s weather app said so.”
“Really? But there’s not a single cloud in the sky.”
Dante glances up at the clear-blue sky.
“Maybe. But I’d trust Mom’s weather app over the sky any day,” Dante replies confidently.
Livia laughs at her friend. “How are you otherwise?”
Livia smiles her friendliest smile, hoping Dante might have some kind of news for once. But he doesn’t. She knows exactly what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.
“How I am? Well, how do you think I am? Same as usual. Mom and Dad are still refusing to make me a sibling.”
Livia shakes her head. “Seriously, I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with having a sibling. They’re kind of terrible.”
“No, they’re not! Beatrice has a sibling and she’s always talking about her adorable baby brother. If I had a younger sibling too, we’d have something to talk about.”
“Trust me. I have an older sister and it’s no fun.”
“Well sure, but there’s a big difference. Your big sister’s, like, the Princess of Primness, or whatever. My little sister would be the cutest thing in the world. And Beatrice and I could go for walks with our siblings and talk about all the milestones they’re hitting. It would be a dream.”
“You know there are other things you could talk about, though, right?” Livia says.
“Really? Like what?”
“How should I know! I’m not the one who’s in love with Beatrice.”
“Exactly. That’s my point. I need to be smart about this.”
“Smart? That might be difficult, Dante. For you, I mean.”
Dante makes a face at her.
“But you know the longer you wait to say something to her, the more impossible it’ll become.”
“Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”
“No idea. I read it somewhere, I think. Anyway,” Livia says briskly, “just forget it. Let’s go.”
Dante looks surprised. “Huh? Where are we going?”
“The newspaper!”
Livia says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Again? Seriously, how many times are you planning on going to go there?”
“I’ll keep going until they agree to let me write an article, of course! And when we’re done, we can head over to Beatrice’s and see if you can think of anything smart to say to her.”
“Fine. But we have to be back before the rain starts.”
Dante sighs and drops his pinecones on the ground before getting on his bike.
As they pedal toward the town center, Livia realizes she’d like to discuss the change she can sense coming. But how can she possibly bring that up with Dante? You can’t just tell people that you can sense something new is about to happen before it’s even happened.
Dante’s a good friend, she can talk to him about almost anything. But to be honest, he’s not always the sharpest. He wouldn’t understand the kind of invisible changes that might be taking place. Especially when she barely understands them herself.
Instead, she starts talking about how badly she wants to become a journalist.
“Today might be the day I finally get a proper assignment.”
“What would you want to write about?”
“Anything, so long as it’s important. I want to change the world!”
“Ugh. Sounds dull,” Dante mutters. “I couldn’t care less about changing the world. Changing my family would be enough for me. A baby sister and Beatrice and then life would be perfect.”
Livia laughs.
“Okay. I guess we’ll see how it goes when we head over to Beatrice’s after the newspaper then?”
Dante suddenly looks uneasy and nervous. Livia thinks to herself that if that’s what it’s like to be in love, she’s never going to be. It mostly seems awful and exhausting. When they reach the sign that reads “The Sky Tribune” in yellowed letters, they throw their bikes on the ground and march right in. A large jar full of pens crashes to the floor when Livia and Dante burst through the door.
“Oh no. Not you again,” Boris, the editor-in-chief, grumbles.
“Hi. It’s me again,” Livia says, beaming at him.
“Yes, so I see…”
The newspaper office is really just one large room filled with stacks of jumbled papers. A few old front pages are pinned up on one wall, as though to prove that once upon a time, the newspaper covered important events. These days, it mostly reports on which shops have closed or opened and who has been born or died.
“Do you have an assignment for me?”
Livia puts on her most enthusiastic face. Boris sighs loudly.
“No. And you know I don’t. You’re not a journalist yet. Come back in ten years.”
“But how will I become a journalist if I’m never allowed to practice?”
“As I’ve told you a few hundred times already: that’s what journalism school is for. You’re just a child, you know.”
“To be precise, you’ve told me it sixty-three times. Facts are important when you’re a journalist. Wouldn’t you agree? And besides, children are people too.”
“Yes, so they say…” Boris mutters, wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Do you really need a degree to ask questions?” Livia says, crossing her arms.
There’s a long silence. Dante takes the opportunity to pick up the pens scattered across the floor and put them back in the jar. Boris ponders her question for a while, then he shakes his head.
“Fine,” he says.
Livia’s stomach flips with excitement.
“If you can get an interview with Nina Kovanko…” He pauses, raising his eyebrows. “Then maybe we can talk.”
“Nina Kovanko?” Livia frowns. “Who’s that?”
She’s never heard the name before. She looks at Dante, who shakes his head.
“The old woman who lives in the little red cottage next to the movie theater,” Boris says slowly.
Livia’s eyes widen. “The Piss House?”
Boris grins. “Yes, I’m told it smells like an open sewer in there. And no one’s managed to talk to her in years.”
He leans back. “But all right, if you can get her to talk – then maybe you really are a journalist after all.”
“Great! So why am I interviewing her?”
“She used to be a very famous actress, back in the day. But she refuses to talk about it. Or about why she ended up here in Skybury with all her smelly cats.”
“How hard can it be, though?” Livia says.
“Well… the thing is, she doesn’t talk to anyone. Least of all journalists.”
“But I’m not a journalist. Yet,” Livia says eagerly.
“It’s settled, then,” Boris says with a sigh. “If you can get her to talk, I promise I’ll publish the interview. But don’t get your hopes up. There are all kinds of stories about her strange behavior. Not to mention all those cats. I don’t think she’s right in the head, poor thing.”
“No problem. We can handle it!”
Livia looks at Dante, who shakes his head again. “Don’t look at me! I’m not going anywhere near that house. And besides, I’m allergic to cats.”
“What? Since when are you allergic to cats? You’re not allergic to Sigge.”
“Sure, but Sigge might not actually be a cat. More like a tiny lion? Honestly, all those cats, it’s kind of creepy!”
“Well, at least it’s not as creepy as the Skyburg,” Boris says, sounding amused.
The Skyburg is the house Dad was talking about, the one Livia has been forbidden to visit. But he’s never said anything about the foul-smelling little cottage with all the cats.
Livia spontaneously salutes the editor-in-chief to say she accepts the challenge of interviewing Nina Kovanko, the cat lady in the stinky cottage.
When Livia and Dante step out onto the street, Livia suddenly has a feeling she’s being watched. She looks around. Further down the street, she notices a woman staring straight at her. A chill runs down her spine. Because it’s the same old woman who was eyeing her creepily in church the Sunday before. Who is she? What does she want? And above all: why is she staring at Livia like that?
“See that gray-haired old lady over there?” Livia hisses through clenched teeth to Dante.
He looks in the direction she’s facing. “What old lady?”
Dante can’t see anyone. Livia blinks quickly. The woman is gone. Again. Is she a figment of Livia’s imagination? Or is she just the world’s fastest old lady, somehow able to vanish quicker than the human eye can follow? But something feels wrong.
“I’m sure she was standing right over there, staring,” Livia mutters, puzzled.
“Maybe you’re losing your mind?” Dante suggests. “It’s not uncommon at our age. I read about this girl who went insane. And it started exactly like this, she was seeing people who weren’t there.”
“Whatever. I know what I saw,” Livia snaps.
“That’s exactly what she said. Maybe you should go talk to a psychopath,” Dante says, nodding solemnly.
“Psychiatrist,” Livia corrects him.
“Sure. That might work, too,” Dante agrees thoughtfully.
“It’s really weird,” Livia murmurs. “I could see her so clearly.”
“I don’t see anything at all,” Dante says. “The streets are deserted, as usual…”
Livia walks toward the street corner where the woman stood. Her heart suddenly starts to beat faster. Because there, on the sidewalk, right where the woman was standing just moments before, are clear footprints in the gravel.

Chapter 3
Dante and Beatrice

Livia has known Dante her entire life. She’s watched him change over the years. And in the past year, he’s changed a whole lot. It happened the moment he discovered how he felt about Beatrice. His feelings began to creep up on him during the spring of fifth grade, and all summer, Dante’s been incapable of thinking about anything but Beatrice. It’s beyond Livia how someone can become so obsessed with another person. And even though Dante’s always been a bit messy, confused, and odd, it’s been a hundred times worse since he fell in love.
The two friends have ridden their bikes over to the building where Beatrice lives. The closer they get, the quieter Dante becomes. It’s as though his brain is finding it increasingly hard to function.
“We’re here,” Livia says, pointing to the white, three-story apartment building.
Dante nods mutely in response. They get off their bikes and look up at the floor where Beatrice lives.
“So, are you going to ring the doorbell?”
Dante stares at Livia as though she’d just confessed to being a werewolf. He shakes his head, looking absolutely terrified.
“You could ask her something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know! I’m not in love with her.”
“Haven’t you ever been in love with someone?”
“You know perfectly well I haven’t,” Livia snaps irritably.
“When you get to my age, you’ll understand,” Dante says, nodding solemnly.
“You realize you’re four months younger than me, right?”
“You’re always getting hung up on details,” Dante mutters. Suddenly, the door to Beatrice’s building opens.
“Hide!” Dante yelps, throwing himself to the ground to avoid being spotted.
Livia doesn’t throw herself to the ground. That would be ridiculous. If anyone has to embarrass themself, let it be Dante, all by his lonesome.
One of their classmates steps out through the door. She lives in the building too. Dolly. She’s a slightly peculiar girl who’s always saying weird stuff. Now, she walks over to Livia and Dante.
“You don’t have to hide,” Dolly tells Dante. “The only thing Beatrice can think about right now is that hat anyway.”
“What hat?”
Livia and Dante stare confusedly at Dolly, who points up at a tall pine tree. “Her little brother’s hat is stuck up there. It’s the only thing she cares about right now. And just so you know, it’s not going to rain until Tuesday.”
Livia shoots Dolly a questioning look, and she points to Dante’s yellow raincoat as he presses himself flat against the ground, still trying to stay hidden.
“According to my mom’s app, it’s going to rain today.”
“Tuesday. That’s when it’ll rain. So, did you see the train?”
“The train?”
“Yeah, the one that took a wrong turn and ended up in Copenhagen.”
Livia shakes her head. “No. I haven’t seen any trains. You’re funny, Dolly.”
“No, I’m not. Tariq’s funny.”
“Who’s Tariq?”
“The boy in our class.”
“There’s no one in our class named Tariq.”
“Okay.”
Livia glances down at Dante, who shakes his head. Dolly’s even more nonsensical than usual.
The door opens again and Beatrice comes out. She looks upset as she walks up to her classmates. She curiously eyes Dante, who’s still lying on the ground, trying to hide.
“I think he’s looking for something,” Livia explains.
“Okay? Weird.”
Dante smiles apologetically and gets to his feet, grinning sheepishly, unable to squeeze out a single word.
“My little brother’s hat is stuck in that tree,” Beatrice says, pointing.
“Yeah, we know,” Livia says. “Dolly told us.”
“Really? How did you know? I haven’t told anyone.” Beatrice looks questioningly at Dolly, who just shrugs.
“I think you told me.”
“Maybe the wind will blow it down?” Livia says, contemplating the tall tree.
“Not a chance. It looks like it’s tangled in that magpie nest up there. It’s hopeless.”
“Livia will get it down,” Dolly suddenly announces.
“Excuse me? How am I supposed to do that?”
Dolly shrugs apologetically again before walking off.
“Dolly’s so weird,” Beatrice mutters. “She’s always saying crazy stuff.”
For a while, the three of them stand there, staring up at the hat stuck in the tree. Beatrice sighs.
“It’s just a hat,” Livia says consolingly.
“No. It’s not just a hat. It’s my brother’s favorite hat,” Beatrice replies gloomily. “He refuses to go anywhere without it.”
Just then, Dante suddenly regains the ability to speak. “I’ll fix it! I’ll get it down.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely, leave it to me.”
Beatrice looks happy and surprised. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you!”
She happily runs back into the building. Dante watches her go with a smitten grin on his face, while Livia stares at him in disbelief.
“How on earth are you going to get it down?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have promised Beatrice you would?”
“But did you see how happy she looked and how she thanked me and everything? Maybe she’s kind of in love with me too?”
“Or maybe she was just happy because you promised to get her little brother’s hat down.”
“You’re getting hung up on details, Livia. Sometimes, things happen that can’t be explained, and when they do, you just have to give thanks to one of those old guys.”
“What old guys?”
“You know, Jesus and Moses and God and Buddha and whatever else they’re called.”
Livia shakes her head. She’s not so sure God would spend his precious time solving Dante’s little love problem.