When Villains Rise (Market of Monsters #3) - Rebecca Schaeffer Page 0,37

his face part fear, part longing.

They were all silent for a time, while Nita tried and failed to figure out what was going on in Fabricio’s head.

Kovit glanced over at Fabricio, his voice containing a little bit of wonder. “Why does the city look so . . .”

“European?” Fabricio didn’t turn, eyes still fixed out the window. “Lots of waves of immigrants from Europe who wanted to re-create the Old World. There was a time when Argentina was very rich, we had a lot of resources that were in demand. We spent a lot of that wealth trying to build a city to rival the famous ones in Europe. To put Buenos Aires on the map.” He smiled slightly. “People call it ‘the Paris of Latin America.’”

Nita considered, looking out as they passed ever more strange and innovative buildings—down some streets, she could see tall brickwork buildings with metal gratings that looked like they belonged in 1930s New York, elaborate fountains that reminded her of pictures of Italy—all of them stunning, none of them matching.

“It doesn’t really look like Paris. It’s too eclectic,” she commented.

Nita had visited Paris a couple of times with her mother when they were living in Germany a few years ago, just before they moved to Vietnam. Her memories of the city were fuzzy, she spent a lot of time dissecting in a small apartment in the south of the city, but she’d got out for a day and wandered around all the famous tourist areas with her mother, trying to burn the images into her memory.

It was one of her few good memories of traveling with her mother.

“They are eclectic, aren’t they?” Fabricio’s expression was fond, and his eyes seemed more vibrant, happier, than she’d seen them before. “It’s because buildings were built in whatever style was most popular at the time. Or most beautiful. There are buildings here built a few years apart, and one looks like a concrete block, and the other a German palace.”

Fabricio’s voice was wistful, and not for the first time, Nita realized that he loved this city, this strange, eclectic place he’d grown up. He was just very afraid of it. Or of someone in it.

The bus let them off at the side of a major street, across from a massive raised park. Green trees blocked the sun, and a clocktower arched up to the north of them, standing in front of another mass of modern glass and steel buildings. To their other side, the water of the port glinted in the light, reflecting the skyscrapers just beyond.

It was warm outside, a pleasant temperature that was just shy of hot. It was strange to go from a chilly spring in Toronto to a warm fall in Buenos Aires. The sky here was clear and brilliantly blue. Nita felt like her body had whiplash from all the different countries and temperatures she’d been through in the past week.

“Where are we going?” Fabricio asked.

Nita took out her phone and checked her Airbnb reservation. “Here. It’s just south of Plaza de Mayo on the map.”

“Monserrat? San Telmo?” Fabricio looked over her shoulder and pointed south. “Ah. I see. That way.”

Nita wasn’t thrilled about letting him lead, but he knew where he was going, and she followed their progress on an offline map to ensure they were heading the right direction.

As she walked, she turned her attention from the buildings to the people. They were tall. Much taller than she’d expected, taller than anywhere else she’d been in Latin America. Fabricio and his gangly height fit right in.

The people were also, for the most part, whiter than she was used to seeing. Toronto had been a diverse city, lots of people from all over—at least, the central parts she’d been in. Lima had been primarily full of people whose skin was varying shades of brown, interspersed with dollops of white, black, and Asian people.

Buenos Aires was much whiter than both of those cities. Many people were white or had the slightly browned skin that people called “olive” or “tan” in the Mediterranean, and “ethnic” if they were from outside of Europe. There were certainly plenty of people who weren’t white on the streets, but it was less than Nita would have expected, given their location.

Fabricio blended in easily with the other people in Buenos Aires, as did Nita, her mixed heritage making her fit in for once. Kovit stood out a lot.

Kovit noticed it too. “Great. I can be one of three Asians