The Phantom of the Catacombs

by J. B. Michaels

  “Hmm…Maeve, your disgusting efforts have proved rather fruitful. We must stake out the Colosseum. Bert, find more out about the construction company.”

  “Sam did say S.I.S. recorded spikes in activity at the Colosseum.”

  “S.I.S.? A clever acronym, I am sure of it. Off to the notorious and gratuitous place of death, then. Always wanted to go there.” Bud smiled at Maeve, happy to have her all to himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Bud and Maeve used their teleportation bands to reach the end of Capitoline Hill in no time. They were sure to pick a spot off the beaten path, which was relatively impossible in broad daylight with tourists everywhere. They were in the northwest corner of the Piazza in front of the Colosseum. Bud marveled at the ruinous amphitheater he’d only seen in movies and pictures. Its size didn’t impress as much as its mystique. Something so artfully constructed for the sole purpose of simple savagery.

  “What is the plan? We just wait here until something happens, Bud?” Maeve interrupted Bud’s admiration of the world’s most famous ancient ruin.

  “Yes and no. We should at least observe what is happening. Perhaps we should teleport to the top of the Colosseum to get a better look at the work being done by Montalbano.” Bud scanned the sculpted reliefs that lined the top of the Colosseum.

  The World Games logo banner stretched across the section of the stadium that faced the Piazza. A day from now, a very large contingent of local and international people would converge on this ancient ruin.

  Maeve observed their immediate area. “These construction trailers and vehicles are everywhere. There will be a lot of people in there. Pick a good spot, Bud.”

  Bud blocked the sun with an open hand on his forehead and looked for a good spot to teleport to. “Your boyfriend has access to S.I.S., which I trust is my grandfather’s tracking tech? I should really have Bert integrate with it.”

  “Bud. Jeez. Stop it. Sam is a good friend. And yes, he messaged me that he is monitoring the area with the Supernatural Intelligence System. S.I.S.”

  “That is of no matter. This evening our hunt truly begins. This is merely a routine reconnaissance mission.”

  “What does that mean? Want to clue me in here, Bud?”

  “Ivy will be assisting us.”

  “Is she okay, Bud? What happened? Bert said she was resting. In all the commotion, I forgot to ask.”

  “She suffered from sun poisoning from her transition to vampirism upon our arrival to sunny Italy. We met by accident back at Vincentas’s Castle of death as I was restoring Bert’s body. She was investigating who nearly killed her father. She has a strong lead connecting that shapeshifter you stabbed. Ivy can see traces of people and other living beings with blood vision. Let’s head to the area covered by the banner that should give us proper cover.” Bud disappeared from the Piazza.

  He reappeared, standing on the top of the Colosseum, and waved to Maeve.

  She pressed her band and appeared next to him. “I wasn’t done talking with you! You can’t just teleport away from me in the middle of a conversation. Is Ivy well enough to help us, Bud? Shouldn’t we get behind the banner?” Maeve took a seat on the top of the Colosseum. They were high up, and a fall would certainly be fatal.

  “She will be just fine. This is extensive work. They have installed modern seating. That stage is just incredible. It takes up nearly half of the amphitheater. At the center of the stage is the tower for the torch, one can assume. They are planning to keep the crowds to about twenty-five to thirty thousand as they nearly halved the original seating. Workers must be working around the clock to finish this.” Bud paced the top of the Colosseum. He spotted three archways lower and to the right that were covered by the banner on the exterior. He teleported to the arches then gestured to Maeve still atop the Colosseum.

  She shook her head then followed. “Bud, what are we doing here?”

  “Wasn’t there an underground area, Maeve?” Bud asked, looking down at the stadium floor.

  “Yes, you knew that already, genius. They had all the animals and slaves down there. Persecuted Christians, etc. They covered it for the ceremony.”

  “I am thinking aloud, obviously.”

  “Then why did you ask me a question?” Maeve examined the interior bowl of the venue along with Bud.

  “We need to get down there. If the phantom were to commit murder, it certainly wouldn’t do it out in the open. Tonight, that is where we will commence our search.”

  “Bud. Look.” Maeve pointed to the other side of the stadium on the same level as they currently stood.

  Bud moved his head to a level position. Across the way, he saw a cloaked figure dressed in black. A top hat crowned the white mask Maeve had vividly described earlier.

  “That’s him. Let’s teleport over there and get him!” Maeve patted Bud’s back.

  “No. Wait. Why would he just be out in the open? The phantom is daring us to give chase. Any messages from Sam about a spike in supernatural activity?”

  Maeve looked at her phone briefly. “No. Nothing. Bud. We should do something. He is pulling something out from his cloak.”

  “A rifle! On the double quick, Maeve! Hurry!” Bud looked down to initiate teleportation on his band when he noticed Maeve disappear.

  The pair of monks reached the phantom’s position.

  Maeve grabbed the barrel of the rifle and forced it upwards.

  A silencer muted the shot’s sound in the circular landmark.

  The phantom let the rifle go. Maeve fell to the stony and narrow ground in the raised archway on her back, rifle in hand.

  “You are summarily caught. Give yourself up.” Bud chose words before actions. A most egregious mistake.

  The phantom’s knuckles darted to Bud’s neck, temporarily crushing his vocal cords.

  Bud grabbed his Adam’s apple with one hand and searched for the column behind him with the other. He struggled to breathe or do anything.

  Maeve regained a vertical stance and swung the butt of the rifle at the back of the phantom’s head. The phantom, as if he had eyes on the back of his head, elbowed Maeve’s midriff. With the air forced out of her lungs, she dropped the rifle. It fell from the Colosseum, scraping off the ancient exterior to the ground.

  The phantom kept focus on Bud, who still struggled to breathe. Bud stood with his back against the arch column. The white-masked menace grabbed Bud’s collar and drove his head into the stone he rested against. Bud’s head exploded with pain as blood trickled down his neck. The phantom then brandished a rope. Bud could hear the controlled breaths of the calm killer as he knotted the rope into a noose.

  Between his seemingly collapsed trachea and busted head, he couldn’t quite muster the strength to fight back. The phantom tied the end of the rope around the column. Another knee to the face for good measure caused Bud to bounce his head off the column again. The sting of another gash traveled through the nerves in his head and neck. The phantom effortlessly secured the noose around Bud’s neck.

  “Hey, asshole.” Maeve stood behind the phantom with a gladius wielded firmly with two hands.

  Smoke billowed from the ankles of the phantom. The phantom ignored Maeve’s words and pushed Bud off the side of the Colosseum. Butterflies flitted violently in his stomach. Bud looked up and could see Maeve’s sword slash through the smoke as he scraped the side of the stone monument, the spectacle on display for the workers eating their lunch just outside the walls.

  “Guardare!” A worker dropped his sandwich and pointed to Bud as he struggled to survive.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bud scratched his neck, trying to create some space between the rope that robbed him of air and possibly his life. He looked up, and black smoke billowed from the archway he hanged from. He tried his feet to perhaps gain some traction on the stonework below him. Gravity’s pull overpowered him.

  “You might feel a little worse before it gets better, Bud. Hang on! Sorry, bad choice of words!” Maeve yelled t
o him from above.

  The noose tightened more and more.

  She pulled him slowly back to the archway. The smoke drifted away from her position.

  “I have you, Bud!” She pulled him onto the narrow platform under the arch. She used the gladius to sever the rope from the column then loosened the rope around his neck.

  Bud, unable to speak, pointed to the wristband.

  “Yes, let’s go back to HQ. The phantom disappeared on me again. Second time. Won’t be a third. Damn it. You okay?” Maeve knelt in front of him, her hand on his shoulder.

  Bud pushed the wristband.

  The entrance to the Castel Sant’Angelo comforted Bud. It meant safety.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Maeve stood behind him.

  More tourists freaked out. A bloodied young man and sword-wielding woman had just appeared in front of them.

  “Nothing to see here. Have a good day! Buona giornata! Buono giornata.” Maeve pushed Bud into the entrance to the Castel and down the stairs.

  “How…how did he get away?” Bud managed to whisper out the raspy, gurgled question.

  “The damn smoke, Bud. The smoke.”

  “I have reason…to believe it could be a teleportation band. We must…have Bert check it.” Bud reached the bottom of the steps first.

  They walked through the hologram. Maeve knocked on the door.

  Bert greeted them. “How did it go?”

  “Obviously not good, Bert. We got our holy butts kicked. Bud is struggling to talk. Can you see if any bands besides ours have been used recently? I will get you a glass of water, Bud. Hang tight.” Maeve walked down one of the long corridors.

  “I have a tracking program running that alerts me whenever bands are used. No bands besides yours and Maeve’s have triggered in the last few minutes or so. Also, Bud, per your request, I gathered more information about Montalbano Construction, and besides having ties to organized crime, there is one particular anomaly that has me scratching my steely head.”

  “Wha…wha?” Bud rubbed his neck.

  “Two more Colosseum workers with impeccable dedication to their craft have not reported to work. I searched the history of the Montalbano’s payroll system. There are special shifts being created and overtime hours allotted. The construction needs to be finished in time for the ceremony tomorrow. Given Clemenza and Brasi’s work records, they never miss shifts and would certainly not lose additional pay with overtime hours.”

  Maeve walked back in with a tall glass of water and handed it to Bud.

  Bud sipped the water then gulped it. He cleared his throat.

  “Very good, Bert.” His voice was still weak. “I wonder if S.I.S. picked up on supernatural spikes during or right after their respective shifts. Go check with Sam now. It is likely the phantom was targeting them for some reason or another.”

  “On it, Bud.” Bert walked out of the room to the Compendium.

  “Could they just be sick, Bud? Any ideas what those reasons workers being targeted might be? An attack planned for the World Games opening ceremony?” Maeve asked.

  “Hmm, why kill workers and draw attention to the Games construction if you were planning on a bigger surprise attack?” Bud drank more water. He furrowed his brow in pain mixed with thought.

  “Given the hectic nature of the area and the construction and the short time frame, I mean, the phantom probably didn’t think we would find him or his victims. You should probably get stitched up, Bud.” Maeve pointed to the blood still dripping from the back of Bud’s head.

  “Unless, of course, the phantom is our missing shapeshifter and is assuming the worker’s identities and doing Lord knows what to the site to do as you said to attack the World Games opening ceremony for some ungodly or godly reason, for that matter.”

  Bert’s heavy feet clomped the stone ground upon his return. “Yes, their disappearances are consistent with spikes in supernatural activity, Bud. Bad news is a spike has returned to the Colosseum grounds and hasn’t decreased in intensity since you and Maeve returned here.”

  “Bud, go get stitched up. Bert, take him to the hospital room where you took Ivy.” Maeve gently pushed Bud toward Bert to follow him to the medical room. “We should regroup and hunt that phantom tonight. He is obviously the cause of our supernatural threat. I will visit the Compendium to figure out if we have anything on fighting phantoms and shifters.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The obstacles mounted. The mission’s difficulty increased the longer it endured. The irascible, relentless march of the marked ones couldn’t be stopped if those fools continued to intervene. Their ignorance would lead to their deaths. She should have been more aggressive, more calculated in her moves. No thing and no one could prevent what needed to be done.

  Again, the traps would be set for them should they return. They would return for the last time.

  Now that the man had been noticed hanging from the side of the building, the news would spread. The marked ones target was clear now. The Colosseum had what they needed. Added security would only complicate matters. She couldn’t be caught. The oath demanded no surrender and no mercy. More blood might be spilled. Unmarked, innocent blood.

  Bud sat on a cot next to Ivy who lay still, sleeping, her chest peacefully undulating. The nun stitched him up in an efficient way. She bore a serious look on her face. A rather mean face at that. She didn’t want conversation. Bud could tell. He kept his mouth shut.

  Ivy’s turn to a nocturnal sleep cycle fascinated him. Why exactly did the sun give vampires poisoning that could lead to their demise? What about their physiological makeup caused such abject rejection of that which gave their prey life? The power of the sun.

  Bud sighed. The nun poked the back of his head a few more times and threaded the needle. She stopped and cut the stitches.

  “Finito.” She put her needle and stitching back into a case and left the room.

  “Such compassion she shows,” Bud murmured.

  The pillow on the cot looked comfortable. Rest might be just what he needed. Being a monk of the Order had nearly been a nonstop exercise in endurance and mental mettle. In some ways, he’d never felt more alive. In other ways, he hadn’t felt such exhaustion. Just a small nap, a power nap as some would say.

  He didn’t have the energy to even think about Maeve and the feelings that had surfaced. The feelings that grew in intensity upon seeing her interact with another young man. Bud knew he would have to figure out how to express his feelings to her, just not now. Now he needed to sleep if but for a few minutes.

  He looked over at Ivy. He tried to not let pity rule him. She would be okay. The Vampyr scrolls would hopefully help her in some practical way. Tonight, he would make sure she could help in the investigation, no matter what Cardinal Riggio said of her state.

  Okay, enough. Rest was much needed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Maeve examined the heavy dusty book. Its pages were written in two columns in two different languages, Latin and English. She flipped around the pages, and they showed nothing but various international origins of shapeshifting phenomena. One common denominator was that not much was known of the actual cause of shapeshifting. Words and phrases like darkness, void, abyss, all nouns used to describe a non-specific point of origin.

  Maeve sighed and shifted her position on the long bench tucked under a long wooden table in the Compendium.

  Cardinal Riggio walked out from behind a bookcase. “Maeve, my dear, now that I have you alone, there is much to discuss. Private matters that include no one but you.”

  “Were you there this whole time?” Maeve asked.

  “Timothy and I spend a great deal of time in here. Always something to learn. And no, I wasn’t there the whole time. I had to find and show you this.” The cardinal held a smaller leather-bound book wrapped in a clear plastic bag. He sat across from Maeve and opened the bag.

  “That book has the answers to combat the threat? Great. Have to admit this book is not ex
actly engaging.” Maeve closed the book she had and put out her hands to receive the bagged book.

  “This is the official register of the monks of the Order of St. Michael. Your uncle signed his name in this book as did Bud’s grandfather. This dates back to the formation of the Order in the third century AD. In order to commit your name to this book, you must live the life of a monk, continue to pray, build your spiritual armor, and be assigned your specific tree to protect. You still have much to learn. I will teach you the advanced ways. Our most powerful defenses against the darkness.”

  “Haven’t I learned enough from my uncle? What’s the catch? Sorry, Cardinal, but don’t we have more pressing matters to attend to?” Maeve asked.

  “Indeed, we do. The choice is yours and yours alone. Free will is the Lord’s gift to us all. You have a special gift, Maeve. Your empathic powers can lead us to the ultimate fulfillment of our mission which is to no longer exist. To defeat the powers of evil once and for all.”

  Maeve didn’t say a word. She knew her uncle had prayed for the dissolution of the Order. He prayed for it more than any other cause. Emotion flooded Maeve. She thought of her uncle and the grief she always carried with her, and Bud, her best friend, the hopelessly awkward, brilliant, and rude young man she found herself quite smitten with. Her duties with the Order and her feelings for Bud couldn’t coexist. She could feel Bud struggling with his own feelings for her. Romantic love was not in the creed of the Order.

  Tears welled under Maeve’s hazel pupils.

  “My dear, I speak to you this way because the time will come for you to choose your path. Nothing is set. The register will still be here for you to sign. You have done much in service of the Order already. God is with you always.” Cardinal patted Maeve’s hand.