A Line in the Sand

by K. A. Stewart

  “I’d rather put them in the chapel.” The sense of peace I’d gotten there, the feeling that those souls were content, rather than imprisoned, I wanted that for the ones riding in my back. I mean sure, I wasn’t really fond of them, and they were currently making my life a royal pain in the ass, but I wanted good stuff for them. After everything they’d been through, they deserved that.

  The Cardinal nodded. “I agree, that would be a better course of action if we only knew how. That knowledge has been lost for centuries. I highly doubt we are suddenly going to rediscover it just in time to save you, Mr. Dawson.”

  “Weirder things have happened.”

  “At least consider it. Before the choice is taken from you.”

  I made some vague noise that might have been assent, or might have been “fuck off” – Only I knew for sure, and I wasn’t telling. – and we began our long trek back out of the creepy ass dungeon. About the time we got back to the guard station, someone back in the cells started screaming, a high breathy wail that spoke of horrors that could not be unwitnessed.

  “Brother Seamus, if you would call Dr. Arlotti. It sounds like Piotr is awake again.” Giordano gave us all nods. “I should probably remain here until the doctor arrives. I will have Brother James and Brother Thomas to escort you back to your hotel.”

  “No, that’s all right. Cam knows the way out of here.” There was no way I was letting anyone follow us back to the apartment.

  The older man frowned. “It would be safer if you would allow some of my men to accompany you. For protection.”

  “We got it handled, thanks.”

  Giordano looked toward Cam like he expected to get some backup there, and frowned when the priest remained silent. “As you wish. At least take my card, in case you need to contact me. This is my direct line.”

  I took the offered card and tucked it into my pocket next to Sveta’s knife, then grabbed an elbow of each of my companions and steered them back toward the elevator, muttering “Move with purpose, folk” under my breath.

  When we finally made it out of the building and back into the autumn sunshine, that’s when I started to feel a little better. Cameron raised a brow at me. “You don’t trust him.”

  “I trust him about as far as Anna could throw him. One-handed, even.” I couldn’t help but glance down at the paving stones under my feet, and for just a moment I felt like the pale girl with the mouthguard must surely be looking right at me, even through all the layers of earth and rock between us. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 13

  After taking the most circuitous route that we could, to prevent tails, our first stop was the hospital, where we were greeted with an empty room and a very disapproving doctor.

  “Mr. Zelenko has checked himself out, against my medical advice. I highly suggest that you take him home, and get his affairs in order.”

  Sveta said some things in Ukrainian, which were perfectly understandable just by the tone. And probably because I was thinking the same thing. “Son of a bitch.”

  Cameron shook his head. “Do you think he at least got a ride back to the apartment, or is he out wandering the streets somewhere?”

  “We’ll know soon enough.”

  Back at our borrowed sanctuary, the first thing Sister Mary Alice said when we opened the door was, “I am so sorry!”

  I smirked a little. “He’s here, then.”

  The little nun did everything but wring her hands in her agitation. “I tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn’t listen to a thing I said, and it was either bring him back here, or he’d have gone off on his own.”

  Cameron patted her shoulder gently. “It’s all right. No one is blaming you.”

  “Where is he now?” Sveta’s icy eyes swept the living room, noting a distinct lack of Ivan.

  “Sleeping. And yes, I checked to be sure he hadn’t climbed out the window or anything.” Mary Alice’s forehead wrinkled. “He wouldn’t, would he? I mean, I was only kinda half kidding when I looked in on him, but…would he?”

  “Never say never.” I clapped her on the shoulder too, and went to poke my head into Ivan’s bedroom myself, just in case.

  The old man was lying on top of the bedspread, his back toward the door. I suppose he could have been faking sleep, but the labored whistle of his breathing seemed too steady, too even for someone pretending. Quietly, I closed the door again. Sveta glanced at me once, as I rejoined the group, and I said “He’s still there.” That seemed to be enough for her.

  We all changed back into clothes we were more suited for – my black T-shirt said “Non-Flammable? Challenge accepted.” – and settled around the living room with hastily assembled sandwiches, where we filled the good sister in on what we’d learned at the Vatican. Her eyes went wide when she heard we’d been given the grand tour.

  “You got to see the cells?” She looked at Sveta. “Even I’m only allowed at the guard station, and that’s just because I keep the tech running. You’re probably the first woman to ever walk those halls, as anything other than a guest.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Call them guests all you want, but those people are prisoners. I’ve seen mass murderers treated better. What gives you the right to keep them like that?”

  “Some of those people are mass murderers, Jesse,” Cam pointed out. “What else would you have us do with them? Execute them? If we don’t have the right to confine them, I don’t see how we have the right to end their lives, either.”

  I stuffed my mouth full of food so I didn’t have to answer. There was no better solution, even as badly as I disliked the one they’d settled on. It just…felt wrong, somehow.

  “You should take his offer.” Sveta finally spoke up. “Transferring the souls to the comatose man. It would be best.”

  That felt wrong, too. “I don’t know. Something feels squicky about it.”

  Cameron leaned back against the couch, tilting his head at me. “What bothers you more? Leaving the souls in that shell of a man, or leaving them with the Order?”

  “Yes?” It all bothered me. Like, an army of ants crawling up and down my spine and a knot of nausea settling deep in my stomach. “I know you think he’s going to be the one to help, Cam, but something isn’t right. That whole conversation today was just too…” I wrinkled my nose, trying to come up with the correct word.

  “Too ordinary.” I glanced at Sveta, and she nodded. “He is too accommodating. Too helpful.”

  Cam threw up his hands. “You’re both impossible to please.”

  “Hey, the only reason I’m still alive is because I listen when my heebie jeebie alarm goes off.”

  It was Mary Alice who stepped in to mediate. “Regardless of the Cardinal’s intentions, you are still no closer to finding a way to remove the souls.

  “That too.” I ran my hand through my hair, with a frustrated sigh. “Are you sure you guys checked everything? Like, every little scrap of ancient paper and stuff?”

  “Do you really think, after centuries of looking, they’ve left any stone unturned, Jesse?” Cameron was right, and I knew it. Just like the Cardinal said, there was slim to no chance that a heretofore unknown tidbit of information was going to surface in time to help me with my dilemma.

  “How can stuff like this just vanish? I mean, everyone knows about the ceiling being painted. It was documented in the records of the time. And who the hell was Michelangelo, anyway? Some ancient spell-caster that no one talks about?”

  “In every record we have, there is no mention of him having any magical ability at all. We literally have no idea how he did it.”

  “Following someone else’s design, then?” Sveta offered, and Cameron shrugged.

  “Possibly. I doubt we’ll ever know. All those involved were dead and dust centuries ago. Even for those outside the Church who truly know the chapel’s secret, it’s a mystery. There are theories, to be sure, but no concrete—”

  “What theories?” Yes, I was grasping at straws, but when you
’re neck-deep in quicksand, you’ll take what you can get.

  Cameron made a face. “Crackpot conspiracy stuff. Right up there with alien abductions and the Illuminati.”

  “Crackpots are only crackpots up until they’re proven right, and then they’re whistle-blowers and visionaries. Where do you find these theories? Google me something.”

  The priest and nun exchanged looks, and Mary Alice wrinkled her nose a little. “The best source is here in Rome, actually. If you want a complete compilation of every outlandish possibility in one place. Nothing on the internet, he doesn’t trust it.”

  Cameron frowned. “We’re not doing that. He’s crazy.”

  “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly sane.” I pushed up to my feet. “We have two choices. Crackpot, or someone who might have actually been there. You handle the one, I’ll get the other.”

  I heard Mary Alice questioning the other two about my cryptic statement as I went out the door, but I closed it before I could hear what explanation they were going to offer. I doubted they could say anything that was going to endear me to her, not with what I was planning.

  Cameron’s statement about everyone involved being dead already had caught my attention. Sure, any human who was hanging around back then was toast by now. With a few (one, actually) exceptions, I couldn’t imagine any way for a person to live that long. However, humans weren’t the only thing walking around down here, and we definitely weren’t the most long-lived.

  My feet took me down the block, around a random corner, around another, just putting space between myself and the apartment. They didn’t need to see this, and I didn’t want Ivan put in danger in his condition.

  When I finally found a nice, quiet little alleyway, I stopped, listening to the sounds around me for a moment so that I’d be able to tell when they changed. Quietly, barely raising my voice above speaking volume, I said, “Axel.”

  Life went on. I could hear cars puttering up and down the streets, people calling to each other, bird chirping from their nearby perches. Somewhere, a horn honked, and voices were raised in anger. A child laughed. An insect hummed in my ear, and I swatted it away absently.

  Then, like someone hit the mute button on the remote, it all stopped. I was suddenly left in a cone of silence, and a chill crept over my arms. The sunlight, so bright and warm only seconds before became pale and washed out, a thin echo of itself. My passengers rolled themselves awake, watchful just beneath my skin, but not alarmed. The stink of sulfur teased my nostrils and was gone. “It’s rude to creep up behind someone.”

  Behind me, my own voice chuckled. “But it’s fun.”

  Turning, I found Axel in the alley, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall in artfully posed nonchalance. His blond mohawk stood up stiffly, and the piercings in his face and ears glittered in the afternoon sunlight. The white t-shirt he always wore was pristine, his heavy black boots were never scuffed, and I could swear his blue jeans had been ironed and starched. I hated him a little bit, for always looking so fresh. Did demons even feel stress?

  “It’s going to get you hurt, one day.”

  “Maybe.” The lanky man-demon pushed off the wall and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “What do you want? You don’t call me up just to chat anymore. A lesser fellow might be offended.”

  I didn’t have time to trade barbs with him, as entertaining as it might be. “What do you know about the Sistine Chapel?”

  He pursed his lips, pretending to think it over. “Built in the late fourteen hundreds, by your calendar. Has some pretty artwork on the ceiling. Usually where a bunch of stuffy old men in robes hold super-secret meetings to determine who is the oldest and stuffiest.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at that. It wouldn’t do to encourage him, but it sounded very much like something I myself might have said. Especially when he used my voice to say it. “More than that.”

  He raised a pierced brow at me. “Why do you ask?”

  “Were you there, when the ceiling was painted?”

  A faint smirk danced across his face, but he inclined his head. “I was.”

  “Then how did he do it? How did Michelangelo get the souls into the ceiling?”

  Axel examined his fingernails idly. “You seem to be making a very large assumption there. What makes you think the artist had anything to do with it at all?”

  “Are you saying he didn’t?”

  “I’m saying nothing, without being paid for what I know.” His eyes flashed red for a moment, as if I needed the reminder. “I am merely pointing out that your questions are stemming from some leaps of logic that may or may not be supported by actual facts.”

  Of course he wanted payment. Ally or not – and that was still in serious question – he was a demon first. And demons get paid. “Not sure I’m willing to pay you when I don’t know if you actually have the information I need.”

  He nodded a little, being entirely too amicable for my comfort. “For free, I will tell you that I was here when the ceiling was painted. I was here when the souls were delivered into their holding place, safe and sound. I was here when the Church tried valiantly to get them out, and failed. I have seen that ceiling besieged by every magic known to man and demon, with no success.”

  “That was people trying to get them out. How about putting more up there?”

  The man-demon’s mouth curved up at the corner, just a little. “That is not on the list of things I am willing to tell you for free.”

  “You’re a dick, you know that?”

  “And you’re throwing a tantrum because you are not getting your way.” The quirk of his lips became a full-fledged smirk. “Besides, if I told you the answer, would you believe me?”

  “Yes.” My answer was automatic, and I could tell that it took the demon by surprise. “You’ve never lied to me. You may not tell me what I think I’m hearing, but you’ve never lied.”

  Axel pressed his lips together like he was pondering that, and for a split second, he looked troubled. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

  “I’m human, Axel. Not brain dead.”

  He seemed to debate with himself for a moment, then gave a quick nod. “Then understand this. There are things I am unwilling to tell you, and things I am unable to tell you. There are certain rules by which even I must abide.”

  “Even if everyone around you threw the rule book out the window?”

  “Especially if. You, I think, can appreciate that.”

  I hated him, not least of all because he was right. The rules were what separated us from the bad guys. Without the rules, we were all just apes, running around beating each other with sticks and scratching ourselves inappropriately. “What are you willing to tell me?”

  “At this moment? Nothing.” He looked over my shoulder, jerking his chin toward the street behind me. “You have guests.”

  Time moves funny when there’s a demon present. It feels like it slows to a trickle, the light and sound moving through sticky syrup. I was pretty sure it took me like four years to turn around, and by then, the mouth of the alley was filled with hooded, masked men. Judging by how gingerly a few of them held themselves, we’d met before.

  With an audible pop, the world lurched into motion again, the afternoon sun suddenly blazing down on us with the force of a plummeting anvil, and the noises of the world blaring into my ears like sirens. I counted seven heads, though there could have been more beyond my line of sight. There wasn’t enough room for them to all come at me at one time, and it would be the only thing that saved me.

  Hoodie #1 lunged forward, and I could smell the crackle of electricity from the black box in his hand before the sound of the stun gun could reach my ears and warn me. I had a brief second to be thankful it wasn’t the kind with the projectile darts, and then I slapped the strike aside, using his own momentum to hip throw him over my shoulder to land at Axel’s booted feet. The zapper went skittering out of his hand and down the alley, but I ha
d no time to try to retrieve it. I had to settle for stomping hard on his midsection, and he curled into a gagging, choking ball.

  The next pair came at me together, both of them sporting nasty, crackly zapping things. It was almost too easy to duck under the guard on the right, body checking him into his buddy who immediately collapsed with major voltage running through his body. Righty tripped over his downed friend, struggling to find his feet all caught up in thrashing limbs, and I used that opportunity to walk his head right into the side of the building. He dropped like a pole-axed mule, falling on his own stunner, which couldn’t be healthy at all.

  “Seriously, did you guys read the instructions before you handed those things out?” Four more. There were four left between me and the street. Two were hurt already, I could tell by the way they hung back, hugging their arms around their ribs. Even so, four on one was going to suck.

  I glanced back down the alley, wondering if I could make it to the far end before they caught me. Axel, leaning against the brick wall again, shook his head. “You’ll never make it. That one there looks fast.” He pointed to Lead Hoodie. “And grumpy.”

  “You could help, you know.”

  The demon grinned, and cupped one hand to his mouth. “Help! Oh help!”

  “Thanks.” The rest of them didn’t bother with stun guns. At some unspoken signal, they bum rushed me, one of them lowering his shoulder like a professional linebacker. There was no room for dodging in the narrow alley, and all I could do was brace myself, allowing the large man to scoop me up off my feet with the force of his charge.

  There was no way around it, the landing was going to hurt. I managed two good elbow strikes to the side of his head before I hit the wall, knocking all the wind out of me and sending multicolored spots dancing across my vision. Still, muscle memory is a beautiful thing, and my body continued the fight without my direct input. While he helpfully pinned me about two feet off the ground, I managed to plant my foot firmly in his groin and grind my sharp pointy elbow down into a very nice little pressure point at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. There were advantages to being almost scrawny. With a bellow, he dropped me, staggering back enough that I could smash his face with my knee.