Castellano was frozen in place, a look of horror on his face.
“You couldn’t allow the truth to get out. You’d never have been made archbishop if it had. You sent Miss Metz back home to Austria to have the child promising to support them both after the birth. You even provided her with a surrogate father for the child.”
Kinsella indicated the man in the chair.
“Jakob Kohl was a painter and decorator working at the camp. He agreed to assist you with your deceit. In return you took him to Europe with you when you became a bishop. Brought him to Rome with you where he served as your driver and tonight - because it served your purposes - he even died for you.”
“You know nothing.”
“I’ll admit, the bit about him being your driver is just an educated guess. But the rest? Who do you think told me?”
There was a moment’s realisation and then Castellano’s head dropped to his chest.
“Andreas. Of course. You were his best friend.” Then he turned on Kinsella, “But he told you this in complete confidence.”
“A confidence which I have respected these last thirty years. But now that his ‘father’ is dead, I feel that I can speak freely.”
*
“So, what happens now,” I said, still aware of the men on the far side of the door. “Are you intending on torturing us?”
Castellano braced his hands on the chair as he slowly shook his head. “No, no, no. Nothing so crass. No, we will simply wait here until the carabinieri arrive. Then we’ll let them decide what do with you.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. They’d be no match for Kinsella but there was every chance that one of them might end up getting hurt. We’d be much better off taking our chances with the three men in the hall. So why wasn’t Kinsella moving?
“What about The Holy Alliance? I heard that they might be interested in Miss Fellows.”
My heart lurched. What was he suggesting?
Castellano smiled. “I’m sure that I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, what could serve our ends better than seeing the pair of you being paraded before the word’s media as murderers. Think how much your Inner Council would enjoy seeing that.”
“What about Andreas? When did you last speak with him?” Kinsella said.
“Why, I spoke with him just this morning. What of it?”
“Face to face.”
“Of course face to face. We had business to discuss.”
Which meant that he was in Rome, or at least had been that morning. But there was no guaranteeing that the Novices were here with him and that was what mattered: saving the women. Their absence vexed me like a missing limb. They were the itch I couldn’t scratch. That was why Kinsella hadn’t yet made his move. He wanted to find out what the archbishop knew.
“What’s the deal?” Kinsella said. “With Tuchulcha. Don’t try and deny it, to me of all people.”
Castellano’s mouth twitched. “I forget how deeply implicated you are in all this. Is the lovely Miss Fellows aware of your level of involvement?”
“I went along with Andreas, it’s true, and Hardy paid the price. But it’s your son who threw in his lot with the demon, not me. He made his choice a long time ago.”
“That must be how all cowards justify their actions. Andreas begged you to join him in summoning the demon again in the hope of somehow saving your friend. Is that not so?”
Kinsella looked across at me. “We made a terrible mistake that night and Carl paid the price. I had no intention of making the same mistake again. I begged Andreas to re-consider but he went ahead with it anyway.”
“He was thinking of your friend.”
“Then where is he now?” Kinsella said bitterly. “Andreas had only one thing on his mind: to gain power. Well, it looks like he got what he wanted.”
Castellano nodded his head grudgingly.
“In that, at least, there is some truth. Andreas accepted powers inferred by the demon in exchange for favours which have, of late, become more and more egregious.”
“Did he ever come to you for help?”
“Eventually,” Castellano conceded flatly. “But by then, of course, it was too late. There was nothing more that the Church could do for him.”
Kinsella regarded me coolly. “And yet you were happy to use his skills for your covert operations.”
“The demon grants him strength. Enormous power. Far greater than he would have ever achieved by studying in the conventional route.”
“But at what price?”
Castellano pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought.
“At one point I took charge of the situation. Had him sequestered away in a monastery in the north where he was watched around the clock. Within a week, the monks called for me. He was on the brink of death.”
“Better if you’d just let him die.”
“No. I couldn’t allow that.”
“If the roles had been reversed, it’s what I would have wanted.”
Castellano moved to object but, on reflection, chose to stay silent.
Kinsella said, “How many others are going to have to pay the price to keep Andreas safe?”
Castellano came round from the back of the chair. “Everyone that he has silenced was a sinner. He was doing the Church’s work. Child murderers, rapists, the worst kind of depravity.”
Kinsella laughed, “But now he intends to sacrifice these young women.”
Castellano puffed himself up. “Suffer ye not a witch to live.”
The main door opened and a head appeared.
“Your Eminence, the carabinieri have arrived.”
Kinsella didn’t react. He was still wholly focussed on the archbishop.
“What deal has he struck this time?”
Castellano made to move towards the door but Kinsella blocked his path. The Archbishop’s hand closed on the crucifix at his chest.
Kinsella said, “Don’t ask your saviour to condone this.”
When Castellano spoke, anger flared in his eyes. “What’s done is done. These hags are of no account. Once he has done this one thing Andreas will be rid of this accursed creature forever.”
“Does he really believe that?”
“In return he will be gifted with powers beyond imagining. Think of the good that could be achieved with such power.”
“But what is it that he must do in return?” he stepped towards the older man. “You will tell me.”
Castellano’s smile was terrible to behold. “The hard work is done. There is one amongst the women who offers the demon that which he most craves.”
Kinsella looked confused. “The demon intends to possess one of the women?”
“What? And leave itself open to the ministerings of your pet exorcist, Szabo? No. He will be reborn this night and walk the streets in human form. The woman’s soul will be forfeit. A small price to pay.”
Kinsella turned to me. We were both thinking the same thing: no matter how much power Tuchulcha was willing to transfer to Kohl, it was clear that it would be as nothing compared to the power that the demon could manifest.
“We have to stop this,” I said.
Castellano laughed. “You will stop nothing. The Summoning will soon be underway.”
“And what part do you have to play in all this?”
“I shall be performing the rites myself. Andreas has much to occupy his mind.”
Kinsella grabbed the old man by the arm. “Then we’re coming with you.”
“I think not!”
Castellano made to shake him off as he moved towards the front door but he had reckoned without Kinsella. He fixed the archbishop with a deathly stare. When he spoke it was not with his own voice. The voice he used was so deep it reverberated through the building’s very foundations.
“You will dismiss these men and take us directly to your son.”
The Voice of Command. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. To call on the Voice when dealing with humans is seen as a
terrible abuse of one’s powers. Humans have no resistance to it whatsoever. To use it in anything other than the direst emergency was to risk banishment by the Inner Council.
*
The three of us went out of the door together. Upon seeing us, his bodyguards pressed forward but Castellano merely raised his hand as if in blessing. He gave them instructions to secure the apartment while we took the stairs. We went through the main doors and out into the February chill. The drizzle had stopped and there were even a few stars.
An ambulance stood at the centre of the drive, flanked on either side by police cars. The ambulance’s emergency light painted the walls of the surrounding buildings with a blue halo. Castellano abandoned us while he spoke to the ambulance crew. Once he’d finished speaking the two men took a stretcher out of the back of the ambulance and were quickly on their way. Castellano then went across to the most senior police officer. The man dropped to one knee. The archbishop extended a hand and the officer kissed it before clambering back to his feet. They spoke for a moment and the officer led Castellano over to his car where he sat in the front passenger seat. We got in the back and, as we were pulling on our seat belts I looked at Castellano in the mirror. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, “What a fuss!” The officer took the wheel, indicating for the other car to lead the way. Then, as soon as we had left the compound, the sirens were switched on.
Kinsella said, under his breath, “Let’s hope this works.”
We sat in silence as we drove through the rain slicked streets, the blue light making strange patterns on the buildings. There were only a few cars on the road and so our passage was largely uninterrupted. Even when the lights turned against us, the lead car pressed ahead, racing across the intersections with us in pursuit.
I turned around to look back the way we’d come. I recognised nothing other than the familiar squat shape of St Peters glowing against the night sky.
*
I might have enjoyed the ride more if not for the unease in the pit of my stomach. It grew steadily worse as the journey progressed. There was a sense of incalculable forces moving about the city, forces which were beyond my ability to comprehend, let alone control. Even when I tried to relax and focus on the positives it didn’t seem to help. While there was every chance that I would be re-united with the likes of Kosi and Carlotta within the next few hours there was an equal chance that this would be the last time we ever see one another again.
As we crested the top of a hill, the lead car pulled over to one side allowing us to continue on through an elaborate archway and out into a large square, our tyres drumming over the cobbles. We came to a halt opposite an antiquated street lamp.
Castellano got out of the car and slammed the door. He started striding off across the square towards the geometrically proportioned church over to our left. It resembled an overly elaborate birthday cake with more than its fair share of columns and arches. A series of statues along the roof stood out against the night sky. I followed Kinsella out of the car, my sense of anxiety growing all the while. The driver reversed back out of the square, the headlights playing across the cobbles.
The small dark figure of the archbishop was a long way ahead of us but, when I made to catch up with him, Kinsella held me back.
“I think you should stay here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m seeing this through to the end.”
He turned to look at me, his face lean and earnest. He was afraid for me.
“That’s not such a good idea. If we go in there after him then there every chance we won’t be coming out again.”
“What’s Kohl doing in a church anyway!”
“That’s not just any church. That’s the Lateran basilica: the oldest church in Europe. It has a reputation for offering sanctuary to the oppressed.”
“And Kohl is the oppressed?”
“He’s frightened and he has every right to be. Tuchulcha could snuff him out in an instant. The only thing protecting him is the Summoning ceremony. Everything must be in place if things are to go smoothly. He probably hopes that performing it on holy ground will give him some kind of added protection.”
I looked over at the church. Castellano was nowhere to be seen.
“What about us?” I said. “Will it be enough to protect us?”
Without another word, Kinsella broke off and started for the entrance.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The inside of the church was vast and there was plenty of reflected light from the floodlights outside for us to see by. Heavily marbled though it was, the place felt light and airy with two false arches at the far end framing a magnificently tall altar; though the blue plastic chairs which provided seating for the congregation appeared somewhat incongruous.
We’d only gone a few steps when we both froze.
From somewhere in the building came the sound of voices.
Kinsella tipped his head in an attempt to locate the direction they were coming from.
He beckoned me on and we walked quickly and quietly down the full length of the church. Over to our left was a gilded set of double doors. They stood open. I felt the bile rise in my throat. This was it.
Kinsella indicated for me to stay where I was before disappearing through the door himself. Instantly, there was a shout from his right and, as he turned, his hands drew a series of patterns in the air. He stepped to one side as a bulky figure tore past him and, unable to stop, ran headfirst into the far wall.
Whilst I was watching the figure collapse, Kinsella switched his attention to a second assailant coming from the same direction. He seemed to be grappling with some unseen force located at chest height. After a short struggle, he snapped his hands back and forth in a dextrous blur. Then his wrist arced upwards, the point of it striking hard before grabbing something and giving it a hard yank.
A sub-machine gun clattered across the marbled floor towards him. He stopped it with his foot.
I went in straight after him, anxious not to be left behind. The man who’d struck the wall was still breathing so I quickly moved him into the recovery position. It felt like the right thing to do. There was nothing I could do for the other man. He was lying on his back in the middle of the corridor. His jaw had been all but twisted off and he had a look of utter bafflement in his eyes.
The corridor grew brighter the further we went. Kinsella took a left turn and I followed. We came out in a large sub-chapel, in its way just as grandiose as the church itself. The room was dominated by a large fresco covering the far wall. This rose to a vaulted ceiling which was similarly decorated. The light was provided by a low hanging chandelier made up of a combination of mock electric candles and modern, energy-efficient light bulbs.
Kinsella stood in the middle of the room taking it all in and I moved to stand next to him, hoping not to get in his way. It took me a while to spot the doorway set into the base of the frescoed wall. I edged towards it in an attempt to see what lay on the other side. Down a short corridor, I could see a glint of reflected light. The whole place smelled of incense and candle wax.
Edging forward, I saw Castellano standing with his arms raised as if directing traffic. He beckoned me on and I felt a huge urge to comply.
I only remember what happened next as a series of discordant images. I appear in the images so they’re immediately suspect, but that’s all I have.
I’m walking towards the doorway. Apprehensive. Uncertain.
Then everything is obscured by a searing burst of pure energy.
Next thing I’m sitting on the floor with my head in my hands. Kinsella lies across from me.
Burning pieces of cloth float on the air.
Kinsella’s eyes are closed, his clothes charred black.
I don’t recall speaking to him, I only know that I did. And then, when I went through the door, I was on my own.
Castellano looked up, dressed in fresh robes and dabbing at his face with a finely embroidered handkerchief. Kneeling over a large black leather holdall
was a Franciscan monk. It was only when he pushed his hood back that I saw who it was.
“Niall not joining us after all?” Kohl laughed before turning back to examine the bag’s contents.
We were in a dingy sub-chapel. The two side walls were fronted by intricately carved wooden screens depicting various saints. Enormous, faded tapestries hung on the far wall just above a solid stone altar but I hardly gave them a second glance. Because, sitting on either side of the room were two rows of nuns, austere in black and white. They seemed unaware of my presence; indeed, many appeared to be dozing. There were perhaps two dozen in all.
Then, with a start, I recognised one of them. A woman sitting over in the far corner. The Russian woman I’d spoken to back in the gymnasium all that time ago.
I’d found the Novices.
Simply by donning these habits, the women had been transformed. They had been stripped of their individuality so completely that it was difficult to think of them as the same people. An inspired idea. How else to move a large group of women around a major city without raising suspicion? I looked for Carlotta but couldn’t see her, though a number of the women were barely semi-conscious, slumped in their seats.
“What have you done to them?”
“It’s a Glamour spell, nothing more,” Kohl said. “I was getting concerned about you. Your mind is in such a turmoil I worried that you wouldn’t be able to follow the trail of crumbs I’d left.”
“You’re saying you wanted me here?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug.
“All this time you thought that you were hunting me, tracking me back to my lair. Did you never wonder why it was that I was able to anticipate your every move; control your actions; manipulate your smallest decisions. Never once did you entertain the idea that you might be wrong. In that sense you’re exactly like your mother. You always assume that you know best. Is that perhaps why she tried to drown you?”
He walked over to stand directly in front of me.
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