A Song of Redemption

by Lillian I Wolfe

  Both agents’ eyes turned to me with curious and expectant looks. Actually, Ferko had more of a skeptical look, while Lucca’s eyes showed more interest in me than before. I felt like I was a specimen on a glass slide. I cleared my throat with a little nervous cough, then told them the basics of my story.

  I sensed Ferko’s disbelief growing as his eyebrows lowered some. I thought that if they went any lower, he wouldn’t be able to see. At this point, I’d only talked about the yiaiwa I’d encountered in the transitory cemetery. That alone required accepting that I could travel out-of-body. Then, I told them about the Earth plane encounters and even Ferko’s interest rose with that.

  “You have seen them in your house?” he asked, his accent a little thick. Between his name and the accent, I placed him from somewhere in the Balkan region.

  “Yes. In my house, on my house, in my kitchen,” I rattled off the list. “And yes, I felt threatened by them. My first encounters weren’t so menacing as they seemed to be observing me. Then they challenged me, and I fought back, which was when the activity at the cemetery increased followed by the appearances on this plane.”

  Lucca looked more concerned and muttered something in Italian that maybe Orielle understood, but all I caught were a couple of words. Then he said, “This is most alarming. Our recorded sightings have not been so aggressive. Why are they after you?”

  I shrugged. I’d asked myself the same thing more than a few times. Gavin and Orielle had a theory, and that was the best explanation we had.

  Orielle spoke up again. “We—Dr. Haines and I—believe that Gillian may be a key to stopping them although we do not know quite how that will be. We do know they have an unusual interest in her. I have found a few references in old scrolls and other journals that might give us some clues. We are hoping you might have additional information to add.” Her pretty smile suggested a willingness to cooperate with a data exchange.

  “Yes, of course,” Lucca said and flipped a page in the folder. “I have reference numbers for some documents in the Vatican library that might give us more clues. But we also have some other details that you may not know.”

  From the excited look on his face, I thought it must be something pretty big. “Let’s start there,” I said. Why circle around it if they had information that could help us?

  Little by little, the two agents gave us more details about what they knew about the yiaiwa. They hadn't called them anything more than demoni neri or black demons and were interested to know that Orielle had pulled the creature names from a Cambodian story dating back to the first century. Even then, she stressed, the account was from oral stories passed down so how long ago the demonic creatures had invaded this plane was unknown. But she knew that they had been in the Urals at some point as she had also located a couple of accounts of their passing.

  I could tell Lucca was impressed with the information she presented as well as astounded that I had encountered them. Still, I waited for something exciting from them. Then it came.

  They said their records hinted at some creatures like the yiaiwa in the Ottoman Empire in 323 B.C. that were assumed to be evil spirits plaguing the people. The accounts were similar to those Orielle had found from the Urals. They had evidence showing the monsters were defeated, driven from the Earth in the second century. From the phrasing on the scroll, they concluded that the “cave from their underworld was located and destroyed.”

  “Were there details?” Orielle asked with a touch of excitement in her voice. Even I understood the significance of that. If the entrance wasn't India, then a second portal might still be open on our plane.

  “Possibly,” Ferko replied. “The language is archaic and the translation uncertain. We have a linguist researching it.”

  “Si, there is more about it, we are certain,” Lucca added, “but as Ferko said, it is difficult to translate.”

  “Might I have a go at it?” Orielle asked. “I specialize in ancient languages, and I have many resources. Even if I could get a copy of the document itself, I might be able to get some detail from it.”

  I noticed her voice had dropped a couple of notes in tone and sounded more sultry with her French-accented English as she definitely tried to persuade them into giving her access. And Lucca hung on every word. She had her own exceptional talent if seduction could be called that.

  While Ferko didn't entirely fall for it, he wasn't immune as he seemed to consider her words in a more logical way. “It might be good to have another set of eyes look at it. What do you think, Lucca?”

  “I also think so,” Lucca answered. “We will see what we can do to get a copy of the document for you to look at it. I am not sure we can arrange for the original. But, we have more possible entry points to the Underworld located.”

  Orielle and I exchanged a look combining hope and excitement. If more existed, then we had more chances to close the portal.

  “You know where they are?” she asked.

  “We know somewhat,” Lucca replied as he rose and called a world map up on the big screen. “Our information shows one in here...” He used a laser pointer to wave over Iran. “This would have been—”

  “Babylon,” Orielle interrupted. “That makes sense.”

  Gavin's ring came to my mind, the gardens I'd seen when I'd read it. The hanging gardens, maybe?

  “That is correct,” Lucca said. “We believe the entry was bombed over a few years ago during some of the air strikes. We will be sending a team of agents, specialists, to ensure it is completely sealed.”

  “Specialists?” I repeated. “Do they have psychic skills? Are they magic users?”

  Both agents snapped their eyes to me, the same question in their eyes.

  “It takes an enchantment to seal the portal,” I said in a flat tone, suggesting that they should know this detail.

  Orielle made a little throat-clearing noise to get their attention. “What Gillian means is there are certain wards and chants connected with the process of sealing the entries. We have found these in a couple of artifacts from Asia.”

  “Ah, yes,” Lucca said. “Of course, our experts have looked into the ritual.”

  I had a feeling he was covering and while they might have interpreted a process involved, they had not actually gotten the details.

  Lucca straightened and pointed to his next site on the map. India. We waited to see where his pointer landed and a tight smile on Orielle's mouth grew as the laser light settled on a point southwest of New Delhi.

  “Gone,” she said. “That one was destroyed and sealed a few weeks ago.”

  Ferko gaped at her as Lucca's head twisted from the map to look at us again. “Gone?” Ferko asked.

  Orielle's eyes reflected a moment of sadness. “We were trying to seal it. Gavin—Doctor Haines—, Gillian, and myself, when Dr. Haines was injured. But we believe the portal was destroyed, and the entrance is sealed. My organization sent experts to make sure the cave will not be disturbed again.”

  Surprised, I shot a look at her. She hadn't told me that.

  “Then we can cross that one off,” Lucca said. “We had one at a grotto in Capri that was also closed about twenty years ago from a cave collapse and flooding from the sea.”

  “Has that one been properly sealed?” Orielle asked. “Might we be able to see it?”

  Lucca looked askance that we would ask. I knew she wanted to see if I could pick up anything from it or if we could detect any indication the yiaiwa might still be able to access it.

  “I will see if it would be permitted,” Lucca answered. Then he turned to the map again. “That leaves one more place that we know about. It is in...” He ran the pointer across the sea and down the map to Peru.

  Then, it lingered there in no particular spot.

  “Is it in the jungle?” Orielle asked trying to figure out where he was pointing.

  “We don't actually know. The name reference is unclear and so far, we have not been able to correlate to a current location.”

&
nbsp; “Again, if I may see the documents, I might be able to help,” she stated. I definitely began to appreciate her expertise with ancient civilizations and languages more than I had.

  “Very well. I will arrange for a copy.”

  I considered the locations a big reveal so I thought I would clue them in on my battle experience with the yiaiwa when Orielle spoke up.

  “Signori, we are growing weary after our overnight flight. And we are hungry, so perhaps we can break until later tonight or tomorrow?”

  We'd been trading ripostes with them for over three hours now I just wanted to get a light lunch and go nap for a few hours. I suppressed a yawn and tried to focus.

  “Of course,” Lucca replied. “We can resume tomorrow morning. By then, I might have some of the material you requested. Say we meet at ten in front of the bakery again? Then we will guide you from there.”

  That decided, Lucca escorted us back to the street and pointed us to a nearby restaurant that had excellent Italian food. “Tomorrow night, I will take you to the finest seafood dinner in the city,” he promised.

  After a lunch of homemade pasta and chicken, I was ready to head back to the hotel, but Vatican City was within view, and I wanted to at least set foot on the grounds. Orielle grinned at me as I gazed that direction wistfully. “Come. We can at least walk around the square before we go back to the hotel. Then maybe tomorrow there will be time to see more.”

  I agreed. I could manage that so long as we were moving. We retraced our steps and crossed the street to enter the city within a city. Directly in front of me rose the Egyptian Obelisk, an enormous red granite column that was brought back to Rome from Egypt by Caligula in 37 AD. I tilted my head back to look at the top.

  As I gushed over the size of it, Orielle said, “When it was originally brought here, it was placed in Nero's Circus, which overlapped part of the area. The column itself was outside the walls, in the square next to the sacristy. There is a tile marking the location. It was moved here by Pope Sixtus, and it took nearly nine hundred men and one hundred forty horses to do it, so they say.”

  “Wow. Why move it?”

  “Sixtus ordered it moved in front of the Basilica. It was said that he wanted to resurrect and restore all the obelisks in Rome that were in ruin. At that time, various emperors had brought back over a dozen of them.”

  I turned in a slow circle around it and observed, “It isn't exactly a square, is it? More like an oval with a parallelogram at the top.”

  “True. Bernini said that he wanted the curved sides to give the impression of embracing the people. The Basilica dome was designed by Michelangelo. If you look at just the square, the Basilica, and the offices off to the left, it forms a key shape suggesting the Keys of Heaven. In fact, many doors display keys on them for that reason.”

  Along the top of the columns that formed the boundaries of the square, statues in various poses stood as they led to the Basilica. “Who are the statues representing?”

  “The various saints of the church. They were made by several artists under the direction of Bernini. The ones on top of the Basilica represent Jesus, the Apostles, St. John the Baptist, and St. Mathias.”

  “This whole place is like an art museum.” I let my gaze roam from statue to statue, wishing that I could see them in more detail. The sense of history and antiquity in this place weighed on me like a bucket of stones. It touched my soul in an odd way and tears formed in my eyes. Considering I didn't regard myself as very religious, I had to admit I was unexpectedly moved by it.

  “This is only a small portion of what is here. Perhaps tomorrow we might see more of the museums, the Sistine Chapel, and the grounds. It is a walk through history and art masterpieces.” She turned to go back to the street to get a taxi. I took a few photos with my camera, then I ran to catch up with her. I hoped there would be time to explore before our flight back on Saturday.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, we arrived a little early at the meeting spot where I treated myself to a latte and one of the ricotta-filled horns. As we sipped our beverages, Orielle said, “I did a little research last night, although the internet connection at the hotel is one of the worst I've encountered. I think I have an idea where the Peru portal might be, but I will need to do some more checking. I will know more once I see the details of the document the men are getting for us. At least, I hope they are.”

  “That's promising. If we can match it up. If the others are all sealed, then it only leaves the Peru one to locate and close.”

  “Assuming there are no other undocumented ones,” she said. “I worry about how well the agents are sealing the ones they have located. I will want a team from my organization to double check.”

  “I assume the team has the necessary magic skills to seal the entries. I still worry about securing Belphegor. It’s obvious we didn’t trap him in India.” I took another bite of the scrumptious pastry with a light lemon filling and decided I would need one every day we were here.

  Our appointed meeting time came and went without a sign of either of our agents. By ten after, we were getting a little worried. We finished our pastries, took the coffee with us to go to the travel shop, and hoped we’d meet either Lucca or Ferko on the way. We’d gotten about half-way down the block when Lucca caught up with us.

  “I am late. So sorry, but I was making arrangements. Come back this way. We are going to the antiquities office at the Apostolic Library. They will allow you to see the original manuscripts.”

  A broad smile lit up Orielle’s face as she turned. “Excellent. Come, Gillian, we are going to the Pope’s palace.”

  Lucca led us across the street, then turning away from the St. Peter’s Square entrance, he went mid-way down the block to a gated entrance where he stepped up to a pair of gaudily-clad Swiss guards. He displayed his credentials, motioned to Orielle and me to come over, and told us to take out our passports. Looking us over, the guards checked our documents and made notes, then handed us visitor passes to go in.

  One said something in Italian to Lucca, who turned to us and said, “He says the passes must be turned in here when you leave. It is no problem as I will be with you.”

  We nodded our thanks to them and followed Lucca as he turned to the right, taking a path around the buildings until he reached a wider street, then turned left. We continued on, jogged around a building, then back again around another until we approached an inner wall, then Lucca went up to the inner gate. He cleared us through that one, and we stepped into an enclosed courtyard. Here, he directed us to the entrance of a building where another guard, clad in a medieval-looking gold, purple, and red uniform, stopped us. We cleared the checkpoint easily with our passes and Lucca’s more significant credentials. From the opulence and the vast number of books and other documents that were on display, I assumed we’d reached the library.

  We barely paused in this vestibule before Lucca led us on to a smaller room with another door that he unlocked with a card key. Once through that, he took another turn, and opened yet another entry, then led us down a set of steps to a lower level.

  “Upstairs is the secret library, but this is the very secret library. This is one only authorized people may enter. It is an unusual circumstance to bring anyone here, and it took much persuasion on my part. So, Ferko is already waiting. I will also be here while you study the documents. They are very fragile; therefore, the curator will also be present.

  Orielle dipped her head. “Of course. We will be using gloves to touch—”

  “No touching at all. This is a stipulation. If you need to turn the documents, the curator will do it.”

  She and I both realized that it would not give me an opportunity to try to pick up anything from the documents using my skills if I wasn’t allowed to touch it. We would have to rely on her ability with the translation.

  Once we entered the surprisingly well-illuminated and clean-smelling vault, we halted and looked around us. Metal shelves held rows of old scrolls, manuscripts, and battered book
s, each secured in its own protective plastic covering. Curious, I wondered what made these documents so special that they were sheltered in this manner. What information or history did they hold? How much had been translated?

  In these times, we tended to think we knew all about history and the secrets of the past, but it could be we had barely scratched the surface. At the end of the room, seated at a large wooden table with Ferko, an anxious-looking man sat with gloved hands folded on the table as he waited for us. Eyes darting from me to Orielle and back, he managed an uncertain smile of welcome as Ferko spoke to him quietly. A small man, slightly overweight, and balding, the curator appeared to be nervous about having the papers on display. Four old-looking manuscript pages sat on the table in front of him, unrolled and waiting to be studied.

  Orielle spoke to him in Italian, and I had no idea what she said, but he seemed to relax. Then she said something with “Inglisi” in it, and I assumed she asked if he spoke English.

  “A little,” he replied. Then he rattled off something else in Italian.

  She glanced at me. “He doesn’t speak much English so one of us will translate if needed. My Italian is quite good, but I am sure Lucca will correct anything I might get wrong.”

  Taking the hint, we settled at the table, Orielle taking the seat next to the curator, whose name, she said, was Franco. They exchanged a few sentences, then she added, “He has worked in this Vatican office for over fifteen years. His specialty is the restoration of ancient documents. He says these are very fragile and must be handled delicately, which is why we are not permitted to touch them.”

  Franco nodded and smiled as Orielle spoke. While she opened her slim briefcase and pulled out a steno-sized notebook, he carefully adjusted the first document on the table so that Orielle could see it easily. She began studying the writing, squinting now and then at the faded ink, probably a vegetable-based one, where it had gotten too worn with time. She asked Franco a couple of questions as she read. She paused twice to make notes, glancing at the scroll repeatedly to check her accuracy. After a few minutes, she pulled out her phone, tapped the record, and began reading from the beginning in the ancient language. I couldn’t even identify if it was Latin, Greek, or something more ancient.