Nothing in what I saw seemed to deal with the yiaiwa at all, so I wondered why they wanted me to read it. “It looked like the start of a one-on-one fight in the market. The person who charged him wore reddish-brown robes and bronze-looking armor. I couldn’t tell anything else about him. Is that what you were expecting?”
Lucca’s eyes were big as he leaned back, wrapping his hands behind his head. “We did not know exactly what to expect. The clasp is of Celtic design, and we thought it might have been owned by a warrior. But we had no way to know for certain. It does seem to confirm that impression.”
“So, this had nothing to do with our problem but was—what?—a test?” Irritation showed in my voice and the annoyed expression in my eyes.
He shrugged. “Perhaps a little. We were curious what limits your ability might have. Plus we wanted to know more about the objects than what our experts had speculated.”
“You have doubted us,” Orielle said, her voice calm but with a touch of accusation in it. “Have all of the things you showed us been to test our actual skills? Can I read archaic languages? Yes, I can. Not all of them, but I cover the major ones as well as a few you might not expect. Can Gillian see demons, visit a transitional plane in spirit form, and read objects? Yes, she can. Not all of them, but some. Now, your turn. What are your skills?”
Lucca shifted his gaze to Ferko, inviting him to respond, I presumed. The darker man scowled, then cleared his throat, and said in slow, deliberate English, “I am a fighter, trained to kill. I was in Hungarian military. Very good and well-rewarded. I accept this position for personal reasons to fight for my God. My partner and I have seen strange things and had to fight against some unusual enemies. But never before, spirits. We are willing to defend even against them.” He shot a stern look at both of us to show the strength of his intent.
“Thank you, Ferko,” Orielle said and repeated it in Italian, which he clearly spoke. Even I understood “gratzi.”
I turned my gaze to Lucca. A small smile softened his face as he spoke. “For myself, I have served the church since I was young. I studied at University to become knowledgeable about the law and police enforcement. I was recruited for this job while I was studying. When I was young, I saw spirits. Italy is a country with many ghosts. Sometimes, even now, I might see them. I have not seen what you have seen, but I believe what you are saying. Like Ferko, I am a fighter, and I will defend our world, our Pope, and all humanity against the threat they bring to us. If these creatures are on this world, I will fight them.”
“But neither of you have any paranormal skills?” I asked, feeling a touch of disappointment. I’d hoped to find that kind of allies here.
“Paranormal? Like your ability to read objects or travel astrally—that’s the name for it, yes?”
“Yes. Astral travel. Out-of-body. So, I can assume you have no magical talent?”
His mouth hitched up on the side in a skeptical smile. “Magic? Like Harry Potter? No.” He laughed. “We have holy water and holy scriptures and the will of God. This is our magic.”
Such faith. I struggled with it, but these two men were so committed, they trusted in it without reservation.
“I am very much afraid it will take more than holy water to seal the portals you have talked about,” Orielle said. “I hope the experts you sent to seal the Babylon portal are skilled in enchantment. As to your grotto portal, it is also vulnerable.”
Lucca frowned, jumped to his feet, tapped Ferko’s shoulder, and headed to the break room with Ferko following close behind.
“I may have hit a sensitive spot,” Orielle said. “I am guessing that they have something to discuss.”
We waited a few minutes giving me an opening to visit the small bathroom in their office and freshen up. I splashed water on my face and stretched my body to get the kinks out. They were still conferencing when I returned, but shortly after, they came back out. Ferko excused himself saying he had some arrangements to make and left.
Lucca opened his hands, palms up, and said, “I apologize. What you said brought up a thought for me, and I see an opportunity. Tomorrow, we will have a field trip so I will get you at your hotel at seven in the morning, and we will travel. A short trip, but all day to go and come back. Wear pants and comfortable walking shoes. Bring a sweater. We will be by the sea.”
“Where are we going?” Orielle asked, curiosity burning in her eyes.
“To the south. You will see. Now, what can you tell me about your organization?”
“It is a secret group, composed largely of scientists, educators, archeologists, anthropologists, and business moguls, who help provide the financing. You probably would not think that scientists would be involved in an organization that investigates the paranormal, but some are very interested in it.”
From there, she gave him pretty much the same general background information that she’d told me, not even revealing the name of the organization. Lucca pushed as much as he could, but she wouldn’t budge after she’d told him as much as she felt comfortable telling.
We left the office around six, decided to go to one of the recommended restaurants near our hotel for dinner, then get to bed early so we could get a sunrise start. My internal clock was still many hours off. I sent a text to Ferris to say hello and let him know all was going well, and we were off on a day trip the next morning.
Where was Lucca taking us that was near the sea? What did we say that set up this plan for our Thursday?
Chapter 18
AS PROMISED, LUCCA arrived at our hotel at the crack of dawn, or so it felt. Orielle and I had grabbed a couple of pastries and miniscule coffees to go at the coffee cart as we’d waited downstairs. Now, we followed our handsome Italian around the corner to a parking garage under the building where Ferko waited behind the steering wheel of a mid-sized black SUV. Within minutes, we wheeled down the narrow streets and onto a larger roadway that led to a four-lane highway heading to southern Italy.
From the front seat, Lucca twisted to talk to us. “Now, we are on the E80 Highway. We will follow it until we come to the E45 to go south all the way to Napoli. It takes about two-and-a-half hours to make the drive, and it is not so beautiful as going the coast road, but it is quicker. From Napoli, we will take the road past Pompeii to Sorrento.”
Orielle’s eyes grew wider, sparkling with interest, as he talked. “You are taking us to the grotto on Capri.”
“Si.” His smile grew broader. “After what you told us yesterday, Ferko and I decided we should bring you to the sealed portal to show you it is secure.”
“Excellent,” she answered. “I was going to ask you about going there before we left. And we get to see a little of the beautiful island.” She added the last bit with a wink at me.
While I liked the idea of at least seeing the famous island and getting to the grotto, I was also excited to be going by the destroyed city. “Will we be able to see the anything as we go past Pompeii? What about the volcano?”
“We will see Monte Vesuvio from the car. The road runs along the coast, and it is not so far away. But we do not have time to stop for the ruins if we are to get to the marina on time,” Lucca answered. He glanced back toward the road ahead, then reached down to the floor in front of him. He pulled out a paper cup of coffee and handed it back to Orielle. “Latte from the Starbucks,” he told her as she took it from him.
I raised an eyebrow. She was getting special treatment? But then, Lucca turned again, reached, and another appeared in his hand. Thanking him, I accepted the warm drink. While disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to stop at the ruins, I turned my attention instead to the passing houses, buildings, and spots of green that passed by the side of the road. Even here, the structures looked old, worn in places, but still serviceable. Little businesses harbored in ground floors while the upper levels offered apartments to the dwellers.
In a short time, we broke away from the city where more green patches of fields appeared, various shades reflecting the crops gr
own. Here and there some patches were sallow where the rich umber-colored earth marked striking patterns in the design. A lush-looking country, the land still supported the larger population of today as well as it had the sparse ancient villages.
In the middle of a quilt of greenery, a knot of highway turned us onto the E45, the Autostrada del Sole. Out of the jumble of traffic, Ferko picked up more speed toward our destination. We passed mile after mile of farmland with crops and houses set back from the highway with an occasional village cropping up along the way. In many ways, the hilly country reminded me of Northern California except much greener and striking with the rich red earth.
Eventually, the houses and buildings grew denser as we neared Naples and the traffic increased. As my thoughts had drifted to home and Ferris while we’d been driving, I hadn’t paid as much attention to my surroundings until then. I looked up from where my head rested against the window and saw a range of mountains rising in front of me. All the way to the summit, rich green vegetation swept up the rises while slashes of canyons striped the steep sides where rainwater must have gushed down from the peaks. Along the skirt of the foothills, houses and buildings filled the space, nestling along the range.
“Is that Vesuvius?” I asked, looking for the cone-shape that indicated a volcano.
“No, not yet,” Lucca answered, glancing back at me. “That is the mountain range, yes, but the volcano is on the other side. We will make a turn soon that will take us past it. Once we clear the end of the peaks, you will be able to see it quite easily. I will point it out.”
“Thank you. I wouldn’t want to miss it,” I said and shifted to watch the left side of the car where it would be.
The road turned after a bit taking us more directly south as we drove through the metropolis and the surrounding cities that made up the Naples area. To the right, the Mediterranean Sea glistened in the late morning sun, sparkling with darting highlights on the cobalt water. Astounded by the city’s location, I asked, “Vesuvius is still an active volcano, isn’t it? Why do all these people live so close?”
“Yes, you are correct. It is active, but not so active. It rarely erupts. The last time was seventy or eighty years ago, and it was not so bad. A big one like the one that destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum only happens around every two thousand years, so people feel safe living here.”
Odd, I thought. Not for me. I wouldn’t like to leave it to chance that I might end up engulfed by hot ash and lava one day. Ahead I saw a smaller triangular-shaped peak at the end of the range and thought that must be it until we went a little further. Once we cleared the end, the massive cone-shaped mountain loomed behind it. A vast expanse of greenery-covered hillside led up to the terracotta bib surrounding the caldera or bowl of the crater. I caught my breath at the magnificence and imagined that at one time, it had been more massive than it was now.
Soon enough, I could see that the high ridge of mountains now behind it formed the rim of the outer caldera while the side to the south sloped into the valley below it. Again, I could see cities and towns gathered close to the edge of the protected area that made up the volcano park. Continuing several more miles, I saw the sign for Pompeii coming up, and I twisted my head to look back at the volcano.
“That is Vesuvio,” Lucca’s proud voice said as if he were the parent of an exceptional child. “It’s over four thousand feet tall but the height changes based on activ—”
His voice faded out mid-word as in an instant, my perspective changed, and I saw a massive mountain on fire, smoke belching out in enormous clouds from the summit, a roar like thunder pelting my eardrums. I felt panic around me, heard frantic screaming, and reeled in horror as people from the streets ran to find shelter while Hell erupted around them. Like dirty snow in a massive blizzard, hot ash fell to the ground, coating the town, and one little boy centered in my mind. He screamed and bawled before his mother snatched him up, scrambling to reach shelter. But it did no good. They perished before my eyes.
I must have cried out at the sudden vision as Orielle grabbed my shoulder and shook it.
“Gillian? Gillian? Are you all right?”
I barely heard her through the thunder crashing in my mind. The odor of rotten eggs and burning vegetation filled my nose as the eruption rumble continued. I shuddered and shook my head, the vision vanishing, but leaving behind an aura of sadness and grief that shook me to my core.
Lucca’s eyes popped wide, and he looked alarmed, if not a bit spooked. Ferko glanced in the rearview mirror to see if I had lost control, wondering if he should be looking for a hospital. Orielle knew I had a vision. Even without touching anything from the period, I’d picked up on the nightmare.
I lowered my head and took deep breaths, steadying my nerves. “I’m all right. It was just a flash of memory. This area is filled with spirits.” So many perished; so much sorrow in this place. How could everyone else not feel it?
Lifting my eyes, I just caught the end of Lucca making the sign of the cross in front of his chest. His face still held a look of worry with his eyebrows lowered and his mouth a straight thin line with tension.
“I can pick up on events of the past now and then if they are strong enough,” I told them. I’d actually only done it once before, at Shiloh, but there, too, it was a place charged with the energy of the event that had occurred there. Without a doubt, I knew if we went to Pompeii, I would find untethered spirits lingering there, lost and confused. Like the battlefield, I could spend exhausting hours reaching out to guide them to the light tunnel home. Hours we didn’t have.
“Do you have a bottle of water, Lucca?” I asked.
He reached to the floor in front of him and came up with a small bottle which he handed to me. Taking it, I popped it open and swallowed about a third in one long gulp. He still watched me. No doubt, uncertain if I was going to have another fit.
“I’m fine now. Thank you. But, if you have someone who can see spirits, some are still lingering in the area. Part of what I do is to help the lost ones find their way to the next plane, be that Heaven or Nirvana or whatever they call it.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to cross himself again, but he nodded. “I will see what can be done.” Then he turned to face the front again as the volcano grew smaller behind us.
After a short time, we passed into yet another little city along the coast where Ferko turned off the road at a sign pointing to Marina de Equa and pulled into a parking space near a boat ramp that led out into the turquoise waters of the sea.
“We will get food here before we go on the boat. The restaurant over there—” Lucca paused to point a little way down the street to a nice-looking place, “—has excellent seafood, but also sandwiches and other light choices. You will feel better after we eat.”
He hopped out of the car, then opened the door and offered me a hand to get out. I wanted to yell that I was fine, but politely murmured, “thanks,” and took his hand. Ferko had started down to the ramp area and veered off toward a building to the left of it.
“Ferko has arrangements to make and will join us shortly,” Lucca said as he noticed the direction of my gaze. “Come.”
Once we were seated in the restaurant, which was fairly well packed with people, I excused myself and headed for the ladies room to take care of necessities and splash some water on my face. When I looked in the mirror, I still looked a little pale, but not like someone who’d seen ghosts. I undid my hair, brushed it out, and tied it back into the double-tiered ponytail that made it look longer. After brushing my hands down the front of my loose tee shirt to smooth it, I turned and returned to the dining area. Menus and drinks had arrived—an iced tea for me—and I pursued the selections. Still early enough to be breakfast, I decided to go with a half-sized ham and cheese calzone.
Ferko arrived shortly after we ordered saying everything was ready. Over lunch, Lucca told us how the grotto and the hidden portal were discovered in 1987 and were subsequently sealed. The actual entrance to the cavern w
as from above the water and the crust that had covered it had broken through during a storm. Possibly a lightning strike had done it. The water entrance to it opened several feet below the water, but the lower plane portal sat closer to a surface entrance and just a short distance down. This was where they were taking us.
A mixed sensation of excitement and fear rushed through me. I was going to see what an Earth level portal looked like and how it felt to be standing near one. The one in New Delhi hadn’t actually been a portal, but an entry point for Belphegor. This one might give access to and from the lower plane. That was the frightening part. What if they hadn’t sealed it adequately? Could yiaiwa be coming through it still?
Ferko led us to the marina where a sleek-looking black and gold speedboat bobbed alongside the ramp. He motioned for us to get on board, then went up front to drive the boat. In no time, we’d bolted away from the ramp and into the deeper waters of the Mediterranean.
Wind whipped through my hair pulling the carefully groomed strands loose. Orielle had wisely put her thick, long hair into a tight bun that looked like it couldn’t budge an inch. The boat skimmed and bounced over the surface headed in a southwesterly arc away from the mainland. Soon, the outline of Capri became visible, and Ferko pointed toward the western end of the island. A green jewel of a vegetation-covered rock in the middle of a turquoise setting greeted us as we got closer.
Lucca worked his way to stand beside us and pointed toward the city on the slope as we began to hook around it. “Capri. This sea is called the Tyrrhenia Sea, all within this bay from Napoli.”
“It’s not the Mediterranean,” I said in surprise. I had thought all the water surrounding the island and peninsulas of land were part of the main sea.
He gave his head a quick shake and grinned. “No, a common mistake. Little seas are within the big sea. Each has a different name.”
A Song of Redemption Page 19