by R. D. Brady
Laney tried to focus on the scenes flashing by her window, but all she could see were the scenes from the broadcast last night.
Drake took her hand. “None of that.”
“What?”
“There is nothing you can do back home. Until the government does something, we have to wait. We might as well wait while touring an ancient castle.” He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. “Of course, I can think of more pleasurable ways to pass a few hours.”
Laney blushed, dropping her voice. “There are two priests in front of us.”
Drake shrugged. “Archangel. I outrank them.”
“Ah, here we are!” Ezekiel proclaimed as they crossed over the Ponte Sant’Angelo, the bridge that connected the mausoleum to the city. Laney stared at the array of winged angels that had been erected along the bridge during the baroque period, watching their passage. They were beautiful.
The driver pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance. The drive in front was empty, as the site didn’t open to the public for another two hours.
Laney and Drake exited the car from opposite sides. The Castel Sant’Angelo loomed above them. When it had first been constructed, the castle had been the tallest building in Rome. But in the modern day it was dwarfed by a multitude of other structures.
Laney slipped around the car to stand next to Drake. He stood still, staring up. Shielding her eyes, Laney followed his gaze to the tallest point of the Castle. “What is that?”
Drake said nothing, his gazed fixed on the top of the fortress.
Father Ezekiel followed his gaze nodding. “Ah, yes, you see the avenging angel that guards the castle. It’s quite a sight. Now, if you’ll follow me.”
Ezekiel hurried on, not waiting for a reply.
Drake extended his arm to Laney. “We better hurry up before the good father leaves us behind.”
“I think I’d be okay with that.”
“I’m willing to ditch him if you are.”
Laney was tempted, really tempted. But she didn’t want her and Drake’s behavior to reflect badly on her uncle. She sighed. “No. We should stick with him.”
“Fine. But I have a felling this will be the most boring tour in the castle’s long history.”
Drake was not wrong. The good father led them through room after room, reciting endless facts about the castle. Laney made noncommittal noises every now and then, tuning him out as she let her own imagination run as she looked at the incredible space.
The castle had originally been built as a mausoleum for Roman Emperor Hadrian and his family in 134 A.D. Other emperors were also entombed there, their ashes kept on the treasure room of the mausoleum until 217. In 401, the site was turned into a military fortress. In the fourteenth century, the papacy took over the site and turned it into a castle. Pope Nicholas III even had a tunnel created that led from St. Peter’s Basilica to the castle.
While the castle currently showed off priceless works of art and gorgeous marble floors, it also had a darker history. Prison cells had been added under the reign of Pope Alexander IV Borgia. It had been used as a prison and a site of executions, which Father Ezekiel pointed out as they stepped into the courtyard.
“Executions were held here,” said Father Ezekiel, “when an individual was found guilty of blasphemy.”
Laney nodded, picturing the horrible scene. “Giordano Bruno was held here, isn’t he?”
Ezekiel nodded. “It was a difficult time in the Church’s history. They could not adapt well to the changes of the day.”
Bruno had had the audacity to suggest that the stars seen in the night sky were actually suns in their own right. And that exoplanets surrounded each sun. He therefore concluded that some of these planets may foster life. He even went as far as to suggest that the universe was infinite and that the Earth was not its center. In fact, he argued there was no center. While he was charged for his pantheistic views, he was also tried for denying multiple Catholic doctrines such as eternal damnation, the Trinity, and the divinity of Christ. In addition, he was well known for supporting the notion of reincarnation. That last one made her pause. The Church did not recognize reincarnation. According to the Church, you died once and were judged for your actions on Earth.
But Laney now knew that wasn’t true. She had been born time and time again, as had almost everyone she knew in her current life. Did the Church still have such a strong stance against reincarnation? Could they, in light of recent events and the outing of the Fallen?
Laney realized they probably still did. If recent statements were an indication, the Church still had difficulty in adapting. The Church had declared Elisabeta was not the true Samyaza and that the Fallen were no more than genetically enhanced individuals. Obviously they were not as accepting of information that was clear to everyone else.
She turned to speak to Drake and realized he was no longer at her side. He had walked across the courtyard and now stood staring at a statue of a winged angel. It was the same one they had seen from the ground.
Ezekiel fell in step with her as she crossed the courtyard to join Drake. “Who is that?” Laney asked, nodding toward the bronze statue of the angel on high, seen pulling his sword from his sheath, his wings spread.
“That is the Archangel Michael, preparing for battle. The statue was created by a Flemish sculptor named Peter von Verschaffelt in 1798. That is the sixth version of the statue.”
“The sixth?” Laney asked.
Ezekiel nodded. “Yes. The first was wood and did not survive the elements. The second was marble but was destroyed by angry Roman citizens in 1379. The third was also marble, but the wings were bronze and were destroyed by a lightning strike.”
“A lightning strike?” Laney pictured what that must have looked like. It would have seemed as if the hand of God had come down.
“The fourth was also bronze, but then it was destroyed to create cannonballs in the early sixteenth century. The fifth, which can be seen in the courtyard, was damaged by weather. And finally, the sixth is what you see now.”
Laney stared up at the statue. “Poor Michael. This world doesn’t seem to have been kind to him.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Drake said quietly.
Laney frowned. Drake was awfully serious. He had been more so ever since they arrived at the castle.
Ezekiel clasped his hands. “Well, let us check out where they once held the prisoners, shall we?”
Drake’s shoulders shifted as if he was shaking off whatever had come over him. He raised an eyebrow at Laney as Ezekiel took off once again, not waiting for them. “He’s awfully excitable, isn’t he?”
Laney was heartened to see her Drake return. “Yes, he is. Apparently the cells are not to be missed.”
The section of the castle Ezekiel led them to was obviously not on the official tour. It was colder. The walls were crumbling. Ezekiel stood at the end of the hall, outlined in a doorway. “This way. This way.” He disappeared from view, but Laney could hear his footsteps clearly.
“I guess we’re heading down.”
The doorway led to a stairwell that Laney was surprised to see had electric lighting. It looked so ancient she wouldn’t have been surprised to see torches. Drake grabbed Laney’s arm as she was about to step.
“What?” she asked as he cast his gaze around.
He shook his head, releasing her hand. “Nothing. I just seem to be spooked.”
She leaned forward with a smile, keeping her voice low. “Spooked? Archangels can get spooked?”
He returned the grin. “Apparently today they can. Now hurry up before Ezekiel gives us detention.”
Laney chuckled as she headed down the stone steps. Ezekiel did remind her of some of the priests she’d had in high school. The stairs ended one level down. Ezekiel once again was about thirty feet away, waving them on. He disappeared in a doorway.
As soon as they appeared in the doorway, Ezekiel waved from another doorway, disappearing inside. Three more doorways and it was the same pro
cess: Ezekiel a good distance ahead, disappearing and expecting them to follow.
“I’m feel like we’re playing a game of cat and mouse,” Drake murmured.
“Yeah,” Laney said, beginning to feel a little spooked herself as she made her way down yet another set of stone stairs.
Stepping onto the floor, Ezekiel, grinned, waving toward the wide hall behind him. “We have arrived.”
Laney stepped past him. Cells had been carved out of the rock in the ground. Metal bars had been placed from floor to ceiling with a single door. It was cold and damp. Not liking it, Laney shivered, feeling a great deal of sympathy toward anyone who had to spend any amount of time in here.
Ezekiel waved them toward the third cell. “This is the cell that Bruno himself stayed in. In the back corner, he even carved an inscription. Go see.”
“I’m good here,” Drake said.
Ezekiel’s face fell. “But it’s the best part.”
Laney sighed. “Okay. Where is it?”
“Right along the back wall down at the bottom right. Go ahead, Mr. Drake.”
Laney tugged on Drake’s sleeve. “Come on, Mr. Drake. Let’s go see.”
Laney stepped into the cell, Drake right behind her. She walked to the back wall and crouched down, but she couldn’t make out anything scraped into the wall.
“Drake, do you see any—”
The metal door to the cell slammed shut. Laney jumped to her feet and whirled around. “Ezekiel?”
But the only response was the sound of hurried footsteps as Ezekiel fled up the stairs.
CHAPTER 30
Laney stared at the locked cell door in disbelief. She turned to Drake. “Did he just lock us in an ancient jail cell?”
Drake’s voice was dry. “So it would seem.”
Laney laughed. “Wow. He really has no idea who we are, does he?” She focused for only a moment before a wind ripped the door off, slamming it into the wall across from them.
Drake offered her his hand. “Shall we, my dear?”
Laney placed her hand in his. “Let’s.”
They stepped out of the cell as tingles ran over Laney’s skin. She pulled her hand from Drake’s, turning to the stairs. “You feel that?”
“Yup.”
Laney thought about sprinting up the stairs but immediately discarded the idea. The stairwell was narrow, and whoever was coming for them would have the higher ground. The hallway between cells, while not ideal, was a better location to face off with whomever Ezekiel was sending.
Next to her, Drake bent his back leg, hands coming up, getting into a fighting stance. “Looks like the good Father Ezekiel is not quite so good.”
Laney didn’t have time to respond as two figures blurred into the room. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Both wore long brown monk cloaks. More footsteps pounded down the stairs behind them.
Laney eyed the two silent monks. “Just who are you supposed to be?”
Their only response was to draw two long wicked knives from the sleeves of their robes.
“They, Laney, are the bad guys,” Drake said.
She sighed. “Why are we always running into bad guys?”
Three more men, also in brown robes, burst out of the stairwell, guns in hand. Laney’s gaze flicked toward them, which was all the distraction the men at the bottom of the stairs needed. One leaped toward Laney, swiping at her with the knife. She dodged back for the first strike before zipping forward, arresting the man’s backstroke. She redirected his movement to his own thigh, slicing high and then whipping the knife back to slice the back of his knee. The same move she’d used on Dirk Magnet not that long ago. If a human, he’d be unable to walk, the tendon at the back of his knee severed. But Laney knew that this man’s wounds would knit closed soon enough.
She stripped the knife from his hand, plunging it into the back of his thigh. Then she slipped one hand at the back of his head, the other toward the top, and wrenched it to the side with a quick snap.
The snap was not loud enough to drown out the slide of the weapon of one of the men on the stairs. She grabbed the Fallen before he could drop and used him as a shield as the men opened fire. Ducking down, she pushed the man toward the men on the stairs as bullets slammed into him.
Ezekiel’s head popped out of the doorway. “Do not kill God’s soldier!” he shrieked.
Laney grunted. If they weren’t trying to kill her, they probably shouldn’t be shooting at her. Bullets slammed into the monk she was using as a shield, but she kept moving forward.
Drake took a different approach and just flung his guy at them. He knocked two over like they were bowling pins. Another screech sounded from the stairwell. Then the last gunman stopped shooting, his whole body shaking before he collapsed to the ground.
Laney peered from around her shield. The man was down, two prongs in his back. Ezekiel was sprawled across the doorway at the top of the stairs.
What the . . .
Bas stepped over Ezekiel and into view. “To quote one of the best movie lines ever, come with me if you want to live.”
CHAPTER 31
Shock rippled through Laney as she let her guy drop. “Bas? What are you doing here?”
The last time she had seen Bas had been on the estate the night before she’d left. He’d never mentioned that he was heading back to Rome.
Bas glanced behind him. “I’ll explain later. There are more coming.”
Before Laney could blink, Drake had Bas by the throat, holding him against the wall. “Explain now.”
Laney expected Bas to panic, grabbing for Drake’s hands. But he didn’t. He slammed the side of his hand into Drake’s Adam’s apple, then wrapped his other hand around Drake’s arm, breaking his hold and forcing him to bend at the waist before shoving him away. “We don’t have time.”
Shouts sounded from upstairs. Bas turned his eyes to Laney. “Please.”
Laney stared at Drake before nodding at Bas. “Lead the way.”
Bas rubbed his throat, hurrying down the stairs past Drake. Laney stepped to the side, her hands ready in case Bas tried anything. But he sprinted past her to a door in the corner beyond the cells. “This way, quickly.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Laney exchanged a look with Drake before following Bas. Drake was right behind her, pulling the door closed behind him. Bas hurried ahead through what looked like a storage room which emptied out into another hallway with a stairwell at the end. He sprinted up the stairwell, stopping at the landing. “Hurry.”
Laney reached the landing, and Bas led them down a long hall before stepping into a large room. The ceiling was at least twenty feet above them. Giant pillars held up the roof. About a dozen old wooden produce crates were scattered haphazardly along the walls, but otherwise it was empty.
Dust rose around Bas as he sprinted down the middle of the room. Laney exchanged a confused look with Drake. The back of the room was a solid wall. There was no exit. What was Bas thinking? Was he trying to trap them?
Laney put out a hand, stopping Drake as Bas reached the back wall. He reached for one of the ancient pillars and stretched up on his toes, pushing against the stone. A small door, hidden in the wall, cracked open an inch.
Bas ran for it, working his fingertips in and pulling it open fully. He glanced nervously at the doorway beyond them. “Come on! Hurry.”
“I don’t trust him,” Drake said.
“Neither do I. But between him and the guys trying to kill us, I choose him.” She ran across the room and slipped into the opening.
Drake stopped at the doorway, his gaze focused on Bas. “After you.”
Bas rolled his eyes. “Oh, for goodness sake.” He hurried in, flicking on a flashlight he pulled from his pocket. Drake stepped in, pulling the door closed behind him. The tunnel went dark, only the dim light of Bas’s flashlight offering any illumination.
Bas made his way down the tunnel. The tunnel had been hewn from the ground, reinforced with an ancient wooden frame.
“Where are we?” Drake asked.
“This tunnel leads from the Castle of the Holy Angel into the city.”
“Is this the tunnel that Pope Clement VII used to escape the Roman army?”
Bas shook his head. “No. That one is well known. A few visitors are even allowed to walk along it every year.”
“And this one?” Laney asked.
“It is known to very few.”
“So who told you about it?” Drake asked.
“The woman who raised me.”
An interesting choice of words. Not mother, but the woman who raised me.
“Well, being we have some time, perhaps you could explain how a group of priests just turned into a bunch of ninjas and tried to kill us.” Drake’s tone made it clear it was not a question he was asking.
“Were they even priests?” Laney asked.
“Oh, they are priests all right. They belong to a special order. The Brotherhood of the Eclipse of the Sun.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” Laney said.
“Very few have. You only know of them if you are a member or you are a target. And those who are a target do not live long enough to tell anyone.”
Drake grunted. “So, the Vatican has a hit squad. How special.”
Even in the dim light, Laney could see Bas’s wince. “It’s not a hit squad. They are charged with protecting the papacy.”
“I thought that was the court jester’s job,” Drake said.
“The Swiss Guards do guard the Pope and Vatican City. But the Brotherhood are more specialized,” Bas said.
“They’re the Vatican’s black ops,” Laney said.
Bas’s gaze flicked to her for a moment before he nodded. “That would be a fair interpretation. Although they have a very strict mission statement.”
“Which is?”
“They are to make sure that the papacy survives.”
“And Drake and I are somehow a threat to that?”
“There are people who believe you are indeed.”