An Angel's Song

by Sharon Saracino

  “Well, tell him to get the hell out,” Alec roared, once he regained the power of speech. Tessa’s gasp alerted him to his crushing grip, and he immediately loosened his arms. She climbed from his lap, heading for the small fridge under the bookshelf. She grabbed another bottle of water, and raised it to her lips with shaking hands.

  “It isn’t quite that simple.” Galen shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tessa’s nightmares? His attempts to gain her attention when her mind rested. Over the years, they’ve become worse? Darker? More frequent?”

  “Yes.” Tessa polished off another bottle of water and returned to perch on the arm of Alec’s chair. Her fingers burrowed into the hair at his nape, kneading the tense knots in the muscles of his neck.

  “Like us, Djinn live for centuries, but they aren’t immortal. This situation is unprecedented, and from what I gathered before you yanked me out, the longer he exists in this divided state, the weaker he becomes. If he isn’t able to reunite his two halves, eventually he’ll cease to exist. He’s desperate. Flexing his muscles, so to speak. Trying to become the dominant consciousness to ensure his survival.”

  “At the expense of Tessa’s.” Her fingers on his neck stilled.

  “He isn’t malicious, Alec. It’s self-preservation.”

  “Yeah, well my wife isn’t going to be sacrificed to save his ass.” He shot to his feet and stalked across the room to the desk, scooping up the notebook and flipping it open. “That’s what this is all about. Barachiel knew. We find the necklace, free the Djinni, and he abandons his little domicile in Tessa’s head to make nice with his other half. Right?”

  “It seems a reasonable assumption.” Luca offered his first contribution to the conversation. “Even though he relinquished his immortality, Barachiel retained his psychometric and telepathic powers. There’s no doubt he would have explored Tessa’s memories after learning of her reaction to the necklace.”

  “And never tell me?”

  “I expect he thought he was protecting you. He’d locate the Djinn trap eventually and rectify the situation. Did he know your nightmares had worsened?” Tessa shook her head, and Luca continued. “Therefore, he didn’t realize the status quo changed, didn’t recognize the stakes were higher. There was no particular urgency. He left the information for Alec, secure in the knowledge he’d ferret out the truth sooner or later.”

  “And I will.” Alec glanced up from the notebook to see Tessa, still perched on the arm of the chair nervously twisting her ring. Every puzzle he ever pieced together became meaningless beside this one. His bright, beautiful Tessa. He wasn’t about to allow some frustrated freaking Djinni to steal her sanity. Her keen intelligence, sharp wit, and musical genius belonged to her. And she belonged to him.

  “Sooner, not later. I swear to you.”

  “So, what do we know so far?” Alec mused aloud. “The Nazis conjure a Djinni. When he refuses to turn the tide of the war in their favor, they trap him in the necklace and hold his well-being over the heads of his clansmen to ensure their cooperation in completing tunnels to house their plunder and keep it out of the hands of the Allies. Somehow, this mystery woman discovers the truth about the necklace, and steals it. Then attempts to deliver it to Barachiel. Why?”

  “She’s not a mystery woman,” Galen said. “I saw her in Tessa’s memories. Her name was Gerta Beringer, and she worked as a curator at the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin before the war. Well-known and highly respected in the art world, she traveled extensively, and dealt with every major museum in Europe.”

  “That explains how she knew my father. Though it doesn’t explain how she acquired the Djinni in the first place, or why she thought my father, a simple art historian known to her as Eduardo Bartolucci, would have any idea what to do with it,” Tessa pointed out.

  “Whether she knew about either the Djinni or your father’s true identity, his work to save artistic and cultural treasures would have been common knowledge in those circles.” Galen said. “Who wouldn’t perceive an ornate piece of jewelry with a stone that size, and in Nazi possession, as something significant that had most likely been stolen and should probably be saved? As to how she acquired it, it just so happens Gerta was also the younger sister of a very well-placed Nazi official.”

  “You knew her?” Tessa asked.

  “Casually. We crossed paths in France a time or two working with the Resistance.” Galen nodded. “Rabidly anti-Nazi, she spent most of the war working against them in whatever way she could. Rumor had it she even wrote letters demanding the release of certain prisoners to commandants of the camps, signing only her surname. This, of course, fostered the impression the letters were from her much feared older brother. I imagine her actions saved more than one hapless victim. Beringer must have suspected her activities, but despite their different philosophies, he apparently chose to look the other way.”

  “So, your hypothesis is that her brother had the necklace in his possession and she somehow snatched it out from under his nose and secreted it to Italy?” Luca asked.

  “It seems the most reasonable explanation.” Galen shrugged. “Her connections allowed her to travel with few questions, and she would have wanted to get it as far away as possible before anyone noticed it missing. Though according to the Djinni’s memories, she believed she was followed when she traveled to Italy.”

  “You think her brother finally turned on her?” Alec looked up from the notebook.

  “Maybe. If he’d been entrusted with the Djinni and lost it, my guess is his ass would be in a sling. Of course, let’s not forget about the Fallen. There were plenty of them in the inner circle, who would certainly have been interested, as well.”

  “How the necklace may have gotten into Tessa’s hands in the first place is all interesting speculation,” Luca observed, rising to his feet and stretching his arms over his head until his spine cracked. Then he moved toward the door. “But, it’s probably more productive to concentrate on the more pressing concern. Where is it now?”

  “Where do you two think you’re going?” Alec snapped, as Galen made a move to follow Luca.

  “I’m going to check on my wife, and Galen has an appointment with our fearless leader. It appears in his lengthy absence, Galen’s ancestral home has been overrun by squatters who have a certain reluctance to leave.” Luca bit back a smile. “You’re the Riddle King, Alec. Figure it out. When you do, we’ll go get it. We’ve got your back. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but…” He raked a hand through his hair. Sure, he might be the one known for figuring out the puzzle, and he knew Luca and Galen, or any of the Defensori for that matter, would back him up. But, for a man who’d always preferred to work alone, now he found himself open to all the help he could get. Because this wasn’t some magical ring or a demon binding grimoire. This wasn’t one of Michael’s ill-conceived gifts to his progeny. Failure could cost Tessa her mind and quite possibly her life if this Djinni became desperate. He’d lost her once through his own blind indifference. He wasn’t about to lose her again.

  “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.” He sighed and dropped into the chair as the door closed behind them, and pulled the notebook in front of him, his eyes skimming the elegant script, brain cells struggling to make sense of it. He’d figure it out. He had no other option. He glanced up in surprise as Tessa’s long, delicate fingers splayed across the pages of the notebook.

  “May I?”

  “Be my guest.” Alec pushed the book across the desk to Tessa. “I had a thought we should start by trying to find this Angelina you suspected of having made off with the necklace. But, based on your father’s early entries, it appears great minds think alike. It was one of the first things he did. According to his notes, he found her sister. Angelina traded the necklace to a Nazi official in exchange for safe passage to Switzerland for herself and her family. The family made it, but along the way, she disappeared. My assumption would be the Nazi feared she knew more than she let on an
d double crossed her. No big surprise there. After that, your father documents extensive travels through Eastern Europe. The most recent entries are written in some kind of code. I hate to waste the time, but I may have to hightail it over to my flat in Paris and grab a couple of reference books to figure it out.”

  Tessa’s eyes narrowed and her forehead pleated into deep furrows as she flipped through the pages, running a forefinger from right to left, top to bottom, like the star pupil of a speed reading course. Alec watched her, barely daring to breathe. Would her gift kick in and pick up some errant memory of her father’s to explain the odd combination of letters scribbled across the final pages? Hey, a guy could hope.

  “He’s been looking almost my entire life,” Tessa murmured. “Why did he never tell me? Or you? Or anyone, for that matter? Michael, you, the Defensori…surely someone would have been able to help. All those trips, all those countries…I thought we travelled so much because of his business. And we did. Just not the art business. He searched right up until it must have become physically impossible for him to do so. These last entries are dated just a few months ago.”

  “Yep. And they’re the ones he entered in code. I assume he found something and wanted to ensure the Fallen wouldn’t be able to access it if something happened before he could get it to us. As to why he never told anyone or asked for help, I can only guess. Knowing him as I did, I suspect he blamed himself for leaving you alone and vulnerable. He felt he, alone, had to rectify it.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He did important work, and he didn’t leave me alone. Hundreds of people surrounded me. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “I agree. But, it’s no more ridiculous than my brother blaming himself for our sister’s abduction. In the end, with Kat’s life at stake, he finally realized people make their own decisions.”

  “Kat?”

  “Katrina, his wife. Sorry, forgot you haven’t met her yet. She’s a peach.”

  “I’m sure. So you were saying your brother finally asked for help?”

  “Not asked, so much as allowed,” Alec laughed. “You know Kass. Letting Luca and the other Defensori assist was fine. But, he sure as hell wasn’t happy when my bleeding carcass crossed his threshold. It was hardly a scratch, but you would have sworn I’d been decapitated.”

  “He didn’t want to lose you, too.”

  “I get that, but taking care of me isn’t his job, and he needed to realize it. Anyway, it was a one-time deal. My mother doesn’t need two sons putting their lives on the line on an almost daily basis to keep her up at night.” Alec shifted in the chair and shrugged. “My point is, he didn’t allow anyone to share the burden until he ran out of options, just like your father. Now, about this code. It makes things a bit more challenging, but I’ll figure it out. I swear to you, Tess. I’ll head over to Paris tonight, get the code books, and hustle back here and crack it. Then I’ll figure out where the necklace is and get that damn Djinni out of your head and out of our lives.”

  “I know you will.” Tessa’s lips curled upward as she flipped the notebook closed and handed it to him across the desk. “But, you won’t need to go to Paris. We only have to go to the Borgo.”

  “You saw something? A vision?” Alec’s heart kicked him in the ribs as he shot to his feet and snatched the notebook from her hand. “Do you know where it is?”

  “Not exactly. But, I do recognize the code. I guess my father really was determined we should do this together, because I’m probably the only one who would, considering he and I made it up. It’s not an actual code. It’s a game. My father invented it to encourage me to practice as a child. The letters transpose into music. We don’t need a code book. We need a piano.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Chopin,” Tessa announced as her fingers stilled on the keys and the final strains of the music echoed off of the walls and faded. She closed the notebook and spun on the piano stool to face Alec. “It’s the third movement from Chopin’s Piano Sonata number two. The Funeral March.”

  “Funeral March, huh? So something to do with his death? Didn’t he die in France?” Alec asked, turning to Galen, whom he’d asked to meet them at the Borgo flat following his meeting with Michael. “You said you’d met this Gerta Beringer in France a time or two.”

  “Yes. He died in Paris.” Tessa closed the lid over the keys and rose to her feet. “But, he was born in Poland. And that’s where his heart remains. Literally, not just figuratively. At his request, upon his death, Chopin’s body was opened and his heart removed. His body lies in Père Lachaise Cemetery, but his heart was returned to Poland. You know my father. Always the first one to follow his heart. Maybe that’s what he’s telling us to do.”

  “Follow the heart? So we’re back to Poland. The hidden tunnels and lost Nazi treasure?” Alec asked.

  “Maybe,” Galen responded, frowning at his laptop screen as his fingers flew over the keys with a surprising speed and agility for a man with hands the size of dinner plates. “Looks like Chopin’s heart took a wild ride. After his death, the organ was removed, as Tessa says, and sealed into a crystal jar filled with liquid, most often assumed to be cognac. Then it was placed in a mahogany urn and smuggled back into Poland, through the border guards, by his older sister, Ludwika. It bounced around between various relatives until 1879, when it was finally entombed in a church pillar in Warsaw.”

  “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also,” Tessa whispered, and Alec turned back to her.

  “What?”

  “The inscription on the pillar where Chopin’s heart is interred. It’s from the book of Matthew. Though his exile was self-imposed, his heart remained bound to his home. Like my father, I guess. He gave up everything for my mother and me. Exiled himself. In the end, part of him was happy to be returning home, at last.”

  “He never regretted his choice, you know. I’m surprised he told you.” Though Barachiel confided as much to Alec, he wouldn’t have expected him to be so frank with Tess.

  “He didn’t. But, I knew just the same. Knowing he’s happy and free makes letting him go hurt just a little less, actually.”

  Alec reached out and folded her into his arms, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He was all over anything that made her father’s absence easier for her to bear.

  “Well, now we’re getting somewhere,” Galen said, glancing up from the screen with a wide smile splitting his face. “It seems after the heart was interred in Holy Cross church, it became an object of public veneration. People regarded it with a fervor usually reserved for the relics of saints. Since the tsarist authorities refused to permit any other public memorial to their native son, Chopin’s heart, which he insisted return home, became a symbol of nationalism. By the time Poland gained independence in 1918, the thing became an outright shrine.”

  “But, that was before the Germans even entered the picture,” Alec countered. “Where’s the connection to the Nazis?”

  “For a guy who’s spent years carrying out methodical, meticulous research, you have the patience of a gnat, McAllister. Fast forward to the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. The Germans, well aware of Chopin’s symbolic power, outlawed performances of his music. They exhumed the heart and stored it at the headquarters of the German commander of the regional forces for the remainder of the uprising.”

  “So, ironically, they had no problem systematically slaughtering the Poles who rebelled against them, but they protected the object they rallied around?” Alec shook his head.

  “Don’t forget, though they were conscious of the danger Chopin represented in uniting the Poles, the Nazis also believed he’d been influenced by German composers.”

  “So, he must have some redeeming qualities, right?”

  “Something like that,” Galen grinned. “Anyway, after they suppressed the uprising, the Germans made a big show of returning the heart to the Poles. Set up a film crew to record the transfer of the urn to the archbishop, and everything.”

  “No doubt an attempt to mak
e themselves look good,” Tessa grumbled. “Propaganda was the Nazis’ middle name.”

  “True,” Galen agreed. “But, it didn’t work out that way. Just as the transfer was about to take place, the lights malfunctioned, and the Nazis’ plans for making a spectacle of the event and putting a positive spin on themselves, were ruined.”

  “This is all very interesting, but I still don’t get how any of this ties in to the necklace,” Alec said.

  “Well, we know the woman who took the necklace, after Tessa dropped it, traded it to the Nazis, right? So, they got it back. Clearly, Barachiel is pointing us in the direction of Poland and Chopin’s heart.”

  “I agree, I just don’t see the connection.”

  “Well, consider this. After the urn was returned to the Poles, it didn’t just get reinterred in the church pillar in Warsaw. The priests, fearing the Nazis would change their minds and demand it back, smuggled it outside of the city and hid it at St. Hedwig’s in Milanówek. Rumor has it, once there, they decided to open the urn and make sure the Nazis hadn’t stolen the heart and returned an empty container. Maybe the heart’s not the only thing they found inside.”

  “So, if a member of the Nazi command in Warsaw somehow came into possession of the necklace, whether he knew it was a Djinn trap or not, he’d suspect it had value based on the size of the stone alone. What better place to hide something valuable until the war ended and he could reclaim it than an urn which would be re-interred?” Alec widened his eyes as his intellect finally superseded his concern, and kicked in. Luca called him the Riddle King, but from the moment the threat to Tessa became apparent, his ability to reason logically left the building.

  “Exactly. I did a little digging on Beringer, too. Since he moved in the upper ranks, there’s quite a bit of biographical information to be found. Guess who turns up as part of the command structure in Poland at the time of the Warsaw Uprising?”

  “That has to be it!” Alex said. “Gerta steals the necklace, smuggles it to Italy, and her brother catches on and follows. He tails her to the Palazzo Pitti, waits, watches, and sees Angelina scoff it up in the chaos of Tessa’s reaction. He gets her alone, tricks her into trading it for passage, and when she thinks she’s safe, ensures she can never identify him. Later, he’s assigned to Warsaw, and with the war crashing down around the Reich, he starts looking ahead. What happened to Gerta?”