“As above, so below…” Cain murmured under his breath, sounding shaken.
“To this day, no one has connected you to the Doors. But they also do not know about your lineage, your relation to Solomon.”
“I’m not following,” Cain said.
Fabrizio leaned closer as if he’d been waiting for it. “Before I went searching for the circuit breaker, I was out patrolling for that dark wizard in the rain. But I glimpsed something else entirely—reminding me of a drunken bishop’s wild story I’d once heard and hadn’t believed. That Solomon’s Temple was guarded by a fearsome white nightmare with blue eyes of fire. I saw proof of it that night outside of Abundant Angel. It had no interest in me, and vanished mere moments after I saw it. But the three aspects are now clear to me. The Last Breath had come to Kansas City. The same night as the Doors. The same night as you, Callie…”
I was shivering. Not in fear, but entirely overwhelmed. It was…impossible.
Cain cleared his throat. “You mentioned Father David telling you a story about that night…”
Fabrizio nodded uncertainly. “I do not know exactly how it fits in, so I left it for last. Father David kept this secret close to his heart for your entire life, Callie. He feared that, with all the hubbub about the Doors, and the Conclave and Shepherds running around the church in a panic, his story very likely could have brought you to harm. Even if just from fear. But seeing me—one who had been there that very night—back in Kansas City again after so many years reminded him of his lie of omission. He made me swear on my eternal soul that I would not tell anyone but you. If I thought you could handle it…”
I nodded, feeling numb.
Fabrizio took a deep breath, as if hesitant to continue. “Father David swears on the Bible that a Demon attacked the front door of the church the night you were found. And that, more than anything in the world, it wanted you. It screamed, and railed, and demanded to see you, scratching at the door and clawing at the steps. But it never entered, and when Father David checked the next morning, there were only faint scratches on the doors and steps, deep enough to be attributed to a stick in the storm, but definitely not a Demon. He even believed that it could have all been in his head, that fear overtook him as a result of the night’s many other surprises. That is why he confessed to me. He did not know if what he heard was real or an imagined fear. But he repeated one thing several times, his reason for keeping this secret.” He took a breath. “No child should ever feel alone. He thought the Shepherds would turn on you for the mere coincidence of it all, and so he refused to tell a soul. And back then…we were so afraid…I’m not sure he was wrong…” Fabrizio admitted with a guilty look.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look at either of them. I just sat there feeling numb. Long enough that I started to feel a faint flicker of fire inside me. A growing hatred. The beginning of a storm. And I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do with it. So I nurtured it in silence, focusing on my breathing.
Cain spoke, sounding eager. “Fuck the Demon. Can’t even claw a door properly.”
I turned to him and smiled, feeling suddenly anxious to move. To do anything but sit still. “Thank you.”
He nodded matter-of-factly, turning back to Fabrizio. “If that Last Breath guards Solomon’s Temple and appeared when these Doors did, the same night a descendant of Solomon is left on the steps of this very church…”
Fabrizio nodded, speaking the thought that had just entered my mind. “You might just have your path to Solomon’s Temple…”
I wasn’t sure if it was the path of the mind, or the path of the Earth, but I knew it was one of them. “Show me these Doors.” I eyed the weapons on the walls. “I think it’s time we arm ourselves.”
Cain was nodding. “And if Fabrizio can guard access to the Doors from the church, we don’t have to worry about the Sons of Solomon chasing after us.”
Fabrizio nodded, but held up a finger. “There is the question of why they hunt you. They should have more pressing matters to attend with the trial in play. Unless they know of your lineage, or think you have something they need. Knowing that answer may give you what you need.”
I thought about it, frowning. The Seal of Solomon in my coat suddenly felt like a mental lead weight. I held it up for them to see. “Maybe they need this?”
The two men stared at the Seal for a time. Cain finally shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense, but if they know you have it, why wouldn’t Cleo have asked for it when we were at the park?”
“She must not have known,” I said, shrugging.
“Back to the original question, then. Why hunt us down?”
We considered it in silence for a few moments. Finally, I shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? All that matters, is that they want to kill us, and Last Breath wants to kill everyone playing the game. Which makes no sense, by the way. If he works for the Temple—which is hosting this whole trial—why kill the participants?”
“Maybe he is protecting the one participant that matters,” Fabrizio offered gently.
Cain frowned thoughtfully. “That actually makes a lot of sense. He didn’t kill us this morning…He could have, but he didn’t.”
“Let’s consider that a happy ending, but plan for the worst,” I said, eyeing the walls of weapons all around us.
Fabrizio smiled at my interest. “Perhaps the Seal of Solomon will grant you some protection, but I always like to have a good knife or seven on me.” He snapped his finger at a new thought. “Oh, natural items only. We tried sending a video camera through and it exploded. The equivalent of an incendiary grenade,” he added meaningfully.
I shrugged. “Magic is fine, right?”
“As far as we can tell. The wizards didn’t burst into flame.”
“They just never returned,” Cain added grimly. “Perhaps their explosions were just on the other side.”
I scowled at him. “Gee. Thanks for that lovely image.”
He shrugged, not looking the least bit ashamed. “Call them like I see them. We’re very likely committing suicide by stepping through. No use in sugarcoating it. And your magic was wonky this morning.”
“No one is killing me but myself,” I said defiantly. “That will show them.”
Cain grinned. “Word.” I checked myself to make sure I had no electronics on me. I set Roland’s phone down, realizing I was embarrassingly low-tech. Othello would have been ashamed.
Then I made my way around the room, debating. I didn’t know what I would find on the other side, but it was smart to plan for the worst. I’d learned firsthand that mortal weapons were the great leveler. Using magic was cool and all, but most wizards never anticipated a dagger coming for their sclera while having a magical standoff. Like throwing dirt in someone’s eye in a knife fight. I also didn’t want to overburden myself in case we needed to move quickly.
I settled on a few wooden stakes with silver tips, and a gleaming katana. The blade had been designed to excel when victory depended heavily on rapid response times. The curved Japanese sword was just under two feet long, and the hilt was long enough to use with two hands for extra strength. I scooped up the belt-like sash, also known as an obi, and tied it around my waist. I tucked the katana through the sash with the sharpened edge of the sword facing up. The wakizashi that paired with the katana was identical in all aspects, merely shorter in length. Even though the two were typically worn in pairs like the ancient Samurai had done, I left the smaller blade on the stand, deciding to respect the fact that traditionally, only Samurai had earned the honor of wearing them paired together—the daishō, they called it.
Samurai were honorable, noble men, devoting their life to being good. And right now, I didn’t feel like being honorable or noble. In fact, I was pretty pissed off. More secrets about my past, and an asshole assassin forcing me enter into a game so he could try to kill me for entering. And the prize was something that had belonged to my ancestor, so why was I even competing for it in the first place? It should h
ave just been handed to me as an inheritance.
I tucked a few wicked throwing knives into my boots for good measure.
I didn’t go overboard because I also had a new Big Brother to back me up, and he was formidable. An Incredible Cain. I turned to him, expecting to see a metal porcupine of death.
My hopes were dashed almost immediately.
He had chosen two long daggers. I noticed one sheathe was empty on his belt. “At least grab one sword,” I chastised. “Haven’t you done this before? You’re going to embarrass me if we find ourselves in a sword fight.”
He smirked, holding up a finger. “I do have one more, now that you mention it.”
He knelt on the ground and closed his eyes as if praying. He began murmuring under his breath, and I shot a look at Fabrizio. The Shepherds shook his head curiously, watching Cain’s suddenly religious side come out of the closet.
Then Cain let out a deep breath and placed his right hand over his left forearm and squeezed. After a moment of intense pressure, I saw blood dripping from between his fingers. I gasped, taking a step back, resting my hand on the hilt of my katana.
Then Cain began to pull at something and I almost vomited as he withdrew a curved ivory bone from his very flesh. He gritted his teeth, grunting in pain as the blood flowed faster. Finally, he pulled out a curved bone dagger with a serrated edge.
I blinked. Was that…
Cain finally opened his eyes, letting out a forced breath. “This is my blade. There’s no other like it,” he said with a weak grin, climbing to his feet.
I stared. Wow. It was the blade he had used to kill his brother, Abel. Since we were about to potentially commit suicide and I had only gallows humor on the tip of my tongue, I risked an inappropriate observation. I turned to Fabrizio. “Maybe he’s born with it. But maybe it’s Abel-line.”
Fabrizio blanched, shaking his head at me.
Cain grunted. I risked a glance at him and found him fighting to hold back a smile. “Okay. That was pretty good,” he finally admitted. “And what the hell? If you can’t joke about it after this long, when can you?”
I grinned. “Let’s do this. Show us the Doors, Meatball.”
We followed Fabrizio into an elevator and Cain patted my shoulder. “Think this will work?”
I thought about it and finally let out a sigh. “It’s either this or wait for the Sons of Solomon to catch me outside. Or Samael. Or Last Breath.”
“And it does seem oddly coincidental about these Doors, almost like they were made for this very moment.”
I gave him a serious look. “That doesn’t mean we have a free pass. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a game, as you told me earlier. Like it or not, this is a challenge. We need to be ready for anything.”
Fabrizio typed in a code on the electronic keypad and the elevator began to move. He gave Cain a distasteful look. “You’re going to need to hold my hand when we step off this elevator.”
“Yeah?” Cain said, ignoring my laugh.
“Or the wards will incinerate you.”
“Oh. Then I guess we’re those kinds of friends, now…”
I laughed even harder.
Chapter 25
Cain and Fabrizio stared up at the hundreds of doors hanging suspended by chains before us, still holding hands. I wished I would have at least brought Roland’s phone down this far to snap a picture.
“You can stop holding my hand, now,” Fabrizio muttered.
“You sure?” Cain asked doubtfully. “I can still feel them probing me,” he said, shivering at the way he had described the sensation of the wards as we walked through the stone passageway on our way to this cavern. Luckily, Roland had previously added me to the VIP list, so I had access to this area without any hand-holding.
“The wards cover the halls, not this place. We didn’t want to place them too close, just in case they reacted with…whatever these are,” he said, gesturing at the doors.
Cain very slowly unclasped his fingers, holding his breath. When nothing happened, he let out a sigh of relief. I chuckled, staring up at the doors, recalling the first time I had been here.
The stone cavern was huge, climbing high above our heads. They resembled doors from all time periods, eras, and styles; some made of wood, stone, marble, glass, and even metal. As I scanned them, none particularly stood out because of how varied they were. Well, except for the beaded curtain one. That looked sinister. I spotted a charred, blackened door. Fabrizio noticed my fixation and gave me a nod of confirmation. So. That was the one they had sent the video camera through.
“Roland told me a different story about that door. Something about a welcoming committee waiting on the other side.”
Fabrizio’s lips tightened. “That is the official story, yes,” he admitted guiltily. I grunted, once again reminded that the Vatican was not to be trusted.
Dozens of the doors spun lazily from their chains at different speeds while others remained entirely static.
No torches lined the walls, but the room was illuminated somehow—kind of like how some nights weren’t as dark as others, even though the moon wasn’t entirely visible. Just a pale glow reflecting off the chains, doors, and stone walls. Cain murmured something unintelligible, shaking his head. “That’s a lot of options to choose from…” he said dubiously.
He wasn’t wrong. I picked out a few doors wrapped in glowing, golden chains and locks that prevented them from opening, recalling Roland’s explanation—likely another lie fed to him by his lords and masters.
Huge runes were carved into the floor, and I once again studied them, recognizing them as Enochian script—the language of the Angels. I didn’t see any that looked like my name or some other obvious clue as to what I needed to do next. No welcome home mat or anything.
I turned to Fabrizio. “I assume everything else Roland told me was a lie—about these leading to repositories all over the world. Even other realms.”
Fabrizio hung his head. “Since it was impossible to move them in any way, we locked up the Doors that appeared on their own,” he said, pointing to those wrapped in chains. “Then we hung a hundred plain doors from the ceiling to fill out the space, knowing that if anyone opened one and stepped through the empty space we could just say we lost the ability to use that one.
I cursed under my breath, hating that Roland had been suckered in by the Vatican. That I had been right to distrust them and not have blind faith in them. “How considerate of you.”
Fabrizio’s face darkened as he slowly rounded on me. “I lost many friends to these fucking Doors, Callie. Remember that. If I can save a life by fucking lying a little, so be it. But tell me what you would have done differently before you tar and feather me,” he said, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
I let out a frustrated breath and finally nodded in what vaguely passed for an apology.
“Do any of them actually work?” Cain asked.
I found myself nodding. “Roland told me one led to Rome. We almost used it to attend the trial with Paradise and Lost. When I first met you.”
Fabrizio nodded. “That one actually does work, but it took many years to perfect, and only works on those granted access. Blood, sweat, tears. It has to be keyed to the individual.”
I scowled. “So, that is why you had Roland give you samples of my essence. To help pull off your trick.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. “I get it. I’m not happy about it, but I get it. And no, I can’t think of anything else I would have done in your place,” I finally admitted.
The devious scheme was actually very clever. Have all the Shepherds provide their essence so the door would work. And if that door worked, then all the other stories must be true as well. Don’t forget about the dangerous ones, they will kill you. And we can’t tell you which ones are the dangerous ones. Above your pay-grade.
I glanced at Fabrizio. “What if someone—hypothetically—chose to ignore your warnings and test out a door, somehow disproving your claim?”
&
nbsp; I scratched at my arm absently, concealing my thumb from view. It hadn’t been particularly cold recently, but it had most definitely turned warmer than usual at some point in the last few moments. And such a change felt as significant as if it had caught fire compared to its usual constant chill. Was Nameless reacting to a man of God? Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the big Enochian script three feet away.
Fabrizio smiled humorlessly. “Someone like you, for example,” he said drily. “The ruse would likely be up. They would continue testing doors until they got to the wrong one and disappeared forever, I would imagine,” he admitted. “Lead us not into temptation…Which is why we threaten ex-communication and execution for any who dare attempt to use a door without permission. For extra protection, we warn that using the doors could unlock the door from the other side, allowing whatever lived there to cross over here into our fortress. Even the ballsiest of Shepherds doesn’t want to be responsible for letting a monster into their own church.”
I grunted. He had a point. Ultimately, they would be hunted down or test the wrong door and die. Fear was the great motivator. Either way, problem solved.
“What about these runes on the ground? What are they? I can sense their power,” Cain asked. Since everything I knew had been a lie, I waited for Fabrizio to preach some gospel on the matter.
Fabrizio studied them with a shiver. “Those are very real. Protection runes cast by all seven of the Conclave.” He was silent for a moment. “But who knows if they would protect us from whatever lives on the other side? None have returned to let us know, so we simply did our best.”
I studied the doors above us, trying to find some pattern. I counted the ones Fabrizio had pointed out, those wrapped in chains. Twelve. I scanned the other doors, analyzing them thoroughly—at least those I could clearly make out.
The shadow ring around my thumb throbbed colder for a moment and I pointed. “That one goes to Rome,” I said, not entirely sure why—whether it had been me or the ring dictating the decision. That alone made me shiver, remembering Samael’s comment about influencing me through the ring.
Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5 Page 14