After walking through the whole underground structure, they get to a big round hall, some sort of tomb of honor. A mausoleum that has twenty one graves. All arranged in a circle around the area. Closed with stones engraved with figures thar represent specific knight orders, such as hospitalers, templars and teutonics. Aaron's sensitive eyes can notice the mystical pale auras of each sarcophagus. In the center, an older austere man watches the recently arrived and smiles at seeing them.
— Welcome, my dears! May the Blade be sharp. — says Benjamim, in a friendly and calm manner, adjusting his reading classes.
— May the Blade be ever sharp. — Both answer, kissing a big onyx ring in the elder's right hand.
— Our stay at northern Greenland did not yield a good hunt. The creature the haunted the region's vilages caused a lot of fatalities before we could detroy it. But its remains are here. — Aaron reports taking from one of his pockets a fistful of dark fangs.
Yura laughs madly when she sees the hunting trophy, stopping as soon as the elder looks at her in a censuring manner.
— Well done, both of you. However, we do not have time to rest. Or celebrate. — Benjamim says, dispassionately. — Let's get down to business. We have received a report from our observatory in Brazil.
The elder pauses to request a mission briefing from an assistant.Aaron and Yura go through the papers, pictures and maps. Bejamim eyes them fixedly, until they stop it to wait for orders.
— Our Brazilian cell has reported the disappearance of our main research team. — Benjamim starts walking casually as he speaks, guiding both agents around the room.
— Doctor Saul? – Yura asks, visibly concerned.
— Yes, we lost contact with the Nix observatory, in Brazil, almost a month ago. Our local cell has been unable to find them.
— I can already guess why we were called here. — The female agent comments while Aaron keeps quite, watching his superior mindfully.
— I'm sure you do, my dear. Both of you must go to Brazil right now. Do whatever you can to find the three scientists, specially the young scients called Melissa.
— Who is she? Seaman and Saul finally accepted a third member in their team? — Aaron interrupts, surprised, remebering how stubborn the scientist are.
The Blade master smiles and explains.
—Doctor Melissa Salgado is a rare find, a precocious genius found in Brazilian lands, and Doctor Saul has taken her as an apprentice.
Yura starts talking but she is abruptly interrupted by a stern gesture from Benjamim, who continues.
— Something different happened after the girl joined the team. her last transmission was to report the finding of some anomaly in space, but it was stopped unexpectedly. Now we're in the dark.
Both agents wait for their superior to finish.
— Go and find out Melissa's involvement in the team's disappareance and if she is to blame you know what to do. — The master commands.
Yura rests her hand on her axe as she listens to the final orders and smiles maliciuously.
— Let's go, Yura. — Aaron says commandingly. — Sir. He turns to leave, after crossing one of his arms over the chest with a closed fist.
Chapter 2
A typical Sicilian restaurant.
Everything is calm. Calm as those holiday afternoons when there is nothing to do. Angiolina Dulce, owner of the “Famiglia Siciliana” restaurant, is sitting by the cashier, facing the main door.
No clients today. This nigh is not normal. With this stupid two meals for one sale, which her idiot nephew invented, it shoudl have been a busy night, she thinks.
Angiolina is a small forty-year-old woman. With a hairstyle that mixed traditional chanel with a spiky bang.
Since she was six, when she lost her parents tragically, she started having premonitions, seeing and talking to spirits and many of them started protecting her, guiding her steps from childhood. Thanks to them, she has never known full loneliness. But of all characteristics thar form her, the strongest is her sincerity. Straightforward and never mincing words, Angiolina is famous for her destructive transparency.
“Famiglia” is a typical Italian cantina, small, with room for only thirty clients. That "Itallian momma house" air, with that famous checkered red and white tablecloth, tables and chairs smelling of furniture polish.
Angiolina always preferred to serve quality food for a few people, something related to the experience of "spending some time close to Italy", steading of lining her pockets with money. Dining at her restaurant is like a trip to Sicily and Angiolina is the tourist guide. The typical Italian environment is crowned by pictures of the old country, of bread and of homemade sausages all framed on the walls. Dishes served here follow millenia-old recipes from her family, preserving the ancient cooking form of true Sicilian cuisine.
Angiolina wonder why she feels like there is something weird going on. The night feels heavy. Like a feeling overwhelming the town. The phone rings, drawing her from her thoughts and after getting the order she answers:
— Yes, mister Carlyle... — Angiolina says while she checks a note full of notes and pencils. — When can you pick it up? OK, eleven PM at the back door. — She takes a few notes while she listens to instructions. — Of course, I'll adda tart as a gift. — Homemade sausage tarts are her specialty.
— Two? OK,then! — She hangs down the phone, smiling. She really likes Victor Carlyle. Not only is he the heir to an empire of companies spread all around the globe... He is also her best client, and a very good man. At least her spiritual guides have always sympathized with him, calling him "a patron in the right side".
After the phone call, Angiolina gets up, always strenuously. Every time she remains in the same position for long, she suffers body pains, which is related to her age and weight. Passing through her kitchen she asks Giovanna, the kitchen boss, to take over orders and the cashier while she goes to the back. Her cousin can be a bit ditzy sometimes, but at least she is family and her honesty can be trusted.
At the back, between "Famiglia and the small two-story house where she lives, Angiolina has built an indoor garden and used it to plant sevral kinds of medicinal and energetic herbs.
This part of the restaurant, closed to the public, has an alternate exit, which takes to a narrow alley parallel to a wall, which serves to inspiration to many street artists.
Before entering the house, she looks around the bushed for some mandrake root, the root of the hanged, as they were called in the past. She knows these plants can grow beneath tree branches, close to the steam. With gloves and gardening scissors, she picks the roots.
At this moment, Angiolina's thoughts return to that strange feeling, of how the night is heavy. As as instinctive act, she turns her gaze towards the stars and notices a dark spot in the sky, like a cloak covering part of the starry sky. As she sees the senseless darkness, an irrational terror overcomes the psychic, who runs to her house. — Something is wrong, very wrong!
It's ten to eleven PM. To all traditional Englishman, arriving at the exact time is as important, if not more, than the actual appointment. It's a matter of character, of understanding the world in a adult and orderly way. Victor Carlyle's car, an armored black Lexus, parks close to the alley that grants access to the small back door in Angiolina's house. His driver, in suit and tie, opens the car's door and sixty-year-old starts along.
Despite his advanced age, the British man has perfect health, except for a wound in his leg that forces him to lean on a cane to walk and his left eye that, thoughout the years, has become completly ivory-colored. His eye, cursed during a hunt for the last witch that ruled New Orleans, and all his many scars are the result of years of contact with the supernatural. Someday he'll get his rest, but not today.
At 11 he knocks on the wooden door, which separes the grattifi-covered alley from the house; he's been buying here for so many tears that Victor already considers Angiolina a friend. The spiky-haired blonde Italian, with big eyes and a sincere manner, ha
s managed to win his heart. He waits for a few minutes. Normally she would open the door and the smell of fresh coffee and Italian bread would be enough to cheer him up.
Angiolina is in shock. Terrified.
Entering the house after her premonition, she lights an incense stick and starts boiling water for a coffee. SInce she was a kid he has hated these premonitions. Nothing better for anyone's school life than dreaming of deaths and tragedies that are really going to happen. Her teachers and colleagues were afraid of her; she had problems for being different very soon.
A few minutes pass until Angiolina notices there is somene knocking at her door. Yes, she was waiting for Victor Carlyle.
— My God" I forgot about Victor! He must be so confused! — She says to herself taking the water from the stove and setting a table with coffin, muffins and tarts.
The door opens and Victor is standing in a mix of bewilderment and relief. — I thought you were not in, my dear. — se says with his customay smile, in the best English style.
— I'm so sorry, darling! I was so lost in thought I lost track of time. — Angiolina says, smiling embarassedly and hugging him.
— Would you accept a coffee before taking your order?
— I can't say no to your coffee. — he says cordially as he sits down.
She serves the coffee, still a litttle troubled about timing. Her thoughts turn back towards that horrible feeling when she looked at night sky.
— Angiolina, is everything OK? — Victor asks, concerned.
— You look like your mind is somewhere else. Am I interrupting?
— Not at all! I'm just not feeling so well, that's all. — she says, sitting down as well.
— Do you need anything? — Victor put his hand over hers.
Something in his touch prevents Angiolina from hiding her feelings any longer and she falls apart. Crying a river. Victor Carlyle waits for his friend to feel safe.
— But what happened? Do you need money? Is it the restaurant? – he asks.
— No, no. Not at all. — She dries her tears, her pride a little wounded by the question about her financial situation.
— I've had a vision, Victor. Something terrible is about to happen. As she talks abotu this, a darker, colder aspect takes over the sweet psychic.
— Tell me all about it, please. — an interested Victor says, removing a pipe from his pocket.
— As I was picking up mandrake I had a feeling. — She pauses and takes a sip of coffee. —I looked to the sky to see the stars and I could notice that some of them had gone missing.
Carlyle nods so that she continues. Now he's smoking his pipe.
— I felt a presence. Something I can't describe. An utter disregard for life, this thing, this antilife is coming towards here! — Angiolina screams as if the horror was in front of her. — First comes the insanity wave! When brother will devour brother! And the poor girl! She who lends her name to bees, Melissa, is one of the keys to the end of times!
She faints, banging her head hard against the table.
Chapter 3
Who is Victor Carlyle
Victor Carlyle sets his friend Angiolina on the couch. She still passed out. A result of her most recent vision. Banging her head o the table has cracked a tooth and hurting, badly, her nose. Victor had to call his driver, ex-military. to treat Angiolina's wounds, who luckily was still unconscious throughout the process.
He's been by the sofa all along. Hoping for Angiolina to recover. He didn't want to take her to a hospital. After all, psychics such as her are never comfortable in health institutions; beyond that, he knows how scary the idea of laying down in a hospital bed and never getting up again is to the Italian.
— Lord Carlyle, do you need anything? — Nathan asks, respectfully.
— No, my friend, you can wait in the car. I just need a few minutes. — Victor says, lost in thought. He is not sure if leaving Angiolina alone is a good idea. Her impaired health not withstanding, she is really impulsive.
Victor's cell phone rings. He glances at the display, surprised. It's a call from New York. Angiolina reacts to the noice, but does not wake up.
— Hello? Aaron? — Carlyle asks, surprised. — Is this a safe line? You know we can't run unnecessary risks.
Angiolina shifts again, reacting. Victor tries to lower his voice.
— What do you mean? Has Saul's team disappeared? Why is it so important to find this girl? More important than Seaman and Saul?! — the lord complains , outraged. — Is this idiot crazy?
He speaks loudly, losing control of his voice volume. Nothing irritates lord Carlyle more than the overblown pragmatism of some Blade members. It doesn't matter who this girl is, his two scientist friends should be as important as her, specially after years leading the most bizarra research projects under the Order. That makes him lose all of his English serenity.
— And what is the girl's name? Who is she? — The elder asks.
When he finds out that the missing scientist is called Melissa, Carlyle glances at his unconscious friend, but decides not to interrupt her rest; luckily, she is yet to wake up, despite his shouting.
— Is that crazy Russian with you? — Victor raises the point. — Are you sure she is trustworthy? Can you control her?
Victor stands up while she listens to the answer and starts walking. He looks towards the sofa, but continues the conversation.
— Tell you what, when you arrive at São Paulo tomorrow meet me at Azzurra. Bring Yura as well. We'll decide what to do to find them after our meeting, after all the observatory is a few hours away from here. We can decide what to do without haste. — The thoughtful lord ascertains.
— May the Blade be ever sharp.
He looks at his friend sleeping. With extreme fondness, he covers her with a blanket which had fallen to the floor when she shifted and kisses her forehead as he thinks "Would you love me if you knew who I am? ”. After saying goodbye, he puts his coat on and leaves in a hurry.
As soon as the door closes, Angiolina opens her eyes and spends a few moments touching her own face and assessing the damage. She is used to getting hurt when she get very real visions; luckily she wasn't alone this time.
— What is my dear Victor Carlyle involved in? — Angiolina speaks aloud.
She woke up the moment the phone rang, even opened her eyes, but something in Victor's serious tone made her close them again. Angiolina overheard the whole conversation.
And what is the Blade? The name is engraved upon Angiolina's thoughts. Actually, the whole conversation with this man called Aaron is engraved upon her mind, mas she feels that she must help as well. A weird feeling tells her this girl needs her help. Still with the feeling of justice hammering her head, she stands up and checks if Victor has truly left. No sign of him. A few minutes of pondering are enough for Angiolina to decide to interfere.
— Now I juset need to know... how? — She says out loud. And smiles at her own naivety.
After noticing she has no idea how to find the scientist girl, she decides to note down in a piece of paper everything she remenbers Victor saying at the phone. Repeating aloug every point. The worst is that this story is not weird for her. She's seen this somewhere, but does not remember where.
— It was in this small television you carry everywhere, cousin. I remember it. — Sounds the sarcastic voice of Salvatore Lucania, one of her guardian spirits.
Angiolina has several spirits thar protect her. They are all ancestors of her family in Sicily. Many are mafia thugs who performed heinous crimes, looking for redemption. This particular one was also known as Lucky Luciano, his american name. He was certainly one of the most famous and most feared members of Cosa Nostra of all time, and despite one day having been called "Boss of all Bosses" today he is destined to protect his descendant, being the head of this spiritual mob. Hell's own “Five Points Gang”!
— This is called a “tablet” Luciano, I've told you a hundred times. —Angiolina corrects him, in the most customary
way possible.
— In my time, TVs were living room appliances. Holy shit,Angio, these modern devices look like they came from a spaceship! — The discoloured specter of Lucky Luciano gestures. The gift of foresight manifests itself differently for each psychic, in Angiolina's case, seeint the departed is like seeing them in blurry pictures, she does not really see the colors, she feels the specter's colors; it's something more intuitive than visual.
The Star Eater Page 2