Mid July was the hottest month in Italy. You could cry and the tears would evaporate before they hit the ground. You can step outside and be fried raw without the proper sun protection. Ice melted in the record time of two minutes, and the sky was always clear, letting the sun's radiation scald Rome's streets. Since the Armageddon, the summers had grown much hotter do to all the pollution that had been released from the war.
Caterina Sfroza gazed out the window of her study, wondering. Her red Cardinal's robe was almost as bad as the priest's cassocks. "An incubator you can wear," as Abel had called them once.
She sighed. Her monocle was fogging again. A new record: five minutes. Removing it, she polished it for what had to be the fourteenth time, her neatly filed nails clicking on the glass. Replacing it, she laced her long, slender fingers together, and narrowed her ash-gray, needle-sharp eyes once again in thought.
There was a sound of static and a holographic woman in a white nun's habit appeared, carrying a tray with a glass pitcher perched upon it.
"Here's your ice-tea, my lady," the woman said.
"Thank you sister Kate," Caterina said, taking the pitcher of ice-tea and pouring it into a china cup.
"This must be the hottest summer yet," Sister Kate remarked, looking out of the window. "The average temperature is thirty-seven degrees. In the shade, thirty-three, and on a lucky day, thirty-one."
"Yes. It's almost impossible to go outside in these robes. I feel so awful for the priests," Caterina said, rather glumly, as she pushed her long, curling blond hair over her shoulder, and lifted the teacup to her ruby painted lips.
"It's not your fault my lady. If it weren't for the Order…" Sister Kate broke off.
"Yes. If it weren't for the Order, we'd all sleep a lot sounder; especially Abel," Caterina set her cup down with a chink! glaring across the room.
After a moment, she stood.
"It's almost time for afternoon mass. Good day Sister Kate."
"As to you my lady," Sister Kate said, as her holographic image faded.
The high-heeled shoes clacked down the tiled hall. The Vatican headquarters. The Center of Humanity. The target of the Contra Mundi. Caterina's expression darkened. Ten years. Ten years and their goals hadn't changed in the slightest.
Igne Natura Renovat…
"You're late, Caterina!" boomed Francesco's voice.
"Do forgive me brother, but I can't be blamed for the layout of the Vatican," Caterina answered politely, though her voice stung with cold. Francesco scoffed, taking his seat again. Caterina clicked up to her throne-like seat on her little brother's right and sat, with much dignity. Alessandro glanced anxiously at her, glad of her presence, after being left alone with his intimidating and authoritarian older brother for two minutes too long. Of course, he had no way of knowing why she looked so determined, but he could tell from her posture that something serious was going to be discussed.