Chapter 8
Part 1
I felt an almost overwhelming urge to run forward, kneel at Beatrice's feet, and pledge my undying fealty. I actually rose to my feet and took two steps forward before I remembered the Halo and how it had behaved when I had gotten close to the Seer Stone in the secret vault below Sainte-Chapelle. I didn't need to be thrown across the room and potentially straight through one of the walls. Who knew if one or more of the sisters of this abbey were spying on us for either Cardinal Somalo or Adriel. Other than Lilith's obviously demonic nature and Father O'Mallory's undead state, we had been trying to be circumspect about things. If I suddenly exploded through a wall without leaving a mark on either the wall or me, it would raise a plethora of questions that were best avoided.
These thoughts helped get my head more or less back in place.
"Beatrice, what can you tell us?" I called out. "One look at you and it is obvious you must have communicated with someone or something."
Beatrice smiled in my direction as she started moving away from the altar and just like that my mind was almost gone again. I felt such an intense inner glow that I thought I was going to faint. This feeling was totally different from the physical attraction I had been feeling. Oh, the lust, maybe the beginnings of love, I had been feeling were still there, but they were like the flickerings of a candle almost lost in the brilliance of a midday sun. She had been touched by, perhaps blessed by, an angel and now I was basking in the glory of her smile.
"Yes, Ava," she said, as she continued in my direction. Then she swept her gaze around. "My sisters, Father Antonio, gather around, so I can share with you what I learned."
My gaze briefly flicked away from Beatrice and to the others. Their faces were all filled with joy and wonderment, as I'm sure my own was.
We all met at the same spot where we had eaten, a safe distance from where the Seer Stone still sat on the altar. Beatrice gestured for everyone to be seated and then knelt down in front of us.
"I spoke to an angel," began Beatrice.
"Was it the Archangel Michael?" I asked.
Beatrice shrugged. "The angel had the features of a woman and said I could call her Michaela. She explained that she had used the appearance of a man when appearing to Joan as that was best in that time and era."
I wondered if the angel had appeared as a woman because Beatrice was gay or if it was because things were different here in the 21st Century. Of course, how different were things really when only men could hold positions of power and authority in the church of today just like in Joan's time?
"What did you learn, Beatrice?" asked Mary.
"Michaela says only an angel can reanimate dead bodies like we saw back at Sainte-Chapelle. Or in this case, a fallen angel. She believes it to be the work of Dumah, one of Satan's lieutenants."
"A fallen angel is in Paris?" asked Lilith. I could hear the sudden fear in her voice that clearly overrode what we were feeling just being in Beatrice's presence.
And that made me realize her overwhelming sense of presence had already dwindled slightly in the bare minutes since she had stopped touching the stone. Was that good or bad? This presence had a powerful effect on people, almost like a weapon. On the other hand, it felt like my brain was filled with molasses and was only now starting to operate at its normal speed.
"Yes," replied Beatrice to Lilith's question. "Michaela believes Dumah is working in league with Adriel. Well, it is probably more accurate to say that Adriel, a lower level demon, has been working for Dumah since his escape from imprisonment in the catacombs under the Vatican. And all the wraiths we have been seeing over the last year are Dumah's doing and not Adriel's."
"How can we possibly defeat a Fallen Angel?" I asked.
"We can't," said Beatrice with a shake of her head. "Angels, fallen or otherwise, can't be killed by anything in the human realm. The best we can hope for is to drive Dumah back to the demonic realm. If we are able to do that, all the wraiths under his control should go with him."
"And how do we do that?" asked Mary with an almost sarcastic tone. "It sounds just as impossible as killing him."
"Michaela says there is a long hidden angelic device with the potential of driving Dumah out of this realm."
"And where is this device?" I asked. I expected some impossible answer like she had no idea where it was or it would be in some place we couldn't realistically reach.
"It is in the Cathedral in Valencia."
Valencia . . . Spain. Just the previous day I had been thinking about how it was time to make an effort to visit my old roommate Diego and now here was a reason to go back to Spain. But then I remembered how Valencia was almost five hundred kilometers from Malaga, where Saint Michael's Orphanage was located. This still might not be a practical time to visit my oldest friend.
"Wait," exclaimed Camila in an excited tone. "I've been to the Valencia Cathedral. It is where the Holy Chalice is kept. Is that the Angelic Device you are talking about?"
"Holy Chalice?" I echoed, not certain what Camila was talking about. Hey, I've never claimed to be a religious scholar.
"You know, the Holy Grail, the cup Jesus used at the Last Supper," clarified Camila.
"The Grail is real and its location is common knowledge?" I asked, incredulously. Sure, I had heard of the Grail Cup from numerous movies, but I thought it was long lost or if it appeared to exist it would be some fake from a medieval scam like the countless pieces of wood from the cross on which Jesus was crucified or the nearly as numerous nails which had supposedly nailed him to the cross.
"Yes," stated Camila. "It is on display above the altar in a special chapel dedicated to the chalice which is attached to the Cathedral. Oh, somewhere down through the centuries it has been wrapped in layers of gold with embedded jewels, but at its heart the cup is made of some kind of quartz stone. According to what I remember from the guided tour I took when I was fifteen, it has been scientifically dated to the first century."
Camila turned back to Beatrice. "So, is the Holy Chalice the angelic device that can drive this fallen angel back to hell?"
Beatrice appeared lost in thought, as though she was mentally replaying her conversation with the angel. Finally, after about ten seconds, she shrugged. "Michaela just told me this powerful relic was located in the Cathedral. It might be the Chalice or it might be something else. If it isn't clear once we are there, I'll have to try asking her again."
"So you're saying we now need to head to Spain?" asked Father Antonio, speaking up for the first time since Beatrice had spoken to the Angel. "You mean we need to make another trip through the hell-dimension?"
"Yes and no," replied Beatrice with a small smile that almost made my heart melt again. "Yes, we need to go to Valencia. And, no, we can't go there via the hell-dimension. First, we need to keep the Seer Stone with us, in case I need to talk to Michaela again and the Stone can't enter the hell-dimension. And second, simply by using the Stone to talk to Michaela, there is a high probability it made Damah at least aware such an event has taken place. It might not be enough to let him zero in on our location here, but he would certainly be aware if any of us enter the hell-dimension in the immediate future. So, we are going to have to reach Valencia by purely human methods."
"Cardinal Somalo is arranging transport back to Italy. If we inform him, he could probably reroute you to Spain. And since my expertise on Joan of Arc is clearly no longer needed, I could return straight to Rome," said Father Antonio. He had a relieved expression on his face like he would be happy to leave us to our adventures while he returned to his simple life as a Vatican historian.
Beatrice shook her head. "That's not a good idea for several reasons. First, as I said, my use of the Stone to talk to Michaela may have alerted Dumah of our location. We had best not linger here any longer than is absolutely necessary, certainly not for several more days. And second, Dumah would have only known to send his wraiths to Sainte-Chapelle through some source at the Vatican. Since we have no idea who at the Vatican has been compromised, we should minimize our contact with everyone there until this situation is resolved or until we can't proceed further without access to some of the Vatican's resources."
"How are we to get to Valencia without the Vatican's help?" asked Lilith. "It's not like I can just fly commercial. And even if I stay behind, the rest of you are going to have trouble getting all of your weapons onboard a flight. And that doesn't even consider Father O'Mallory. Someone is going to notice a walking dead man at the airport. And the same issues would seem to apply for traveling by train."
"It seems like the only option is to drive," replied Mary. "And we will probably have to travel at night so you and Father O'Mallory will be less likely to be noticed. It looks like it was a good thing the Archbishop's people left the two vans here for our use while we are in France."
I didn't know the exact distance from Paris to Valencia, but it had to be something like a thousand kilometers. If we only traveled at night, which seemed prudent, it would take at least two nights to cover that distance.
"Okay," said Beatrice. "Mary and I will take one van so we can trade off driving. We'll take Fathers Antonio and O'Mallory with us. Camila, Lilith, and Ava can take the other van and all the divinium weapons and armor. While we are in route, we should probably stick with these habits, which will blend in a little better than our normal gear."
Mary nodded. "I have some non-divinium shells for my shotguns and a couple of ordinary knives, so we won't be totally unarmed, in case we end up separated."
"Why can't I just stay here?" whined Father Antonio. "Whenever the transport the Cardinal arranges arrives, I can just go back to Rome." I wasn't certain if it was the potential danger that frightened him the most or the thought of several days cooped up in a van with Father O'Mallory. He had stated he had known the dead priest in the past, but he had been very reticent to attempt to talk to the man or even be around him.
"Father Antonio," said Beatrice, as she turned her newly powerful smile in his direction. I could see the Father wilting and even I felt almost overwhelmed and she wasn't even looking towards me. "We still might need your help. And, frankly, you know too much to be left behind to fall into the hands of the Cardinal or, worse, into the grasp of one of Dumah's minions. Like it or not, you are part of the team for the duration."
Part 2
"Ava, can I speak to you?" asked Beatrice.
It was just after dawn the next morning. We had made good time and were about ten kilometers south of Narbonne, France, about seventy kilometers from the Spanish border.
It turned out Camila had been a busy little tourist during her teenage years. When we knew roughly how far we could get by dawn, she had suggested camping in the woods near the old Frontroide Abbey in the hills near Narbonne. The Abbey hadn't been a functioning abbey in over one hundred years. Ever since, it had been in private hands and set up as a bed & breakfast with an attached restaurant and a small winery. We wouldn't actually be at the Abbey and it wasn't exactly like we would have other nuns to host us, but it wasn't too far off our route and was remote enough no one was likely to stumble across us in the twelve or so hours we would be here.
"Of course, Beatrice," I said, as I turned in her direction. We had stopped in Narbonne for supplies, mainly food and water, and I had been helping Mary unload the items while Camila and Lilith were off scouting the perimeter to be sure things hadn't changed in the near ten years since Camila had last been here.
"Mary, are you okay with keeping an eye on the two Fathers for a few minutes?" asked Beatrice. Father O'Mallory wouldn't be a problem since he rarely even moved unless he was almost physically forced. No, it was Father Antonio we were all worried about. If someone didn't keep an eye on him, we were afraid he might just walk away and then call Rome from the first phone he encountered.
Mary's eyes flicked between the two of us. "Sure. No problem."
"Thanks," replied Beatrice. Then she gestured for me to walk with her. I noted we were definitely headed in a different direction from where we had last seen Camila and Lilith.
I quickly stepped up until I was walking beside her. Thankfully, she seemed mostly the old Beatrice. In the sixteen hours since she had communicated with the angel, the almost overwhelming sense of power and . . . ah . . . charisma, for lack of a better word, had faded. Since we had arrived in this spot in the woods, I had seen a couple of flickers, but they had been few.
We walked in silence for nearly five minutes until the small clearing where we had parked the vans was no longer visible. Then Beatrice started gazing around as though she was looking for something. Finally, she led the way over to a small clearing next to a babbling brook that was sheltered by a couple of giant boulders and the trunk of a fallen tree. The clearing was mostly covered by a thick mat of moss. Beatrice sank down until she was sitting on the ground with one of the boulders at her back. She gestured for me to join her.
After I was seated next to her, close enough that our shoulders were lightly touching, I looked at her an raised an eyebrow.
"Michaela, the angel, told me one other thing that I haven't shared," Beatrice began.
I reached over and clasped her hand, somehow knowing she needed it.
"She said I shouldn't put off looking for a little pleasure from life, as we might not have a lot of time."
"What?" I gasped, as my mind raced. Way back at the beginning, while we were still in Säben Abbey, Father Antonio had been telling us about Joan of Arc's experiences with the Seer Stone. One of the things he had said was how Joan had given the Stone to King Charles VII after Archangel Michael had warned her she would be captured by the English. It must mean angels, or at least Michael, had some ability to see into the future. If that was the case, then what Michaela had told Beatrice implied one of us, or perhaps both of us, wouldn't survive this mission. Fuck.
Beatrice must have been able to read my face. "It's not clear anyone is going to die, but something is going to happen."
"In this life or the next," I whispered, unable to keep the feeling of impending loss out of my voice.
Beatrice leaned closer and used a finger to turn my face until I was looking into her eyes.
"I choose - in this life," she whispered, as she closed the distance and pressed her lips firmly against mine.