The Vatican smoldered and smoked that day in the morning, spewing a cloud of white into the clear, sunny day. Or, at least, every television in the office it did. The office itself remained dark and dim, with the shades tightly drawn, sealing out the daylight, save that artificial sunlight from the monitors and screens, displaying the wreckage and rubble of what was once the most glorious cathedral on Earth.
It was a sin, a horrible sin.
Eyes across the planet had watched since dawn as St. Peters burned out of control, taking with it hundreds of years of sculpture, art, and history. Art buffs and historians alike cried for the loss as firefighters struggled to control the blaze and save what remained of the center of the Roman Catholic Church. Catholics cried out at the senseless, needless destruction. A collective gasp could almost be heard all across the Western world when it was announced that, indeed, the flames had reached the Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo's famous frescos. In time, even the strength of the Renaissance architecture could not hold the weight of the compromised cathedral, and it came crashing down.
Kathain couldn't watch. Instead, self consciously, she stared down at her feet and wringing her hands behind her back. The precognitive had known the very moment she made her decision in that dark cell to give up her fight that this would happen. Even as Kathain watched Amon's fate change, she saw the series of events that would lead up to the eventual destruction of the Vatican. And the girl knew exactly who had caused it.
Somewhere within, a sense of pride built. The girl had seen those dark wings of Amon, seen them unfold and unfurl for the first time in ages, perhaps the first time in the man's entire life. But, by Kathain's eyes, they were glorious, long and expansive, perfect and graceful. The girl had seen his awakening, Amon's transition from human/hunter to witch, to Craft user. She saw his spirit Craft becoming one, fusing with every fiber of Amon's body and soul. And the girl saw Robin's strength, her courage finally taking hold. Robin was a strong young woman, but her fear of what the secrets the witches held kept the teenager from acting without hesitation. Kathain swelled with pride of all of the witches, all of her family and their great accomplishments.
"You seem happy."
Kathain sighed, squeezing her hands tighter. "In a way."
"Thousands of people are dead."
The precognitive gave a nod, long, slow and contemplative. "Yes." She glanced back at the monitors and the firefighters who were continuing their battle to contain the fire and keep it from spreading to the other historic buildings of the Vatican. "But they are, as you would say, a small sacrifice, for a greater good."
"And you're pleased with this?"
The girl shook her head. "Not entirely. On the one hand, I have spared a friend a cruel fate at the hands of your men. On the other, hundreds of people are dead at their hands, and years of amazing art and history are gone." She fixed a coy gaze on her interrogator. "I was an artist before I was a fugitive, you know."
"I know."
"This questioning is going nowhere. Lets just cut to the chase and get down to business." Kathain bit her lip and tried to smooth her strap-covered pants nervously, avoiding looking across the mahogany desk at the man. "I was offered a deal."
"Solomon wants information."
The girl snickered, unsuccessfully attempting to contain her laughter. "That's a good one." She pointed at the monitors, at the smoking ruins. "I was under the impression that Solomon was out of the picture."
"Not entirely."
Kathain's face fell. "Oh."
"Tell us about the Thirteen, won't you?" He crooned the word.
The girl shivered at the question. "I can't." He frowned, glaring at her unhappily. "Well, I can't tell you about something I don't entirely know about. Precognition only lets me see things that are to happen, not what HAS happened." She paused for a moment as the man contemplated her thought process. "Look, I can't offer you information I don't have. But, I can offer you my services."
There was awkward silence as a flurry of action on one of the screens caught her eyes. Apparently, some of the older tomes had been salvaged from the flames, ancient relics as well. Firefighters were running out of the twisted, mangled skeleton of a building, carrying the things in strong arms. They held so tightly, so closed to each item, as though it were precious. Kathain recalled some long forgotten episodes of ER where the doctors always seemed to be running in, cradling injured children up against their chests. They were smiling big, wide grins, clutching those books, bibles and artifacts as though they were life-giving, world-saving.
"And what services would those be?" He sounded intrigued, but already knowing.
Kathain loathed selling herself, but she had to say it. "I tell you what is going to happen, look into anything you want me to- except the Thirteen. I cooperate in everything except for that. In return, you and your cronies leave my friends alone."
"And?"
The girl shook her head. "Nothing else."
"We will keep investigating the Thirteen, you understand this?"
Kathain sighed. "I know." She shrugged. "Look, just leave them alone. Amon and Robin included. I'll do whatever you ask me to as long as you do me that favor."
"And so long as we never ask you about the Thirteen?"
"Yes…" the girl chewed on the inside of her lip now, trying to feel something, anything, even if it was the sharp pangs.
The man contemplated this. "You understand that will also be our permanent guest, correct?" The girl closed her eyes, nodding solemnly. "We will, of course, provide suitable housing for you, clothing, food, everything you require. But you will never leave our custody for as long as you are in our service."
"I am completely aware of that," she replied gloomily.
"Deal."
Kathain nodded, reaching a pale hand across the desk to the hand of the scarred man before her, feeling the sickeningly uneven texture to his wrist and the back of his hand. He smiled to himself smugly, as if having won the war by forcing this whelp of a girl into his pocket. Solomon now had a pet precognitive. They could now see whatever in the future they wanted to see, know what events were to transpire and how to properly prepare for them. Kathain played right into their trap.
"What should I call you? Boss? Sir?" the girl sounded sarcastic.
"Just Zaizen."
xxxx
Ok- so Amon's back in the hands of the witches; Kathain's playing the on the other side now. Vatican's gone, but Solomon remains. And you KNOW Robin, Amon, and Brett are going to want some vengeance. And you're just going to have to wait to find out more in the upcoming sequel, IRISH HEART.
Until then, ciao!
