Beware: the rating on this story was raised cause of this chapter. Nothing graphic, but the description is a little vivid.

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Someone was shaking his shoulder. Gabriel blinked away the haze of blurred images fighting through his mind, the heartsickness lifting as consciousness fully returned.

He sat upright, wincing at the cramp that seemed to extend from lower back all the way up to his neck. He'd fallen asleep while sitting at a table loaded to overflowing with parchments and old tomes. His head had rested on one of the books painstakingly copied by cloistered friars hundreds of years ago.

He shook the last twining arms of sleep from his thoughts, looking about the room. Dawning rays of the sun shone through the window, filtered by shelves. Dust swirled dreamily in the golden rays. Jinette moved to Carl, who was steadfastly refusing to wake and shift from the chair in which he had situated himself after their fruitless search of St. Linus' Church.

The two men had returned to the archives after the evening meal, glumly concluding that there was nothing to be found in St. Linus', and worriedly musing over the reason behind the razing of St. Augustine's. They had informed Jinette of their lack of progress, and had then retired to the archives to try to find something – anything – that might set them on the right trail. So far, they had found nothing.

Gabriel stood with a grimace, stretching a little to try to ease the complaining of disgruntled muscles. With a sound somewhere between a snuffle and a grunt, Carl turned to the side and blinked, yawning cavernously. Jinette stood back, his face curiously blank.

"Van Helsing, what – Cardinal!" Carl exclaimed, coming fully awake at last. He shot to his feet with a shock.

On the other site of the room, Gabriel turned from the window and smiled a little. Carl glared at him.

Jinette's curt voice cut through the playful tension in the room. "Come. There is something you must see." In a flurry of crimson cloth, Jinette turned to the door.

"Where are we going?" Gabriel inquired as they strode through the archives, headed toward the main egress from the Academy building.

"St. Augustine's. The fire has burned out." The cardinal's voice was entirely dispassionate. Exchanging a quick glance, Gabriel and Carl sped up until they were on Jinette's heels.

Van Helsing was surprised and concerned when Jinette, rather than assigning an inconspicuous guide to bring them to the ruins of St. Augustine's, merely swung on a cloak to cover his bright robes and continued out of the Holy City.

The smell of smoke and something else . . . the cloying, sick smell of burnt meat, grew stronger as they approached the blackened husk. The fire had burned fiercely, the heat cracking the stones as it consumed all the wood and cloth within the building. The walls that had not yet succumbed to their weakened state rose aimlessly towards the clouds, blackened with soot. Figures covered in ash moved carefully within the burnt-out shell, wary of the sudden collapse of the stones around them.

Carl covered his nose as they approached, eyes tearing as the wind blew the last of the smoke over the three men. Gabriel stiffened as he felt the taint lying thick upon the air. Knights of the Holy Order, men who had seen too much destruction and death in the past few days, were cleaning up. Carl gasped from behind his sleeve, "What is that-" he cut off abruptly as his question was answered. Three men, gently bearing a body wrapped in cloth, passed the trio. The body was respectfully placed on a wagon with four others, the old horse hitched to the cart stamping its hoof in distress at the scent of death. Carl swallowed hard.

Gabriel turned to Jinette. "What was it you wanted us to see?" he asked. The Cardinal would not risk attracting the creature's notice by bringing them here unnecessarily.

Jinette looked very old as he gazed at the ruins of the church, refusing to meet Van Helsing's gaze. "Come," he sighed wearily.

He led them through the piles of debris being sorted from the ruins, around stacks of rocks and burnt remnants of cloth, tapestry and hymnals. As they rounded a heap of wood no better than charcoal and ash, the steps of the church finally came into clear view – and with them, the reason for their presence at the site.

There was blood trickling down the steps of the church, mingling with puddles of water that had been used in a futile effort to slow the flames. Carl turned his eyes away from the source. Gabriel moved to the pallid corpse, crouching to dispassionately examine the man's remains. His body was not burned, a clear sign that he had been killed after the fire had been set, and he was covered in soot. The slightly plump form had been dropped carelessly on the shallow steps after the creature had slit the man's throat. Ash streaked across his face, and the light blue eyes were clouded over and staring blindly. Gabriel remembered the brown hair shot through with gray, though it was now obscured with dust and filth. The face, frozen in a mask of pain and fear, was familiar to him, and he sighed in resignation. He had half-expected this.

Jinette began to speak, his voice low. "Brother Yakov came to me after Piotr was revealed as the traitor. It seems that the betrayer had asked him for any records he might have concerning the death and burial of St. Longinus." Gabriel's head snapped round, and Carl stared at the friar in horror. Jinette looked to each man shortly before continuing. "Brother Yakov did not know of your mission at that time, and he told Piotr where the information was most likely to be kept. I did not think it relevant, since Piotr's true nature was already revealed. But this morning I learned that the books were taken from the archives."

Gabriel turned to the body and noticed for the first time that there were several parchments near the corpse, one partially underneath it. The hunter shifted the body, gently freeing the paper, which nearly disintegrated at his touch. It was soaked with water and blood, smudged with black sludge – ash mixed with water, and other liquids. "And they've been destroyed," the hunter murmured. Piotr had hindered their search in the most effective way possible, knowing that like himself they were dependent on old texts to reveal the past, and any clue hidden therein, to them.

Carl moved to Gabriel's right, picking up a sodden clump of paper that had once been a text. It was ruined now, half-burned, soaked and ripped. He glanced at the body, then forcibly pulled his eyes away, gazing at the useless tome in his hands. Bravery was needed to fight vampires, and the great forms of evil manifest on Earth; but it took another type of courage entirely to look in the face of death, cruelty and brutality – courage that was a mixture of valor and experience. Carl was far from a coward, but he could not look long on such a travesty as murder, no matter the victim was by his own choice their enemy. He could feel nothing but pity for Piotr.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was angry. He stared dispassionately at Piotr's body, then turned and rose, facing the Cardinal. "St. Augustine's Church housed the remains of St. Longinus," he said with certainty.

Jinette nodded. The lines in his face were carved deep with care, and he looked old and frail for the first time since either man had known him. "Yes," he murmured. He gazed at the ruined Church. "It was not spoken of, but a few of the greater families in Rome were aware that we sought to conceal his remains there, that he might rest in peace."

"The creature must have searched for clues in the books Piotr brought from the archives," Carl added. "It took time to uncover the location of the remains."

Which explained why Rome had been so devoid of any type of evil activity lately. "For all the good it did him," Gabriel said under his breath. "Nevertheless," he continued, loud enough for the others to hear, "the Spear did not rest with Longinus."

Jinette turned to look at him, surprised. "How do you know?"

Gabriel took several steps towards the Cardinal, mindful as ever of prying ears, intentional or not. Carl approached as well. "We would know," he said lowly. "The skies would rain fire, and the oceans would turn to steam. The land would be overrun with creatures of evil, and the innocent would perish. Earth would become a purgatory of torture for all humanity. And then-" he stopped.

"What?" asked Carl, voice wavering. Jinette's face was pale.

"It is better not to speak of it," Gabriel answered shortly, already cursing himself. The memories, and the knowledge that went with them, had caught him unexpectedly. But it was indeed better not to speak of the destruction of the Earth. It would simply cease to exist, not by the whim of evil but by divine will. The Father would not let his children suffer such if it was within his power to end it.

He glanced back at Piotr's body. "There is still time," he said quietly.

"But how much?" asked Jinette. The strain of increasing anxiety was taking its toll on the older man.

"It will have to be enough," Gabriel shook his head. He didn't really know.

"Come on," said Carl suddenly. "We must return to the archives. The answer is there, somewhere."

Gabriel agreed, and Jinette sighed. "I can only pray that we will be able to discover where the Spear lies before the creature does so."

The walk back to the church, ahead of a cart laden with the dead clergy from St. Augustine's, was grim and silent. Each man was immersed in his own thoughts, and Gabriel remained focused on the city around them. He knew the creature's scent now, and could sense emotion within the taint that wafted through the streets. Beelzebul was furious, his anger an almost palpable emotion that hung over Rome.

It was heavy, oppressing the people of the city. Gabriel could see some trace of it in the eyes of those that passed by on the street. The creature was becoming careless, and even the unsuspecting felt something unnatural in the air. Time was growing short.

Gabriel discovered how short when they returned to the Vatican, just after midday. They were greeted at the door to the Academy by a group of men headed by another face familiar to the hunter. It was the man he had heard conversing about him in the catacombs.

"Gaspar," Jinette said smoothly. "What is the meaning of this?"

The swarthy man, two fingers taller than Van Helsing, stared directly at the hunter as he answered the Head of the Order. "We have come to request that this man leave the Vatican, Cardinal." His words were respectful, but the demand was made quite clear by the harsh tone of his voice.

"What is the reason for this?"

"I am not the only one among the Knights of the Holy Order who believes that this . . . man is the creature we seek," Gaspar spat. Gabriel's face hardened. Gaspar's red hair, legacy of his English heritage, was nearly matched in color by the hue burning in his cheeks. "His return brought with it the attack on Michael, the destruction of the catacomb laboratory, the deaths of many of the Order. He claims to have been attacked by the creature, and he was wounded unto death – but he stands before us now a mere five days after that same attack as whole and hale as you or I!"

Carl bristled indignantly. "Do you –"

"Be quiet, Carl!" Gabriel hissed.

Gaspar's eyes locked onto the hunter. "We will not condemn you without reason," he said grudgingly. "We would offer you a chance to explain these events."

Gabriel remained silent.

"Van Helsing!" Carl cried into the expectant hush.

Jinette cut in sharply, his voice a wheeze, "The hunter has no need to justify himself. It is my word that he is not the demon you believe him to be, Gaspar. Is that not enough?"

Directly challenged by his superior's flinty stare, Gaspar locked eyes for a moment before looking away. Jinette heaved a breath, and Carl gave the older man a worried glance. His face was chalk-white, his breath coming in harsh gasps. His right hand was clenching his upper left arm.

"Jinette?" Gabriel asked, sharp with sudden concern. Gaspar glared at him before turning his attention to the Cardinal.

"Cardinal?"

Without warning, the old man's eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed. A shocked Carl grabbed him in time to ease him to the floor, and Gabriel took two steps before his path was blocked by Gaspar.

"If you will not let me go, send for Father Taddeo," Gabriel snapped. "Now!"

Gaspar did not take his eyes from Gabriel's. "Lamar," he instructed. "Taddeo is needed, immediately!"

The man in question set off at a dead run, and two others went to help Carl with Jinette. The older man was breathing shallowly, lying limp on the flagstones of the entrance to the Academy. The rest of the men with Gaspar, over a dozen in all, surrounded their leader and Van Helsing. The hunter lowered his eyes, glancing over at Carl and Jinette, doing everything in his power not to escalate the situation. The men around him were nearly shaking from tension.

They remained in this frozen tableau for many minutes, until a group came rushing toward them. Lamar, a man of almost thirty years who had come to Rome from Jerusalem, was leading Taddeo, Luke and Santo. Within moments the Cardinal had been hustled from the floor onto a stretcher and was being carried to the infirmary.

Gabriel took a step to follow, and Gaspar grabbed him by the arm. With a swift movement, Gabriel pulled himself from the man's grip, and the wary circle of men around him tightened. "Do you doubt Jinette's word?" He was somewhat curious as to the answer. These men posed a danger to him simply because, whether or not they knew it, he would not attack or harm any of them. He was at a significant disadvantage if they decided to make good on their threat.

"I do not doubt that the Cardinal believed what he said," Gaspar responded without actually giving an answer. "However, I will not take the chance either of us is wrong."

Raising a brow, Gabriel watched as Gaspar turned and walked away, following Taddeo, and his charge. "Come on," directed Lamar, and the group, with Gabriel in the center, walked in silence to the infirmary.

It took many minutes, moving as they were, but they eventually reached the infirmary. The door was closed, but Gaspar knocked, and the door creaked open long enough for someone to determine who he was, before he was politely refused entrance. A few minutes later, Carl was also ejected from the sickroom. The friar made his way in silence to sit next to Gabriel, but as he attempted to breach the menacing circle, Lamar indicated to him that he should sit off to the side. Where the feisty friar would have argued, Gabriel shook his head, eyes hard. If these men were determined to think ill of him, he would not have Carl caught in the web of their hatred simply by associating with him. Although he doubted that in such educated, moral men, hate turned people into unreasonable animals. With a pang he remembered the man who was the little brother of his heart, before pushing that painful memory away.

The tension ratcheted higher as time passed, and Gabriel was hard-pressed to maintain his blank façade. None of the men around him bothered to hide their growing worry, murmuring quietly among themselves. After an interminable amount of time, the door opened soundlessly once more and a small figure stepped out of the hallway. Gabriel sat up in surprise, having not seen Michael since his recovery.

Gaspar rose and then crouched by the boy, with an ease which bespoke his experience with children. "Michael," he acknowledged in a quite different voice than any Gabriel had heard from him so far. He smiled and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. Michael grinned and bore the teasing with good humor. "You are all rested up, si?" Gaspar inquired.

"Si," Michael responded, a moderate Spanish accent evident in his words as he spoke for the first time in Gabriel's hearing. "Taddeo told me to tell you that the Cardinal is ill, but he will recover. He needs to rest now, and he cannot see anyone for several days."

"That is good news," Gaspar sighed, smiling again as he rose to his full height. The child was unperturbed by the large man looming over him, and the sparkling brown eyes scanned all the men anxiously waiting in the highway. His eyes widened as they fell on Van Helsing, and the hunter held the young one's surprised gaze. The boy moved toward the hunter, and Gaspar placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Michael," he said, his tone a subtle warning, "What are you doing?"

With a little look back, Michael slipped out from under Gaspar's protective hand and walked to Van Helsing. Gabriel stood as the boy approached, and for a long moment each looked at the other.

"My name is Michael Cordero." Michael held out his hand. Gabriel extended his own arm, and the two gripped wrists, exchanging a warrior's handshake not unlike the one Carl and Gabriel had shared on their return to the Vatican. This was different. The small acknowledgement of two beings touched and scarred by evil lay easily between them.

"Gracias, senor," Michael breathed his thanks.

Gabriel smiled, the expression gentling the stony features and taking several of the men around him by surprise. The hunter so rarely smiled, rarely showed the depth of the humanity he tried so hard to hide. He was astonished that Michael remembered him, from seeing his face so briefly before passing out. "De nada," he answered lightly as they loosed hands. "Mi llamo es Gabriel. Como estas, Michael?"

"Muy bueno, y tu?"

"Bueno, gracias. Do you work with Taddeo now?" he asked softly, carefully switching languages. He sensed that the others would not take lightly to his conversing with the boy, especially if they couldn't understand what was being said.

The boy nodded eagerly. "It is very interesting." He seemed ready to expound at length, when Gaspar stepped forward.

"I think Taddeo will be looking for you, no?" he asked, smoothly entering the conversation.

Michael gave Gaspar a piercing look, and nodded with unexpected maturity. His face was solemn and adult-like for a sobering moment, before he smiled and waved cheerily at them, disappearing back into the infirmary. Gaspar leveled upon Gabriel an assessing stare. The hunter returned it in equal measure, and both men looked away at the same time as the atmosphere eased.

Around them, the men had broken off into quiet, relieved conversation. The dread and strain which had characterized their attitude before had been lifted, to reveal smiles of hope.

Lamar, who had been talking with several older men, was distracted from his conversation and approached Gaspar. "What are we going to do with him, then?" he asked lowly as he looked pointedly at the hunter.

Carl came up besides Gabriel, his expression intent.

Gaspar glanced at them before saying, "The wisest choice would be to imprison him until Jinette is well. Then we will decide what further action to take."

"You can't do that," Carl spoke up.

"Carl-"

Ignoring the hunter, Carl continued, his voice lowering as he approached the two men. "If you lock him away, then you will be eliminating the only real chance we have of defeating Beelzebul."

Gaspar's face paled at the name. Lamar, however, only looked confused and somewhat skeptical. "Beelzebul?"

"He is a minion of Lucifer," Gaspar retorted. He looked at Carl. "By God's name, you had better be speaking truth, or -"

"What reason do I have to lie? And would anyone in his right mind lie about something as dire as this?" Carl snapped back, loosing his patience.

Gaspar was deeply troubled, and he frowned at Lamar. "What would it take for the men to allow the hunter to remain free for a time?" he queried at last.

The middle-eastern man's face was unwontedly grave. "I do not believe they will be satisfied with anything less than a trial by ordeal," he answered. Carl's face went blank with shock at the implication, and Gabriel stiffened. He had ignored the warning signs for far too long, if it had come to this already. A 'trial by ordeal' was simply another phrase for torture, more popular during the Middle Ages and the American witch hunts than now, close to the turn of the twentieth century. Yet in rare cases it was still considered a viable practice for extracting the truth, even within the Church.

"You can't be serious!" Carl choked out.

Lamar looked at the friar, his eyes like chips of obsidian. "There are many who were uneasy with his presence after the defeat of Count Dracula," the dark-skinned man countered. "With recent . . . occurrences, that unease has become fear. Far more are afraid now than I think you can know."

"He speaks truly," Gabriel inserted himself into the momentary silence. "Perhaps we can reach a compromise. What if I was guarded by one of your men every day until the Cardinal is well? Let me come and go as I must, but do not leave me unattended? Would this satisfy your people until Jinette is recovered enough to take the situation in hand?"

Gaspar quirked his lips in thought before agreeing. "It is a good plan," he admitted.

Lamar frowned. "Will the others agree?"

Gaspar nodded grimly, red bangs flopping over his brow. "I intend to guard him myself."

"Then I will spell you."

"My thanks." Gaspar turned to address the others, and Gabriel felt panic twist for a moment as the other man spoke. If he revealed the creature's identity – but thankfully, Gaspar had more sense than that. He assured his men that the Cardinal would recover, and that Gabriel would be carefully watched at all times. The man's leadership skills were impressive, Carl had to admit, as he calmed the few raucous individuals with soothing words.

Minutes later the crowd dispersed, Lamar promising to take over from Gaspar at the evening meal, as it was not yet eleven in the morning. The swarthy man looked from the hunter to the friar with expectation.

Carl sighed. "It's back to the archives then."

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Ok, time for a brief author's note. There is a reason this chap is 2X as long as the rest – the next two weeks are finals before winter session, so I'm hoping this'll rake in enough reviews to keep up my self-confidence until I can post again, after exams release me. (Yes, I'm a stranger to shame. This is me, begging for feedback!) I've thrown out a few tidbits that I get the feeling people (psst, Toto, here you go!) were looking for, and wait eagerly for all speculation about these little fragments. And I usually leave little hints hiding in the WIP in my bio, for the dedicated to ferret out.

And so the plot thickens . . .