Jinette's room had not been changed much, Gabriel thought upon being granted entrance. The Cardinal had not been surprised to see the hunter at his doorstep, as it were.

"I thought you might come to see me," the older man sighed, moving to the room's sole chair and lowering himself onto it. The heart attack that had taken him by surprise several months past had drained him of the youthful energy he had always displayed. While long recovered, he tended to tire more easily, and was now painfully aware of his advancing age.

The hunter stalked across the room to the armoire, behind which was a concealed entrance to the catacombs. He glared at it for only a moment before turning. "When did you know that you were going to turn over your position?"

Jinette kept his attention on the parchments covering the small table in front of him. "I have toyed with the idea for several months, since it became evident that Dracula's hold on Transylvania was strengthening. The incident with the Spear made it clear to me that I will do no one any good if I work myself into an early grave," he snorted. "Men no longer live as long as Methuselah, you know." Jinette shot Gabriel a speculative glance, but the comment was enough to earn a secretive smile from the grim hunter, who said nothing.

The friendly silence grew grave as Gabriel's expression faded. "And Gaspar is truly the choice of the pope," he stated softly, moving to sit on the chest at the foot of Jinette's bed.

The Cardinal lifted his eyes from the papers strewn across the tabletop and regarded him for a long moment. "Gaspar is the third son of a minor noble in Caermarthen. It is a province the southwestern United Kingdom – in Wales. He stood no chance at gaining an inheritance, small as it was. His father was stern, though he loved his children, and in truth Gaspar had few prospects other than the clergy." Jinette obviously knew the younger man well. "He came to us through the archdiocese in Cardiff, which is most unusual. He is much accustomed to fighting the system to get what he wants, and he is considered a disappointment to his family, although he found a measure of peace with us, I believe. They wanted him to join the Royal Navy."

Gabriel looked at Jinette, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth, hazel eyes bright. "I do not need you to explain the motivations of man to me," he said quietly, "Although I thank you for the lesson."

"It was not intended as a lesson," Jinette countered, shuffling the random papers into a stack. "It was simply to help remind you that we are only human."

Gabriel smiled. "I do not forget," he answered lowly, and continued without missing a beat. "Archdiocese in Cardiff? How is that unusual?"

Jinette fixed sharp eyes on the hunter in a penetrating stare, though he stifled a half-grin at Gabriel's tenaciousness. "Cardiff is in Wales," he began genially. "Gaspar's family, while landholders of wealth enough to be termed as minor nobles, are only just financially solvent. They have blood and marital ties to England, which as you know is for the large part Anglican-Protestant, and used them. As a boy, Gaspar was schooled in England, and while the exact circumstances are unclear, it is evident that his family believed his future to also be in England. He also spent more time there than in Wales, which makes his introduction into the Order from a Welsh diocese somewhat peculiar. That particular archdiocese has resources enough of its own to be able to support a small school for our members. It is also a safehouse and storage facility for our agents should they be in that area, and have need for it. Truth be told, once Gaspar gained admittance to the archdiocese there was no real need for him to journey as far as Rome to join us."

Unwilling to be distracted, Gabriel did not quite interrupt. "And how do you read the implications of all this?"

Jinette rolled his eyes at the statement. "Gaspar is young, charismatic, and intelligent; he is accustomed to battling against the odds, and as a result he has the active support of much of the Order behind him. Nothing you have not already discovered for yourself."

Gabriel's eyes were focused beyond the wall over Jinette's right shoulder. "Enough support to make an independent bid for control of the Order?" There was no answer, and he turned to Jinette with some surprise. "Surely not!"

Jinette shrugged. "There was no indication that he even had the desire to do so," the Cardinal responded. "But the possibility exited, and I am in no shape to wage a political battle alongside the fight against evil. In this way, I am at least able to guide and advise. Both Leo and I agreed it was for the best."

Pope Leo XIII was the ninety-year old head of the Vatican, and Jinette's longtime friend and advisor. He had been head of the papacy for twenty-three years, and had the ultimate control over all matters of the Order.

Gabriel mulled this over, and immediately addressed the issue with the most severe consequences. "I assume that you've withheld some information from him?"

"Of course."

He had to be careful, now – but Gabriel was well aware of the scope of the Vatican's information. They, however, were ignorant as to the range of his own knowledge. Though he would much prefer to keep it that way, he needed answers quickly. "I trust he has remained uninformed about the Brothers of the Cruciform Sword?"

Jinette gaped at the hunter for a long moment. When he found his voice, he managed to whisper, "How – how do you know about them?"

The look Gabriel gave him was slightly chiding, and amused. "Audric." Jinette started – he'd been unaware that Van Helsing knew his given name. "I was present at their creation." Once made clear, it was obvious.

"Ah." Chagrined, the Cardinal harrumphed loudly, using the time to collect himself. "Of course. No, he has not been informed. Do you think it a matter of particular concern?"

Gabriel tilted his head, fingers rubbing gently at the lid of the chest under him as he thought. "No. But the destiny of the Grail is soon to be fulfilled, and it is best if it remains ignored until the proper time."

"Soon?" Jinette cautiously fished.

The look Gabriel leveled on him made him blanch, but he refused to back down. The hunter, knowing exactly what to say to resolve the situation, spoke. "Within a century. Soon enough that any untoward attention paid to the group by the Vatican could interfere and necessitate more active involvement on my part. We shall speak no more of it."

Jinette nodded sharply, and then said, "Very well. Be that as it may, I do not think I have answered all your questions."

Gabriel smiled warmly. "You know me very well, Cardinal. I do have more questions. You said that recent events had had an impact on your decision. What recent events?"

The Cardinal shrugged. "The business that we deal with is rarely hopeful, and we are locked in a constant battle. The appearance of Beelzebul and the Holy Lance were only the most crucial of the many fights we have waged in my time with the Order." He shook his head despairingly. "The fight continues, and men and women continue to die at my instruction. All of this weighs heavily on my soul."

"What are you not saying?" Gabriel asked shrewdly, piercing the heart of the issue.

Jinette fingered a letter lying on the top of the stack of papers between them. The room's light was just bright enough for him to read it, if he so chose. "I have been receiving disturbing news from one of our more isolated enclaves. It is a small village in the state of Massachusetts, in America. It is made up completely of members of our Order. It is one of only a few such villages in existence. I sent a good agent there, to evaluate the status of the community. He sent several reports, which seemed innocuous, but the latest contain news of a more disturbing nature."

Gabriel reached for the letter that Jinette had picked up and was looking at, and the paper was wordlessly yielded to his grasp. Bent forward, the hunter wordlessly studied the paper. "And within the last two weeks, he has sent nothing at all," the cardinal murmured worriedly, clasping his hands together on the tabletop.

"23 January, 1889," Gabriel read slowly. "Something is wrong. Once welcoming, the people of Boxborough are now cold and aloof in my presence. I am unsettled, for even the children turn hard eyes on me. But this is only the most obvious strain between myself and the local people.

There is another meeting tonight, and I fear the outcome. Many strange things have been happening in this village; all is not as it should be. I am now forced to take a closer look at things that I had not truly regarded before. Firstly, the town of Acton is not far from here, yet Boxborough is seemingly cut off from all interaction with them, or any others outside the village. Secondly, the people of this town, while familiar with and loyal to Derek Hastings, seem to put their ties to him in higher importance than even those to blood family – and I have seen him hide his true feelings from me more than once. There is something about him that he does not wish me to see, perhaps for fear of what I report. Lastly for now, these meetings. I know of no town that has council meetings three times each fortnight, whereupon all the people – including infants, the ill, and the elderly – faithfully attend. While I have not been denied entrance to these meetings, I have noticed that they tend to be held so that I conveniently 'miss' them – for the nearest post is in Acton, far enough away to ensure that there are several hours in which they are able to convene.

I have the feeling that the wind is changing in Boxborough, and a storm is soon to rip through the town."

Gabriel lifted his eyes from the letter. "Is this the last report?" he asked, sobered by the disturbing missive.

Jinette nodded, face turned downwards in contemplation.

"It is very strange," Gabriel murmured absently, turning the page over. The parchment was folded several times, the bold writing covering the front and half of the back of the cream-colored paper. "Where are the previous letters?"

Jinette looked up from under heavy brows at the hunter. "They are in Gaspar's keeping."

Van Helsing cocked a brow. "Already? Of course," he sighed. "This latest is bound for him as well, I take it."

Jinette shrugged. "It is his decision now, on how to deal with this affair. I am very concerned. There is something seriously amiss in Boxborough."

"What do you -"

A respectful knock, slightly louder than was proper, sounded on the door, interrupting the hunter. Gabriel leant back as Jinette granted entrance to the person on the other side of the oaken panels, and only raised a brow as Carl peered through the doorway.

"Yes, Carl?" Jinette asked patiently, twisting to face the door.

The friar looked somewhat embarrassed at having interrupted a meeting between the two men, but he squared his shoulders and replied confidently, "I was looking for Van Helsing, your Grace." The illusion of aplomb would have been pulled off beautifully if his face had not been flushed, betraying his discomfiture.

Gabriel gave the Cardinal a half-smile, handed the letter back and took his leave for the night. Once in the dim corridor, he began heading to his own quarters, which lay deep within the security of the Holy City.

Carl turned to him, a curious look on his face. "What did Gaspar want with you?"

Gabriel shrugged. "There was something he and I needed to discuss." Seeing that Carl would not be satisfied with his vague explanation, he continued. "I needed to make my position within the Order clear to him, and to make to terms of my aid known."

"Did he accept it, then? Does he remember?" The friar asked warily.

"He believes that he accepts it, which is good enough for now," Gabriel replied. "And he does remember, partially. Whether or not the situation is settled for good – I do not think so. But we will see."

"And why did I find you closeted in with Jinette?"

Gabriel didn't look at Carl as he spoke, his voice very low. "Carl, have you ever known, in the rather extended history of the Order, for a Head to step down without just provocation?"

Carl opened his mouth, searching his memory for an answer, and shut it again. "It has happened once or twice that Heads have yielded their position to a successor, instead of keeping it to the grave," he answered uncertainly.

"Yes," the hunter hissed, nearly whispering. "But in there were only three such cases. In the first, the Head went disguised as a less important member of the Order to battle an evil seeking him out. In the second, the Head did so to avoid persecution by the Romans. And in the third case, the Head was general of an army of France, and knew that she would die; she relinquished her position when she realized her destiny."

Carl frowned. "So, what is the Cardinal's motivation?"

Gabriel glared at a nearby tapestry depicting the snake tempting Eve in the Garden. "I don't know," he admitted. "Times are changing. This century more than any other in recorded history will see much alteration of almost everything. But some things do not change. Jinette claims that he has stepped down because of his ill health. And that may be part of the reason. The influence he now has over Gaspar is a crucial factor, certainly. But I don't know."

Carl grinned, trying to lighten the pall that seemed to have fallen over the two friends. "I thought you knew everything," he teased lightly.

"I'm not omniscient," Gabriel snorted, "and I wouldn't want to be. I have enough to do on this Earth as it is."

It was strange, really, to hear such a blunt reference to the quiet knowledge that lay heavily between them. It happened very rarely, but when it did, a shiver coursed down Carl's spine at the reminder of his friend's true nature. Now was no different.

The feeling vanished as soon as Gabriel turned a mischievous smile on his friend, knowing exactly how Carl felt about the issue. "Hey!" the friar cried indignantly. "You did that on purpose!"

"Did what?" Innocence fairly dripped from every syllable, but Carl wasn't fooled.

He opened his mouth to retort, and Gabriel's laughing expression bloomed into a full grin. The lighthearted banter continued until the two parted ways near the turnoff to the friar's quarters, Carl heading to his room while Van Helsing continued onward, into the deepest sanctuary of the Holy City.

- ( - ( - ( - ( - ( -

Brothers of the Cruciform Sword- this is credited to a S. Speilberg movie, and alas, is not mine.

Also, I credit Jenny with enlightening me as to the existence of both Boxborough and Acton. Any factual info you see, from here on out, relating to these towns, will have come from her. All hail! All hail!