Part 7

The little bar in Cannes was full and people were smoking, eating and drinking loudly. Dishes clinked and clanked both from the little kitchen in the back and from the tables in the main room. A small bar wrapped around one corner of the room and in the far dark corner Nicholai and Lenny sat drinking. Lenny, the brutish thug that had held Jeanne captive in Domremy looked depressed, his usually open features sagging down and his heavy, armored arms resting on the bar top, his own head nearly touching them.

"And so it slipped out, did it?" Nicholai sat next to Lenny, his white cassock glowing softly in the lamplight of the bar. He too rested his arms on the bar top, nursing a glass with a sparkling amber liquid in it. The cuts and bruises he'd sustained from his confrontation in Domremy were gone but the internal scars yet remained. When the light of the Yadorigi, the Holy Mistletoe, had exploded in the church, Nicholai had been knocked aside, banging his head on the corner of a pillar. Lenny had dragged him clear and taken him to a local farmhouse to recover; the locals were most unhappy at being forced to tend the exorcist priest, especially when they came to understand his actions were against their protector. When he recovered, he had reported the results of his confrontation with his superior and he too had been most displeased. And now this.

Lenny had been dispatched to stop the Godslayer and his friends in Wales – to prevent them finding the old hermit, Roger Bacon. Additionally, Nicholai's superior wanted something that the old hermit had in his possession, so Lenny was sent to Wales. He and his Dog Soldiers had removed the old man before Nicholai had left Italy – Nicholai had given the instructions himself. But now, Lenny was telling him the meeting had not gone as planned; in fact, nothing seemed to be going as planned lately. He thought over the distance from Wales to Italy and sighed, taking a sip of his whisky.

"Well, they must be in Italy by now, I suppose," he said as the fiery liquid moved down to settle like a burning coal in his stomach. No, the whisky would not help him get though this, but it might help other things. He could deal with the Godslayer escaping; he could deal with Lenny and his stupidity. He admitted though, he was having trouble dealing with the Godslayer's friends – or one friend in particular.

"It's a good thing for you, Lenny, that we already moved the old man." He looked sideways at the huge man sitting next to him. "We'll be all right, but no thanks to you." Lenny squirmed on the barstool and when the wood beneath him protested, he stopped, sitting gingerly. The big man fidgeted a moment then looked up at the priest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said loudly in protest, his voice thick and heavily accented. "I'll never do it again, I promise," and he raised up one large fist as if taking an oath. Nicholai snorted quietly. "You haven't had to face the guy so you don't know – I'm tellin' ya Nicholai, there's something wrong with that guy," Lenny exclaimed.

In fact, there was something wrong with the Godslayer: he was still alive. Even after being pierced by the Holy Mistletoe, the damned impertinent bastard was still living. It ground in Nicholai's gut that Yuri Hyuga should have such luck – as if God and His angels were looking out for him. Well, not for much longer. Not if I have anything to do with it. Next to him, Lenny was babbling on about some mind trick the Harmonixer had committed on him, forcing Lenny to reveal Roger Bacon's whereabouts. Not that it would take much to trick Lenny...

"Admit it, Lenny, he tricked you. You're pathetic," Nicholai said and Lenny grew silent, moaned once and sat heavily on the stool, ignoring its protesting groans of strain. Nicholai sighed. "Forget it. I've had problems on my side too. That old man – he appears senile, but he's a tough nut to crack."

"Old man? You mean Bacon? Old skeleton face?" Lenny remarked disrespectfully.

"That's right," Nicholai said and sipped his whiskey again.

Lenny scowled. "What do we have to worry about that guy for," he asked. "Why do you and the Master need him anyway?"

"That's none of your business," Nicholai replied. "The Master has his own plan for things. As for me, well," he paused and looked over at the big thug sitting next to him, putting on his most innocent expression. "As for me, it's a matter of simple curiosity."

Lenny stared at the exorcist and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully.

"Curiosity?" he muttered.

Nicholai ignored him, turning back to his drink. The sliver of amber liquid left in the small glass shimmered enticingly as Nicholai swished it around, coating the side of the glass. His curiosity was more along other lines – delectable lines, but of course, that was none of Lenny's business. He shook himself slightly, looking down at his glass and letting his long bangs fall over his eyes.

Yes, delectable scarlet lines, with eyes like molten silver and lips like ripe peaches. Hips that curve nicely and breasts that are round, soft and ample and... Damn, why can I not get her out of my mind, he thought. She's with him now, the Godslayer. As he took the traitor, Simon, from me, he's taken the woman as well. He chewed slowly on one lip, letting the anger slowly fill him then recede. There was too much to do before he could let himself take revenge for that too. There were the Master's plans, and his own, and possibly, he could combine them in some way. But thinking about Hyuga and his old enemy Simon brought up other issues as well.

"Simon and the Godslayer," he said aloud. "They're somehow connected to each other. Which means," he thought a moment, a small smile forming on his pale lips. "Which means there are plenty of ways I can use that connection."

Lenny turned and looked at the priest, puzzled brown eyes squinting in the dark corner of the bar.

"Huh?"

Nicholai shook his head dismissively. "Never mind Lenny. Just get the air ship ready. We'll be leaving soon." Soon, Godslayer, I'll have what I want from you. And you too, Lieutenant.

They rose to leave the bar, Lenny moving quickly down the docks to the small craft left for them at the wharf. He would take that boat to St. Marguerite Island and retrieve their air ship. And in the meantime, he had some other plans to make. Other people to involve. And a way had to be found to get Lieutenant Karin Koenig away from the Godslayer and back where she belonged.

Two months. It had been two months since Nicholai had confronted Yuri Hyuga in the church at Domremy. Two months and the damned Godslayer was still alive. And Lenny, great oaf that he was, had revealed Roger Bacon's location – generally speaking – at some trick of the fusionist's. Fortunately, and it was a narrow bit of fortune thus far, his negotiations on behalf of his Master, Gregori Rasputin, were going well. But he needed an edge, something to offer the Japanese representative, to clinch the deal. He knew that Rasputin wanted military and economic ties with Japan and he had left the negotiations with Nicholai... his trusted friend. But the ambassador wanted something for his own sake and Nicholai needed to obtain it. And that's where the Godslayer would come in again.

Nicholai contemplated the ill luck he'd had against the fusionist against what he now surmised would be a good turn of events. The traitor to Sapientes Gladio, Albert Simon, and his connection to Hyuga, for that was something Nicholai still did not know, but he guessed. Simon had ancient tomes obtained from the Vatican; Simon was betraying the Master, Rasputin, and the fusionist defeated Simon and the god he summoned. And Nicholai suspected it was with the help of those missing tomes, and especially the one that Kato wanted: the Émigré Manuscript. But he, Nicholai, did not have the manuscript. He knew Bacon had obtained it, and then hid it.

Nicholai looked across the deck of the airship, contemplating his ill luck and the luck he would now make turn in his favor, the luck that the Godslayer was indeed still alive. The ship yawed slightly, shaking with the air pressure at it turned in its final approach to the Italian headquarters of Sapientes Gladio. If everything had gone according to plan, and here he looked at Lenny again – the mountain of incompetence leaned casually against the far railing – then the Godslayer should have arrived.

He walked across the deck to the near railing and looked down. Below was an elegant villa with a domed roof. There was no sign of activity below, but the small light at the top of the dome – the one put there as a warning device – was blinking. So, Yuri and his companions are inside. No doubt they've gone through the skeleton forces left behind, he thought, and turned to wave at the gun commander in the control box behind him. A moment later the array of cannons along one side of the air ship began to fire, the boom of their explosions echoing in the quiet night air and the air ship shuddered slightly under the force of their firing. Round after round exploded into the villa below, demolishing the walls on one side, pounding through the brick and mortar and stone of the once-elegant home, and crushing whatever might be within. Except for the top floor. That took a full barrage before it crumbled, sending blocks crashing to the ground below and inside as well.

Nicholai signaled to cease-fire and leaned on the railing waiting for the smoke to clear. In the distant villa's upper floor, he could barely make out movement. Someone in dark clothing was rising to their feet.

"As hard-headed as usual, I see," Nicholai said, raising his voice to be heard. The air ship lowered slightly, bringing itself along side the villa and Nicholai could now see inside the blown out wall. Yuri was on his feet, rubbing his head and behind him, wearing considerably too much concern for the fighter, and considerably less clothing, was Karin. She was no longer in uniform, donning instead some bit of rag and looking like a woman on fire. Nicholai swallowed hard, feeling his emotions beginning to boil at sight of the lovely woman. He took a deep breath, hardening his resolve, and feeling himself harden in other ways, before continuing.

"Nicholai," Karin exclaimed, looking away from Yuri and out the blown wall. The fusionist stepped closer to the breach, his body language changing from concerned friend to annoying punk.

"What are you up to," he asked, but Nicholai ignored him.

"Nice to see you Lieutenant," he said to Karin, his eyes boring emerald holes into her lovely face, devouring her in spite of his resolve. How he wanted to reach across the distance and snatch her away – to show her, convince her, that he, he not that boy, was the man for her. "You too, Godslayer. Well let's see now – it's been two months since the mistletoe's curse and you still look quite normal," Nicholai finished, not letting his disappointment show, instead leaning down, and resting his chin on his arms as they lay on the railing.

Yuri tapped his chest. "It didn't work. It's a load of crap," he replied and his stance screamed defiance at Nicholai.

"Somebody needs to teach him manners," the large thug commented, joining Nicholai at the railing. He looked down at the young harmonixer and clenched one fist, his intent obvious.

Nicholai took another breath, closed his eyes a moment and counted to ten. He won't back down, he thought. "The one you're looking for is no longer there," he said and had the satisfaction of seeing the Godslayer look surprised.

"What?"

Tilting his head, Nicholai watched the fusionist a moment as he stared back with crimson eyes.

Got you. "Saint Marguerite Island. We're holding him there," Nicholai advised and did not wait for the information to sink into the fusionist's mind. "Godslayer, get me the Émigré Manuscript. Do that, and I'll give you Bacon."

Yuri moved slightly putting one hand on his hip, frowning.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said calmly.

Nicholai stood up, straightening his clothing as he looked down at the group below. Yuri stood in front and Karin right behind him, his fiery shadow. In the dim recesses of the upper room, he could make out the giant wrestler and someone else tall, probably that idiotic dancer from Florence.

He has his companions, his support. I'm stuck with... "Don't lie to me. You most certainly do know – it contains the secret of life; you used it to achieve your victory," he said.

Behind him, Karin looked from Yuri to Nicholai and back. This was news to her, that Yuri had used some book to win a battle. Books and Yuri did not go together in her mind. His simple outlook on life didn't afford him reading time. But she listened as Nicholai expounded further.

"Afterwards, you and Bacon took it and hid it away somewhere. That much I already know," he said. "Bring me the book, Godslayer," he finished and signaled to the pilot. The airship rose, climbing away from the villa and Nicholai watched as Yuri grew smaller and smaller so that soon, the only thing Nicholai could see was the flame that was Karin's hair.

And Yuri and Karin watched as well until the airship had risen far into the sky and away from them. Yuri then rubbed his head in thought and Karin dusted herself off – more to have something to do. She wanted so much to believe in her heart that Nicholai was lying, that Yuri hadn't used some forbidden book.

"Yuri, about that book," she started and Yuri turned to her with a sigh.

"Yeah, I guess I'd better explain," he said. "But not here. Let's go get something to eat – I'm hungry."

"When are you not?" Gepetto the puppeteer commented from the shadows and Yuri made a move to knock Cornelia from his grasp.

"Never mind, let's just go," Joachim, the giant wrestler said, and pointed down the stairs. "I'm hungry too."

The restaurant the group chose was a family style eatery with lots of food, which was a good thing as both Yuri and Joachim made in-roads through the pasta and bread as if there were no tomorrow. But finally, with full bellies and drinks in hand, Yuri told them about his earlier encounter with the Émigré and how he and Bacon had buried it deep inside the Nemeton underground. But while he spoke, Karin was thinking other thoughts.

He looked right through me as if I wasn't there. And he's so cold now – what could have happened to make him so cold. And why kidnap an old man... Her thoughts circled round and round, covering the same events over and again. Why would Heinmann send me to act as guide if the Vatican already had someone who could handle the demon? Oh, but he's not a demon, he's only a man, and her eyes caught sight of Yuri, backlit from a nearby lamp, a yellow glow surrounding him like an aureole. She found him handsome, she admitted to herself, if a bit selfish.

Suddenly the direction of her thoughts disturbed her and she turned away, picking up her wine glass and swirling the ruby fluid, watching it catch the light. It made her glass ruddy in the lamp light and she shuddered, setting it down. It looked like blood. There had been too much of that lately – with the Dog Soldiers attacking them, and monsters, and now this going to retrieve a forbidden book. She listened as Yuri described the three books that he and his lover Alice had found in their travels, and how he glossed over both Alice and the Émigré Manuscript. Did he use it to defeat that summoned god, she wondered. And as her thoughts circled around she watched Yuri, animated, telling the story of his defeat of Simon's god and she wondered where she, Karin Koenig, fit into the story.

It had taken far too long to retrieve the Émigré Manuscript from the bowels of Nemeton. Along the way they had to solve puzzles, moving blocks that floated in the air in the cavernous underground that Yuri said was the basement of the Nemeton Monastery. Yuri claimed he and Roger had buried the book in the depths to protect it, but even Yuri admitted he had voted to burn it. Karin was wishing they had. More than once on their trek through the maze of ruins, she had heard voices; at first, she thought they were her family, especially her Grandmother Doris – but Yuri insisted she not listen to the voices of the dead.

"They'll steal your soul," he had said after slapping her silly, and she had agreed not to listen. But of course, she had. How could she not when the voices cried out in pain and anguish? How could she ignore them? How could the priest, Bacon, not have done his priestly duty and freed them from the hell this place had become? The holy ground the filled the cliff and the rest of the coast beneath Nemeton and Aberystwyth, Wales, dated back to the stone age, but the spirits whose voices called to Karin or anyone else who could hear, were more modern.

After they retrieved the manuscript, they caught the train in Aberystwyth. Yuri had remained quiet throughout the trip; he had collapsed upon receiving the Émigré, and Karin wondered how much was natural exhaustion and how much was the Yadorigi – Nicholai's cursed mistletoe? Karin chewed on the finger of one glove as they headed into London and she watched the scenery pass with blind eyes. Too many images were flooding her mind: images of floating blocks, monsters, demons and Yuri, his features ashen in pain, lying collapsed on the floor. And with those brief flashes, came others left locked in her memory for a quiet time to peruse - the church in Domremy with its stone floor coated in blood, her soldier's, and the little girl, Jeanne. She felt responsible for that as much as the mistletoe curse now lying on Yuri. And no amount of self-castigation would resurrect the little girl or her soldiers, or Sergeant Kemler, nor free Yuri from the actions of Nicholai Conrad.

Nicholai was another piece to the puzzle of her memories that she had avoided. She looked across the car to Yuri, his legs propped up on the opposite seat and his arms folded over his chest. His eyes closed in slumber, he looked peaceful, even though she knew he was not. Deep inside he was a wellspring of emotions, animated by his natural ebullience of life. It was sad to see him cut down by Nicholai's actions. She watched Yuri silently for long minutes, her half-chewed glove forgotten in the examination she was giving the harmonixer. She felt things for him, more than just a general affection, and she silently berated herself for that as well.

He's hurt because of me, because of Nicholai. And here I am having thoughts and feelings about him – he's a boy! Nicholai is a man... she blinked at that thought and turned grey eyes toward the window, watching the scenery as it passed. What kind of woman am I, that I can feel this way? He can't be right, can he? No, of course not! Yuri is good! Nicholai is deceived is all – by what or by whom I don't know. But he can't be all bad... no one is all bad, she thought and she reached up to touch her lips with one slim finger, tracing the outline of his kisses. She felt a slow warmth pervade her, blossoming deep within and kindling thoughts she had put aside. He really is handsome, she thought. And gentle, and his kisses, his touch was so loving – so passionate – only a fool would ignore what I'm feeling right now.

From the next car came sounds of laughter and in another moment Lucia opened the passageway door, sidling in with her usual grace and flare. The dancer paused to stare down at Yuri for a moment before joining Karin in her seat. She stared at the redheaded swordswoman and her own almond eyes crinkled up in silent laughter.

"You're thinking naughty thoughts, aren't you?" she asked in tones of lilting humor.

Karin blushed in spite of herself.

"It's none of your business, Lucia," Karin said.

The dancer waved her fan in the air in front of her, ignoring that it was a heavy weapon, her grace belying her strength.

"That's okay," she said with an almost vacuous smile. Karin knew that smile hid a variety of lies, for she was beginning to think Lucia had more going for her than mere good looks. "I won't tell. But it's someone other than Yuri, yes?"

Karin shook her head, indicating with her chin the fusionist in repose across the isle.

"Keep it down, Lucy," she hissed.

Lucia crossed her arms in thought, her features composed as she sought the truth behind Karin's sudden blush.

"Is it Joachim?" she asked and was delighted at Karin's shocked expression. "No? Hmmm, then it must be Gepetto," she said.

Karin smirked, swatting the dancer with her ruined glove.

"Not even close," she replied.

Lucia let her eyes soften as she looked over at her traveling companion, feeling the tug of tides she didn't always understand. So much had happened and would happen, since she had joined up with these people. She didn't know if what she saw was truth or fiction, or just the fantasies of her own mind, but she saw Karin and a very handsome young man and she nodded in sudden understanding.

"It's that very handsome Cardinal Nicholai isn't it," she said quietly.

Karin blushed profusely, shushing the voluptuous dancer.

"Lucia, please," Karin begged. How had she known or guessed, she wondered. Sometimes Lucia's instincts were frightening. And indeed, it was Nicholai who was setting her heart to flutter right now.

"Sometimes what we want, we can't always have, Karin," Lucia said softly. "Oh, we may plot and plan, and maybe get our way. But really, the only truth out there, is in the unknowing. I hope you find what you're looking for," she said and then tapping Karin gently on the shoulder with her fan, sashayed away.

Is it really that obvious? she wondered. She looked across the aisle at Yuri, at his youthful and muscular body, and counted the things about him that fascinated her. And she wondered, truly wondered, what he tasted like. Would he be anything remotely like Nicholai?

Licking her lips, she turned back to the windows. Please God let us get Roger Bacon out of Isle St. Marguerite without running into Nicholai, she silently prayed.

A/N: I hope you all are enjoying this. I only have one comment to make and that is to Sable Please be careful and have a safe trip to London. This one is up in a hurry just for you.