Chapter 7

Part 1

I had been trying to rest. But after fitfully tossing and turning for several hours, I gave up and sat up. The hard stone floor of the chapel combined with my cloaking vest didn't lend themselves to restful sleep.

And it certainly didn't help that my thoughts went round and round in circles trying to determine exactly what had happened in the shower and what it meant. Had things changed between Beatrice and me? Were we inching beyond friends and towards something more? The annoying part was that I just wasn't certain and if I pressed the issue with her and I had entirely misread the situation, it might wreck things between us forever. Damn, life trapped in a quadriplegic body hadn't prepared me for real-world situations like this.

Gazing around, I found not much had changed. I had been trying to sleep near the door into the modest chapel, about eight meters from where the Seer Stone sat on the altar. Beatrice was lying on the floor next to the altar and didn't appear to have the same problem I did with sleeping.

Mary was awake and on guard duty, although she didn't look particularly happy. She was sitting in the pew closest to the altar and looked lost without her shotguns and knives. But if an emergency arose, her first duty was to protect the Seer Stone and get it clear of any threat which meant all her divinium toys were stacked on the far side of the chamber.

Father O'Mallory was sitting in the same pew as Mary, but most of the way down towards the other end. He sat perfectly motionless - almost as still as death.

Lilith was sitting at the back of the chapel near me, just on the other side of the entrance. She was slowly running a whetstone along the edge of her sword even though I was certain the blade was already as sharp as humanly possible.

Neither Father Antonio nor Camila were anywhere in sight. I was just wondering where they had gone when they returned carrying a large pot of something that smelled utterly delicious. They also had several loaves of bread plus a stack of bowls and spoons. Everyone perked up and the smell appeared to be enough to even rouse Beatrice from her slumbers.

"Mother Superior Agnes thought everyone might be hungry and knew we probably didn't want to join the other sisters in the refectory, so she had this sent over," said Camila.

Camila set the pot on the pew farthest from the altar.

"After their reaction when we first arrived, I think it is more likely that they don't want us to join them," replied Mary, as she walked over and looked hungrily at the stew.

My stomach was almost growling with enthusiasm as I realized it was now late afternoon and I hadn't eaten anything since supper the previous evening.

I couldn't help but watch as Beatrice sat up, stretched, and then made her way over, too. Damn, even in the poorly-fitting, borrowed white habit, she still looked unbelievably hot to my eyes. I looked down at myself and wasn't nearly as happy with what I saw. I, too, was wearing one of the white habits, but over the top I had my cloaking vest. We had done what we could to clean it before climbing into the shower, but the vest had been completely dunked in the blood ocean back in the hell dimension and blood was still oozing out of the seams and staining my habit. At least it wasn't so bad that it had soaked through the heavily starched cotton to reach my skin and therefore my body still felt clean even if the habit didn't look it.

"Whose turn to say grace?" asked Beatrice. She was the last one to join the rest of us. Well, except for Father O'Mallory, who I wasn't even certain could eat normal food in his current state. I hadn't seen him even glance in the food's direction, so I suspected not.

"I think it is my turn," said Lilith.

We all folded our hands and bowed our heads.

"Benedíc nos Dómine et haec Túa dóna quae de Túa largitáte súmus sumptúri. Per Chrístum Dóminum nóstrum. Ámen."

We all echoed the Amen and then Camila started handing out bowls before picking up the ladle. Mary broke pieces of bread from the loaves and handed them around next. Then everyone found a place to sit on the floor with us all ending up in a rough circle.

We ate in silence for several minutes; obviously everyone was as hungry as I was.

Finally, once the edge was off, I lowered my spoon into my bowl and looked up.

"I've been thinking," I began before pausing to glance in Beatrice's direction. She had to know what I was going to bring up, but she didn't give any sign she objected.

"We are all in trouble now," interjected Mary with a laugh.

A year ago, this remark would have bothered me, but I now knew it was just Mary's way to break the tension.

"I think we should attempt to use the Seer Stone now, while it is under our control."

"We are supposed to turn it over to Cardinal Somalo," stated Father Antonio, quickly.

To me, the Father's opinion didn't mean squat. We had known him less than a day. He hadn't been through all the battles we had endured over the last year.

What I cared about was the opinion of the sisters. None of them were reacting in a negative way.

"Father, the last time the Seer Stone was used, the only time as far as we know, it was by Joan of Arc," I stated. "I'm sure you know better than us that she was extremely pious and fervent in her love for God. And, well, she was a girl. Perhaps all of these attributes are necessary to use the device. And I'm not certain Cardinal Somalo meets these criteria. Or worse, I know Pope Callixtus doesn't and I think if the Stone ends up in his hands it might be worse than not having access to it at all."

Father Antonio looked aghast. "How can you say things like that about the Holy Father?"

"Because he tried to have me fucking killed, simply because it would have made his life more convenient," I replied, unable to keep the venom out of my voice.

"Killed?" he echoed, but at barely more than a whisper.

"Yes," said Mary and all the other sisters nodded in agreement. "The Pope is much more a slimy politician than a man of god."

Mary turned to me and ignored the further splutterings from Father Antonio as though they were no longer of any consequence.

"So who do you think should try?"

I gestured with my chin towards Beatrice. "Obviously, since Lilith, Camila, and I can't touch the Stone, that leaves us out. So it has to be either you or Beatrice. I don't mean any disrespect, but I think Beatrice is much closer to the Joan of Arc mindset than you, if that turns out to be critical."

"I agree," said Mary without a moment's hesitation. I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding. It would be much easier if we were all in agreement. "When should we do this?"

I looked to Beatrice again. "Beatrice, are you willing to try?"

She gave a small nod.

"Then I think it needs to be her call."

"We might as well do it as soon as we are finished eating," Beatrice said. "I don't see any advantage to putting it off. Cardinal Somalo said it would probably be several days until he could arrange transport back to Italy, but that could change at any moment. Hell, he could show up here in the next five minutes and demand we hand it over immediately."

Father Antonio started to make further noises about waiting, but Mary cut him off.

"Father, we need to do this. You can be a willing participant, or I will, quite happily, tie you up and gag you." One look at her face and even Father Antonio, who had known her for less than a day, could tell she wasn't kidding. I had known her for over a year and was absolutely certain she was serious. And I knew if the Father put up any resistance, I would enthusiastically help her.

Part 2

"Do you have any suggestions? I mean on how to use the Stone to contact Saint Michael?" asked Beatrice.

Everyone was finished eating and Camila was off taking the dirty dishes back to the refectory. Father Antonio may have helped her fetch the food, but suddenly none of us were comfortable letting him out of the chapel until after Beatrice had made her attempt to communicate with the angelic realm.

While we were waiting for Camila's return, Beatrice had taken me aside. I had hoped it might mean a continuation of things that had started in the shower, but from her expression, I could tell she seriously was just interested at the moment in my input. It was slightly disappointing - more than slightly, if I'm being honest.

"With the Halo," I began, turning my attention to her question. "I just have to focus my attention on it when I want it to do something. Like when we were in the Hell dimension needing to get to Sainte-Chapelle. I sort of just tell it where I want to go, even though I'd never been there before and have no idea of its exact location or it GPS coordinates or anything. I just say what I want to happen in a firm tone within my head. It's hard to explain it exactly."

"So, no special prayers or incantations or anything?"

I grinned. "What language would I use? Latin? Some language from the demon realm? Neither of which I know? No, it must have some universal translator function built-in. No need for saying anything fancy like 'Beam me up, Scotty' in some obscure language."

Beatrice smiled in turn, obviously getting my Star Trek reference.

Her eyes flicked around for a second and then her voice dropped to a whisper. "I did enjoy our time in the shower, even if it can never go any further."

My eyes must have widened in shock at this unexpected pronouncement before I got myself back under control.

"I did, too," I managed to get out without stuttering. "I would enjoy it if we could spend time alone again in the future, even if we can't be naked every time." I had seen her naked. More than seeing her naked again, what I really wanted was to feel her lips on mine. I mean kissing wouldn't be taking things too much further, would it? Of course, naked kissing sounded like the absolute best. Down, Ava, don't spook her now.

It was like she read my mind. "We will have to see. But don't go dumping us into another ocean of blood just to get us into a shower again."

"Yes, sister," I replied with a grin. Now that she had put that idea in my head, it felt almost like a command – get us dirty again so we will have an excuse to get naked.

Just then Camila walked back into the chapel and I saw something change in Beatrice's eyes and I recognized that look. Calm, in-control Beatrice was nervous about what she was about to do. Hell, maybe even a little bit scared, but then trying to talk to an angel sounded daunting. It made me glad I wasn't the one who had to do it. And it made me glad that if I had to be stuck with the Halo in my back, it had happened while I was dead. I'm not certain I would have volunteered even if I had known it would allow me to walk and run again.

"You've got this," I said, while reaching out to clasp Beatrice's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I don't think I've ever met anyone I would trust more in this situation."

She squeezed my hand back. "Thanks, Ava. It means a lot."

She stared into my eyes for a moment and I thought, or maybe hoped or dreamed, that she would lean forward for a quick kiss, but she just took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and turned and marched towards the altar.

She was half way to the altar when I called out, "Beatrice?"

Beatrice paused and looked back.

"A couple 'Hail, Marys' before you start probably wouldn't hurt." Several of the nuns I had met, including Beatrice, could get into a zen-like state using that mantra. It would probably help her calm the jitters she had to be feeling.

She nodded and then continued walking.

When she reached the altar, she crossed herself before kneeling down. Then she brought her hands together and was clearly praying. I was too far away to hear if it was 'Hail, Mary' or something else.

I glanced around. Everyone was giving her their undivided attention. Well, everyone except Lilith who was also obviously praying. I didn't close my eyes, but I added my own prayer that Beatrice would be successful and come out of this unscathed. I don't remember exactly where, but from somewhere I seemed to recall many people who encountered divinities were not the same after the event and a lot had even been driven crazy.

Beatrice couldn't have spent more than thirty seconds praying before she raised her hands and rested them on both sides of the Seer Stone.

And then nothing. Well, nothing visible from where I sat in the back row of the pews. No brilliant flash of light like had happened back at Sainte-Chapelle when the Stone had powered up to drive the wraiths out of the dead bodies they had been animating.

And then more nothing. Beatrice knelt there with her hands on the stone and time passed. And more time passed. It seemed like a lifetime passed and it was not unlike how time had crawled when we were trapped in the hell dimension waiting for the Halo to recharge.

Finally, after a near eternity, okay probably no more than ten minutes, Beatrice lowered her hands from the Stone. Then she slowly climbed to her feet and turned to face us.

And . . . and . . . and her face was radiant like the expressions great artists try to achieve when the subject of their painting has experienced a revelation from God. But this was real and not some mere artist's attempt to capture the experience. Beatrice was radiant in a way I had never seen before in her or anyone else. If Joan of Arc had looked like this after communicating with angels, I could suddenly understand how vast armies had been willing to follow the commands of an untried young girl.