The rest of the night passed at an interminably slow pace. Cassandra came out to Tim and Stephanie and reported, "She can't sleep anymore. Nightmares are too bad. Something else too, but not sure what." Her companions nodded, at the very least every one of them was used to operating with minimal sleep anyway. After that matter was settled, Cassandra went a little red in the face and asked, "Um, Steph?"

"Yeah?"

Cassandra couldn't look her in the eyes, so, eyes down, she said, "Do you have any more clean underwear?"

Stephanie considered the question, confused for a few seconds, before she said, "Oh God. Yeah, yeah I think I do. I hope I do. It was bad, huh?"

Cassandra nodded, Stephanie nodded, Tim, in solidarity, nodded.

Ten minutes later, the four sat in the empty, dark commissary. Sadie sat down with a blanket draped over her body and wouldn't look directly at anyone, a mortified look on her face. After just sitting almost totally still for the first bit, Sadie said, "Sorry I freaked everybody out and wet my pants."

Cassandra patted her on the knee. Stephanie said, "Don't worry about it, it's okay." After another stretch of silence, she asked, "What happened?"

"I picked up some details on one of those guys we haven't seen yet. And then it got interrupted." Sadie shuddered. "Think I was on my way to figuring out how the teens in Nightmare on Elm Street before they got butchered."

Nearly everything she'd just said required further elaboration. So, as best she could, with an occasional, "Don't make me get into that right now," Sadie told of her harrowing dreams. Stephanie nodded and muttered, "Might explain that bone in my bag," as she summarized the interrupted saga of Joaquin Sandoval. Questions came up along the way, and thankfully, for her, blessedly, distractions popped up occasionally as well. Best of all, when she needed them most, the three of them made her feel both valid and awake.

The monks who ran the kitchen gave the group a double take when they flicked on the lights to head into the back, but then thought nothing more of them. A bell sounded high above, and just as the sun started rising. Tim activated the herald and, on the third ring, Father Day answered.

"Please tell me you haven't been further delayed," he said.

"I talked to the crew earlier, we're coming up on Fiumicino," Tim said.

"Good. Good. I'll expect you within the next few hours. Enter from the southern gate. The papal gardens will be to your left. You'll need an escort, so just tell them you're in to see Father Day and show them the herald. I'll ensure arrangements are made."

Tired-eyed, Sadie glared at the communicator. "You sure everything's covered so we're not just going to get chased by some other monster in there?"

Day uttered a groan. "Once you're inside the walls of the Vatican, you're on holy ground by default. None of those demon spawn will be able to use their powers within. I assure you, you will be safe."

Sadie grumbled something, but he didn't seem to give it any mind. Final details were reviewed, and another simple breakfast was eaten. As they prepared to leave, one of the monks at a table across the room moved quickly toward them. When he closed the distance, Cassandra and Sadie recognized him as Brother Carlos. Both were sure Batman would scold them thoroughly for the quick photos they'd taken with him the previous day, but a deal was a deal.

"I understand you're all soon to depart," he said. "Thought I should offer you safe travels one more time."

Stephanie smiled. "Thank you."

Sadie rubbed at her eyes and asked, "Who's your friend?"

"Met yesterday," Cassandra said. "When we—ah, we—"

"Right, yeah. The Nijah situation." Sadie cast a hardened look toward the monk. "Is she locked up tight?"

"Totally secure." Carlos frowned after he said it. "Do you have a reason to think otherwise?"

Sadie shook her head. "Not a reason that's your fault." Then she asked, "The Vatican have a spa I can get my feet rubbed when this is all over?"

The monk remained quiet for a moment before he said, "There's a couple right outside the Basillica." He mustered a smile. "There's one called, 'Baan Thai,' it isn't the closest, but I like it best. Excellent foot massages there."

Sadie snorted with a quick laugh. "Wait, seriously? Aren't you bound to an oath of poverty or something?"

Carlos shrugged. "Doing tours of the holy city is exhausting. Even the disciples got to enjoy having their feet washed, you know."

"Did you save all your likeability for the last minute? Well, I appreciate it." Sadie turned toward Stephanie and Tim. "You guys can get the executive pre-marital package. And maybe that'll include your maid of honor and her girlfriend too."

Across the commissary, Brother Dominique, dressed in simple street clothes, approached them. With a nervous bite of his lip, Carlos made himself scarce. When he reached the table, Dominique said, "When we reach land, there is an express station less than two kilometers into town. We'll reach Rome in less than an hour from there, and holy city's walls are just another four and a half kilometers."

Stephanie leaned over to Tim. "How many is that in miles?"

"Little over one mile to the train, little less than two to the Vatican."

She patted Sadie on the back. "I used to do track, how about you?"

Sadie uttered a sarcastic laugh before she said, "Actually, I can get around Chicago okay without a car. That's gotta count for something, right?" She then looked to Dominique. "Can we really not just rent a car and drive right up to the front door?"

"The Order of Nephilim are the types to maintain a low profile, and they don't like involving civilians," Dominique said. "There will be protection in moving in a crowd."

With another derisive laugh, Sadie said, "They literally attacked us on a train last time. While it was still moving."

"We've considered our best options, and this is the one," Dominique said. "You'll just have to trust us on this."

Sadie crossed her arms and looked away. "I'm going to trust my team to fix this plan if anything goes haywire." After a moment in frustrated silence, she asked, "And that woman from the train is taken care of?"

"We'll be keeping her on the ship for now," Dominique said. "The saltwater will keep her powers curtailed."

Sadie accepted that with a silent nod.

Soon after, the Saint Christopher reached the shore. The dock bustled with fisherman moving to and from the water, many shouting quick phrases in Italian to their crews. Recent days with enemies constantly on their collective tail made Cassandra, Sadie, Tim, and Stephanie give the pier nervous looks, but none of the mostly bulky fishermen gave them a second glance. Eventually, the docks gave way to the city of Fiumicino proper, which was very much still asleep. The city's old roads wound about until the five reached the express station, signs hung over the ticket windows indicated no more than a ten minute's wait for a train. The five positioned themselves in a bland, still mostly-quiet sitting area.

As they found seats and waited, Sadie held Cassandra's hand. With the nightmares and the growing lack of sleep still on the forefront of her mind, in a bid for something normal, she asked, "Are you excited for this next part?"

"What, to be done? Yes, will be good to stop worrying," Cassandra said.

"No, no, not that part," Sadie said. "The Vatican. I mean, hell, present circumstances aside, I'm excited to check out the Vatican."

Cassandra frowned. "You are? Why?"

"Oh, it's the epicenter of all kinds of old-world art and stuff. Some of the greatest stuff on the planet. The Sistine Chapel alone—you know all that, right?"

After a moment's contemplation, Cassandra smiled. "I do. Good. I'm glad for you."

"But you really don't care all that much? I know it's not like Mecca—wait, is it like Mecca?"

"Heard that word, but don't know what it means," Cassandra said.

"Right, yeah. I didn't either before I got into CSA, I know a couple Muslims from campus," Sadie said. "Mecca's their holy city, every Muslim's supposed to go there at least once, if they can. But I guess this place isn't like that."

"No, don't think so," Cassandra said. "Don't even know what to expect." A sigh slipped out of her. "Is it just a big church? A big, old church?"

"Church, museum, ancient library, and tourist trap all rolled up in one." Sadie slumped internally a little. She was counting on a little enthusiasm to help lift her spirits. "You really don't care?"

Cassandra shrugged. "Just a place, right? We have churches at home." She scratched the back of her head. "And tourist trap just seems… needless."

Unwilling to pursue a potentially depressing matter further, Sadie went back to waiting in silence and cursed still not having anything on hand to entertain herself. Eventually, the train arrived, and whatever the apprehensions from their last trip, the five boarded.

The short trip ended at Termini Station, a station with most of the sterility of a US airport. Though only a few folk from Fiumicino rode in on the early trip, bodies bustled all about the train station. Dominique led the way, Cassandra, Sadie, Tim and Stephanie kept at a brisk pace to keep up and not be separated by the rush of groggy but determined travelers within.

"We'll catch a ride from one of the cab drivers by the street," Dominique said. "It will be expensive, but it will keep us looking innocuous."

In the midst of the movement, Stephanie bumped hard into a small body and something plastic went flying across the floor. She stepped away from the group for just a moment, knelt down, and picked up a plastic, orange, toy airplane. It only took a moment of looking around to identify a little boy from her path in a long-sleeved, striped shirt and a red hat, his face dipped down.

"Catch up in a second, you guys," she called to the rest of the party. She hurried to the child and bent down. "Hey, sorry about that, bud. Believe this is yours."

The little boy took a second longer than she would have expected to respond. When he looked up, Stephanie's stomach churned. The eyes that looked back at her were pure white, and the tight flesh around his face bore a gray complexion. He looked back and forth between her and the toy airplane.

Doing her best to mask her discomfort, Stephanie set the toy down at his feet. "I gotta go now. Get back to your mom and dad and watch out." She regretted the words as soon as she'd said them, but stood up straight, turned on her heel, and tried not to move too quickly as she pursued her companions.

When she caught up, Tim asked, "Everything okay?"

"Keep moving, don't slow down," Stephanie said. "I have a bad feeling about that kid I just bumped into."

Sadie looked to her and swallowed hard.

Doninique maintained his pace but glared at her. "Kid? A child?"

"Yeah, I bumped into him." Stephanie lowered her voice. "But he looked—I don't even know. Demonic? Or maybe—"

Sadie concluded for her, "Undead?"

The five passed through the station's exit and Dominique's face twisted with disgust. "They might not necessarily know what you look like—quick, how did you react when you saw that thing?"

"I tried to play it cool and act like there was nothing weird about him." Stephanie shook her head. "That might have been the most suspicious thing I could have done."

Dominique gave her a grave nod. Cars and cabs moved swiftly past the pickup lanes they stood next to and exited into a road congested with traffic. Across the street looked to be a waiting area of some sort, lines of cars there were interrupted only by a single red motorcycle with its helmeted driver leaned against it. After a few seconds of contemplation, when next he spoke, he did so much louder than the hushed whisper he'd employed before. "There's no reason for any of you to come any further." He put out an open hand to Tim. "Give me the icon. I'll take the rest of the way."

Tim stared at his hand. "What?"

"I said give it to me, I'll finish this pilgrimage myself. Now."

Before Tim could respond, Sadie stepped forward and pushed her backpack into his hand. "Good riddance to bad rubbish." When the others looked to her in confusion, she hushed herself and said, "You guys all still have costumes in your bags."

Dominique accepted the bag, gave her a little nod, and hailed for one of the many cars that slipped in and out of the dropoff lanes before them. "I'll see you there." One of the cabs came to a stop, he slipped inside, and within the minute was off. None of the four was watching the space across the street, but the man who waited with the motorcycle climbed on just as Dominique departed.

The longer any of the four contemplated this plan, the worse it started to feel. Couldn't the enemy just split up and monitor both sides? Was this really the best strategy? Had Dominique been truly selfless just then? Tim was the first to decide it was no time to linger, stuck out his hand, and hailed for a cab of their own. Within seconds, one arrived.

The cab driver flashed a big, friendly smile beneath a bushy moustache and motioned them in. Tim took the front seat, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Sadie slipped into the back.

"We need to get out of here, now." Tim dug out his wallet and handed over several large euros.

"Oh yes, very good sir." The cabby accepted the bills. "Where are we headed today?"

"Vatican City. And we need to move, now."

"The Vatican is a beautiful spot," he said. "Absolutely beautiful. Let me just run the total here. Such a nice day, isn't it?"

Tim scowled. "How much more will you need to put your foot on the gas?"

The driver balked. "That wasn't very nice, my friend. And you may have made me lose my place in counting."

Tim opened his mouth to object, but Stephanie spoke up from the back seat. "Oh crap, Tim? Tim! Give him some more if he wants it, I think one of them is this way!"

A lanky-bodied man in a flat-faced wooden mask moved at a brisk walk toward the taxi. Tim fumbled around until he found the lock on his door and pressed it down. "Look, I'll let you have whatever's here in the wallet, and more if you can give me some time. My stepfather, he's a billionaire-"

"Yes, yes. And if my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a bicycle." The driver said. "Settle in, we're going to—"

When the slender creature reached the car it raised one arm high. Tight in its grip it held a carved stone that looked like something between a club and a small hammer.

"Drive!"

The masked enemy smashed the weapon— a Mapuche clava— into the hood of the taxi. The sound of crushed metal and hisses in the engine made the cabbie jerk up and scream. "Aye, you! Get away from my car!"

From the back, Sadie called up, "We told you to drive, now drive."

"Are you trying to trick me?" he said. "All of you, get out of my cab—"

Tim rose and reached past the cabbie, despite his protests. With a flip of the driver's door lock and a swift kick, he threw the driver to the curb. "Sorry. Get out of here, that thing is after us, not you."

The shouts and curses of the cabbie were cutoff as Tim rammed a foot into the gas pedal. The slim beast at the side of the car missed his target, his clava scrapped the roof instead of the hood as Tim sped into the streets.