Silver Knight

  “Well, do you have any maps of the catacombs?” I asked hopefully, ticking off one question from the list Sol had made me memorize.

  “I am sure there are some with our records. I shall send you down with my assistant, Graves, shortly. What else besides maps do you think you will need?”

  “I don’t suppose you have any weapons do you?” Again asked hopefully…item number two.

  “No, I am so very sorry. I won’t be able to help you with that.” He shook his head and laced his fingers across his round belly.

  “I think just the maps would do then and maybe the reporter’s address so that I can talk to him too,” I said, finishing with item number three on my mental list.

  “Certainly. Graves can also get you the reporter’s information. When do you think you will be going to the catacombs?” he asked me. Was it me or was it strange that he seemed to have no problem with a seventeen-year-old girl going off to deep, dark tunnels looking for apparently many evil demons that would most probably kill her? Had he not considered having some priests go into the catacombs? I know there used to be warriors for the Vatican, maybe the Knights Templar possibly could go check the situation out. But no. Here I am instead. Okay.

  “It will take me a couple of days to prepare and find weapons, so I think the earliest would be Friday.” Friday was three days away and was item number four on my list—lay a smoke screen for the bishop. This would give us time to prepare, but we would really be going in earlier. Sol didn’t want anyone, even a bishop, knowing our exact plan of attack. Such suspicion.

  We got up, and he escorted me to the door where he raised his voice slightly and called for his assistant. Standing next to him waiting, I noticed that he wore Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men. It was my favorite. I’d gotten some for my dad last Christmas. It was odd for a bishop to wear cologne, wasn’t it? Weren’t they supposed to be above that kind of thing…all about God and faith, not worldly matters?

  Graves reflected his name in that he was a serious young man. Not smiling but with a kind expression, he sedately escorted me to the archives. There he dredged up old hand drawn maps of the Domitilla Catacombs specifically showing the layout of the corridors and rooms of the dead. They had a copier available, but I only made one copy so as not to make anyone suspicious that others were with me—007 had nothing on me. With the maps in hand, Graves then gave me Mr. Black’s address and pointed me in the right direction.

  As I came up out of the archives, I saw David in the reception area. He was asking for a bathroom and giving them a bunch of trouble trying to translate his desire by making up absurd words and phrases. The one I came in on was ‘casa de peepee.’ I almost choked on laughter, quickly turning it into a cough. Maintaining the cover, I simply left and went to our agreed meeting place to wait for him. He didn’t take long.

  “Well?” he wanted to know as soon as he came up to me.

  “I have maps,” I said handing them to him. “He also gave me the address of the reporter who broke the catacomb killings story.”

  “Okay, I’ll take this back to Sol if you feel all right to go see the reporter on your own. I doubt there’s anything wrong with him.”

  “Sure, no problem. His office isn’t very far from here. I’ll just do the whole journalism student thing. I’ll see you back at the hotel later.” I tried to look confident, but my insides were still kind of shaking from being in the Vatican on my own. I suppose I had all the brazen confidence of most teenagers, but I was in a foreign country—to hunt demons. I wondered if I would make it to my eighteenth birthday just a few short weeks away.+

  8 The Reporter

  After leaving David, I went straight to the reporter’s office, still a little nervous having to go meet yet another complete stranger by myself and pretend to be something I wasn’t. The others thought the journalism student idea was great and had thought that I would be the least suspicious looking because I was the youngest of the warriors. Our hope was that he would give me the details on how he had connected the information on the various cases. To add to my nervousness, I only knew the address and had forgotten whom I was actually meeting.

  To try to appear as an innocuous teenager that day, I wore my sketchers, some low-rise khaki knee pants, and a T-shirt that had a cat wearing huge, pink sunglasses on it with SUPER COOL printed below. Hopefully, I looked like any other tourist wandering through Rome.

  I exited the elevator into a short hallway lined with doors, one of which was open. On a visible corner of a desk, there was a mound of papers that looked as if they were about to topple off. Approaching the door, I saw his profile. Short, coal black hair was spiked just a bit as if he frequently ran his fingers through it in frustration. He had a tanned complexion and a straight nose over a firm mouth. Insanely gorgeous in an older Johnny Depp kind of way, I thought...not the Pirates of the Caribbean Depp but the Sleepy Hollow Depp. His dark brown eyes were mildly curious as he looked up to see me in his doorway.

  My heart paused for the barest second, sputtered and then started racing. I didn’t think I was going to be able to breathe. I quickly looked away and saw his placard: Alex Black. Oh. My. God. I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes. I knew that I couldn’t let him know who I was. Why was fate so cruel as to throw him at me so unexpectedly like this? Why hadn’t I thought that if my dreams were indeed real—my real past lives—that he would also be real? He’d killed me how many times?

  “Yes?” his deep velvet voice sent quivers down my spine. I realized I was holding my breath and let it out explosively as I opened my eyes. He hadn’t changed into another person. So much for wishing.

  “Hi,” good grief my voice actually squeaked, get a grip. I cleared my throat, “Hi, I was wondering if you were the reporter who wrote the articles about the catacomb killings?” I couldn’t believe I got all that out and actually sounded somewhat sensible.

  “Yes, I am,” he seemed surprised.

  “My name’s...” oh my God, I couldn’t give him my real name. So I quickly decided on my middle name as a good cover. “Grace. I’m here with my journalism class touring Italy.”

  “That’s wonderful. Such a terrific opportunity for you. You’re from the States?”

  “Yes. And my teacher gave us an assignment. We each have to find a really meaty story while we’re over here and try to interview the journalist,” I paused expectantly and tried to smile at him even though my lips felt frozen.

  “You were hoping to interview me, I take it?” he asked with a smile.

  “Well your story was really great, and I’d love to hear how you uncovered all of the background information. How did you piece it all together? Did you go to any of the crime scenes? Have you been in the catacombs? Which of the catacombs do you suspect of being the most dangerous? Are they dangerous? When did you first suspect that the murders were tied together? How did you come to that conclusion? I mean, from what I understand, it seems like they appear pretty random.”

  He started laughing and held up his hands defensively, “Whoa, whoa young lady. One question at a time.” When his hands first came up, I swear I saw a shadowy image of a crossbow and my knees shook.

  He looked down at his desk and heaved a sigh, “Okay, first, I’m hungry. Why don’t you walk with me to the corner where there’s a restaurant where we can sit in the sun to discuss all the darkness?” He stood and came around his desk towards me, and I backed into the hall hurriedly. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him—didn’t want to sit, to eat—nothing! But this was why I had come, and I couldn’t believe it might be this easy. Nothing is this easy, I thought. What if he recognized me? How would I die this time?

  As we headed to the elevator, from the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at me. I wasn’t quite brave enough to look at him full on. The confusion of my emotions was unbelievable. I was torn, wanting to run away as fast as possible and wanting to throw myself into his arms, confessing all. There had been a split second of pure joy at seeing him, followed
by the desire to let him to know who I was. Of course, that would mean he might kill me again. What was he doing here? Why was he exposing murders? What was really going on?

  Get a grip, Diana, I thought, almost in a complete state of panic. He doesn’t know who you are. There’s no way he can find out unless you tell him who you are. So there’s nothing to worry about. I took a huge settling breath.

  As we got on the elevator and headed down, he asked, “How old are you?”

  “I’m seventeen. My birthday is in June though, so I’ll be eighteen soon.” I sounded normal there.

  “June? Not the summer solstice by any chance?” he asked. What an odd question, I thought, though it was Helen's birthday, too.

  “Well, yes, it’s June twenty-first.”

  “ Hmmm. Where are your classmates?”

  “This is our time to explore on our own. I’ve saved my story for our last stop, so I have to finish within the next few days.” I inhaled deeply through my nose while we were on the elevator. He smelled wonderfully. He was also wearing my favorite men’s cologne. That was just too weird. Twice in one day. Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men must be really popular in Italy.

  He cleared his throat, and I realized that I was wavering, starting to lean towards him. Fortunately the elevator doors opened, and he ushered me out. So far, so good. He hadn't killed me yet.

  We went to the corner café and sat at a bistro table outside in the sun and ordered, what else—pasta. I had a hard time looking at him, so I felt safe looking at the table and the surrounding sidewalk. To get my attention after missing what he must have said, he reached over and touched my wrist. It felt as if a jolt of electricity flashed from the point of his fingertips through my arm causing me to nearly jump out of my chair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said laughingly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I was looking around and wasn’t really listening to you, even though I should have been listening to you because that’s why I’m here, to listen to you…” and the babbling finally petered out. I was flustered, and if it was possible, it felt like my entire body was blushing! He must think me a complete moron.

  “So tell me again, you're a journalism student?” He was looking at me speculatively now. I truly wished I could read minds. In some mysterious way did he now know? I mean, am I always an idiot around him?

  “Yes,” I answered quickly. “So, how did you get into journalism?” Sound mature, I told myself.

  “I enjoy reading and telling stories. Plus I felt that I had something to share with the world.” It was his turn to study the table.

  “So tell me about this case.”

  “I was researching crime statistics in Rome covering the past few years. I noticed there were many unsolved crimes that all happened about the same time in the evenings. They seemed to use the same type of weapons, and there was a general lack of knowledge about the crimes. To me there was a definite pattern, and it made me curious. So I started looking more closely.”

  “So curiosity was you’re driving force?”

  “Yes, I am a very curious man.” There was a probing look in his eyes as he answered me. I had the sneaky suspicion that I was the new curiosity. Great.

  We stayed at the café for about an hour while he told me various details of the cases and how he’d connected them. We had finished eating and were wrapping up the conversation when those two foes, bad luck and ill timing, struck—Sam saw me from across the street.

  “Hey, Diana!” he exclaimed as he ran up. “Maggie and I got concert tickets for M-Cube, an Italian rock band, for tonight!” He stopped when he noticed Alex and added, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “It’s all right. We were just finishing up,” Alex said. He looked at Sam speculatively. “This is your boyfriend?” he asked me.

  “No, Sam’s just a friend. He and my other friend Maggie are the ones dating,” I added irrelevantly but somehow feeling that I needed to clear that up. “Well, we have to go. It was very nice meeting you, and I really appreciate all of your help with my story.” I grabbed Sam’s arm, and we threaded our way through the tables away from Alex. I glanced back when we were about to turn the corner, and he was looking after us intently.

  “I think you just told him who I am, Sam,” I said, a feeling of desperation settling in my stomach.

  “What do you mean?” he asked bewildered.

  “I told him my name was Grace, and you said ‘Diana’ when you came up.”

  “Why would you tell him a different name?”

  “Sam, that was Alexander Black. My arch enemy! My nemesis!”

  “No way!”

  “Yes, and you just told him that not only am I alive, but I’m in Rome with him. He is probably working out how to kill me right now! He’s thinking, what new and painful way can I use to torture Diana this go ‘round?” I deepened my voice to imitate his.

  “I think you’re over-reacting,” he said with a frown on his face. “Surely he wasn’t paying that much attention to what I said.”

  “I don’t know, Sam. I just had the weirdest vibe the whole time I was with him. The way he looked at me…like he knew. It’s okay. Let’s just get back to the hotel. I’ll feel better once I’m behind a locked door.”

  “Does this mean you don’t want to go see the band?” he asked plaintively, causing me to laugh at his pitiful expression. I grabbed his hand, and we started jogging, weaving between people on the walkway, and hurrying to the hotel.

  When we got back, Maggie got her laptop out, and we started looking up information about the catacombs, also reading all the stories we could find that Alex had written. Soon the others showed up, and we found that David had made more copies of the maps.

  We were at my hotel since we’d gotten such a large suite, and it could accommodate all of us for the meeting. He handed everyone copies so that we could carefully study the different layers. Then they wanted to know what had happened at the Vatican and the reporter’s office. So I told them everything I had learned.

  Well, almost everything. With a warning look at Sam, I left out all mention of a previous relationship with Alex. Thinking that the others would want to track him down to finish him off, I just wasn’t up for a fight with Alex this time. I just wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. Once I was back in America, I didn’t believe there was any way for him to be able to find me.

  “So that’s how Mr. Black says he connected the information and placed the culprits near the Catacombs of Domitilla. When we got back here, we did some research.” I waved for Maggie to take over the story. Even though Sam and Maggie weren’t going into the catacombs with us, they were included in the meeting. Sam had been arguing that at least he needed to go with me even if he stayed outside just in case I needed some help. But I knew from my dreams that I would be reincarnated. I didn’t know about him. So, he would stay behind with Maggie.

  “What we found out was that the Catacombs of Domitilla are the oldest, and the only ones still containing bones. There are about nine miles of passages and caves dug into the soft volcanic rock that go down four stories. It is the only one to contain a subterranean basilica as its entrance. Here’s the really interesting part. In 2009, at the request of the Vatican, specifically Bishop Soratino, the responsibility for the administration of the Saint Domitilla Catacombs was put in the hands of the Divine Word Missionaries, which is a Roman Catholic Society of priests and Brothers,” she finished up, looking around at everyone.

  “Do you think it’s weird that Bishop Soratino didn’t mention the Divine Word Missionaries?” I asked.

  “I think it’s strange. Perhaps one of us should check it out?” Helen put in questioningly, but Sol was concentrating on the tunnels themselves.

  “Nine miles? They could be hiding anywhere in there. We should all study the maps some more and look for the most likely hiding places. Then, we’ll split up the levels. I’ll take the lowest, Jarret the one right above m
e, David and Helen the next, and then Diana can take the top level.” Sol divvied up the catacombs. I realized that he thought he was giving me the safest area. It was sweet and immensely appreciated! I know that I've killed demons in my dreams, but that was it. Real life was a bit scary. Would I be successful?

  “We found a place that will supply you with silver weapons. Diana already got a dagger, and we got a few items from there, too. The old guy running the place was having his grandson put together some packs for us to pick up. He said he had some grenades that spewed silver shrapnel. Really cool. They should be ready later this afternoon. Maggie and I can go get them.” Sam volunteered as I was maintaining a low profile outside of the hotel in case Alex was sniffing around. Nothing Sam said could convince me that Alex didn’t know it was me. I just knew that he knew.

  “No, I’ll go,” Jarret volunteered. “I’d like to see the place. Meet the old guy and his grandson.”

  “I’ll check out the Divine Word Missionaries to see if they might be involved more deeply than just as caretakers,” Helen said.

  “I’d like to see the weapons store, too,” David said. “You never know what you can find in places like that.”

  “I’ll recon the area around the catacombs,” Sol added thoughtfully. “Maybe I'll spot something useful.”

  With that, they left to go their separate ways, agreeing to meet back at the suite later that evening.

  9 Pompeii

  “Hey, while they’re gone and we have some time, let’s go see Pompeii,” Maggie suggested as she lounged on the sofa.

  “I really don’t think we have time,” I responded as the hair popped out on my arms in goose bumps.