Of Saints and Shadows (1994) (31 page)

“WE MUST ASSUME THAT OCTAVIAN IS aware of our plans,” Father Mulkerrin said, fury seething in his mind, barely contained behind his eyes.

“I still don’t understand how he was able to come onto holy ground,” Cardinal Garbarino said, shaking his head. The man was still partially in shock.

“I told you, Giancarlo. The creature fought me during the day. In the sun! He should not even have been able to be outside, never mind being able to transform himself in the light of day.”

“But how?”

“God knows. But you’ve read the book as I have. Somehow he’s freed himself from the fetters our forebears placed on his kind those centuries ago. Why, that’s the very thing we’ve been trying to prevent by killing the oldest of the Defiant Ones. But Octavian . . . he’s a mere pup, barely five centuries old. He shouldn’t be—”

“Well, that ought to do for now, Liam. We’ve got to forget about how and why for the moment and start to do something about it. We cannot wait. We must move out today and be in place to attack tomorrow at first light. And we’ve got to get that book back.”

“But, Giancarlo,” Mulkerrin said, worried now, “I told you we must assume Octavian knows of our plans, and that would mean he is headed for Venice as we speak, to warn the rest of the demonspawn. We can’t wait another day!”

“What would you have us do? Attack them at night? Suicide.”

And then silence reigned, and the two men realized they had been shouting at each other. It had been only twenty-some-odd minutes since Peter Octavian had stolen their most prized possession, their guidebook and bible, the reason for their very existence—
The Gospel of Shadows.

They would have it back.

“Round them up,” Garbarino said quietly. “At dawn, round them ail up and get them moving. We have until noon, no later, and we must be gone. By ones and twos we’ll leave, on foot, by car, however. And tell them—tell them all—we won’t be coming back.”

“We?”

“Of course we. I’m joining you. Oh, I’ve a couple of people I’ll leave here, agents nobody knows are even acquainted with me. But I don’t want the rest of the church getting underfoot, getting in our way.”

“How will you prevent that?” Mulkerrin truly wanted to know.

“I’m going to pay a visit to His Holiness. By noon our brothers here will have more to worry about than where we’ve disappeared to.”

There were four of them, three men and a woman. They were Mulkerrin’s immediate subordinates, and through them he would command the Vatican forces when they marched for the final time against the Defiant Ones.

The three priests were Isaac, Thomas, and Robert Montesi, brothers whose father had been Mulkerrin’s star pupil, a powerful sorcerer who’d been killed by an ancient Defiant One. Mulkerrin hadn’t yet discovered which creature killed Vincent Montesi, but he had a description of the thing, and he would always search for it. Montesi had been the only being Mulkerrin had ever allowed himself to call friend.

The fourth of Mulkerrin’s lieutenants was a nun, Sister Mary Magdalene. Mulkerrin had never known her by any other name. Her once-attractive face had been terribly scarred during an assassination mission years before. She had fought on, undaunted, as the creature had torn at her face, ripping her right eye from its socket. The lids were sewn together, but it was easy to sec there was nothing behind them. And Mary refused to wear a patch.

All were skilled in the arts of sorcery. Skilled, but not masters. The book must be retrieved for them to complete their studies and for those under them to also continue to learn. As Mulkerrin explained their situation Mary’s grave face became even more grim. Isaac and Thomas stood taller, preparing themselves mentally for what was to come. And Robert . . . Robert Montesi smiled.

Oh, what a weapon he is, Mulkerrin thought.

“How many do we have?” he asked them.

“Two hundred twenty-two,” Robert answered, and even Mulkerrin was impressed with the number.

“Nearly half a hundred more in and around Rome,” Mary added, referring to a group of women she herself had been training.

“And more than one hundred and thirty near Venice,” Isaac said.

“One fifty,” Thomas finished.

“More than four hundred! What a glorious event,” and now Mulkerrin also stood taller, his eyes wide and his mind reaching to encompass the scope of their plan. Final victory was within their grasp.

“For the love of God,” Mary intoned.

“For the love of God,” the Montesi brothers repeated.

This put a damper on Mulkerrin’s spirits. Certainly it was for the love of God. But it was for himself as well.
He
would be victorious. He would control all of the dark forces of the universe, as well as a powerful army of sorcerers. They would have to be away from the church for some time after the event. But in ten years, twenty, he would return and wrest control with whatever force, physical or magical, was necessary. He would be pope. And slowly the church would become nothing more than a magical extension of his will. His every darkest dream would be enacted. Garbarino and all others who purported to be his belters would be gone.

All of his enemies.

And then, of course, he would simply have to find new ones.

“Liam!”

It was Robert Montesi.

“Yes, Robert. I’m sorry, I was lost in prayer for a moment. I ask God to bless our endeavor.” He paused. “You must pass the word down that today is the day. All of your soldiers must have their weapons and be gone from Vatican City before noon. Inconspicuously! By twos and threes and not to be seen as doing anything out of the ordinary if possible. Tell them . . . yes, tell them they will not be coming back and to be prepared for that. Regardless of the outcome, we cannot return here or we’ll jeopardize all the church has worked for.”

He looked at them, but they seemed satisfied with his explanation. They would know nothing of Garbarino’s actions.

“All Rome personnel will board the train we have prepared at the train yard. Make sure they all know where it is, two-point-five miles from the station. Thomas.”

“Sir?”

“Alert Venice personnel to our arrival. We will rendezvous with them at midnight exactly, just north of Santa Lucia station at the warehouse next to the Scalzi Church. At that time we will make our way into the city to take our positions so that we may move out at dawn.”

“At night, Father,” Isaac asked. “Aren’t we sure to be spotted?”

“Of course some of us will be seen by our quarry, perhaps even killed. Nevertheless, we must be ready by dawn. Give instructions that no Defiant One is to be attacked at night. If one of our people is attacked, they may defend themselves, but in such a case they must not allow the Defiant One to escape to warn its fellows.”

“During the attack, sir, what of the civilians?”

“We’ve been over this, Thomas. It shouldn’t come to that once people see the monsters we’re there to destroy. But if it does, you know the standing orders. Civilians are expendable. Property damage is expected and more than likely efficacious. Fire is one of our best natural weapons. “Any questions?”

“None at the moment, Father,” Mary replied sweetly.

“No, sir,” the Montesis answered together.

“Meet me back here in one hour with a full report and to receive additional instructions.”

“In the name of God,” they all said.

“In the name of God,” Mulkerrin repeated.

It was strange enough that this familiar-faced intruder should interrupt Peter and Meaghan—just when they were starting to get better acquainted—by knocking on the window of a speeding train. But now that they had let the stranger in, not only had he apparently recognized Peter, but he had called him by his birth name, his mortal name, Nicephorus Dragases. When the surprise wore off, Peter got annoyed.

“You know me,” he said, not a question.

“I reckon I do,” the intruder answered.

“I don’t recall ever meeting you.”

“Oh, you haven’t, but even so, I know you well, Nicephorus Dragases,” he said, using the offending name again.

“How in hell do you know that name?” Peter growled, and the intruder retreated, hands up.

“Please, sir. I don’t intend offense. We mourn the same tragedy, that of our shared friend and father, Karl Von Reinman,” the intruder said, and lowered his head and his hands.

Peter was not convinced. “What is your name, brother?” he asked the stranger.

“Cody October,” the intruder answered, with no small amount of pride.

Peter Octavian laughed. He shook his head to show Cody that he meant no offense, and laughed a bit more.

“Oh, shit, you scared us. I thought you looked familiar.”

Now it was Cody’s turn to look confused. “But we’ve just established that we have never met,” he insisted.

“Much to my regret, sir, and it’s an honor that we do so now,” Peter said, extending a hand, which was promptly shaken. “I’ve been an admirer of your insubordination for years, and of your talents long before then.”

Cody blushed then, if such could ever be said of an immortal, and executed a deep bow to the both of them. “I’m flattered.”

“Uh-mmm.” Meaghan cleared her throat, and Peter turned toward her, finally recovering from his nervous relief and genuine excitement at meeting this other creature, a fellow prodigal son to the same unnatural father.

“I’m so sorry. Meaghan Gallagher, meet William F. Cody,” Peter said, and Cody bowed again as Meaghan nodded with an expectant smile. “Better known, of course, as Buffalo Bill.”

Buffalo Bill?
Meaghan smiled a genuine smile at Cody, then at Peter. “You gotta be kiddin’ me,” she said, her Boston accent making a rare appearance.

Cody grimaced.

“As uncomfortable as I am with the nickname, and as much as I’ve always preferred Will or just plain Cody, it is the label that made me famous. A mixed blessing, at best.”

“Unbelievable,” Meaghan said, shaking her head. “Who’s next, Sitting Bull?”

“Unfortunately not,” Cody answered, though it was obvious that Meaghan had expected none. “Thanks to a bastard named McLaughlin, my blood brother is far deader than I.

“Now, Peter,” Cody continued, “unless of course you prefer your true name?”

“No more than you do your stage name.”

“Well taken. I’m sorry to have interrupted your and Meaghan’s, um, evening, but since I am here, perhaps we ought to have a look at that book?”

That brought Peter and Meaghan back to reality.

“How do you know about the book, and how do you come to know I’ve got it?” Peter asked as suspicion began to creep back in.

“Well, I certainly didn’t just happen to guess you were on this train. I was watching the Vatican for an opportunity to grab someone who might have some answers. As for the book, I sort of assumed I knew about it from the same place you did.”

“And where might that be?” Meaghan asked, still in the dark about so many things, and afraid, though she’d never show it, afraid of the dark.

“Well, from Karl, of course,” Cody answered, frustrated.

“From Karl?” Peter asked.

“Certainly. He’s been after the thing for years. I figured that’s why Karl was assassinated, because he’d gone after the book. He wasn’t nearly as old or powerful as the others.”

“What others?” Peter asked, not really wanting to know.

“What the hell is going on here?” Meaghan said, mostly to herself.

Cody explained, what he knew anyway, about the assassinations, about Karl’s interest in the book, about the attempt on his own life in Monte Carlo and his stakeout of the Vatican. In return, Peter and Meaghan shared their side of the story, Cardinal Guiscard’s discovery of the book, the murders that led to their confrontation with Mulkerrin, the many coincidences that led Peter into the battle.

“You know,” Peter finished, “I thought I would have to put off my search for Karl’s murderers until after I’d solved this case, or leave it to the coven. But now . . . all roads lead to Rome.”

“You mentioned the coven again,” Meaghan said, “but you still haven’t explained it, the setup, everything. If you two are part of the same coven, how could you not know each other?”

“There’s more to it than that,” Cody answered before Peter could. “Karl Von Reinman brought me to this life on my deathbed, because he knew me and didn’t want me to die. Only when Peter left did Karl bring me into the coven, years later. Hence my name. ‘October,’ ‘Octavian,’ see any similarity?”

“Of course, but . . .”

“Number eight, Meaghan,” Cody continued. “Karl, though I loved him, was an arrogant son of a bitch. When he renamed us, he numbered us. Una was his lover. Jasmine
Decard
, Louis
Onze
, Veronica
Settimo
, Rolf
Sechs.
These were the members of our coven, all numbered. It was one of the things that made me leave so soon after joining them. And Peter’s reasons, if I may be so presumptuous, were also my own.”

“So when did . . .” Meaghan began, then redirected her question. “Peter, why did you leave? And when?”