I saw the Basilica Beata Vergina ahead of me and slowed my pace. I watched as a small car swerved back into traffic, and a maniac on a Vespa cut the driver off, causing a symphony of blaring horns.
I stood on the sidewalk and took in the scene as a typical tourist would with my phone pointed at the church and the surrounding buildings. The basilica was a beautiful 16th-century structure with crumbling masonry and exposed worn bricks in a pale shade of terra-cotta. The large metal doors had figures of angels cast to look as if they were emerging from the surface. It was beautiful, but in a disturbing way because it gave the impression the church had trapped the angels in the act of escaping and sealed them in iron for all eternity. It didn’t seem like great advertising to me.
I looked up at the dome that covered the central part of the church and noticed the slant of the sun. It would be dark in a few hours, and I still had no idea how to catch the rampaging jinn and clean up the magical mess. I didn’t even have a plan about how to get into the church, which was being guarded by the fire chief because magical purple flames were still burning inside. I turned the corner and headed down the side street toward the back of the church to look for a back door.
The church was enormous, and the side was almost half a block in length. At the end of a high wall, an iron fence led to an alley behind the complex. I looked around, and when I was sure nobody was watching, I pushed on the gate. Locked.
I studied the old lock for a moment before pulling a current of earth energy up through the ground and aiming a tiny spark toward the mechanism. It took me about seven sparks, and I was sweating and shaking when I heard something click and pushed against the gate again. It opened with a soft screech, and I slipped inside.
I crept along the back of the building, listening for voices before I realized it was much less conspicuous just to stroll in like I belonged there. I contemplated investing in spy lessons when I got home. Maybe Kenny could add that to my lesson schedule.
The back door to the church was open, and I peered into the interior. The light that streamed through the stained glass windows illuminated the cross-shaped layout of the church, but it had taken on a purple cast from the flames. I walked around the perimeter behind the altar, staying in the shadows as I headed toward the front of the building.
I crept forward, listening to the quiet conversation of two people I assumed were with the fire department. Their Italian was rapid enough to only understand a few words, but it was enough to get the gist.
From what Peter told us and what the news had reported, I knew the fire had been burning for days, and nothing they tried had put it out. They’d foamed the flames, only to have them spring back up. They’d flooded the aisle with water, but the fire evaporated it, and the fear of destroying the interior of the church had made them search for other options. The most recent theory was to let the fire burn itself out, and that was the topic of conversation between the two people in the church. They also debated how long it might take a new gel accelerant to burn out, but I knew the magic that fanned the flames was being fed by a current of energy that flowed deep beneath the city. Those flames would take an eternity to burn out on their own.
I might not be able to repair a broken relationship, but I could certainly put out a magical fire. I slipped back the way I’d entered and exited the church into the still bright sunshine. I needed less of an audience to accomplish that task, so I headed toward the next stop on my list.
Chapter 9
The catacombs were tourist attractions, and I stood in line and bought a ticket like all of the other visitors, taking the pamphlet and guidebook and stuffing them into my bag. A tall blond woman stood behind me, and I could feel the magic that rolled off her in faint waves. I turned to get a quick look at her, but she was involved in something on her phone and didn’t notice my glance.
She was well put together, with a white t-shirt artfully twisted in the front to show an inch of skin above the waistband of her khaki silk joggers. Her sneakers were printed with a designer logo and looked comfy. She wore a crossbody bag from the same designer, and her sunglasses were dark and expensive. Her straight blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and when not in bright sunlight, she’d probably pass for ten years younger. In the sunlight, the faint lines around her lips put her a few years into her forties. Slightly older than me, but rocking it in a way that I envied.
We shuffled around, waiting for the tour to start, and I felt myself growing increasingly curious about the woman behind me. Her magic seemed to float around her, and every once in a while, I could swear a tendril of it brushed against me. I pushed my own magic down and kept my thoughts blank. That wasn’t easy with the state of my life, but I muscled through.
The tour started, and the guide unlocked the iron gate that marked the entrance to the catacombs. I’d done the tour a few years before, but I tried to look interested, and I even resisted the urge to correct a few inaccuracies in the tour guide’s presentation.
I love a catacomb as much as the next girl, but I lingered over the empty tombs where the bodies were placed, letting myself fall to the back of the crowd. The tour made a few turns through the tunnels, past walls of skulls and bones, and I fell further and further behind until I was sure I was alone. As the group rounded the next corner, I slipped away, down a dark corridor lined with occupied tombs that would make most people’s skin crawl. For an archaeologist, rows of long-dead people are just another day at the office.
The light from the tour route grew dimmer in the distance, and I pulled out my cell phone, using the map Chairman Mariani had sent me through Majeedah to navigate. I shouldn’t have bothered because I could feel the tingling of magic the closer I got to the location of the other jinn-related fire that Peter had mentioned.
The Guild had done an excellent job of covering up the magical nature of the incident. The blobs of wax indicated there had been candles around the site, and the scorched patch of earth had a nice slight depression that looked like the bottom of a liquor bottle with a few shards of broken glass around for effect. It looked like there’d been a party until someone knocked the alcohol into the flame and ended the fun.
Footprints were still visible on the dusty floors, and a few pieces of litter indicated kids: Someone carelessly left a plastic lighter in a corner beneath a tomb and a tube of chapstick peeked out from behind a small rock. There was even a wrapper from a stick of gum tucked into one of the tombs. The archaeologist in me shuddered in horror.
I was about to turn and leave when I noticed the two interlocking ovals inscribed on the dirt floor. They were almost unidentifiable because of the footprints that crossed them, but enough of the dirt was undisturbed that I could see the marking.
A Solomon’s Knot. I thought, bending down to get a closer look at the symbol. A piece of the puzzle clicked into place for me. King Solomon had control over the jinn, so the presence of the symbol meant I was on the right track. The problem was, it looked like somebody had been trying to lure the jinn, and that wasn’t a good sign.
I tuned into the energy of the space, laying my hand on the dirt floor and closing my eyes for a moment. The tingle of the Earth’s natural currents felt so foreign to me that I couldn’t get a clear reading. I looked up at the remains of the long-deceased who was entombed in the niche right behind the bonfire. I could feel a brush of magic against my skin, but it was faint. Walking closer to the skeleton, I pulled a pen out of my purse and began poking into the deep recesses of the carved shelf, looking for something unusual. My pen connected with something that moved, and I aimed my phone flashlight into the crypt. A rock was tucked into the corner, and I leaned forward, stretching my tingling fingers and trying to reach the rock without disturbing the bones.
“Do you need help?”
My startled yelp echoed in the quiet space, and I whirled around to find the blond woman from outside leaning against the wall like she’d been there the entire time.
My jaw worked, but no sound came out.
>
“Would you like me to get that for you?” She asked again, pronouncing the words slowly as if she believed her Italian accent that got in the way of my comprehension. I wish.
“Oh, no. There’s nothing in there. I was just curious.” I said, stepping back from the crypt and trying not to look like a complete nut job who just got caught looting the dead.
She gave me a patient look and leaned into the crypt, reaching her long arm into the darkness and pulling the flat stone out.
“It’s magical, but I don’t know why.” She said, crossing the narrow space and holding the stone out to me.
I blinked. “What do you mean, magical?” I asked innocently.
“Can’t you feel it?” Her eyes were intelligent. She wasn’t buying my routine at all.
Since there was no point in lying, I plucked the stone out of her hand. “Yes. It’s old magic, though.” I turned the rock over in my hand, examining it in the light from my phone. “It’s a serpent symbol, I think,” I said, playing dumb and keeping my mind from focusing on the meaning in case she could read my thoughts.
“I thought you were an archaeologist.” She said.
My eyes met hers, and I smiled. “And why would you think that?”
“Because I’m the one who called Majeedah.” She held out a thin hand. “Paolina Serafini.”
“You weren’t at the meeting I had with the Guild.” I ignored her hand. There was no way I was going to let Paolina touch me.
Paolina smiled and dropped her hand. “My father attends those meetings. I’m afraid my temper is too easily sparked by the lies that are circulated by i tredici.” Confusion must have been all over my face because Paolina smiled. “The thirteen bloodlines of Roma. Every family has a representative in La Gilda Maghi.”
“Why do they lie?” I asked.
“They tell us that we can only practice folk magic, so none of us go looking for power. The magic here has been weak for a very long time, and to cover that up, they have propagated this lie of La Benedicaria. The lie has become very dangerous to witches in Rome.”
I knew what she meant. With the Chanson looking to gain territory, being identified as incapable of strong magic would make you vulnerable to a hostile takeover. Fortunately for La Gilda, the magic was equally broken for foreign visitors and invaders.
“So I’m not here to solve a jinn problem?” I asked.
Paolina smiled. “There is a jinn setting fires; that part is true. The jinn could be connected to the Chanson, or it could be something else that is equally dangerous. I believe we need to find out if the enemy is outside the gates or within our ranks. I believe you can help us do that.”
I leaned back against the wall. “Why me?”
“I know who you are, Dr. Cerasola. Your reputation for arcane archaeology is one of the better-kept secrets, but when I called Majeedah Gobain, I was assured she had the right person for the job. I was not surprised when you arrived in Rome.”
“So Majeedah knew the Guild wasn’t hiring me to find the jinn?” Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so friendly toward the go-between.
“Not at all. The guild wants you to find the jinn, but there are those of us who also want honest answers to larger mysteries. I asked for someone with a particular skill set. Many of us fear the protective magic of Rome has worn off or is being dismantled by someone within La Gilda Maghi. Intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter. We need someone who can find the reason our magic worked in the past and who can figure out how to make it protect our city again.”
“So you don’t want magic restored; you just want better wards around the city?”
Paolina shook her head. “We would like to feel the magic, Dr. Cerasola, but we wouldn’t want anyone to know we have it. I imagine those two things are not compatible.” Her glossy lips had an ironic twist. “La Gilda thought we would be safer with the rules in place, but safety has brought us danger.”
Paolina smiled in a way that showed she appreciated the irony, but the tension in the room was a little thicker. “You want to break the rules?” I asked.
She smiled. “Someday, yes. Right now, the danger is too great to risk the chaos that would cause.”
“So, what do you expect me to do?” I said, glancing at the stone in my hand.
“Stop the jinn from drawing attention to magic and help us find a way to keep our independence.” She gave a vague wave at the staged fire scene.
I nodded, but something in what she said had my mind churning down a different path that didn’t feel good. “I can help do both of those,” I said, skirting around her. “Thanks for reaching this for me. I’ll be in touch.” I walked through the dark tunnels, hoping to find the tour group around the next corner.
I was shaking a little, realizing I had turned my back on an unknown entity, but my senses were on high alert, and I didn’t feel anything malevolent from Paolina. I quickened my pace a bit, listening intently for voices in the catacombs.
The tour participants had bunched up in the Mithraeum beneath a catholic church. The ancient cult had been active in Greece and Rome, but when Christianity blossomed, Mithraism went underground - quite literally. The church had been built on top of the pagan temple to Mithras. That was a typical occurrence, especially in Rome. I looked around at the interior of the pagan worship site and noticed a few symbols that clicked in my head. I looked at the map from the Chairman again and figured I was in the location where he’d said the jinn might have first appeared. I was on the right path, but I still didn’t know what the jinn was after or what it was angry about.
Then again, that was pretty much the story of my entire life at the moment.
After the tour ended and the guide ushered us back onto the street, I made it a point to lose Paolina as quickly as possible. I was sure she wasn’t the only one who was watching me, but she had managed to get entirely too close for my comfort.
I wondered if my mom had left the city with her dog already. I pulled my phone out of my bag and dialed my grandmother.
“Ciao,” Nan said, but I could hear the smile behind her slight Slavic accent.
“Ciao,” I said. “Thanks for the backup with mom.”
“Your stubborn streak isn’t an accident,” Nan said, sounding amused. I could hear people talking in the background. “Your mother called and told me she was disappointed she had to attend to business somewhere else while you were in town. Maybe when you get some time off from work, you can go back again. You know, catch up and have a good long talk.”
A not so subtle hint from Nan, but well deserved. “Do you have an appearance tonight?” I asked. My grandmother is so famous as a psychic that she sells out venues within minutes of the tickets going on sale. I could imagine the audience; expectant and hopeful people looking for a glimpse into life’s mysteries. Nan would provide them with those glimpses, but she had a hard and fast rule about not doing that for her family. I’d resented that when I was younger, but I understood it now. At least, most days, with a healthy twist of occasional resentment because I’m stubborn like that.
“It’s a big show in New Haven. The psychic fair is about to kick off, and I’m headlining, but first, I have to do this silly television interview.” She laughed. “Imagine that! Your grandfather is here. Say hello while this nice lady does my make-up. Having a family member reach out unexpectedly doesn’t always happen at the best time.”
My brain seized for a minute before Pops came on the line. “Chicken! How are you?” He said, using my nickname, which always made me smile. His faint Irish brogue traveling through the air was like music to me.
“I’m fine, Pops. How come you haven’t been by lately? Nan not letting you out of her sight?” Since his near brush with a heart attack, Pops hadn’t made an appearance at my house. I wondered if that was because he thought he wasn’t invited since Kai had moved in.
“She has a few more dates scheduled in the south, but the next time we’re on the east coast, we’ll come by for a weekend. Your grandmother says you
’re too busy right now focusing on the present, but I told her you wouldn’t ignore the past for very long. Tell Kai I enjoyed the last few Irish jokes, but I still think my greyhound joke was better.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I promised I’d pass the message on.
“Do you know anyone who specializes in Mesopotamian History, or maybe Summerian?” I asked, not sure where I should start looking for the answer to the mystery.
Pops thought about that for a few minutes. “I think there’s a library near you that has some old texts that might be useful. I’ll text you the address and the email for the department head of Middle Eastern Studies in Ireland.” We chatted a few minutes more, and once I was sure nobody suspicious was following me, I doubled back toward the church and said goodbye to Pops. I walked toward the back of the basilica, scanning the surrounding buildings, and decided that broad daylight wasn’t the best time to embark on my mission unless I wanted to be seen on tourist videos and security cameras.
Chapter 10
I walked back to the hotel with a sense of impending doom. My mom, Kai, and Basir were all mad at me, and I wanted to grab them all and scream, “I’m doing the best I can!” but I knew they were more than a little bit right. I paused at the door to the hotel and took a steadying breath before I put the key in the door. I made sure to paste an apologetic look on my face when I pushed the door open.
I shouldn’t have bothered.
The room was empty, and I felt absolutely gut-punched. I heard a splash from the bathroom, and I peeked my head in. Ka’Tehm popped out of the water and blinked his silvery-blue eyes at me.
“Hi,” I whispered, my throat too tight for normal volume.
He raised his front paw in greeting and floated out of the water, landing on the towel that Kai had spread on the floor for him. The blue beaver rolled around for a second, spraying sparkling drops of magic around the room before he shambled over to me and sat up on his hind legs, looking at me intently.
Resistant Magic (Relic Hunter Book 5) Page 9
