by Amanda Grace
Her face flushed red, and she buried her nose into one of the books she had been reading earlier. "The Order is probably a much larger organization than we thought Kai… If they have resources in New York and here… We need to be careful," the tone of her voice lowering, filled sincere concern. "From now on we need to pay attention; they'll be looking for us."
"I know, I'm lucky to have you with me. If I didn't then I probably would have already been killed," he replied climbing into bed, turning out the lamp on the nightstand.
The golden morning light crept across the floor of the loft. Carlsson rolled over in bed, noticing the sheets had been undisturbed. He looked around the room for Danni, realizing he was by himself. Climbing out of bed he made his way to a small pedestal sink in the corner of the room.
He took a moment to wash his face, wet his hair, and freshen up slightly. He then set up the ironing board, and took a few minutes to crease his slacks and rid the wrinkles from his shirt. He checked himself in the mirror, straightening his vest.
Making his way down the circular staircase he noticed Danni sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee in one hand, and the morning paper in the other. She glanced in his direction, taking a sip from her large steaming mug.
"How'd you sleep?" she asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"It's rude to answer a question with a question Kai," she said grinning in his direction.
He sighed, taking a sip. "Good enough all things considered. Not nearly enough, but I'll take what I can get. How about you?" He took a seat across from her, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table.
"I think the earlier we get to the church the better," she replied avoiding the question. "Just remember to be vigilant. Keep an eye out for anything unusual, familiar faces, people following us around. If anything looks out of place tell me." Her tone was grim and serious, not one he was accustomed to. Carlsson nodded, taking a bite of the fruit.
The humid and cool morning air washed over their faces as they left the bed and breakfast. The streets were still fairly empty, and the several street vendors hurried to set up their shops and stands. The pair walked hurriedly through the town in the direction of the cathedral – its bell tower rising high above the buildings in the city centre.
When the two arrived at the town's main square they noticed that one of the heavy iron clad doors to the cathedral had been propped open. A seemingly young man in a black cassock swept in and around the building's entrance.
Danni and Carlsson stood for a moment in the middle of the square, taking a few seconds to survey the exterior of the cathedral admiring the architecture, and looking for any oddities in the building features, though nothing seemed especially unusual or out of place. It had been built in the traditional gothic style, and its high arches, flying buttresses, and clustered rose windows were a perfect reflection of the architectural style.
Danni tugged at Carlsson's sleeve, and made her way toward the entrance. She greeted and introduced herself to the young priest, who replied in kind, introducing himself as Father Lindolv Dietrich. Having arrived slightly behind Danni, Carlsson introduced himself with a handshake.
"Could you tell us a little about the cathedral," Danni beamed. Lindolv smiled broadly, it was a question he often took pleasure in answering.
"Well, that's actually a fairly hard question to answer briefly," he replied, "There is a vast and storied history surrounding this cathedral." He ushered them inside.
"The construction of the church began in late 1545 here. It sits directly above the city's mass burial sites for those who had died from the Black Death in the mid fourteenth century. It wasn't completed for one hundred and thirty-two years, with construction finally ending in 1677. As I'm sure you've noticed it was designed in the gothic style of architecture inclusive of the ribbed and vaulted ceiling, flying buttresses, clustered columns, and large rose windows." He pointed to the multiple features as the spoke.
"Starting in the early 1700's this was one of the most renown churches outside of Italy. Throughout that period we hosted several Popes and high-ranking Cardinals. In fact Eldenberg was the centre of one of the churches largest internal power struggles."
"Could you tell us a little about that," Carlsson interrupted.
"Well," the priest took a moment to consider the question, "Pope Clement died in 1721, leaving a power vacuum at the head of the church. Two Cardinals battled for election by the conclave. Cardinal Vincenzo Contellini had vowed to take action against the church if he wasn't elected, yet despite his threats the conclave elected Cardinal Michelangelo de' Conti – who took the name of Pope Innocent the Thirteenth.
"After the election, Contellini was able to raise an army here amongst the nobility in this region, many of whom where his personal friends. He led an attack against forces loyal to the Papacy in a battle about five kilometres south of here along the river. His forces were severely outnumbered and quickly defeated. Contellini was captured, excommunicated and imprisoned. While in prison he was brutally beaten and tortured. Legend states that as he lay dying he uttered, 'May the devil harass you into eternity, may his forces rise up and slaughter your masses'."
Both Carlsson and Danni looked at each other an unspoken flow of questions between them.
"Anyway," the young man continued, "since then, and over the last several centuries, there have been numerous changes to the interior art here in the cathedral. Please, you should take a few minutes to enjoy it." His tone was caring, yet proud, as he lit a small votive candle, and performed the Sign of the Cross.
"Could you tell us a little about Johann Christoff?" Danni offered sheepishly.
Father Dietrich violently spun around, now facing the pair. His ice blue eyes flashed with fire and rage. His demeanour instantly switching from that of loving teacher, excited to share his knowledge, to that of an annoyed and ill-tempered stranger, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, trying to bury his fury deep inside himself. He tried to calmly bid them both a good day, though flashes of anger could be caught in his words. As he disappeared through an altar door he pulled a cell phone from his pocket, typing out a brief message.
Carlsson and Danni made their way around the cathedral meticulously dissecting each piece of classic art, each marble statue, and each religious symbol. Every few minutes Danni would subtly take a moment to account for the different faces inside the church.
Their frustration had begun to mount when they found themselves in front of a relatively modern fresco painted on the wall to the side of the nave. The painting recounted a fierce battle; lines of soldiers marched against one another, clouds of heavy musket smoke filled the air. The horses of nobles' reared, as men carried crosses around them. Below the men the ground cracked open, demons crawled from ground choosing their side in the battle. From above the bloody hand of God rained fire down upon the troops. Men burned, crying for help. At the bottom of the wall the scene transitioned into that of a map. Two small inverted crosses marked two locations not far beyond the walls of the village. One was just outside of the city along a bend in the river to the south, while the other was further into the mountains to the west, nestled along the shores of a large lake. A poem in Latin framed the masterpiece. Its translation forming a dark verse-
The Darkness shall rise;
It has not been overcome;
There is no return;
The Order has formed;
Rome shall fall;
"This doesn't belong here," Carlsson uttered, running his fingers over the fresco. "The circular poem, the battle, this map… None of it fits. This should never have been allowed to exist in this place. Why is this even here?"
Danni pulled out her phone, comparing the locations on the wall with those on the digital map on her mobile. "It looks like the first cross, the one along the river, is right about the location Lindolv described for the original battle. The other is about
seven kilometre’s from town, there is a road that can get us about half way there, but we'll have to hike in from that point," she shared.
"I've seen this poem before," Carlsson continued, "in one of the books late last night. I can't really remember the context though." He said scratching his head trying to jog his own memory.
Danni snapped a quick picture of the mural with her phone, "Let's head back to the inn. We can check the books, and look for context regarding the reference." She turned, grabbing Carlsson by the hand, quickly inspecting the other patrons in the church. She made her way toward the door with Carlsson in tow. Two men dressed in suits sat side by side in the final row of the pews. She checked her waistband out of habit, the bulk of the gun nestled snuggly in its place.
They had spent several hours in the cathedral, and the town square had filled with vendors, tourists, and people taking a few minutes to enjoy the warm autumn day. Danni led Carlsson to one of the several statues in the town square. There she grabbed the map from her bag, taking a few minutes to look at it in detail. She mapped a few routes with her finger before folding the map and putting it back where she had retrieved it.
She glanced around the square, noting the two men had followed them out and were browsing through a stand of fruit, they were careful to only sneak a few peeks in their direction.
"Let's go," she directed Carlsson forcefully, taking off at a rather brisk pace, tugging at his arm. From her tone he knew better than to ask any questions, and matched her step for step as she cut through alleys, turned suddenly down side streets, and entered shops only to leave without looking at any of the merchandise.
It wasn't long before they found themselves perusing through rows and rows of used books in a dusty antique shop.
"What are we doing here," Carlsson asked slightly out of breath.
"Browsing," she replied.
"For anything specific?"
"Never!" her quirky smile was overwhelming.
They spent a few minutes in the store before she mentioned that she was ready to go. Carlsson replaced the book he was flipping through and followed her back into the street.
It was mid-afternoon, and having not eaten since early that morning, they both agreed that it made sense to stop and get a meal before continuing back to the hotel. They found a small Italian restaurant and decided it was as good an option as any. Despite Carlsson's protests and the warm weather outside, Danni insisted they sit inside rather than on the restaurant's spacious terrace.
The sun hung low above the mountains in the western sky once they had finally made their way back to bed and breakfast. Danni had relaxed slightly, though she continued to keep a vigilant eye over her shoulder.
Carlsson paid for the night before they made their way upstairs. Danni collapsed on the bed exhausted, while he made directly for the desk where they had left their books, many still open to the pages from the previous day.
The whipping of pages filled the room, as he desperately searched through the books for the poem he had seen in the church. His memory was foggy from his general lack of sleep. Frustrated he tossed a few books aside, leaning back in his chair in revulsion.
"While you make all that noise, I am going to head downstairs and shower," Danni said sitting up from the bed. Looking up from one of the larger books he smiled. Turning quickly she tried to hide her flushed cheeks, grabbed a towel, and made her way toward the door. He watched dutifully over his shoulder at her as she left.
He spent the next several minutes frustratingly searching through the books for the cryptic poem, continuing to have no luck in finding it. Slamming a book closed he began to pace wildly around the room. He muttered and cursed at himself under his breath. His mind was cluttered and unfocused. He tousled his thick brow hair trying hard to think and to remember, still nothing.
Spontaneously he quietly made his way downstairs, deciding to buy a bottle of wine from their host. He returned shortly to the room with two glasses and large bottle of deep red wine. He poured two glasses and set them aside, allowing the wine to breath while he waited for Danni to return. He sat staring at the books, hoping something would trigger his memory.
He didn't have to wait long. When she returned the only sign she had showered was her still somewhat stringy wet hair. She tossed the towel on the bed, grinning at the two glasses of wine on the desk.
"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise?" She mused.
Grabbing the glasses Carlsson walked over offering her one, "I figured considering the situation this was as appropriate a way of saying thank you as I had available." He smiled genuinely.
The two toasted, and pulled up their chairs next to the fireplace. They spent the next long while swapping stories, telling jokes, and enjoying this small break from the stress at hand. Day became evening. Evening became night. The wine was a perfect complement to the conversation, one glass became two, two became three. It wasn't long before the bottle was empty. The room now lit only by dancing flame of the fire.
"I guess I better get back to the books," Carlsson said his words laced with regret. Danni nodded knowing they had work to do. The two rose from their seats, becoming entangled, Danni stumbling forward into Carlsson who caught her, pulling her tightly against him.
For a moment the two embraced one another, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Desire consumed them both, and he leaned in kissing her softly. For a moment it was if the world stood still, and that for just this short while everything would be all right. Passionately the two kissed, their hands caressing each other in ways they had only imagined.
They made their way to the bed. Kicking their shoes aside they crawled atop the warm quilt. Carlsson lying atop her, with each minute the intensity grew. Passionately they each stripped the other of clothes.
The faint glimmer of the early morning sun shone through the small loft window, though the room remained fairly dark. The fire from the previous evening had gone out, only a few coals remained glowing orange in the grate. The room door creaked open, footsteps softly falling on the floorboards, which moaned under the weight. Gracefully and swiftly Danni reached to the nightstand grabbing her pistol and swung around in bed. Aiming the gun toward the doorway. Carlsson froze staring down the barrel of the gun.
"Coffee?" He offered raising one of the mugs he was carrying.
"How long ago did you leave?" she asked, setting the gun back on the nightstand. Though Danni was shaken somewhat inside, she failed to show her partner. Despite her exhaustion the previous evening she knew that sleeping had been a mistake, and that it could have cost them both dearly. She should have been able to hear him leave, should have known he was no longer in bed.
"Not long, about ten minutes," he replied sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. Leaning over they kissed. Despite everything that had happened the previous night, Danni had pulled the sheets up, using them to cover her still naked body. He handed her the steaming cup before heading over to the desk.
"If we're going to head into the mountains today in order to investigate the location of the cross from yesterday's fresco, then I'm going to need to stop by a store. I can't get away with a seven kilometre round trip hike in dress shoes and a suit."
Danni knew she couldn't argue with his reasoning, especially considering it would provide them the opportunity to pick up a few needed toiletries and assorted things should they be required to stay longer in the village.
Carlsson flicked on the desk lamp, and reorganized the books on the workspace. Now that he had regained his focus from the previous day he hoped that locating the poem from the cathedral would be fairly easy. He selected one of the larger texts, opening it to about the middle. From there he flipped through the pages, carefully examining the illustrated figures. A few minutes passed and it wasn't long before he rose from his seat bringing the book over to for Danni to examine.
He had been right about the poem. It had been called out specifically in the text, though not in relation to the fresco, the cathedral, or The Order.
It was contained in a letter, sent to the Vatican from an anonymous source just before the death of Innocent the Thirteenth – whom had died abruptly and under suspicious circumstances. He had been the Holy See for just under three years.
Danni read the few pages focusing on the poem before returning the book to Carlsson. "You don't think this organization has the power to murder the Pope do you?" she asked, masking the concern that had overcome her.
"I don't know. I think that at one point in their history they did... Even if they can't get to the Pope today, they're still large enough to kill anyone around the world with only a moment's notice." His voice trailing off as he remembered the loss of his friend and colleague.
"Which makes you wonder why they haven't gotten to me yet…" he finished.
Danni crawled up behind him as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his shoulders gently, resting her chin on his head. For a minute they both sat in silence. It was clear that they both knew the danger they were in. Danni hadn't yet told Carlsson they had been spotted in the city, for fear of worrying him, but she knew they couldn't stay in the quaint inn another night. It would only be a matter of time before their stalkers would find them here.
"Let's pack everything up and get ready to leave. The sooner we get on the trail the better," she said softly.
"Pack everything up?" Carlsson questioned, turning slightly to look at her.
She thought for a moment, not exactly sure what to say, still not wanting to worry him. "We don't know what we're going to find up there, and it's a seven kilometres walk round trip once we get to the trailhead, another three and a half or four just getting to the trail assuming we can't find a ride up there or get a taxi… It'd be better if we had the resources we needed with us, rather than needing to rely on memory and fuzzy pictures," she lied. She knew it was a stretch, but the only reason she had come with Carlsson was to keep him safe. He was the top in his field and could surely solve this case without her, assuming he wasn't killed before he had finished. That was her job, ensuring he finished, ensuring he lived.
