“Lunchbox is with me,” I said. “Thank the Good Lord.” My sarcasm oozed like honey.
Roland roared with laughter. Was he drunk or was his body that desperate for blood?
After a quick glance at Crispin, Windsor straightened his shoulders. “I’ll take Roland to the crime scene.” Roland rolled his eyes, as if allowing a bureaucrat to state the obvious to maintain a semblance of authority – taking credit for something he had no business taking credit for.
Crispin cleared his throat, raking a hand through his hair, looking on the edge of his patience. “Since we’ve been ordered to watch over you,” he emphasized the word, reminding us that none of this was his choice, “our regular duties have been piling up all day. Now, I have yet another distasteful task to perform before returning to being your dutiful babysitter.” He took a step closer to Roland, letting my mentor see the conflux of emotions warring over his face. I couldn’t quite describe what was going on there. Because I didn’t think Shepherds were used to sharing their feelings. He seemed to be having a hard time of it. But he was trying very hard to look… human? Instead, it just looked like his brain was constipated with conflicted emotional buildup.
Now that I was directly focused on it, and it wasn’t aimed at me, I realized that all the Shepherds shared the same manic look. Frayed. Raw. What would cause that?
“Understand that as much as you despise this situation,” Crispin continued, “I despise it even more. I trust you with my life, Roland. But when duty calls I will not run away…” he finally whispered in a ragged hiss. Was he threatening Roland or trying to prove we were on the same side? Because his words could be taken so many different ways. What the hell other jobs did he have that were so stressful. And what made Shepherds cry?
I gasped. “You’re not going to execute the wolves!” I shouted, gripping him by the lapel.
Fabrizio suddenly held a ball of crackling flame in his open palm, and Windsor had a hand on a dagger at his belt. Roland was utterly motionless, his lips a thin pale line. Crispin blinked down at me, as if I had spoken a foreign language. “What? No. Their trial is tomorrow. We don’t execute in secret,” he hissed, sounding offended.
My heart slowly returned to normal and I saw Roland back down as I released Crispin. “You just made it sound… ominous,” I clarified. The other Shepherds let out shaky breaths as their weapons disappeared, flame and dagger gone in a blink.
“Distasteful, not immoral. Things have been… odd lately.” He saw our sudden spark of interest and held up a hand. “I will not speak of it. I may reconsider after your hearing.” I saw a glimmer of hope in Roland’s eyes, as if seeing a hint of his old friend for the first time in years. Not fully, but a glimpse. He looked satisfied at the development. A chance to find out what all the secrecy was about.
But that didn’t make me feel better. He had said after my hearing, but that should have no impact on whatever he was referring to. Rather than dwelling on that, I straightened my shoulders, anticipating my meeting, and wanting to make a good impression on the Conclave, so that maybe Crispin would extend a little trust our way again.
Roland shot me an encouraging smile. “Embrace the suck, Callie. You’ve got this.”
I smiled. “Be careful out there,” I warned, silently reminding him that he couldn’t kill anyone or our game was up. He nodded with a grimace and left. Windsor and Crispin followed him down the stairs.
I glanced at Fabrizio and sniffed self-importantly. “Take me to the Conclave, Lunchbox.”
I ignored the startled look on his face before he turned to lead me to our meeting.
Small victories were all I had left to me.
Chapter 38
I stared at the seven blind wizards before me. I was speechless. This meeting hadn’t been what I had anticipated. Not at all. And I had only been here a few minutes, long enough for them to officially call the hearing to order and to state their names and titles. Then they had said that the scope of the hearing had changed, and that they had something to discuss with me instead. I had assumed that meant I was about to be raked over the coals about my private investigation into Constantine’s murder.
Then they had dropped the Hail Mary of all truth bombs. I was still reeling, trying to reboot my brain. Fabrizio stood off to the side, close enough to react to any sudden outbursts I might consider, but distant enough not to smother me.
“Someone robbed the fucking Vatican?” I blurted, incredulous.
I forgot that cursing wasn’t welcome here, but it was an instinctive reaction on my part. That had been the first thing they told me after their introductions. They had been robbed while we spoke with Nate and Alucard in this very room. Then they had apologized for any inconvenience I may have suffered, but that they had been searching for the thief, and had wanted to keep tabs on everyone’s movements.
Daniel nodded in answer to my crude question, face not as friendly as it had been hours ago.
And a very sickening fear bloomed in my mind like a poisonous flower as I considered recent events. The abrupt attitude change of our previously friendly Shepherd friends. Them guarding our door, escorting us everywhere. Their anger at finding us in Constantine’s office.
“Wait,” I said, shaking my head in an effort to shake off my suspicion. “Do you think I robbed you?” I almost laughed at the absurdity of the silent accusation. “Check my rooms!”
The door clicked closed behind me and I turned to see Crispin standing there, hands clasped behind his back as he dipped his head at the Conclave. His eyes lifted to mine. “I just did.”
I waited, part of me wanting to murder him for even suspecting me, but another part distantly understood his suspicion. I was a stranger.
So why didn’t he look relieved? Apologetic? I hadn’t even seen my room yet.
With a flash of anger, I recalled the distasteful duty he had mentioned. Now I knew what it had been – searching our rooms. He met my eyes, unflinching. Then he began to lecture in a clinical tone. “We all sat in this very room during the window of the theft – which occurred on the opposite end of Vatican City in an obscure Conclave storage building that only we knew about. The only people not present were the four visiting Shepherds, who were patrolling this building. We checked the surveillance feeds, and confirmed none of them left their posts. Not even for a minute. No magic was used during the theft, but surveillance of the inner vault revealed that the item simply vanished from sight between one second and the next. Our magical detection system picked up nothing. At all.”
My eyes widened. No magic sensed, but the item was on video disappearing out of thin air?
Crispin continued. “With nothing to go on, we were forced to resort to more… clandestine and archaic methods. We were called to a meeting where we were informed of the theft, and then we randomly assigned trios to search each other’s private rooms.” His eyes glinted. “Since we had forgotten to give you rooms, we saved yours for last. I’ll admit, your bags gave me pause. But they were clean,” he admitted without a sliver of shame. I hid my shiver, thanking fortune that they hadn’t chosen to search Roland’s bag earlier. The blood bags were already gone when Crispin checked them. I realized he had stopped speaking, and looked up at him.
I spun my hand in a rolling motion, encouraging him to get to the point and clear my name. “The tension is killing me,” I said harshly.
Crispin clenched his teeth, the first sign of emotion I had seen since his report. He pulled his hands from behind his back to reveal the file we had just been reading in Roland’s room. Even though that didn’t have anything to do with the theft, it definitely didn’t look good. We had been ordered to leave the investigation alone. Repeatedly.
I had a moral conundrum on my hands. Did I come clean and put Bishop Vincente in danger or remain silent? Because the bishop had obviously wanted his name kept out of it. Did that mean he suspected the identity of the killer and was scared? Or was he just covering his ass?
Deep down, I knew that if I had
to bring up the bishop’s involvement to earn some breathing room to exonerate the girls of a murder charge, I was perfectly fine with that. But only as a last resort. I wished Roland were here. He knew the players involved better than I did.
“Explain,” Richter demanded in a dry rasp from behind me. Crispin gave me a moment to come clean, but when I said nothing he simply strode past me. He set the file on the raised desk for the Conclave to pass around at will. Startled, angry gasps filled the courtroom as they passed pages back and forth, listening as Crispin explained finding it in Roland’s rooms.
Finished, Crispin turned to pin me with a harsh glare. I turned to see Fabrizio staring at me like he had never seen me before. They both looked betrayed, but we hadn’t betrayed anyone. They found a file. Big deal. We’d just been trying to help find the real killer! Unless… that’s why they were upset. Because one or both were the killers and weren’t happy at our poking.
I’d officially bought a home in Paranoia, Land of the Crazies.
The seductive Whispers began to echo through my mind, and I realized I was dangerously close to lighting the room on fire, and unfurling my Angel wings to scare the living hell out of these judgmental assholes. I took a deep breath, and the Whispers faded away.
“Although this has nothing to do with the theft, you were told to leave the investigation alone,” Daniel hissed.
I’d had enough of the accusations. I was finished keeping secrets for people. These bastards were beyond paranoid, and seemed intent to accuse based on convenience, not fact. I had seen it with the wolves, and had now experienced it firsthand. Enough.
“That file was delivered to us by Bishop Vincente,” I snapped back at him.
I really shouldn’t have been surprised to find that this comment only seemed to somehow make matters worse. My words echoed off the walls as nine pairs of eyes skewered me with varying looks of hatred and outright murder – like one hive mind considering killing me in cold blood. Fabrizio was panting, a hand on his dagger. What had just happened?
Daniel attempted to loom over the desk, but sat back down with a haunted grunt, as if his knees had given out. He settled for staring at me as if I had just admitted to torturing baby seals.
“Bishop Vincente died of heart failure… fifteen minutes after your altercation with him.” I staggered, my mind going blank for a few seconds, trying to wrap my head around his words. Roland had received the file an hour or so after the time of death? “He definitely didn’t deliver this file to you. Unless he did it from his grave,” Daniel rasped.
I saw that Fabrizio was actually crying. Not weeping, but his face looked like a statue streaked with tears. I suddenly understood the looks I had seen on the three Shepherds’ faces outside of Roland’s room. Heartache at losing a man of the cloth, knowing that if they hadn’t been forced to guard us, they might have been there to save him, to get him help.
I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. “Well, it was actually his assistant,” I said, realizing – too late – how lame it sounded. Then I remembered that Roland had burned the only evidence that could prove my claim. The note from Bishop Vincente. I wanted to scream.
“He had no assistant. He was an assistant,” one of the other Conclave members snarled. “If you’re referring to the young clerk who let you into Constantine’s office, he was interrogated within minutes of your departure and then escorted from Vatican City for his failure.”
I grasped at the first thing that came to mind, needing to make sense of something. Anything. “Heart failure?” I asked very softly, reining in my emotions.
“Overstressed. Perhaps related to finding two strangers ransacking his dead friend’s office without permission,” Fabrizio growled. “He went into cardiac arrest as his clerk was escorted from the property.” My fury was a mushroom cloud, the reins burned away.
“Ransacking? Oh, that’s rich. You and Crispin walked us out. Are you saying I managed to conceal a file that size,” I pointed at the desk, “wearing this?” I waved a hand at my outfit.
Fabrizio just glared at me.
“Just to be clear, what exactly am I being accused of? The theft? Murdering Bishop Vincente? All of the above?” I let my words rattle off the walls. They were silent. The best answer.
The two Shepherds looked ready to lock me up or kill me outright. One of the Conclave members spoke. “This is not a trial, you are not being accused. We are asking uncomfortable questions,” he said calmly, his milky white eyes warning me to get a hold of myself.
I nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath. At least one of them seemed rational. I remembered he had been introduced as Stephen.
He nodded his appreciation before continuing. “Windsor verified you never left his sight, but Fabrizio said that Roland went to his rooms for a short time, and then left with some sense of urgency.” Even though he tried to mask it, emotion began to taint his voice as he continued. “While you were meeting with the Antipope. As soon as Fabrizio arrived with Roland, the Antipope had other matters to attend. Convenient. Almost like a handoff. Then Roland whispers in your ear and you lock yourselves up in his room with that file. Claiming it was delivered by a dead man!” He actually slapped the table with his palm, the wood singing from the contact magic coursing under his skin. So much for calm.
I shook my head in wonder. Then, I began to laugh. It wasn’t even a conscious choice. It was just how my brain decided to cope with the lunacy.
My only other option was to kill everyone in the room, but aside from abrupt onset mental retardation, they hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, someone had, but I couldn’t kill nine people for the successful scheme of one person. And it was blatantly apparent that he was succeeding.
Because the only two people who seemed to give a damn, risking Roland’s life by coming here in the first place, were either being framed, or judged by blind imbeciles.
“I’m going to break down the fallacy in your logic exactly one time, so dust off your hearing aids,” I said in a deadened voice. “How did I manage to give the Antipope that file before I went to read over it with Roland?” Silence. I smiled brightly, snapping my fingers at a thought. “Oh, that’s right. I must have secretly made copies while Bishop Vincente was screaming at us to leave – in the thirty seconds it took for Crispin and Fabrizio to evacuate us from the building – and while Bishop Vincente was staring at me. Then, like we already discussed, I managed to discreetly conceal not one, but two very large files as I took a leisurely walk under the watchful eyes of these two strapping Shepherds.” I took a breath, winking at Fabrizio. “While under the supervision of at least one Shepherd at all times, I managed to somehow deliver one of the stolen files to Roland and another to the Antipope. You caught me,” I said, flashing my teeth. “But you missed the part where I sexually molested the Easter Bunny.”
The silence was deafening.
I shot Crispin a disappointed look. “How incompetent can you be to let me get away with all of that right under your nose? First Shepherd… Constantine would be disgusted. Or maybe, just maybe, your accusation is flawed and you owe me an apology. I’ll wait for it. Take your time.” I began tapping my foot, folding my arms across my chest.
I watched his face darken and idly wondered if Roland was having as much fun as I was.
Chapter 39
I waited until one of the Conclave members opened his mouth to speak before overriding him. “And just to clarify, the Antipope left to meet with two of your cardinals. They were waiting for him before Roland even arrived. Ask Windsor. Or, hell, ask the Antipope and his guard.”
Then I took two slow, aggressive steps forward, ignoring Crispin and Fabrizio as they rushed to defend the Conclave. “But don’t you ever fucking accuse me of a crime without solid evidence.” A new thought hit me as my F-bomb ignited a vortex of stunned silence in the room, even a few crosses drawn over the chests for good measure. “Maybe you should ask what urgent matters Crispin had to attend to after he kicked us out of Constantine’s off
ice,” I said, slowly turning to face him.
He glared back at me and I knew I had him. Or he was still pissed about my last comment. Or the Easter Bunny thing. “I had to go check Windsor and Fabrizio’s rooms for evidence of the theft.” His shoulders bristled.
“Right,” I rolled my eyes.
He pulled out his phone and flicked through it for a few seconds. “Here are the time-stamped pictures. Their rooms are nowhere near Constantine’s office or this building. Anyone here can do the math and see that I had no time to go anywhere near his office and make it back to you when I did.” He met my eyes, and then shifted to the Conclave. “If anyone doubts me, shackle me now,” he offered, setting down the phone and holding out his wrists.
Daniel shot Crispin a thankful look, waving at him to lower his hands before turning back to me. “For your information, Miss Penrose, he speaks the truth. I was with him,” he admitted. “I do appreciate your attempt to keep my name out of it, though, First Shepherd,” he told Crispin.
Fabrizio spoke clearly, taking no offense at the thought of his rooms being searched. “I checked Crispin and Windsor’s rooms as well. With…” he averted his eyes, not wanting to reveal his accomplice, “a different Conclave member.”
Daniel dipped his head in acknowledgment before turning back to me, taking a calming breath. “Even our rooms were searched. Other than Crispin’s sprint to meet up with me, and Windsor’s sprint to replace him with you and Fabrizio, we remained in groups at all times. In an attempt to eliminate the chance of the thief concealing his crime. No one was allowed near their own rooms during this search.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off. “And before you belabor the obvious, two randomly paired Conclave Members waited around the corner for Windsor after he told you to meet with me. They escorted him to the meeting. In record time, I might add,” he shot an amused look at two of the older gentlemen on the council. “Windsor was never out of their sight.”
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