Surviving Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  Gladys had been staring around the enormous entryway with its brooding statues which seemed to look down their noses at you.

  “Oh! Sì! If you don’t mind. Or just drop me at the nearest vaporetto stop. I can take a water bus.”

  When they were gone, Benedetta threw her arms around Raphielli’s shoulders and whispered, “Can I see the temple now?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll call a friend who visits our temple regularly and ask him to join us.”

  “Great.” She followed Raphielli through the biggest, darkest halls she’d ever experienced. Even where light came from an open door, the halls seemed to pool shadows so black it felt as if you could fall down a hole into…the underworld. No one else was around, but Raphielli moved with ease, as if the dark silence was part of her. They passed portraits of some of the ugliest people Benedetta had ever seen, but they certainly liked their jewels and silks by the look of it. Either they were fond of pets, or they had spectacularly ugly children in past generations who resembled monkeys or pale dogs.

  Suddenly the décor changed, and they were in a fresh blue space with a towering fountain that had bowls of flowers bobbing in the splashing raindrops. Then they entered a glorious white apartment with big sofas and fireplace and a massive desk. Near the windows was another fireplace and an enormous bed. Beyond all the furnishings were windows that went from the floor all the way up, like two stories or however tall the ceilings were, and the best view of Venice’s waters on display with the Lido in the distance.

  “This is totally different from the rest of the place! I get to stay here with you?”

  “I’ll invite Paloma to stay in here, too.”

  “The bed’s big enough for like ten people.”

  “We’ll keep each other company,” Raphielli said while texting—probably the person who was going to join them in the temple. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m pregnant, too.”

  “Won’t Paloma and I be in the way? I assume that guy who picks you up, Alphonso, is the father…”

  “I don’t want to talk about that now. No, there’s nothing to get in the way of.” She wasn’t mean about it, but she sounded like she shouldn’t be pushed. “Now, I’ve got a couple of bathing suits in my closet, all too big for you I’m sure, but we’ll make do.” And then she blushed. “You’re not used to worshipping naked or anything are you?”

  Benny was caught off guard for the umpteenth time today. “No, but then Nejla never mentioned anything about how the Scortini family worships in the temple or what we used to wear when we came here.”

  Once suited up, they walked through the silent halls bundled up in long dark bathrobes like two monks. After a long walk with so many turns and stairs, Benedetta gave up trying to memorize the way. She helped Raphielli push open a metal door and was exhilarated when they were hit with warm air and the scent of spring water. I’ve come home!

  After hanging their robes on pegs next to a lone robe and men’s swim trunks, she followed Raphielli down the green marble steps into the warm water, and they both took a deep breath before diving under the crystal water toward a tunnel that was emitting light.

  The short swim through the tunnel took them past Alithinían symbols in gold, and they surfaced in the temple that was the same as the drawings she’d seen all her life—but in person, it looked like heaven. Tears came to her eyes and she choked up. She and her unborn child were in the holiest water.

  A soaring golden dome glittering overhead, and symbols in mosaic tiles adorned the floor of the huge disk-shaped pool underfoot. Benedetta’s eyes were everywhere at once as they swam to the shallow end toward the marble steps and the altar. There were captivating images of Marcion of Sinope in his boat with the eclipse overhead, Paul on the road to Damascus, and Jesus on the Mount of Beatitudes.

  She was thrilled by the scivolo. Its water tentacle wavered as she passed, an almost undetectable column rising out of the ship design in the floor.

  They had just walked up the steps to the altar when a splash sounded by the tunnel and an old man surfaced. The look on his face was rapturous as he called, “Praise Jesus!”

  Raphielli smiled broadly as the man swam closer. He looked like…he resembled…No! It couldn’t be! The pope? It’s a trap! Benedetta bounded down the steps and dove into the water making for the scivolo as fast as her arms could stroke, but the pope beat her to it and hauled her away kicking and screaming. Fuck he’s strong! Then Raphielli had hold of her, too.

  “Smettila!” Raphielli yelled in her ear. “Quit it, Benny! He’s converting to Alithiní!”

  “He what?” she sputtered.

  Even the pope stared at Raphielli, and then he nodded. “I believe that is what I am in the process of doing.”

  “He’s the pinnacle of evil!”

  The pope said, “I am trying to live long enough to reform the Catholic Church. My religion has gotten too far away from the teachings of The Christ.”

  Benedetta’s hands made circles in the water as she tried to get around them to the scivolo, but they blocked her. “Is that what you call it? Waging war against other religions, killing innocent populations all the way back to murdering Marcion of Sinope, even Peter getting Paul killed. I’d say you Catholics started about as far away from Jesus’ teachings as you could get.”

  “That is fair,” the pope conceded. “The more time I spend in this temple, the more I see that. May I worship with you? Would you lead me?”

  Benedetta felt her jaw unhinge. “Elli, do you want to?”

  “Per favore, lead us.”

  “Okay then.” She stepped up to the altar, and Nejla’s words poured out of her. When she was done, both of them were staring at her in appreciation. She almost felt like curtseying.

  “You know that by heart?” the pope asked.

  “We all do. It’s an oral tradition. Nejla, our orator, is the best.”

  “And the water.” He swept his hand through it. “It is a holy element.”

  “It’s God’s divine intelligence, giver of life. We are creatures of water,” she said. “When we’re born, we’re composed of nearly eighty percent water. When we become dehydrated, we die—quickly.”

  “So, for my church to drown Marcion of Sinope…”

  “An indescribable crime and a defiling of our sacred source.”

  The pope approached the altar, took her hand and kissed it. “I am so relieved that Paul’s precious blood was not lost, and you now are carrying the next child of Sinope.”

  “Speaking of my child—maybe it’s because I’m pregnant—I’m so hungry, I’m suddenly having trouble concentrating. Can we get something to eat?”

  “Of course,” Raphielli said. “We rushed you over here before you got lunch.”

  On their way back to the main wing, Benedetta saw a painting of Nautilus Island and almost tripped.

  “What is it?” Raphielli asked.

  “I know that island.”

  “There are so many paintings of islands in the palazzo. I own quite a few.”

  “How do you know this one?” the pope asked.

  “It’s Nautilus, where the first temple of North America was built.”

  “A temple like this?”

  “As far as I know. It’s in Maine, just offshore from Castine where a lot of our faithful live.”

  Raphielli gasped. “Gosh! I put that island in a trust and was planning on leasing it, along with the others, to charities. I’ll need to check them all out before I do. I don’t want some animal conservationists to stumble on an Alithinían temple and start using it as a veterinary clinic.”

  “Whoa! No! Don’t loan out Nautilus!”

  “Oh, well, certainly, I won’t loan out any special properties. I’ll need your help identifying them.”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” she said and then her stomach grumbled loud enough for even the pope to hear.

  Giselle could feel how tense Markus, Yvania, and Daniel were as they headed out onto the property for som
e animal husbandry and some creative art time. They’d all gotten a scare this morning when Fauve called and, over speakerphone, delivered some news that had the locals buzzing.

  “A couple of strangers, Italians by their accents, were in Bazeilles this morning asking a grocery store clerk how he came by the “X” sliced in his hand. People standing behind them overheard the clerk say that some crazy grandma had done it with a giant cooking knife.”

  “Oh no!” They all looked at Yvania, who became the picture of regret.

  Fauve continued. “Did Yvania mark this delivery guy?”

  “Er…well…” Giselle didn’t want to say.

  “Because the clerk said that he used to occasionally deliver items to Abbaye d’Orval’s kitchen…”

  “Shit!” Markus dropped his head into his hands.

  “…but since that old Ukrainian bitch showed up, he’s not going near that place. He said he bet she’s an escaped mental patient they’ve got up there. And the Italian strangers said, ‘Pardon me, did you say Ukrainian grandma?’ And he told them, ‘Oui! Short, round, with red hair in a bun? Sparkly glasses! Elle est fou! She’s crazy!’”

  Giselle crossed her fingers and asked, “Did the Italians seem to care?”

  “Oh, they surely did and asked for directions right to you.”

  Daniel spoke up at that point. “You did right to alert us Fauve, but we’ve withstood armies here. We can protect Giselle. Today we’ll close the grounds to visitors, and at the first sign of anyone, we’ll put Giselle in the keep. No one can get to her there.”

  With that, Daniel arranged to have the grounds closed to the public. The guards posted a sign on the locked gate apologizing for the inconvenience. The access road and fences to the property were firmly locked up.

  Frankly, Giselle couldn’t tell the difference with the place closed because she hadn’t been anywhere near where the public roamed. And despite Daniel and Markus’ tension, she was in a good mood crunching through the snow and breathing in the fresh air. This timeless place was quiet, and must have felt this way since the 1100s when it was founded. The same great forest trees stood along the property. While Markus and Daniel went to patrol behind the main buildings, Giselle and Yvania went to the animal barns to spend time with the young livestock and gather eggs.

  About forty-five minutes later, Giselle was gathering eggs when she heard cautious footfalls outside the coop. She went on the alert and parked her crate in some straw before dropping into a crouch and peering through the slats. Am I being paranoid? Will these flights of fear ever stop? But the boots that stepped stealthily into view didn’t belong to anyone on the property, they were expensive all-weather boots. She wondered if she could get back to Yvania in the piglets’ barn, but she didn’t dare move. She snatched her phone, flipped the switch to silent, and texted Yvania:

  I’M IN COOP

  MAN OUTSIDE

  Yvania replied:

  FREEZE

  Giselle stayed crouched and soundlessly closed her hand around a little iron hand rake. The man’s cautious footfalls on the snow-covered wooden walkway were loud in her ears. He was just the other side of the wall, and if it weren’t for those flimsy slats, she could reach out and touch him. He’d stepped toward the coop’s door when she saw Yvania’s clogs sneaking soundlessly up behind him. Giselle held her breath as the man whirled around and then screamed, “ARRGGHH!”

  There was a pneumatic sound as a bullet whizzed through a wooden slat in the coop. He has a gun! Giselle leaped up and slammed out of the coop door, poised to swing the rake like a claw, and saw a man with a thick layer of bubbling white glue covering his eyes and nose like a mask. He and Yvania were juggling a pistol with a silencer when he ripped it out of her grasp and yanked it back. Yvania cracked him under the chin with a vicious upward blow of her liquid skin canister, and he fell backward. She leaped on top of him searching for his weapon, her skirt riding well up to reveal the seat of her thick grey tights. He grabbed fistfuls of her hair, slammed her sideways, and heaved himself on top of her. Mon Dieu! He’ll kill her!

  Giselle scrambled forward with the claw when the man went flying feet-over-head, and she had to duck to avoid being kicked. The gun sailed past the corner of the coop and disappeared into a drift of snow. Giselle staggered to keep from falling and noticed the man’s lower lip was no longer attached where it should be. Yvania sprang to her feet as Daniel and Markus came running between the buildings. The man was still.

  “They never are expecting Hemi’s move!” Yvania crowed as she straightened her glasses. She looked wild with her hair yanked out of its bun.

  “Who’s Hemi?” Giselle asked as she used the claw to dig through the drift for the gun.

  Yvania was panting slightly but looked energized, even ecstatic. “A friend. He was Slovak-born. Nobody could fight like him. Taught me how to fight when I was a girl.”

  “Oh.” Giselle was back at her side with the gun, thinking this little woman had never had a childhood.

  “Do not give me the pity look. I wanted to learn from him. He taught class in his underpants. Very nice lookink, also.”

  “Well, I saw your underpants, too.” Giselle gave her a conspiratorial look.

  Markus said, “While patrolling we found two sets of footprints.”

  “We tracked this guy’s partner and put him down the oubliette. I tried to get him to follow me toward a forest pit,” Daniel gestured toward the tree line. “But he caught sight of Markus, who lured him around the stone cider house wall, and down the intruder went.”

  The man behind Yvania suddenly hopped blindly to his feet, but Giselle didn’t want to shoot him as he swung in the direction of their voices. His fist whistled through the air—it would be game over for someone if his fist had connected—but Markus took a step forward and tapped him on the Adams’ apple, which sent him down onto the hard ground again. Now he was having trouble breathing, and his gasps made whistling sounds.

  “Uh-oh,” Yvania said, shaking her head. “You have hurt his voicebox. Whistling with his mouth open is no goot. We will put him with his friend and let them get a bit weak from hunger before we question them.”

  “I’m going to get something to tie him up with.” Daniel eyed the man who was now being held on the ground by Markus’ foot on his forehead. “Can’t gag him or he’ll suffocate now that you’ve sealed his nose shut.”

  Markus said, “We will keep them here in secret. Their contacts must not know they have failed. Giselle should stay out of sight now. No more going outside until Daniel hears from Juliette that the danger is over.”

  Giselle eyed the love of her life and his charming surrogate mother. “Okay, but one of you has to teach me the throat chop. I’ve seen Markus use it now twice. It looks like something I can manage.”

  Markus shrugged. “It is mostly the element of surprise.”

  “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, eh?” Giselle said as Daniel disappeared into the nearest barn. Giselle looked to the Ukrainians, but they didn’t get the Python quote.

  “This could all be over. Meh-be we have got the last hit men.” Yvania brushed her hands together.

  Giselle looked at the man on the ground who’d turned onto his side in the fetal position, Markus’ foot now firmly on his temple. “He’s not dressed all in black like the last ones. He’s wearing grey and green, no bag with a rope to drown me.”

  Markus bent over and plucked a small pin from under the man’s coat collar. “Any of you know this symbol, a raven holding lightning bolts?” Then he reached back into the man’s coat pocket and produced a small disposable phone.

  Giselle said, “Anyone want to guess how long it’ll take to make him give us his code?”

  CHAPTER

  13

  Gina felt serene as she worked away in her laboratory-cum-greenhouse-cum-herb- garden just off Juliette’s kitchen at Palazzo Verona. She finally felt like family. It had been over a month now since Juliette had asked her to take time away from school while
the Alithiníans were still at large.

  “I will speak to the Head Master and request a sabbatical,” she’d said with her finger poised over her phone, no doubt to make it happen.

  “But I’ve only just started my college career.” Gina had done a poor job of disguising her disappointment. She didn’t want to have her career derailed because of a pregnancy. What a cliché. “Do you really think something’ll happen out in public or in front of schoolmates? I think I’ll go a bit stir crazy if I have to stay here all day every day.”

  “Think of how Giselle feels.”

  That made Gina feel like an ingrate for even objecting. “You’re right, of course. But it feels so oppressive to have to lock up all the fragile pregnant women.”

  “I could not agree more, but it will only be until we stop the terrorists trying to exterminate my family. I feel so guilty for putting you in danger along with us.”

  “Don’t worry. I feel certain nothing bad will happen to me.”

  Everything had gotten more complicated with Giselle’s discovery that the assassins who’d come for her at the abbey either worked for, or wanted her to think they worked for, Ecclesia Dei because they were wearing their insignia. After the attack, il Comitato di Venezia had come together and agreed with Giselle’s Group Français that they wouldn’t tell a soul about Karno’s men in the oubliette in Belgium. The pope and the Veronas were under attack from not just the Alithiníans, but a coup was underway within the heart of the Vatican the likes of which the church had never seen. Typically, that meant the pope was the sole target. This was much more.

  As a result, as the weeks passed, when the pope wasn’t tirelessly working with the children of the world, he was at the Scortini Palazzo with Benedetta. With each passing day, he sounded more drawn to the Alithinían philosophy. He’d sit at the dinner table extolling the virtues to eschewing church dogma and simply following Jesus’ teachings with one’s whole heart. He even veered into pure Marxist philosophy that capitalism was a hungry alien entity that was consuming human workers at a terrifying rate. The key to freedom was for humans to stop buying into capitalism and consumerism. Gina agreed with the pope and could see he’d finally given up on adults understanding the necessity for radical change and why he was so focused on the world’s youth.