by Ian Withrow
“Excuse me?”
The pope was the first to recover from her words, and his eyes narrowed as he spoke.
“I'm not sure I understand.”
“I-I'm not God's chosen messenger. I can't tell people what he wants because I don't know what he wants.”
“I see,” the pope's tone was quiet, serious.
“You know, young lady, that even Jesus Christ himself had doubts? We know this from Scripture.”
His words were not unkind, and his tone was even, but Lauren felt her unease growing.
“I have great faith in you, in your ability to aid our cause and to champion the Word to the people of the world. I am certain you will find your calling among us.”
His words were more than mere suggestion to her ears, and she began to see the dangerous ledge she walked upon.
“I understand, sir. I certainly mean no harm to you or to the Church. I think the work you do is noble and good-”
“You are correct, Lauren,” he interrupted her softly.
“We do God's work. It is through His will that you were granted these powers. Powers to spread His message to the world. Imagine for a moment what would happen if people lost faith? Do you want hateful, violent religions like that of the man who attacked you this morning to overpower the one true Church of God?”
“Well, no sir, but-”
“Men acting out in violence can be a very destructive thing. You alone may have the power to overcome such enemies of God. To bring light to the darkness of the world. Don't you want to be that beacon? To light the way?”
Lauren was fighting a losing battle. He was backing her into a corner and she couldn't see a way out. The other diners were carefully avoiding eye contact with Lauren, as well as each other.
“I can't... I can't just tell people something I don't believe. If there is a God, He has been nothing but cruel to me.”
Her conviction strengthened as she thought about the injustices of her past.
The tension in the room grew, building like an offshore storm that threatened to crash down and sweep away the diners at any moment.
“Lauren,” the pope spoke softly.
He seemed ready to say something, then visibly changed his mind. Instead he gave her a short nod and looked curiously at her feathers.
“I noticed the spot, on your wing there.”
The words were spoken like a question, but it didn't sound like he wanted an answer.
“I-I'm sorry sir, to have wasted your time. I'm just not who you want me to be.”
Lauren tried in vain to fill the void of silence, desperate to redirect the threatening energy of the room.
“We should perhaps call it an early night tonight,” Dustin said, following on the heels of her words.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality, your Holiness. I think Lauren will likely wish to speak with her family privately for a moment and then get some rest. She's had a very long day.”
Without waiting for a reply he pushed his chair back and stood, looking down at Lauren. She followed his cue and did the same.
“Kaspar and I will walk you to your rooms,” Fafoglia chimed in as he stood quickly, joining them.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality and for dinner, your Holiness. I'm so sorry I disappointed you.”
John and Allison followed suit and the group walked out of the room and into the hallway. Lauren could feel the stares of the others boring into the back of her head as she walked.
As soon as the door had clicked shut behind them, Fafoglia turned to address Kaspar in Italian. Kaspar nodded and took off down the stairs at a jog.
“Your Grace,” he said in a worried tone. “It is perhaps best if you follow me right now.”
Dustin didn't give Lauren a chance to respond, he placed a hand on her back and propelled her ahead of him, following in the guard’s footsteps.
“Hey, get back here with my daughter!”
John protested in a loud whisper, but Dustin turned and towered over him like a giant; Goliath to his David.
“Lauren's safety is my only concern, John, do not get in the way of it.”
“I'm not going anywhere, Dustin,” Lauren said, irate that he had shoved her.
“Yes, you are.”
Dustin's voice was unlike she'd ever heard it. Steely and cold. She took an astonished step back from him.
“John, I suggest you and Allison come with us,” Dustin continued, his voice low and menacing.
Her father stood his ground a moment longer before breaking eye contact reluctantly.
“Alright.”
“Like hell,” Allison argued drunkenly. “I'm staying right here.”
“Fine,” Dustin's one word response was utterly remorseless. He moved immediately to follow the cardinal. Lauren felt a little ashamed as they left her mother standing there alone in the corridor.
The group made their way swiftly through a winding series of halls and stairways. The art that had seemed so mesmerizing just a few hours before was suddenly much more intimidating Lauren thought to herself, her concern building. Priceless statues meant to inspire now loomed ominously, keeping silent judgment as they passed.
They moved quickly but quietly. Though they weren't running, it felt just as frantic and the mood in the group was tense.
At last the group stopped. Kaspar was there, standing beside a small side door.
Fafoglia turned to Lauren, a sadness in his eyes.
“I am sorry, I cannot take you any further. They will become suspicious if I don't return, I wish you luck.”
The Cardinal bowed deeply to Lauren and turned back down the way they had come.
Dustin nodded silently at Kaspar, the pair exchanging a meaningful look that Lauren didn't fully understand.
Kaspar met Lauren’s gaze before dropping to one knee and looking down at the tiled floor.
“I have never questioned my faith before meeting you, Your Grace. If you say you have not spoken to God, I believe you. More than that, I believe in you. I wish that I could be a better servant, but this is the only way I know to help you.”
He stood, turned on his heel, and took off back down the hallway before she could stammer a response. She moved to go after him but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.
Dustin shook his head no. He had a grim, determined look on his face and in his eyes. He drew his sidearm and cautiously opened the door to reveal a dark alley. There was a jet-black sedan idling there quietly with its lights off.
Dustin looked up and down the alley before carefully approaching the car. Opening the door he revealed it to be empty. Lauren let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
“Dustin,” she whispered. “What the hell are we doing?”
“Get in,” he said simply. His expression softened a little at the hurt look on her face and he elaborated. “We can talk in the car, please get in.”
Lauren nodded, compliant from fear, and hurried into the backseat.
“Just a minute now Jim. Just, just wait a second,” John was trying to gather his thoughts, clearly still torn at leaving Allison behind.
“Certainly you're over-reacting. We have perfectly comfortable beds in there to sleep this off. We can just sort this all out in the morning, can't we?”
Dustin was unswayed.
“John, listen to me, please. Set our personal issues aside and think.”
Dustin's tone had an almost pleading quality to it. He was desperate and it put Lauren even more on edge. This display of weakness, of fear, was unprecedented.
“Your daughter just told one of the most powerful men in the world that she's batting for a different team. He's the pope. He is the Catholic Church. He sure as hell can't have the only angel that anyone's ever seen running around saying his God doesn't exist.”
Comprehension dawned on John's face.
“I'm not saying she's in danger. Maybe you're right and this will all blow over by morning. I do know that guard was worried enough
to arrange us a getaway, and at who knows what cost. I'm not willing to bet her safety on his good graces, are you?”
“No, I'm not. Just... give me five minutes. I have to get Allison, I have to try.”
“John...”
“Just promise me you'll wait, okay? I have to go back. She's still my wife.”
Lauren watched the two from the car, wondering what the hell was taking them so long. As she watched, John ran back into the building. Dustin paused a moment and then turned and slowly walked to the car and opened the driver's door, stepping into the vehicle.
“Hey what the fuck? What's dad doing I thought we had to go!”
Only the click of the door lock answered her.
The car sped away into the night, Lauren screaming at Dustin to turnaround and tearing wildly at the door handle.
Chapter Thirteen:
Lauren hadn't spoken in nearly two days.
Not a single, solitary word had crossed her lips since they'd arrived at the U.S. Embassy in Rome. She was under constant guard, right up to the minute they loaded her into a different black car, this one with diplomatic plates, and drove her to a private hangar at the airport. Only her silent tears had protested boarding the plush private jet chartered to return her to the States.
Nevertheless, Dustin continued to carry on the same conversations they normally shared, albeit only his side. His trademark one-liners, curt remarks, and brief explanations of the processes they went through may as well have been addressed to the boots on her feet for all the good it did him.
It wasn't until they were airborne, when a large TV in front of their seats flickered to life with the morning news, that she made a sound.
“Dad!”
Her voice broke on the single word as she searched frantically for the volume control.
Sure enough the TV in front of her was showing local Italian news. A reporter was describing a riot from the day before while clips played of a scene around Vatican City. The pope was addressing a huge crowd. John and Allison were standing on the balcony beside him as he spoke to thousands of onlookers. Allison had a sloppy, intoxicated smile on her face whereas John was more subdued. At least they both looked healthy and unharmed.
“...had pressing matters to attend to. She regrets being unable to lead us all in prayer today but has instructed me to lead in her stead. Her mother and father stand here beside me, testament to her good will, and to her commitment to the one true church of God. Let us give praise for their guidance. For the tenderness and sanctity of their daughter. Let us thank them for God's blessing, which they helped usher into this world...”
His words placated many of the people in the crowd, but others were angry. Most of the assembled people were not content without the savior they had been promised. Within the space of about ten minutes, the police were breaking up fights inside the audience and removing people from the premises.
The scene degenerated further, looking more like a barroom brawl than a Catholic mass. Eventually the police were forced to call for backup and had to use tear gas and riot gear to restore law and order. Lauren stared at the screen holding the remote with a white-knuckled grip.
Dustin shifted uncomfortably.
“They're going to be ok, Lauren. The State Department is already working on getting them back home.”
Her gaze slowly, excruciatingly, turned to him. Her eyes screamed murder.
“The State Department? The State Department is 'working' on it,” she managed to say through clenched teeth, her anger barely held in check.
“Lauren, you didn't have a choice. You needed to-”
“You think you have to tell me that I didn't have a choice? I know I didn't have a choice!”
She threw the remote at him, catching him off guard and hitting him square in the mouth. Blood sprang from his newly split lip and he flinched at the unexpected blow.
“Dammit Lauren,” He put a finger to his lip and held it out, finding that he was bleeding.
“I would do it again! I would do it a thousand times if it meant you were safe a thousand times!”
“Well just what exactly is going to hurt me, Dustin, hmm? It's not like literally anything could happen to me for god's sake!”
“That's not the point, you're my responsibility and it's my job to make sure you're-”
“Shut up.”
Lauren caught herself reliving an argument she'd heard from her parents. She never thought she'd be playing the part of her mother. Her mind drifted to other vices they shared, besides a loose-cannon temper.
“I hate you.”
She muttered softly to Dustin, but in her heart she didn't know if she was talking to him, to her mother, or to herself.
“I can live with that,” he muttered, turning off the television.
Dustin put in a pair of earbuds and leaned back in his seat, content to ignore his troublesome charge.
Lauren sulked in her anger a while longer, but eventually she got up to explore the aircraft. She was determined to outrun the thought that haunted her; that her father had chosen to stay behind.
The plane was huge, but nearly empty. In fact, they appeared to be the only passengers besides the crew. Dustin had said it was generally used to shuttle around dignitaries.
Little wonder it was so... over-done.
No expense had been spared. The plane had plush couches, comfortable chairs, even several small meeting rooms. There were a half-dozen expensive televisions throughout the cabin area alone.
As she wandered past the meeting rooms, she saw they were split down the middle. The two sections were divided by a galley of sorts.
This small, intimate dining area was empty of crew. Hardly surprising considering it was still quite early. She paused mid-step, catching sight of a small but expensive looking mini-bar. Her better judgment wrestled with her anger and anxiety.
It was no contest.
I'll just look, she thought to herself, checking to see if anyone was watching her before walking over.
She deluded herself. Told herself she was just examining the fine crystal glasses and the stainless mixing instruments, tumblers, and measuring devices. Her eyes scanned the long row of expensive looking liquor bottles arranged neatly on the shelves. Licking her lips dryly, the temptation to have a quick sip was hard to resist.
The devil in her mind nudged her. Why not?
It made her think of her mother.
“No, I'm nothing like her.”
Her mind wandered down the well-trodden path of her insecurities. Now she knew at last, Allison had abandoned them. When she'd left that night, months ago, Lauren had allowed a slight hope that maybe she would return. Now she knew she wouldn't. She had left Lauren and her dad with no intention of ever coming back.
Dad? John? Dad.
Now we've both abandoned him, she thought grimly. Or did he abandon me? The thought crept back into her mind, and she could not force it out again.
The small bar filled up quickly, not with people but with the ghosts of her past. Trapped within the confines of this plane she had nowhere to run, no escape.
Well. Almost no escape, anyway.
She ducked behind the waist-high counter of the bar and selected a glass bottle of amber liquid at random from the shelf, along with a small glass.
“Don't mind if I do...”
Sliding to the floor, she sat cross-legged behind the bar, her wings tucked close. She'd be invisible to any casual passerby at least. She took stock of her stolen prize; the bottle she'd nipped had fancy gold lettering on it, but all of the words were written in French. Scanning the bottle she finally found what she was looking for; written in small lettering near the base were the numbers "60%."
Good, Lauren thought to herself, pulling out the cork top and taking a hesitant sniff of the bottle.
Oh god, that's awful. She crinkled her nose at the pungent smell, like smoke and wood chips mixed with fruit. Plums maybe?
It doesn't have to taste good, it just has to be str
ong.
She took a long swig from the bottle, ignoring the tumbler she'd gotten for herself.
The taste wasn't as bad as the smell. It tasted like wood and plums alright, but had a smooth, silky texture that coated her mouth and took a bit of her breath away.
“So this is a good idea then?”
Dustin's words crossed the room like bullets. Lauren flinched, splashing expensive alcohol all over herself. She froze, but he clearly knew she was there.
She stood defiantly, looking across the bar at him. He was standing by the door, arms crossed over his powerful chest and a deep scowl on his face.
“Shut up.”
A moment passed in silence. The ten feet between them could have been a thousand miles.
“Lauren...”
“How do you know my parents?”
Her blunt question gave him pause.
“We're... old friends.”
“Bullshit.”
“We went to college together, a long, long time ago.”
“Well ain't it a small world.”
She scowled, he was hiding something.
“Why doesn't my dad like you?”
She took a deep pull from the bottle in her hand.
“He and I... had a fairly substantial falling out.”
“Oh thank you, that clears everything up. You know what? Forget it. I don't care. I never want to speak to you again.”
“Lauren, I did what I had to do. I'm not going to apologize for it.”
“Why? Why did you have to do it!”
She was screaming at the top of her lungs, no doubt everyone on board could hear them.
“You are my responsibility, Lauren!”
“Well you're fucking fired! I want my parents, not some self-righteous asshole who thinks he knows what is best for me!”
“Lauren...”
“Just leave! The minute we touch down. Nothing is keeping you here, I don't want you here, you understand me? I. Don't. Want. You. Here.”
His mouth snapped shut and he remained speechless for a long moment. She could see pain in his eyes as he finally bowed his head in defeat and left the room.
After a few minutes she took another long swig, and then another after that. Her anger grew as she waited impatiently for her mind to cloud. The press of memories pushed in around her and she felt hot, angry tears streaming down her face.
