The Vatican Children (World of Shadows Book 2) Page 3

  Abigail frowned. “Okay.”

  Then she hugged Arthur and raced over to the car, sliding into the passenger seat with a frown. Frieda gave Arthur one last look—full of sadness and disapproval—before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning on the car.

  After a few moments, they headed back down the dirt road and away from the cabin. Arthur watched them go and thought about what Frieda had told him about the vote. He might become Abigail’s lawful guardian soon.

  On the one hand, that thrilled him. On the other, though ...

  He felt terrified.

  Already, he had lost one family. So had she. The thought of building another one with her and then losing her, too, stopped him cold.

  Maybe he should tell Frieda to drop the issue with the Council. They could put her into foster care or up for adoption in any number of states or countries. Perhaps he could find another family to keep her safe and let her grow up as a normal little girl.

  After all, would she ever find safety or peace with him?

  Just seeing Abigail made him feel a lot better, like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. And seeing her smiling and happy made him think that maybe, just maybe, good did exist in the world. Perhaps it wasn’t all evil.

  Evil, Arthur thought, like Bishop Glasser.

  He reminded himself that he had work to do and pushed the errant thought from his mind. Then he turned back to the cabin where he had the woman locked in his basement. She provided his only good lead to find out where the bishop hid, and he would need to get through to her if he were to bring the man to justice.

  Chapter 2

  By the time Niccolo made it to Arthur’s cabin in the woods of Colorado, he’d grown tired, frustrated, and annoyed. He had first turned onto the dirt road leading into the forest early in the morning, and now the sky grew ever darker.

  He also felt immensely hungry and wanted nothing more than to get some hot food into his belly. He hadn’t thought to bring any victuals or water with him on the drive, and hadn’t even imagined that he might need it.

  As he drove up, he saw Arthur sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, and if anything, Arthur looked even more frustrated and annoyed than him. The man stood and walked down the stairs of the porch while Niccolo parked.

  “You’re late,” Arthur said as soon as Niccolo climbed out of his car.

  “I know.”

  “Like, very late. A lot later than I anticipated. I had honestly begun to think you had changed your mind and wouldn’t come at all.”

  “Do you know how difficult this place was to find?”

  “That’s the point,” Arthur said. “If my cabin proved easy to find, then people would find it. I figured you would get here, though, because I gave you explicit instructions.”

  “Terrible instructions. I missed the same turn three times,” Niccolo said, dryly. “I didn’t realize the ‘giant cottonwood tree’ you used as a marker had been cut down. I kept backtracking and driving past the turn.”

  Arthur shrugged, and then stretched. He walked back up the steps and over to the door. “I’ll just have to remember not to let you navigate if we have to go anywhere.”

  Niccolo decided to ignore the jab, at least until he had eaten a good meal. Right now, he felt too hungry to care much about what Arthur said. Instead, he followed him into the cabin.

  It looked quite a bit bigger than he had expected or seemed on the outside. A fire blazed in the living room off to the left, and the warm air felt great on his skin. Even better, the smell of cooked food wafted through the entire place.

  “Dinner is ready,” Arthur said, heading to the right into what appeared like a kitchen. “I figured you would feel hungry when you got here.”

  “Starving.”

  “I hope you like canned beans and Vienna sausages.”

  “I hate both,” Niccolo said, “but, right now, I’m hungry enough that I don’t care.”

  Arthur chuckled and led him over to where the food cooked. A gas stove had a pan simmering atop it, and he scooped them each out a bowl. Niccolo accepted it graciously and then followed him back into the living room to eat. It had only a huge coffee table about knee height, so he held the plate on his lap as he ate.

  The only sound for the next couple of minutes came from them eating. The stew had sat simmering for a long time, and it tasted well seasoned. Niccolo, honestly, couldn’t tell if the food was good or if he just felt that hungry.

  Finally, he set his bowl on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch. Arthur followed suit a few bites later.

  “Want more?”

  “Not just now. Maybe in a bit.”

  “No problem. We don’t have a lot of options, but we do have a lot of stuff.”

  “Canned goods?”

  “Mostly. It gets tough bringing anything else out here with the long drive.”

  “Did you build this place?”

  “Yeah. Took several years, and I only finished it recently.”

  “No one else knows about it?”

  “Nope. Wouldn’t be that well hidden if a lot of people knew it existed. Frieda and a few Hunters know, but that’s it.”

  “It looks quite impressive.”

  “The government owns the land, and it lies buried inside state and national forests. Only a handful of access roads even come out this direction, and none of them pleasant to drive on. It provides my haven out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “You built it by hand? Did you have any help?”

  “My brother, mostly.”

  “Brother?”

  “Yeah, he lives in Ohio. I started the foundations a long time ago but never had the time to work on a consistent basis. I would just pick at it now and again, expanding constantly. Then, after my wife and daughter got murdered, I just settled down and finished it. I didn’t want to move back into my family’s home. It brought a constant reminder of what happened.”

  Niccolo nodded. “Of course.”

  “So, more or less, I’ve lived here or on the road for the last several months. Finished building the place not long before I went to Everett, actually. Rough, since I’m always on the move.”

  “Rarely have I traveled, myself. Not an enviable lifestyle,” Niccolo said. “I’ve always had a sort of desire to become a world traveler. A wanderlust. But, now, I just wish I were back home in the comforts of my apartment.”

  “I hope you haven’t grown homesick already,” Arthur said. “Because we’re just getting started.”

  AFTER CLEANING UP THE remains of their lukewarm and unpleasant dinner, Arthur showed Niccolo to a small bedroom in the back of the cabin where he could unload his bags and rest. It looked like a multi-purpose room converted recently into sleeping quarters with only a lumpy twin mattress and spotted covers on the floor for him.

  On the short tour that Arthur gave him, he had a chance to see the cabin’s food stores, and didn’t feel at all impressed. It looked like he would have to suffer many more terrible meals of canned and processed food in the future.

  Then, before Niccolo could ask any more questions, Arthur disappeared into the basement of the cabin. He didn’t offer an explanation or ask for Niccolo to follow him. In fact, he didn’t seem to want him to come along. In confusion, Niccolo just watched him go.

  Not that he cared overly much right now, anyway. Exhausted, he needed a break after the long drive. He headed back out to his rental car to gather up his belongings and brought them back to his room.

  Unlike his previous trip to Everett, Washington, this time, he came completely prepared for any paranormal situation that might arise. Anything that could involve his duties as an Exorcist. He had a Stole, a new rosary he’d commissioned from the local craftsman who’d crafted his previous one, and all the crosses, Bibles, and religious symbols he could get his hands on at short notice.

  His bag seemed to weigh a few hundred pounds when he hefted it back to his room. He didn’t know what he would need or what situations he might face in this
misadventure, but with Arthur around, anything remained possible.

  Once he got back to the room, he laid down for a while. The lumpy bed smelled like sawdust, but he considered it only a minor nuisance considering how tired he’d grown.

  He planned to lay down for just a minute to clear his head. The next item on his agenda was to find Arthur and ask about their plans, but he found himself dozing off before the opportunity arose.

  The sound of a door slamming somewhere outside of his room awakened him a short while later. It jolted him into alertness, and he sat groggily in the darkness for a full minute before he got his bearings. The sunlight had gone, and he could see barely even a few inches in front of his face.

  Niccolo dragged himself to his feet, he couldn’t have slept for more than a few hours, but he felt significantly worse than when he’d laid down.

  He found Arthur out in the living room waiting for him. He leaned against the wall with his arms folded, watching Niccolo approach with a bemused expression on his face.

  “A pleasant nap?”

  Niccolo only moaned in response. “Where will I find your restroom?”

  “The outhouse is out back.” Arthur gestured toward the door at the rear of the house. He held the pose for a moment, watching Niccolo with a half-smile on his face, before continuing, “But, since the generator is running, it’s down the hall behind you.”

  “You have running water?”

  “Very clean at that. I didn’t find it easy drilling for the pump, but it’s some of the freshest water you’ll ever taste.”

  Niccolo didn’t want to admit how glad he felt that he wouldn’t need to step out into the uninviting forest to relieve himself. He turned and headed into the facilities, splashing water on his face and slapping his cheeks. Arthur had told the truth. The water felt cold and clean and quite excellent.

  When he made it back to the living room, he felt more awake and much better. The food had settled his stomach, and the nap had rejuvenated him. Arthur stood heating water on the stove and glanced over at him when he approached.

  “Tea or coffee?”

  “Instant coffee?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Tea, then. Earl Grey if you have it.”

  Arthur didn’t reply, but a moment later, he handed Niccolo a small platter with a steaming cup of water and a tea bag. No label, and for definite, it didn’t smell like Earl Grey. Arthur nodded toward a bag of sugar on the corner of the counter but made no move toward it himself.

  Niccolo dipped the bag into the water for a moment, watching the inky liquid spread. Arthur, he noticed, poured himself a cup of coffee and then mixed in equal parts cream and sugar.

  They stood in silence for a moment, relaxing and sipping their beverages. Finally, Arthur turned to face Niccolo and set his cup on the counter beside him.

  “Not too comfortable out here, are you?”

  “Of course not,” Niccolo said. “You are?”

  “I enjoy the quiet. It’s more peaceful than you might imagine, though it does get cold at night.”

  “Cold?”

  “No central heat. We only have a fireplace in the living room for heat but nothing in the bedrooms except blankets. Certainly, no central air. I run the generator when I need it. The gas powers the stoves.”

  “Ah, that explains the flannel blankets,” Niccolo said. “Here I thought you simply wanted to make me itchy.”

  A look of surprise flashed across Arthur’s face. “A joke?”

  “I’ve been known to make a few from time-to-time.”

  “I thought the Vatican prohibited it.”

  Niccolo sipped his tea. “Only when I’m at the Vatican.”

  “You hungry?”

  Niccolo still felt famished, but the thought of eating more canned goods turned his stomach. “Not right now.”

  “You’ll get used to the food,” Arthur said, noting the expression on his face. “After a while, you won’t even notice how bad it tastes.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  Arthur shrugged. “Don’t worry; we won’t be here too long. At least, that’s the hope.”

  “Oh? Do we have a lead?”

  “Not yet, but I do have quite a few people considering it. Something is bound to turn up.”

  “What about the woman that Bishop Glasser spoke of in his letters? Desiree something.”

  “Desiree Portman.”

  “Yes. What about her? Have you considered talking to her about the bishop?”

  “Yes. And no,” Arthur said. “I spoke to her, but she turned out a dead end.”

  Niccolo nearly spat out his tea. “What do you mean did?”

  “Don’t worry; I didn’t hurt her. I spoke to her at length and feel confident she doesn’t know where the bishop has hidden.”

  “You spoke to her? When?”

  “This morning,” Arthur said, without missing a beat. “I have her in the basement.”

  Niccolo’s jaw hung open. Fear mounted in the pit of his stomach. “She’s what?”

  “In the basement.” Arthur sipped his tea. “Rather unhappily, I might add.”

  Niccolo’s hands trembled, and he set the tea down on the counter. “Arthur ... what did you do?”

  “Nothing we can’t undo,” Arthur said. “At least, mostly. I haven’t harmed her, only questioned her.”

  “Here?”

  “It seemed the best place.”

  “With her consent?”

  Arthur shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

  Niccolo’s voice rose in pitch and timbre, “You mean you kidnapped her?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “You can’t just kidnap people,” Niccolo shouted, shaking his head in disbelief.

  He rubbed his face while his mind attempted to process what Arthur had told him. The man had kidnapped a woman and brought her here, and that made Niccolo an accessory to his crime.

  “You know, kidnapping people isn’t that hard,” Arthur said. “As long as no one sees you take them, and you get them over state lines in a hurry, it’s not that difficult at all.”

  “I don’t mean you can’t. I mean you can’t.”

  “I can, and I will, when necessary,” Arthur said. Even while Niccolo raised his voice, Arthur’s remained calm and even. “Don’t worry; she remains perfectly safe and well taken care of. I wouldn’t dream of hurting her, and I intend to return her home as soon as we have this ordeal over with.”

  Niccolo shook his head and walked toward the door to the basement. He needed to fix this problem ... somehow ... before it got out of hand.

  “That isn’t the point. It doesn’t matter that you don’t intend her harm. The fact that you did it at all is unacceptable.”

  “Catching the bishop has more importance than obeying social norms.”

  “You mean laws.”

  “Those too. We don’t have time to debate issues of morality.”

  “Issues of morality remain the only thing separating us from the evil we fight against.”

  The basement had a deadbolt on this side, but the handle didn’t have a lock of its own. Niccolo wrenched it open and headed down the stairs. Arthur followed behind, but the Hunter made no move to stop him.

  “A much greater divide exists than you might imagine, and stopping to consider what you will and will not do to achieve your mission offers the quickest way to an early grave.”

  It looked dim inside the basement with only a single overhead light. Niccolo held the handrail as he rushed down the risers. Only a small window led to the outside world from down here, far too small for even a small child to fit through.

  Three small prison cells lined the walls of the basement, each about ten feet wide and with several feet of separation between them. The bars all seemed heavy and made of metal and appeared relatively new.

  Inside one of the cells sat a middle-aged woman, dirty and disheveled. If Niccolo had to guess, she hadn’t slept in days. She stared at the floor but climbed to he
r feet when she saw Niccolo standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Thank God!” she said. “Please, can you help me ...”

  Her voice trailed off, though, and a moment later, her eyes went wide with fear.

  Niccolo thought, at first, that she’d spotted Arthur on the staircase behind him, but then realized she looked directly at him.

  “You’re not ...?” She looked at Arthur. “He’s not ...?”

  “He isn’t with the bishop.” Arthur stepped forward to stand alongside Niccolo. He held up his hands in a non-threatening manner, trying to calm her.

  “But, he’s with the Church!”

  “He didn’t even know Bishop Glasser,” Arthur said. “And, like me, he wants to stop him from hurting anyone else.”

  “What is she talking about?” Niccolo asked, completely caught off-guard by her response. He turned to her. “What do you mean?”

  The woman jerked back when he spoke to her. Arthur tapped his shoulder and gave a curt shake of his head. Niccolo took a step back from the cell, and then turned to the woman.

  “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

  She backed away, shaking her head and still looking terrified. “I don’t want anything from you. Please go. Please, just go!”

  Her outburst took Niccolo by surprise, but he did as she said. He backed up toward the stairs, walking slowly, and then rushed all the way up. Arthur followed, and a moment later, they stood in the living room.

  Arthur shut the door behind them, bolted it, and then headed toward the sofa.

  “I suspected she wouldn’t feel too happy to see you,” Arthur said, “but I didn’t anticipate that response. It confirms a lot of my suspicions.”

  “What the hell just happened?” Niccolo asked, bewildered.

  “She wasn’t the bishop’s accomplice,” Arthur said. “She was his plaything. His victim.”

  “What? That’s crazy.”

  “It’s true. The bishop spent years mistreating her and ruining her life before he ever started his attack on Everett. It started when she was a little girl.”

  Niccolo couldn’t believe what Arthur told him. “No, no, that’s not right. That can’t be right.”

  “It’s true.”