Focus, Gia!
A fire burned in my stomach, consuming and angry. I wanted to crush her. But just over her shoulder, I could see tourists in the middle of the chapel, sitting in pews, clicking pictures on their phones, and I took a deep breath and released it slowly. There were innocent people around. I couldn’t risk them getting hurt.
“It’s my lucky day,” Veronique continued, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. I recognized the intricate woven metal on the hilt—the Chiave. “I was on my way to deliver our spoils from the attack to daddy dearest when my spy found me with information about your whereabouts.”
Someone told her where I’d be. Who?
“There’s security here.” I grasped the hilt of my sword. “They have guns.”
A sinister snarl twisted her lips. “Not to worry. They’ll be taken care of.”
She started to pull her sword out of its scabbard just as a large group of men and women wearing choir robes cut between us.
I needed to take her by surprise. My boots scraped against the tiles as I got into my kickboxing stance—left foot forward, feet shoulder distance apart, fists up to my cheekbones, elbows in by my sides.
The last two women passed.
I charged at Veronique. A jab to her face. Cross punch to her cheek.
The tourists who witnessed my attack gasped and backed away from us, but I didn’t let the commotion distract me.
An uppercut to her ribs.
Veronique stumbled.
A side kick to her chest.
She flew back and collided with the pews.
Boots hitting the tile floor sounded to my left. A man and a woman Sentinel headed our way.
In the pew, Veronique struggled to get up. I readied my stance again.
Someone grasped my arm and pulled me back through an opening in the wall. The bricks slid into place again, sealing me in a darkened room with a stranger.
What was going on? Veronique had the other Chiavi. I had to get them from her.
Slamming my palms against the stone, I shouted, “Wait! Let me out.” I faced whoever had dragged me in there and ignited a light globe on my palm. The priest who had passed me twice in front of the altar stood there with a sympathetic look on his face.
“The others with her were coming for you,” he said. “They would have killed you.”
“But she has something I need. Something dangerous.” I pushed on the wall. “I have to stop her.”
“This way.” He nodded for me to follow him.
I hesitated, glancing at the wall.
As though he had read my thoughts, the priest lightly touched my arm. “There will be another opportunity to acquire what you’ve lost.”
He was right. I had to move forward. “All right,” I said. “Lead the way.”
He bowed his head and started down a tunnel.
“You know of the Mystik world?” I asked.
“The church has always known of it. The Vatican remained as a bridge between the human and Mystik worlds when the latter went into hiding.”
Our footfalls echoed through the tight passageway. “How did you know I was here?”
He rushed along at a brisk pace. “Antonio alerted me. Said he owed you.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. If both Veronique and Antonio knew my location, I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought I was. “Then how did Antonio know?”
“Because of the recent attacks on humans, the Vatican has guards posted at many of the libraries during hours of operation. They wear street clothes to blend in, so you wouldn’t have noticed him or her.”
“I see.” Guess it’s not a good idea to jump during the day. “Well, next time you speak to Antonio, thank him for me.”
“I will.”
I really hadn’t done much to save the Vatican’s Sentinel during an attack in a library several months ago, only thrown my pink globe to protect him from a fireball that Nick had unleashed, which had been about to hit Antonio.
I followed the priest through the maze of tunnels until we came to a stairwell with stone steps.
“Do you know what happened in Asile?” I hoped that maybe he’d heard something.
He kept glancing over his shoulder as he spoke. “Yes, Antonio told me. He keeps me up-to-date on Mystik news. He said a small group had attacked the castle. Killed several guards and a Sentinel. They broke into the high wizard’s chambers and took something valuable.”
“Did Antonio give you a name of the Sentinel who died?”
“It was an older man,” he said. “Just out of retirement.”
Carrig had never retired. He remained as an instructor after his term of duty. It couldn’t be him. Thank God, he’s okay. The intense feeling of relief caused tears to gather in my eyes, and I turned my head so the priest wouldn’t see, wiping them away with my fingertips.
We ended up at another tunnel, and the priest climbed into a golf cart. I got in on the other side. He turned the key, pushed on the gas, and the cart bumped down the tunnel.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“You may call me Father Peter,” he said.
The headlights illuminated the rock walls, and dank air hit my face. We traveled for about ten minutes before the cart coasted to a stop. He scrambled out, and I followed him up a narrow staircase until it came to a dead end.
He placed his hands on the wall and leaned forward to look through a peephole. “This is the public library. You have a head start. The cathedral’s security will detain Veronique and her gang for as long as possible.”
When I didn’t answer, he looked back at me, and I nodded that I understood.
He returned his eye to the peephole. “Ah, here she is. Time for you to go.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said.
“No need.” His smile was full of warmth. “It is I who should be thanking you. Without you, we are all lost.”
“I’m scared I’ll fail everyone,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure a mouse could hear me, let alone Father Peter.
“I have faith in you, Gianna.” Wow, he had good hearing. “You are more than a prediction. If ever you or yours need a place to hide, come here. There is a tiny silver starburst at the bottom on both sides of the wall: push it, and this door will open.” He bent over and pressed it. The wall slid aside, making an entry into the library.
The Italian woman from the bathroom earlier, wearing gray plaid pants with a red scarf tied around her neck, was on the other side of the wall.
“Good day, Father,” she said before nodding at me. “Gianna.”
“Thank you for meeting us,” Father Peter said. “Gianna, this is Agata. She will help you from here.”
She turned, looking left, then right. “The library is still open. We should be on our way before someone sees this door.”
He gave me a warm smile, the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes deepening. My bet was that he must smile often to have such deep lines. “Now go,” he said.
“Thank you.” I ducked through the opening.