Angelology(164)

“I hope, then, that I won’t disappoint you, Sister.”

“It is unsettling how much you remind me of her. Your eyes, your mouth, the way you carry yourself

as you walk. It is odd. You could be her twin. I pray that angelology will suit you as it has Gabriella.”

Evangeline wanted desperately to ask what had happened between Celestine and Gabriella, but

before she could articulate her thoughts, Celestine spoke instead, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Tell me one last thing. Who is your grandfather? Are you the grandchild of Dr. Raphael Valko?”

“I don’t know,” Evangeline said. “My father refused to speak about the subject.”

A dark expression clouded Celestine’s features, but just as quickly it dispersed, replaced by

anxious concern. “It is time for you to go,” she said. “It will take some skill to get out of here.”

Evangeline tried to resume her position behind the wheelchair, but, to her surprise, Celestine drew

her close and hugged her.

Whispering into her ear, she said, “Tell your grandmother I forgive her. Tell her I understand that

there were no easy choices then. We did what we needed to do to survive. Tell her that it wasn’t her

fault, what happened to Dr. Seraphina, and please tell her that everything is forgiven.”

Evangeline returned Celestine’s embrace, feeling how thin and frail the old woman was under her

capacious habit.

Gripping the case, feeling its weight, Evangeline slipped the leather strap over her shoulder and

pushed Celestine back through the long passageways toward the elevator. Once they reached the

fourth floor, her movements would need to be swift and discreet. Already she could feel St. Rose

edging away from her, retreating into an unreachable place. Never again would she wake at four

forty-five in the morning and rush through the shadowy corridors to prayer. Evangeline could not

imagine loving another place as much as she loved the convent, and yet suddenly it seemed inevitable

that she leave it.

St. Rose Convent, Milton, New York

Otterley backed the Jaguar into a cove outside the convent grounds, hiding the car deep in the foliage

of evergreens. She cut the engine and stepped out into the snow, leaving the keys in the ignition. They

had agreed that it would be best for Percival—who could not be of much use in any physical ordeal

—to stay at a distance. Without a word to him, Otterley closed the car door and walked quickly along

the icy path to the convent.

Percival knew enough about Gabriella to understand that capturing her would take a coordinated

effort. At his insistence Otterley had put in a call to the Gibborim to check on their progress and had

learned that they were prowling a few miles south, on the country roads north of the Tappan Zee

Bridge. He doubted that they would make much headway with Gabriella, and he was prepared to step

in himself if the Gibborim failed. It was imperative to stop Gabriella before she made it to the

convent.

Percival stretched his legs, cramped from the narrow space of the car, and peered through the dust-

flecked windshield. The convent loomed ahead, a great brick-and-stone edifice barely visible through

the forest. If their timing was right, the Gibborim that Sneja had sent—she had promised at least one

hundred—should be stationed in the area already, awaiting Otterley’s signal to attack. Taking his

phone from his pocket, Percival dialed his mother, but the line rang and rang. He’d tried to call her

every hour all morning without luck. He’d left messages with the Anakim, when she bothered to

answer, but she had clearly forgotten to relay them to Sneja.

Percival opened the car door and stepped into the freezing morning air, frustrated with the

impotence of his position. He should have organized the entire operation himself. It should be him

leading the Gibborim into the convent. Instead his younger sister was in charge and he was left to try

to get through to their aloof mother, who was at that moment likely to be soaking in her Jacuzzi

without a thought in her head of his condition.

He walked to the edge of the highway, looking for signs of Gabriella, before dialing his mother’s

line again. To his surprise, someone picked up on the first ring.

“Yes,” said a hoarse, domineering voice that he recognized at once.

“We’re here, Mother,” Percival said. He could hear music and voices in the background and knew

at once that she was in the middle of one of her parties.

“And the Gibborim?” Sneja asked. “They are ready?”

“Otterley has gone to prepare them.”

“Alone?” Sneja said, reproach in her voice. “However will your sister manage it alone? There are