aware, but Orpheus was in fact an actual living man, one who rose to prominence and power due to
his charisma and artistry and, of course, his music. Like many such men, he became a symbol after his
death. Mrs. Rockefeller learned of the lyre through her contacts within our group. She funded our
expedition with the belief that we could take possession of the lyre.”
“Her interest was artistic?”
“She had wonderful taste in art, but she also understood the value of artifacts. I believe she came to
care about our cause, but her initial assistance arose from financial concerns.”
“She was a business partner?”
“Such involvement does not diminish the importance of the expedition. We had been planning the
expedition to uncover the lyre for many years. Her assistance was used only as a means to an end. We
always had our own agenda. But without Mrs. Rockefeller’s assistance, we would not have made it.
With the dangers of the war and the ruthlessness and power of our enemies, it is remarkable that we
undertook the journey to the cavern at all. I can only credit our success to assistance and protection
from a higher place.”
As Celestine struggled for breath, Evangeline could see that she was growing tired. And yet the old
nun continued.
“Once I arrived at St. Rose, I gave the case that contained our discoveries in the Rhodopes to
Mother Innocenta, who in turn entrusted the lyre to Mrs. Rockefeller. The Rockefeller family had such
vast sums of money—those of us in Paris could hardly imagine such fortune—and I felt a great sense
of relief that Mrs. Rockefeller would care for the instrument”
Celestine paused, as if contemplating the dangers of the lyre. Finally she said, “My part in the saga
of the treasure was finished, or so I thought. I believed that the instrument would be protected. I did
not realize that Abigail Rockefeller would betray us.”
“Betray you?” Evangeline asked, breathless with wonder. “How?”
“Mrs. Rockefeller agreed to shield the Rhodope artifacts. She did an excellent job. She died on
April fifth, 1948, four years after they came into her possession. In fact, she did not disclose her
hiding place to anyone. The location of the instrument died with her.”
Evangeline’s feet had grown numb from sitting. She stood, walked to the window, and drew back
the curtain. There’d been a full moon two days before, but that night the sky was black with clouds.
“Is it so precious?” she asked at last.
“Beyond reckoning,” Celestine said. “Over one thousand years of research built to our findings in
the cavern. The creatures, who have thrived on human toil for so long, flourishing from the labor of
mankind, mimicked our efforts with equal vigor. They watched us, studied our movements, planted
spies among our numbers, and occasionally—just to maintain a level of terror among us—kidnapped
and killed our agents.”
Evangeline thought immediately of her mother. She had long suspected that something more had
happened to her than her father had disclosed, but the thought that the creatures Celestine described
could be responsible was too horrible to imagine. Determined to understand, Evangeline asked, “But
why only a few? If they were so powerful, why didn’t they kill all of you? Why not simply destroy the
entire organization?”
“It is true that they could have exterminated us with ease. They certainly have the strength and the
means to do so. But it would not be in their best interests to cleanse the world of angelology.”
“Why is that?” Evangeline said, surprised.
“With all their power, they have a remarkable flaw: They are sensual creatures, wholly blinded by
the pleasures of the body. They have wealth, strength, physical beauty, and a ruthlessness that is
hardly believable. They have ancient family connections that buoy them during the tumultuous periods
of history. They have developed financial strongholds in nearly every corner of the globe. They are
the winners of a power system they themselves have created. But what they do not have is the
intellectual prowess, or the vast store of academic and historical resources, that we do. Essentially,
they need us to do their thinking for them.” Celestine sighed once again, as if the topic caused her
pain. Struggling to continue, she said, “This tactic nearly worked in 1943. They killed my mentor, and
when they learned that I had escaped to the United States, they destroyed our convent and dozens of
others in search of me and the object I’d brought with me.”
“The lyre,” Evangeline said, the pieces of the puzzle coming together suddenly.
“Yes,” Celestine said. “They want the lyre, not because they know what it can do but because they