The Sixth Station(132)

Without warning, great gushing sobs escaped from my throat. I was crying for myself. I was crying, dammit, for Pantera as well.

This is too much for me. I can’t do this—I can’t even save one man, let alone the frigging world. Hell, my mere presence has caused the death of two men I care deeply about.

That was immediately followed by my rational side taking over from the emotional mess side of me.

Right. One got you into this mess, and one SOB took horrible advantage of you and stole the only proof there is on earth from you.

I didn’t want Maureen to hear me crying, so as soon as the water shut off in the bathroom, I forced my own personal waterworks to shut down as well. I fell into a deep and, for once, dreamless sleep. In fact, I was so deeply asleep that I didn’t even stir until I felt Maureen gently shaking me awake.

She was already done up in her fake nun’s habit. Damn if she didn’t look like she’d sent it out to be cleaned and pressed overnight.

“What time is it?”

“It’s nearly six thirty. I believe you are to meet the sister at church this morning?”

“Yes. Oh, right. You were listening in.” She made no indication that she’d even heard me, which I know she did.

“Are you coming to church with me?”

“Yes, but I will sit in the back. Just another anonymous nun.”

“I hope Grethe is all right. I’m really worried. I can smell the fires.” With that, I got up and opened the shutters a bit and could see wildfires all over the hills.

“As I said, she’s fine. She entered the church at five. Before sunrise.”

I didn’t bother to ask her how she knew this, because it would have been a waste of my breath and of her time.

“You’d better hurry, my dear.”

I kept the same white T-shirt on, scrambled back into my jeans, threw on my leather jacket and boots, and grabbed my red bag.

“Coming?”

“I’ll follow in a few minutes. Please be careful not to look around the church for me, or they might suspect you’ve brought along a cohort.”

“They?”

“Well, whoever. She. I don’t want to tip your delicate balance with her.”

I opened the door to leave, and turned back. “I don’t know what I’ll find out, aside from the fact that I’ve seen a relic, but if the nun can somehow prove what she says is true, I will make sure the whole world knows the truth, and knows it ten minutes after I do.”

“Eleven. I come first.”

I walked out into the beautiful spring day and heard the sound of gunfire and explosions around the area surrounding Manoppello. They sounded much closer than they had the night before. The hills were not just ablaze; they had become a war zone.

The whole world is coming undone. Has everyone gone crazy because ben Yusef might get a pass?

I climbed the steps to the church and tried a door. I was shocked to see that it was not just open, but that the church was fairly full and that the 7:00 A.M. mass had already begun. I was also more than shocked to see such a beautiful lush interior. The inside structure totally belied the façade.

Rows of plain, wooden pews sat upon a decorative marble floor leading up to an altar with three marble steps. On the first tier of the altar was the same white altar cloth covering it as I’d seen in the House of the Virgin. Behind the altar in the apse, however, was something I’d never seen in a church. Two rows of steps with banisters—almost like a bridge—converged at the center around an elaborate marble-pillared tower. It was topped by a cross not dissimilar to the Occitan Cross that I’d seen all over the Languedoc area in France. The tower reached nearly to the ceiling.

An arch was carved out of the center of the tower and topped with marble rococo angels. Inside of that arch sat an elaborate gold frame with a crown and a cross on its top. But with the sunlight hitting the frame, it looked like it held nothing but blank gauze.

Has the Veil been moved?

I refocused my eyes to the parishioners themselves—townsfolk, nuns, and monks. I saw Grethe’s brown habit from the back.

This whole town was deserted last night. Where the heck did all these people come from?

Even from the back, I knew it was Grethe because she was praying at the top of her lungs, letting out screeches and “ululu” sounds every so often. Apparently the locals were used to her, because no one even turned around to see who was making such a fuss.

But she wasn’t the only one who was visibly upset. In fact, many of the congregants were crying, albeit in a more controlled manner.

As soon as mass ended and the church began emptying out, Grethe turned around, and I thought that she must have had a vision, because her expression turned to pure terror. She pointed her finger toward the back of the church and began screaming, “They will kill Him. Save the Lord!” Then on a dime, she turned back around and ran up to the altar, screaming in German.