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"I wish I could," I said, relaxing back onto the couch. I glanced over at
Eion. I could only see the top of his head, where the sunlight made his blond
hair white. While it might be okay for me to entertain ideas of sex, helping
someone else break his vow of celibacy was right out. I stared out the window,
feeling guilty for wanting to do both and, for the second time in less than a
week, with someone I barely knew.
"Michael is an angel," Eion said without preamble. Standing up, he smoothed
out his sweater "I've always known that, I guess."
"You mean like a real angel?" American Catholics also tended to see a lot more
of the mythological aspects of our religions with a heavier grain of metaphor.
"With wings?"
"I mean like a messenger from God." He crossed his arms, and stared down at
me. "For God's sake, his name is Michael."
I laughed. "The archangel Michael? Do you really think we're that important?
To get a message directly from God Himself?"
Eion frowned. "And why not? Isn't that what the office of the priesthood is
all about? Acting as emissaries for His will?"
"Conduit," I said. "That's the word Michael used."
I looked out the window, as a house sparrow landed on one of the black-eyed
Susan stalks. Mist had condensed into rivulets that bled down the
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glass physical proof of the miracle we'd witnessed.
For me, being a priest was part of the job of Inquisitor. I might be a shitty
priest, but I was a damn fine Inquisitor, particularly because I didn't let
the mumbo jumbo of Catholic ritual cloud the truth. I reached out and touched
the wetness on the window, and rubbed it between my fingers. It had never
occurred to me that the magic might be real.
"Michael is a bum, not an angel," I insisted.
"Aw, come on. You know better than that," Eion said with an exasperated sigh.
He started to pace. "Something is going on here. Something important, and we
have to figure out what it is and do what needs doing."
I watched him pace. A lot of the people who perpetrated fake miracles did it
out of a need to be something more than what they were. Last night, Eion had
denied such desires. Today, it seemed he'd changed his tune.
"You do think you've been given a special calling."
He stopped moving to glare at me. "What? This isn't about me, McNaughten. It's
about you. Michael said that you . . . that you weren't a good priest. What's
he talking about? What case are you working on?"
"You really think God is talking to me?" My voice came out much more feebly
than I intended, and I looked away from Eion. The men in the shelter were
starting to stir. I could hear the door to the main sleeping room opening and
closing. Smells of breakfast came up from the basement kitchen.
"God talks to everyone, Inquisitor. It's just a matter of being open to Him."
I grimaced at Eion. "I heard that kind of talk in seminary."
"So why didn't you listen?"
I had no answer. I kept thinking about the passage: "Who is the liar? It is
the man who denies & " My stomach twisted. Was I that shitty a priest?
"Okay." Eion sat down in the recliner Michael had occupied. He looked at his
hands, and then looked back at me. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "Do you
really think it's a good idea to ignore this, whatever it is & sign? You told
me that in your vision the seraph quoted One John. The message of that passage
is that those who deny God are the Antichrist."
I shook my head. Eion was hitting too close to home. "I have no proof that
Michael is talking for God."
"Proof?" he said, looking at the window. "Isn't our job all about faith?"
Eion's question still hung in the air between us when my private line buzzed.
The call came from Rome, with high urgency. As much as I wanted to finish my
conversation with Eion, I had to take this. I stood up, looking for a private
place to talk. Eion also rose and put a hand on my arm. He looked imploringly
into my eyes.
"God is talking to you, Emmaline. You shouldn't ignore it."
The timing was just too funny. I had to laugh. "Actually, it's the Vatican. Is
there somewhere I could take a private LINK call?"
Eion frowned at me. "Why not just take it here?"
Most people had no trouble talking to two people at once. It wasn't that I was
unable to multitask; I just found it rude. I preferred to give people my full
attention. "I'd like some privacy," I insisted.
Eion nodded stiffly. I could tell he was feeling dismissed. "I'll go check if
they need help downstairs with the food line."
"We can talk later," I told him.
He shook his head as he turned away. I could tell he didn't believe my offer
was sincere. "Sure."
I settled back into the couch and shut my eyes. I tripped the go-ahead on the
call. A window opened up to show Bishop Rodriguez's angry face. Instead of his
avatar, I got the live version via his wrist-phone cam. I got the sinking
feeling I was in trouble.
"What the hell is going on there?"
The bishop rarely swore, at least not in English. "I'm not sure what Your
Grace is referring to."
"I haven't gotten any reports, and I just received your expenses." The bishop
looked purple in the cheeks. "Mouse Legal Defense Fund? What on earth are you
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playing at?"
"Right," I said. "I meant to talk to you about that. I need one of the
Vatican's best programmers sent to New York well, New Jersey really."
I could see his jaw clench and unclench. Behind him, I could see Saint Peter's
Basilica. He stood outside. Tourists milled around him, and pigeons flocked
nervously from perch to perch. The Italian sun shone off the white marble
columns surrounding Piazza San Pietro. I thought of the snow-covered courtyard
just beyond the windows, and I felt a stab of homesickness.
"We've already sent our best Inquisitor," he said. "At least, I thought we
had."
I sat up straighter. "You have."
"Then why don't I know what's going on there? Why don't I have any answers?"
"As you told me, Your Grace, figuring out a soul is a difficult thing."
He looked over his shoulder at Michelangelo's dome. "You've got to give me
something."
"I need a programmer because Mouse promised to give us Page's code. Thanks to
prison rules, he's not allowed to write it, but he said he'd dictate it to
someone." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]