The walls, brown brick and mud streaked with multi-colored graffiti, were a blur as they raced down the deserted street. Alex pushed the rover down the narrow alleys at a speed he knew was suicidal, ignoring the possibility of pedestrians and other traffic in his attempt to put distance between them and what they had left on the floor of the church. Finally, they crossed the bridge over the Tarn and sped into the low slung hills that overlooked the city. She said nothing during the frantic escape. He had glanced her way once and seen her hand griping the handle on the door, her knuckles white, her face unreadable. He backed off the speed slightly and looked her way again. She looked to be no more than thirty, her hair drawn back tight into a short efficient ponytail. Her hair was the color of champagne, good champagne, and he fought back a smile, wondered at that for a moment. He could see several red marks down the side of her neck from where it had held her. The thought chased any ideas of a smile from his mind. Still, she stared straight ahead. He pulled into a roadside turnout at a point that gave them a vista out over a tree covered valley. A small river coursed along its bottom and a farm stretched out across the opposite hillside, smoke rising from a dilapidated old farmhouse. She was out the door before he had shut off the engine striding to a railing next to the car park. She stood staring out into the distance, unmoving. Alex got out of the car and went to stand beside her. Whats your name? Teresa, she said without looking at him. Her voice was strong, almost commanding, and once more a gentle surge of something satisfying rose up within him. Alex Donovan. I know who you are, she replied. You know who I am but I dont know who you are. Story of my life that. She didnt reply. He waited and when it became clear nothing would be offered he spoke, “That thing in the church. Do you know what it was?” She blanched, her cheeks losing a bit of their sun-kissed brown highlights and he knew she was reliving the nightmare of what had happened. She shook her head slightly from side to side. “Ive seen them before, dealt with them many times now. They are not from this world.” She turned and looked at him then, confusion and what he thought might be fear, or was it anger, clouding her eyes. “Why were you there? How did you know I was in the church? How do you know me”, he asked. She looked away as she spoke, “Ive been following you since Rome, picked up your trail there. I went to Maine, tried to find you in Boston. When you broke into the cathedral in Turin we knew what you were after and so I waited in Rome. Ive been close to you ever since. We deduced that the church would be your next target, we know what you are looking for.” Alex thought about what she had said for a moment. His hand slid down to his waist his fingers snaking along the hem of his jacket until they rested on the pistol. “We, who is we? Are you Dominicus’ replacement? If so be very careful. I have no love for you or your kind.” Her eyes drifted down and she stared at his hand for a moment before looking back at him. This time he saw a slight grin, an upward curling of one side of her mouth and there was that gentle warmness in his belly again. “I am not from the Order, not that one anyway.” “Then who are you? What are you?” “Rome was the perfect place to catch up with you, symbolic almost. I was born in America but Rome is my home, since I was a little girl.” “What are you?” She smiled then, not the fleeting grin, but a dazzling smile that caused his fingers to uncurl from the butt of the pistol, his hand falling to his side. “I’m a nun, Alex. And I’m here to help you.” https://youtube/watch?v=kUYcHG60TcI
Posted on: Fri, 29 Aug 2014 03:24:11 +0000
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