Lauren wasn’t sure what to make of Father Emilio.
He seemed kind enough when she first met him, but that was before she knew he was an exorcist and a member of a secret Vatican order that investigated potential spiritual crimes. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that his order even existed.
The Church was too powerful. She had always believed that, even when she was considering being a nun. The church had always been too concerned with things that a church shouldn’t concern itself with. They existed as shepherd’s not as rulers, but the more she learned about the Church, the more she wondered if it was God’s will they represented or their own.
And Father Emilio was an agent of theirs, evidently a well-known and well-regarded one. She didn’t believe in the will of God or fate or anything like that, but she didn’t believe in coincidence either; and it concerned her that she, a former nun, somehow found herself in the company of a high-ranking member of a secret investigative order of the Catholic Church’s ruling body.
Lauren glanced over at him. The Father stared silently out of the window of the train that would take them from Arezzo to Pescara, a ten-hour journey. The car would have been faster, but Fernando had other engagements and was assigned to the Cardinal at the moment. Lauren had only just arrived in Italy and didn’t have a car, and Father Emilio, like most Europeans, didn’t drive.
The normally smiling Father Emilio became unusually withdrawn after the train pulled away from Arezzo. He gazed at the receding city with a troubled frown and spoke hardly at all. His eyes bore a pain with which Lauren was familiar, having seen it in the expressions of many veterans in the Bureau during her years of service. The Cardinal had mentioned that Father Emilio was an exorcist for many years. Lauren didn’t believe in demonic possession, but she could imagine the father had seen many things he wished to forget, whatever the cause was.
She spent the first hour of the journey brooding herself. The first seeds of doubt that had crept into her head lingered as the train accelerated from Arezzo and began the first leg of its journey. She could sympathize with Father Emilio’s traumas, assuming she was right to believe he had experienced some, but that didn’t change that his loyalties lay with an organization that she didn’t trust as far as she could throw it.
She had come to Italy to escape the tragedies she’d suffered at the Bureau. She had joined the Bureau to escape the anger and hurt she felt toward God and the Church. She had done this only to find her grief equally unbearable and now she was working as an investigator for the Church. She didn’t find the irony all that funny.
She wondered what she would feel when they reached the convent. She had spent five years in a convent in America, and though she was sure the surroundings here would differ from America as much as the rest of Italy did, she knew the atmosphere would be the same. Holiness, devotion, love for God that Lauren cynically believed was simply love of feeling more righteous than others, an insistence that the answer to every question was “the Lord’s will,” or the “temptations of the Adversary.”
No one ever called him Satan. Occasionally, they would refer to him as the Devil, but only in the possessive form. The Devil’s work. The Devil’s wiles. The Devil’s lies. When speaking of him directly, he was the Adversary or the Serpent or the Deceiver. Occasionally, a visiting priest would speak of Lucifer, but Satan was a forbidden word. She was sure that wasn’t true of all Catholics everywhere, but she found it interesting that so many feared to speak his name, as though doing so would mean invoking his presence.
Lauren eventually broke the silence. “How long have you been a priest?”
Father Emilio sighed and turned away from the window. He smiled a little absently, but his tone was agreeable enough when he answered. “I took my vows when I was twenty years old.”
“So you always wanted to be a priest,” she said.
“Oh no,” he said with a laugh. “I wanted to be a soldier.”
“A soldier?” Lauren said incredulously.
His smile widened a little. “Yes,” he said. “I had a toy rifle I carried with me everywhere I went. I imagined myself a hero of the Army leading my soldiers to victory against the communist horde. You must remember, I was a child in the sixties. The Russians were the greatest evil in the world back then, at least as far as the secular world was concerned.”
“So what changed your mind?” Lauren asked.
He chuckled. “The Spirit did,” he said. Seeing Lauren’s skeptical face, he said, “I know that’s hard for you to believe, but I don’t have another answer. I was praying in the church one day and I felt the Spirit move me to become a priest. I called my father the next day and told him of my calling. He supported me and encouraged me, and the next day, I spoke with Father Constantine and began my training.”
“And you’ve never looked back?”
His smile faded. “I wish I could say that were true, but I’m afraid I look back quite frequently, even today.”
But unlike me, you never turn back, Lauren thought with a touch of guilt.
“So how did the exorcism thing start?” she asked.
His smile faded the rest of the way, and Lauren said, “I’m sorry. That’s personal. I don’t mean to pry.”
“No need to apologize,” he said. “If we are to be partners, we should be open with each other. There was a girl in my church many years ago, shortly after I took my vows. She was… afflicted. I reached out to the Vatican for assistance. They sent an exorcist to help her, and he invited me to join him as his assistant. After that, I felt the Spirit call me to assist others who were similarly afflicted.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Lauren let the subject drop. After a moment, he asked, “So Lauren, the Lord moved me to ask for your assistance. I assume this means you have some background in investigative work?”
Lauren nodded. “I was with the FBI for ten years before I moved here.”
He didn’t seem at all surprised by the revelation. “And when you lost your father and fiancé, you left that life behind.”
“Yes,” she said. “I… well, like I told you at the church, I felt lost. I needed to find my way again.”
“But you no longer feel lost?”
Lauren hadn’t registered the past tense until now. She blinked and said, “Well… I don’t know. I guess…” she searched for the words. “I know where I’m going right now, and that’s enough for the moment.”
“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord,” Father Emilio quoted.
“If you say so,” Lauren said, with unintended bitterness.
“You have a lot of animosity toward God,” Father Emilio said. “May I ask why?”
Lauren’s lips thinned. “Perhaps another time, Father.”
“Of course,” Father Emilio said, showing no sign of offense or disappointment. He gazed out the window again, and his smile faded into the withdrawn frown he wore at the start of their journey. Lauren looked down at her phone and busied herself with one of those simple puzzle games she used to play on a case when she wanted her conscious mind to relax so her subconscious mind to sift through the details of the case and hopefully find connections that eluded her conscious mind.
They rode on. Father Emilio gazed out the window, his eyes communicating the trouble his voice could not. Lauren thought of her mother, taken by cancer thirty years before her time. She thought of her father, taken twenty years before his. She thought of Kevin, taken before he even had a chance to really live.
She wondered how many years she would leave behind. Was she once more courting an early death? Would this killer, whoever he was, finish what Fiero had started?
She closed her phone, the puzzle failing in its purpose of quieting her thoughts, and chose instead to spend the remaining hours of their journey in sleep.
***
Arezzo was a medium-sized city that felt like a small Renaissance town. San Vito Chietino was a genuinely small town and the sense of disconnection from modern life was even more powerful here. Aside from the red-brick and stucco buildings and Roman era cobblestone roads, the people here seemed to genuinely hold to the superstitions and lifestyle of a bygone era.
As they walked from the train station to the convent, Lauren noted how the citizens regarded her with an aloof suspicious politeness while Father Emilio was treated with a reverence that bordered on worship. More than a few of the people in the city proclaimed that God had answered their prayers and sent his servant to heal their town and rid them of the demon that plagued them.
Father Emilio accepted this praise with grace and humility, but Lauren could see the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his smile as he spoke with the townspeople. He was afraid.
Lauren couldn’t blame him. She didn’t believe in demonic possession, but she knew how traumatizing an exorcism could be, not only on the subject but the priests who performed it. In one of their later conversations, Father Emilio mentioned it was ten years since his last exorcism, and though he didn’t share details of that event, Lauren got the impression it hadn’t gone well. She could well understand his reluctance to perform another.
Well, he wouldn’t have to. She would be here to make sure that the real killer, the human killer, was caught and that no one would suffer the trauma of an archaic superstition, not Father Emilio and not any of these poor women lost in the false safety in which Lauren herself had once been lost.
The convent was as modest as the church in Arezzo, though substantially larger, of course. They were met at the door by the Mother Superior, a stout, middle-aged woman who, despite wearing the severe expression all mothers superior seemed to wear, was clearly and genuinely distraught at the loss of one of her sisters.
Standing next to the Mother Superior was a middle-aged man of equally stout appearance in the uniform of the Polizia Di Stato. He wore a serious frown, but greeted Father Emilio with a similar deference to that which the townspeople showed.
“Mother Superior, thank you for receiving us,” Father Emilio said with a compassionate smile. “This is my partner, Miss Lauren Lamb. She will be assisting me in my investigation.”
The Mother Superior fixed a questioning glance on Lauren but didn’t air any concerns she might have. “Thank you so much for coming here, Father,” she said, “I can’t tell you how much it means to us that the Vatican responded so swiftly and so effectively to our request for aid.”
Lauren thought the Mother Superior’s confidence rather premature. Based on the slight but perceptible increase in tension in Father Emilio’s demeanor, he must have felt the same. Still, he only nodded and said, “I pledge to do whatever is necessary to bring an end to this torment, Mother Superior.”
She smiled worshipfully at him. “I have faith that God will allow you to drive this demon from our midst before he takes another of His servants.”
The policeman coughed, sparing Father Emilio from the need to offer another assurance. The Mother Superior cried softly, “Oh! I apologize, Father. I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Olivia Costanza. This is Sergeant Pierro Forza with the National Police.”
Sergeant Forza nodded and said, “How do you do, Father. Miss Lauren.”
Lauren couldn’t help but note that the policeman had greeted both of them while the Mother Superior had saved all of her conversation for Father Emilio. Somewhat pettily, she chose to take charge of the conversation.
“Mother Superior, could you tell me a little bit about Sister Katarina?”
Both the Mother Superior and Sergeant Forza turned to her. Miss Costanza’s expression registered the kind of shock one might show if an impudent child spoke out of turn. The Sergeant’s eyes measured her the way a professional investigator measured another. Lauren decided she liked him.
She didn’t feel the same about the nun. She thought back to her training. The standard hierarchy of a convent typically followed a strict organizational structure. At the top of the hierarchy was the Mother Superior, the head of the convent, the general manager, so to speak. She was responsible for overseeing all operations. Beneath her was the prioress or the sub-prioress, who assisted in managing the day-to-day activities of the convent.
After that came the department heads or superintendents, who were responsible for specific areas such as education, maintenance, or healthcare. These department heads were accountable to the Mother Superior and helped ensure the smooth running of the convent.
Beneath them were the sisters, who belonged to different levels of the convent hierarchy depending on their experience and seniority. The novices were the newest members, followed by professed nuns and finally, the senior nuns who had been in the convent for many years. The hierarchy ensured that each member of the convent knew their role and responsibilities, as well as their place in the overall structure of the organization.
The hierarchy didn't protect a nun from losing her mother, feeling abandoned by her God, breaking her vows, and deciding that everything she'd been taught was a lie, however. “Sister Katarina, Mother Superior?” Lauren asked again.
“Sister Katarina was a blessing to this convent and a wonderful servant in the eyes of God,” the Mother Superior replied. “She was devoted to her vows and particularly zealous to minister to the poor of this town. The only times I ever had to correct her were when her zeal caused her to neglect her other duties. I was always gentle with her during those times, of course. I cannot find great fault in a sister who cares so much about the unfortunate that she neglects her other ministries.”
Tears came to her eyes, and Lauren’s irritation at the woman faded. She had seen many crocodile tears during her years with the Bureau, but this woman’s sorrow was genuine. “I know I should celebrate the fact that she is in the arms of God right now, but… I miss her so much!”
The Father laid a comforting arm on her shoulder and the Mother Superior leaned against his chest and wept a moment. Lauren averted her eyes, noting that Sergeant Forza did the same.
After a minute or so, the Mother Superior looked beseechingly up at Father Emilio and said, “She is in Heaven, isn’t she, Father? The Adversary couldn’t have succeeded in taking her soul, could he?”
“She is in Heaven, Mother Superior,” Father Emilio replied firmly. His eyes showed a strength Lauren hadn’t seen before, and he spoke with authority and power. “The Adversary is given permission to afflict the body and mind on this Earth, but he cannot steal the soul of one who dedicates her life to the service of Christ. You will see Sister Katarina again.”
Costanza took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away from the father with a smile. “Yes, thank you, Father. Forgive me for my doubt. I must not allow my grief to be an avenue by which the Adversary can torment us further.”
“May we see the crime scene?” Lauren asked. She appreciated the need for Father Emilio to comfort the Mother Superior, but being thrust into a life she had left behind years ago was difficult for her; and in any case, they were here to solve a crime, not battle a demon, whatever the others present might think.
“Of course,” Costanza replied. She started to walk but stopped, turned around, and said softly, “I will turn you over to Sergeant Forza. I cannot yet bear to see the place where it happened, again.”
Father Emilio took both of her hands in his and said, “The Lord has sent us to address the wrong done the dead, Mother Superior. You must be strong for the living. Go. Comfort your daughters. We will ensure that the one responsible for this crime, be he demon or mortal man, answers to God.”
He’ll answer to someone, Lauren thought. She shared a look with Sergeant Forza, but instead of the professional cynicism she expected, she was dismayed to find him gazing at Father Emilio with a similar worship as Costanza.
Was everyone superstitious here?
A stab of guilt hit her at the thought, and she considered irritably that the atmosphere was rubbing off on her exactly as she feared it would. “After you, Sergeant,” she said.
With a final smile, Father Emilio released Costanza, and she left to tend to the sisters. Sergeant Forza led them to the cloister, where yellow tape cordoned off the spot where Sister Katarina was found. Lauren’s tension eased when she saw the tape. Her memories of the Bureau weren’t particularly fond, but seeing a sign of some logical step taken to solve this murder and not more evidence of superstition reassured her.
“The body was found here,” Sergeant Forza said. “I’m sure you know the details. Her heart burst, and she violently exsanguinated and vomited, dying almost instantly.”
“Her heart burst?” Lauren asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “We hadn’t heard that. Do you mean that literally?”
“I do,” Forza said. “Well, specifically, her aorta and her pulmonary arteries burst. The heart muscle itself is undamaged, but strain in the fibers is consistent with a sudden violent onset of high blood pressure, tachycardia, and arrhythmia.”
“So she suffered a massive heart attack, essentially.”
“Yes,” the sergeant confirmed, “but there was no sign of clotting in the blood. The coroner detected elevated levels of cortisol and adrenaline, but no sign that these levels were elevated artificially. He screened for the presence of steroids and stimulants in addition to the standard tox screen but detected nothing, and I do mean nothing. Her blood contained only blood.”
“The standard tox screen,” Lauren said. She closed her eyes to try to remember if Italy was among the countries with whom the FBI collaborated on technology. “I’m trying to remember if Polizia Di Stato screens are similar to FBI screens.”
“Do you mean do we check for the same things?” She nodded. Forza said, “I believe so. None of the typical poisons. None of the typical drugs. I mean none showed up in the results. We tested for them.”
She closed her eyes again. She said, “Autopsy toxicology screening for the FBI began in the mid-1950s, initially just for basic drug screening. Over time, the FBI developed more advanced methods and techniques for detecting a broader range of substances, including heavy metals, poisons, and volatile organic compounds.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since my training and I haven’t had to think about toxicity screens in a long time. In the 1960s, the FBI introduced methods to identify drugs like LSD and amphetamines. These days, most synthetic opioids and designer drugs are tested as a matter of course.”
“I don’t know every chemical tested for,” Forza said.
“I’m mostly working it out in my head. It could be an organic compound. The death described seems like a reaction to poison but we’ll run out of blood to test before we run out of potential poisons. I apologize for the delay. This is where the bod… where Katarina was found?” She noted Father Emilio stared at her with a slight smile on his face. She didn’t know if he was impressed with her recollections or with her correcting herself about the nun’s body. She didn’t know how she felt about his approval in any case.
She turned her attention to Forza. “When you say no sign of clotting,” Lauren replied, “do you mean no clotting at all?”
“No,” the Sergeant replied, gesturing to the roped off scene where sticky dried and clearly clotted blood lay in a pool perhaps five feet by three feet. “As you can see, platelet activity was normal. I only mean that the heart attack was not the result of an embolism.”
“Right,” Lauren agreed. “Do you have any leads?”
“None,” the Sergeant said. He met her eyes and said soberly, “None but the book.”
“The Lesser Key of Solomon?” Lauren asked.
The Sergeant stiffened at the mention of its name, and Lauren felt a slight rush of contempt. He was looking far less professional than he seemed a few minutes ago. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “The grimoire.”
“Did you interview the others present about Sister Katarina?” she asked. “Any changes in behavior? Any mention of new companions?”
“Yes, we performed a standard investigation,” Sergeant Forza answered stiffly, clearly aware of and offended by Lauren’s assumption that he was allowing superstition to motivate his assumptions. “All agreed that she was her usual self, right up until the night of her death.”
“I’d like to interview the other sisters,” she said.
Sergeant Forza’s lips thinned. “Of course,” he said, even more stiffly. “I’ll speak to the Mother Superior.”
“The book,” Father Emilio said, speaking for the first time. “Where is it?”
Sergeant Forza turned to him and replied. “It’s at the station. We dusted it for prints but found only Sister Katarina’s.”
“I’d like to see it,” Father Emilio replied, “if that can be arranged.”
“We’ll get to that,” Lauren replied, impatient to get the superstition out of the way. “I’d like to speak to the sisters first.”
“Of course,” Sergeant Forza replied, and Lauren was somewhat surprised to see that his relief at avoiding the book outweighed his irritation at her disbelief. “I’ll speak to the Mother Superior right away.”
Lauren met Father Emilio’s eyes. He smiled at her, but she could see the fear that occupied his mind. She tried not to feel the same contempt for him that she felt for the others, but it was hard for her to accept that any rational adult could be so superstitious as to genuinely believe a demon had manifested itself in a convent and murdered a girl.
Well, maybe God did exist, and maybe He had sent Lauren there to be the voice of reason in a chorus of madness.