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.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Could you describe Sister Katarina to me, please?” Lauren asked.

  Sister Carmella sniffled and reached for a tissue. She wiped her nose and disposed of the napkin, then began fiddling with her fingers in her lap. “Um,” she said softly. “She was beautiful. I don’t mean only in appearance, but in spirit. She was so kind to everyone around her and so passionate for the poor of San Vito Chietino. She was shy most of the time, but when it came time to organize a food drive or a collection, she was always at the forefront.”

  “Did she have any friends among the sisters here?”

  Sister Carmella blinked in surprise. “Of course,” she said, “we are all family here. We love each other very much.”

  “Of course,” Lauren replied, “but was there anyone in particular who was close to her?”

  “Well, there was myself, I suppose,” Sister Carmella replied. “She and I went to prayer together, and I was usually her assistant during the food drives. Sister Maria, Sister Anna, and sister Consuela were close to her as well. Like I said, she was very shy. Even among those of us she’d known for years, she was very reserved.”

  “Was she well-liked?” Lauren asked.

  “Of course,” Carmella said with similar surprise. “She was a beautiful soul and a wonderful servant of God.”

  Lauren leaned closer to the nun. Carmella looked to be about twenty-one or -two, roughly the same age as Lauren when she took her vows. Like Lauren, she wore the beatific expression of one convinced that she was contributing greatly to something far bigger and grander than herself. This was clear even through the sorrow she expressed. Lauren met the younger woman’s eyes and said gently, “Sister Carmella, it’s important that you’re honest with me. I can’t help find the person who did this to Sister Katarina if I don’t have all of the facts I need.”

  “I’m being honest,” Carmella replied, firmly but not angrily. “Katarina was shy and reserved, but not unfriendly. She wasn’t simply liked, Miss Lambi, she was loved.”

  Lauren noted the use of her birth name and stifled a feeling of irritation. The more time she spent here surrounded by reminders of her past, the more claustrophobic she felt. For years after she left the convent, she was afraid that God would follow her and punish her for abandoning her vows. She realized it wasn’t logical to feel this way, but being here, surrounded by young women who embraced a life in service to God that she had once embraced, seemed paradoxically like walking into the Devil’s den.

  She glanced at Father Emilio, but the father appeared to be asleep. He sat in a chair in the corner of the office, arms folded and head bowed. Another flash of irritation coursed through her. She was here to assist him with his investigation, not to lead the investigation herself, but so far, he had done little besides comfort the Mother Superior and express interest in the book found in Sister Katarina’s room.

  “Very well,” she said with a smile, turning back to Sister Carmella. “Can you describe to me what happened the night of Sister Katarina’s death?”

  Carmella shuddered and reached up to grasp the rosary that hung from her neck. “I was praying in the chapel when I heard a scream from the cloister. I rushed outside and discovered Sister Katarina bleeding from her mouth and nose and… eyes.” She clutched the rosary even tighter and said, “She was screaming and speaking… something… but the voice wasn’t her own.”

  “What was she saying,” Lauren asked.

  Carmella shuddered again. “She said… I don’t think I should repeat it out loud.”

  “You must,” Lauren insisted, gently but firmly. “I need to know the facts if I can bring justice to Sister Katarina.”

  “All right,” Carmella said, her voice thready. “Okay.” She took another breath and cLambed herself. “Lord, forgive me,” she said. “Sister Katarina was repeating Lucifero oritur over and over.”

  She buried her face in her head and began weeping. Lauren looked back at Father Emilio, who still appeared to be sleeping, not reacting to the news that Sister Katarina had proclaimed “Lucifer rises” in the moments before her death.

  She turned back to Sister Carmella, who cLambed herself again and began rocking back and forth in her chair, eyes wide with terror.

  “Sister Carmella!” Lauren snapped, more harshly than she intended. The sister’s eyes turned to Lauren and Lauren said gently, “Please focus. You found her in the cloister. Do you know what room she left?”

  “I… I don’t,” Carmella replied. “She was walking east, so she could have been coming from her room, but she could have been coming from another chapel as well. She could have come from anywhere. The cloister is a square around the courtyard, so she could have been walking in circles for hours prior.”

  “Did you hear footsteps while you were praying?”

  Carmella shook her head. “No, not until I heard her scream and left the chapel.”

  They could rule out hours of circumambulation then. “So, you heard her scream and left the chapel to find her in the cloister, bleeding. What happened after that.”

  “She…” Carmella squeezed her eyes shut and tears fell. “She died. She looked at me, and… she was so frightened! She looked at me for help and comfort, and… I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.” She met Lauren’s eyes and added. “I do know one thing. Whatever might have possessed her prior to her death, when her eyes met mine, they were Sister Katarina’s eyes, not the eyes of a demon. Our Father showed mercy on her and rescued her soul. She is in Heaven now, not in the realm of the Adversary.”

  She looked fiercely at Lauren, as though daring her to contradict that statement. Lauren didn’t, of course. She nodded and said, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Sister Carmella. That’s all for now. Please send Sister Maria in when you leave.”

  Carmella bowed slightly and began to stand when Father Emilio interrupted. “Did you notice any markings on Sister Katarina when she died? Any sigils or signs on her face or hands?”

  Lauren glanced back incredulously at the father. He sat in the same position as before, the only sign that he was awake the fact that he had lifted his head and opened his eyes.

  “No,” Sister Carmella said. “No markings.”

  “Any unusual smells?” he asked. “Sulfur or smoke?”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. Come on now, sulfur? This was too much. He might as well ask if a giant demon with goat horns and a long tail carrying a pitchfork had appeared and dragged Katarina’s soul into a pit of flame.

  “No,” Carmella said, “Nothing unusual except… except for the blood. And the invocation.”

  She shuddered again, and Lauren said again, a little more firmly. “That’s all for now. Go ahead and send in the next sister.”

  She bowed slightly and left. When the door closed behind her, Lauren whirled on the father, but he once more sat with his head bowed and eyes closed. She sighed heavily, making no attempt to hide it, and turned her attention to Sister Maria, a heavyset young woman a few years older than Carmella who entered the office and, after a moment’s hesitation, accepted Lauren’s offer to sit.

  Maria, Anna, and Consuela confirmed what Carmella had already told them. Katarina was shy and reserved, but well-liked and considered very devout and righteous. They all made much of the love and compassion she had for the poor and expressed their certainty that whatever had befallen her the night of her death, God must have welcomed her into Heaven with open arms.

  Father Emilio asked only two more questions, of Consuela, who aside from Carmella appeared to know Katarina best.

  The first was innocent enough. “Did Sister Katarina ever speak of nightmares or trouble sleeping?”

  “No,” Consuela said, “no, she never mentioned any trouble sleeping. She was often up early to pray in the chapel or walk the cloister, but she went to bed early to make up for it. She never seemed tired.”

  Father Emilio’s next question nearly caused Lauren to do a doubletake. “Have you noticed any other demonic symbols? Pentagrams, and the like?”

  Consuela shivered and cLambed herself. “No, thank God,” she replied. “Nothing like that.”

  “What about an increase in the presence of animals? Crows, cats, stray dogs, perhaps rabbits?”

  Lauren bristled at that. Was he seriously asking if there were any demonic familiars here? As though Sister Katarina was a witch who mesmerized animals like something out of a fairy tale.

  “N—no,” Sister Consuela replied, her face white as a sheet. “Nothing like that.”

  Father Emilio nodded. “Sister, the next question is one that I am embarrassed to ask, but I’m afraid I must. Please forgive me for this intrusion, but did Sister Katarina ever confide in you any changes in her monthly cycle? Any increase in bleeding, or stoppage altogether?”

  Lauren whirled on the father and prepared to chastise him for a wholly inappropriate line of questioning, but Consuela responded before she could.

  “No, Father,” she said. “She spoke of no changes.”

  Father Emilio nodded, then smiled. “Thank you, Sister. That is all for now.”

  Consuela bowed and then left the room. When she had gone, Lauren glared at Father Emilio.

  “What kind of a question was that?” she asked. “You think a demon messed with Katarina’s period?”

 

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