“It’s possible,” he replied calmly, ignoring Lauren’s anger. “It’s also possible that a disease or slow-acting poison could have caused irregularities in her hormones, culminating in the catastrophic surge of natural corticosteroids that killed her.”

  Lauren blinked in shock. He was absolutely right. Her anger softened but didn’t disappear entirely. “Still,” she said, “we could have discussed that with the coroner.”

  “The coroner’s report already indicated they didn’t find any toxins,” he countered, “and it wouldn’t tell us whether there were any preceding physiological changes, only the events that immediately led to Sister Katarina’s death. However, if you prefer, I will consult with you in the future before asking questions.”

  “I would prefer that, yes,” Lauren said, resigning herself to taking lead on the investigation. Clearly Father Emilio was not the right choice for that job.

  “I won’t promise not to ask them if you disagree,” he said, meeting her eyes.

  His tone was calm, but carried authority, and Lauren didn’t bother to argue. She pursed her lips and looked away, and Father Emilio added, “I understand, Lauren, that you don’t believe in the possibility of demonic possession, and that makes my questions seem foolish and even dangerous to you. You must understand that I do believe in demonic possession, that I have witnessed things beyond the scope of human comprehension and that every question I ask, I ask because it has a direct bearing on this case. Most likely, this is not a case of possession, but I am here to make certain of that, not to operate under that assumption. This is a Vatican investigation, not a Bureau investigation, and while your skepticism is vital to the success of our work, so too is my faith.”

  He fell silent, and Lauren didn’t reply right away. Her mind seemed to be in conflict with itself. Beliefs she had buried a decade ago threatened once more to invade her thoughts, and she was in no mood to question her decision to leave the Church right now.

  And whatever Father Emilio’s faith might tell him, there was no such thing as demonic possession. It just wasn’t real.

  “Very well,” she said simply, not willing to argue. “I think that’s all we can learn for today. We’ll spend the night at the inn here, then head to Pescara in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Father Emilio said, standing. “I am obligated to tell you that the Mother Superior has offered to allow you to stay here tonight. I am not extended the same courtesy since I am male. I also know that you will refuse, but I am obligated to extend the offer anyway.”

  “You’re right,” she said with brittleness. “I do refuse.”

  “Very well,” he replied calmly. “Sergeant Forza has arranged rooms for us at the inn.”

  They didn’t speak again until they reached the inn, when they exchanged a rather frosty good night and went to their separate rooms. Lauren lay awake a while after the father left, staring up at the ceiling.

  She had once held a faith as strong as the sisters here. She had once believed in demonic possession as they did. She had once believed that God watched over them all and she had once believed that a soul as pure and righteous as Sister Katarina’s could not be condemned to an eternity in hell.

  She had learned the hard way that good people suffered as much as bad people, and there was no God waiting to welcome them on the other side.

  Of course, she’d learned the first part faster than the second part. The Catholic Church believed in the concept of theodicy, which is the attempt to reconcile the existence of evil and suffering with the notion of an all-knowing, all-powerful, and benevolent God. The Church recognizes that bad things could happen to good people and acknowledges the reality of human suffering.

  It just blames the Devil or says it serves a purpose.

  One Catholic perspective was that suffering could serve as a means of purification and spiritual growth. Through suffering, individuals can develop strength, compassion, and empathy for others. They might also be humbled and more willing to rely on God for support and guidance in their lives. In that sense, suffering could also be seen as a call to humility, prayer, and repentance.

  She couldn’t fathom believing that any more. She’d actually believed she was comforting people in their grief sharing that drivel. Really? God let her fiancé die and her father die just so Lauren could grow, spiritually?

  Ultimately, Catholic beliefs about suffering acknowledged the reality of pain and hardship in life, while emphasizing the importance of faith, prayer, and compassionate action in response to it. The Church taught that God was present in struggles and that through Christ's death and resurrection, people could find hope and healing even in the darkest of times.

  She just didn’t believe it anymore.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Father Emilio was once more silent as they traveled to the convent in Pescara. Lauren found she appreciated the silence this morning. Sleep had come fitfully to her last night, interrupted by the nightmare that had plagued her ever since she arrived in Italy of Fiero preparing to strike the blow that he intended to kill her.

  At least he hadn’t transformed into a pitchfork-carrying demon.

  They reached Pescara early. The city was only an hour away from San Vito Chietino by transit, and they arrived just before morning prayer. Father Emilio, of course, was invited to join the nuns for prayer, and he, of course, invited Lauren to join him. She refused and spent the hour taking the train to a nearby café and indulging in a cup of espresso.

  Pescara was a larger city, far from a metropolis but larger than Arezzo, and far more modern. The economy here centered on its beaches and marina, and the people, like the architecture, were far more modern. There were no throngs of superstitious and worshipful people speaking of Father Emilio as though he were the Archangel Gabriel and, other than the convent and a very modern cathedral, there was no more sign of religion than there was in any average city in America.

  Lauren found the break refreshing and when she returned to the convent, her mind was far sharper and clearer than before. She was met by Sergeant Forza, who had arrived earlier by car, and after speaking with him, she learned that the situation here was similar. There was no crime scene to investigate, since Sister Luisa had died over a month ago, but Sergeant Forza assured her that every other detail was the same. A sudden violent attack resulting in a rupture of several major arteries and violent exsanguination.

  The nuns, when they were interviewed, offered a story similar to the ones told by the sisters in San Vito Chietino. Sister Luisa was not shy the way Sister Katarina was, but she was well-liked and cared deeply about the poor, though her calling seemed to lie in their spiritual nourishment and not physical. She would host free classes for children of working-class families; and to those families too poor to attend Mass, she would host scripture readings for the children with the blessing of Father Dominic, the local priest.

  Father Dominic, when interviewed, proved similarly unhelpful. He had an alibi for his whereabouts the night of the murder, confirmed by the state police, and he could tell Lauren and Father Emilio nothing but his gratitude for the presence of Father Emilio and his firm belief that the Adversary was at work in their province.

  The only bit of helpful information came from the Mother Superior. Eliza de Vecini was somewhat older and appeared calmer than Costanza, though whether this was because of stronger will or because Sister Luisa’s death had occurred far enough in the past for the sharpest of her grief to fade, Lauren didn’t know.

  After the usual round of fruitless questions, Lauren asked her what the relationship between the two convents was, if any. That question yielded their first hint of a lead.

  “We are very close,” de Vecini explained. “Mother Superior Costanza and I took our vows together and she was given the leadership of the convent in San Vito Chietino the same year that I took over Pescara. We share everything with each other.”

  “Can you expand on that, please?” Lauren asked.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “San Vito Chietino is a small town and very poor. We are blessed with the resources of a wealthy city to aid us, and we often have more than we need. What we don’t need, we share with the sisters in San Vito Chietino.”

  “Such as?” Lauren prompted.

  “Everything. Food, medical supplies, sisters.”

  “Your sisters travel to San Vito Chietino?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes, of course,” de Vecini confirmed. “The cathedral here also sends laymen to help the poor there as well. We send bibles and… well, everything you can think of. The parishioners here often travel to help and the parishioners there often come here to meet their brothers and sisters in Christ. It is safe to think of them as an extension of our own ministry.”

  “Do you have records of any exchanges between the two convents and churches?” she asked.

  “I can’t speak for the church,” de Vecini said, “but I suspect they, like us, do not keep such records. We share everything, Miss Lambi, everything. There is no need to keep a ledger between servants of Christ.”

  “So, the killer could have traveled between both convents in the guise of a ‘servant of Christ,’ and done so unnoticed,” Lauren replied sarcastically.

  Father Emilio shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The Mother Superior’s lips thinned, and her voice was brittle when she answered. “The Adversary is cunning, Miss Lambi. No doubt he would feel no hesitation perverting any means necessary to accomplish his foul aim.”

  “Perhaps I could see the book left in Sister Luisa’s room,” Father Emilio interrupted before Lauren could respond.

  “Of course, Father,” de Vecini replied. “It is at the local police station. Sergeant Forza can lead you there.”

  She stood without waiting for a reply and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to the food drive. The poor are always among us, as Christ said.”

  Lauren left with Father Emilio for the police station. The father didn’t express any disapproval but was clearly upset with her for her rudeness to the Mother Superior. On one level, Lauren was upset with herself. However, on another level…

  Well, someone had to do the work of a real investigator. Part of Lauren wished that she had simply refused this job, but another part felt that, if not for her, justice for these two women would rest in the hands of superstitious fools.

  They reached the station a few minutes later, and Lauren got her first look at the book. It was an older copy of the Key, 1930s or ‘40s, she suspected, bound in leather, and printed in illuminated ink. It looked exactly like the sort of “possessed” book one would find in a horror movie. Of course, most possessed books in horror movies were based on the Key of Solomon. She’d done a quick internet search to get information about it. The grimoire, or book of magic, was attributed to King Solomon of ancient Israel. It contained instructions and rituals for summoning and controlling demons and spirits. It had spells for various purposes such as protection, love, and wealth. The book had been influential in Western magic and occultism for centuries, and had inspired countless adaptations and reinterpretations in literature, art, and film.

  Father Emilio picked up the book and Sergeant Forza cLambed himself. He flipped through the pages, tilting it so Lauren could see. The book was printed in Latin, and there were notes scrawled in the margins, alternating between Latin and Italian. Lauren recognized several instances of Lucifero oritur and several others of equal ridiculousness. “Hell ascends” seemed to be popular, as did “We will bury Christ again.”

  It was childish and clearly an attempt by the killer to distract from the truth. Lauren shook her head in disgust. She couldn’t understand how so amateurish an attempt could fool grown adults. “I’d like to see a sample of Sister Luisa’s handwriting,” she told Father Emilio, “to compare with these notes and see if she could have written them.”

  “I can provide a sample,” Sergeant Forza said, adding somewhat cattily. “Believe it or not, Miss Lamb, I did ask for one when I retrieved the book.”

  Lauren let the insult go unnoticed and examined the note he produced. It was a page in the nun’s diary and contained her reflection on the lessons learned in mass earlier that morning. The handwriting clearly matched that in the book.

  Sergeant Forza looked triumphantly at Lauren. She ignored his triumph and said, “Thank you. Can I speak with the coroner, please? We’ll start with the one who investigated this murder.”

  “The same coroner investigated both murders,” Sergeant Forza replied. “I’ll give him a call.”

  ***

  The coroner was a burly man of about forty named Doctor Miguel Cavalieri. He greeted Lauren and Father Emilio with a terse handshake, then led them to his office. “I apologize for not being able to let you examine the bodies directly,” he said, “but the families have already claimed them.”

  Lauren didn’t expect to be able to see the bodies this long after the murders and said, “That’s perfectly all right, Doctor. I simply need to confirm what we’ve heard so far. Can you tell me what the cause of death was?”

  “In both cases, the women experienced a sudden and dramatic increase in natural cortisol, adrenaline, and epinephrine levels resulting in a catastrophic increase in blood pressure and heart rate. This presented violent muscle spasms and hemorrhage, first of the capillaries in the eyes, nostrils, and gums—this is what accounts for the initial reports of bleeding from those orifices—then of major arteries in the chest cavity. In the case of Sister Luisa, these arteries were the anterior pulmonary artery, the carotid artery, and the internal mammary artery. In the case of Sister Katarina, the anterior pulmonary artery also failed, along with the aorta. Both women died almost instantly from massive exsanguination.”

  “And the vomiting?”

  “The nausea is a secondary effect of the tachycardia and hypertension,” Doctor Cavalieri informed them.

  “And you found no trace of toxin or poison?” she asked.

  “I have sent samples of their blood to the Ministry of Health in Rome for further analysis,” he said, “but my preliminary analysis has revealed nothing, not even trace minerals I would expect to be left behind by a toxin. There is no sign of hemolysis, and platelet and white cell counts are both normal.”

  “So, this was spontaneous?” Father Emilio asked.

  Doctor Cavalieri cast an annoyed glance his way, and Lauren was perversely pleased to see someone else as skeptical as she was of the whole possession angle. “We have not yet determined the cause,” he replied simply.

  “Did you notice any unusual marks on the skin?” Father Emilio pressed, unperturbed by Cavalieri’s annoyance. “Any bruising or cutting that couldn’t be explained by the events immediately preceding their death?”

  “No,” Doctor Cavalieri replied with exaggerated patience. “No bruises or cuts or strange marks. No pentagrams or sigils or Latin phrases inscribed in the flesh. Forgive me, Father, I don’t mean to be rude, but are we seriously considering possession as a possibility here?”

  “It seems increasingly less likely, to my great relief,” Father Emilio replied, again seeming to take no offense to Cavalieri’s clear disdain. “However, the Church has dispatched me to investigate that possibility, and it’s critical I ensure that possession is certainly not the case.”

  “It is certainly not the case,” Doctor Cavalieri replied. “You need not concern yourself with demons. Both women died of a perfectly natural medical cause. We simply don’t know what that cause is yet.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Father Emilio replied.

  Doctor Cavalieri turned to Lauren, pointedly ignoring the priest. “Is there anything else I can do to assist you?”

  Lauren asked for a pen and paper and wrote down her number. “If you discover anything else or receive that analysis from Rome, please call me immediately.”

  “I will,” he said. He glanced at Father Emilio and said, “I am pleased to see the Church has dispatched a serious investigator to this case.”

  Lauren nodded and offered a polite smile, then left with Father Emilio. The sun was just beginning to sink past its zenith. They had a full day of investigation left, and she didn’t intend to waste it, but with no immediate destination in mind, she decided they were best served getting lunch and discussing what they knew so far.

  She suggested as much to Father Emilio, who replied, “I know of a wonderful little restaurant overlooking the sea. If you’ll permit me to treat you, they serve the best oysters you’ve ever eaten.”

  Lauren wasn’t particularly fond of shellfish, but she didn’t want to waste time quibbling about a place to eat, so she agreed and followed Father Emilio to a bus station that would take them to the shore.

  The day was warm, and the sun was bright. It was a beautiful day. Lauren could see why Pescara had earned its reputation.

  And instead of enjoying its beauty, her eyes were once more turned toward darkness. She thought of those poor nuns, dead in the most horrifically violent way imaginable.

  Why would anyone need to believe in demons when humans were so evil?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Whoever our killer is, he must be closely involved with the Church,” Lauren said, in between bites. She had to hand it to him. The oysters really were delicious.

  Father Emilio nodded noncommittally, and she continued. “The two convents essentially operate as one convent. No, more like a family. They don’t even record the goods and labor they transfer. It would be effortless for a killer to travel between both places unnoticed, and if he tampered with some of the medical supplies they exchanged, it wouldn’t be difficult at all to make sure some of those tampered medicines made their way into the sisters’ water or meals.”

  Father Emilio nodded again but seemed distracted. Lauren took a breath to quell her irritation and continued. “I think the book is a plant. I don’t mean to be rude, but I believe the killer is playing on the superstitions of the nuns and the local priests.”

 

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