Say what you want about the people of Rome, they have presentation and impression down to a science. I discovered this truth can be found in triplicate inside Vatican City.
While I had been to Rome several times on my way to other places, I never had the chance to visit the ‘city inside the city’ before. It was grander than I expected, but also more oppressive and aged than I expected. While the first was a theme which fit, the other two did not. They felt more human than celestial.
This wasn’t vacation either. The impression Quinn gave could have been read as the brothers were closing in on C-Source, or it might have closed in on them, or us, or perhaps just me. These answers left little room for a news story, and in that direction my brain kept spinning — attempting to conjure one from the nothing I was getting from them.
A thirty-something man stepped out from the Swiss guard post, in a long black coat and priest collar, and walked up to us once we crossed the bridge.
“I’m to escort you to your dinner Ms. Stone,” he said.
He didn’t mention or even look at Quinn; my dress appeared to be causing damage points on his vows though. Quinn promised a perfect dress, and made good on that promise; complete with exquisite shoes.
I had never felt so nude, sexy and powerful before. The only accessory which could be desired would be a long dagger to wear down my exposed spine. Layers of shear silk; black and gold, held together by spider web lace with intricate designs of dragons and claws, covered me, hiding nothing. Small rubies, as red as murder on a holy day, created the eyes of these dragons; their faces in delicate, and eye gathering places.
He turned, asking me to follow, still not looking to Quinn, making me turn to see if Quinn was still behind me. Quinn nodded, but his smile had vanished, and I noticed tension around his eyes. Perhaps it was the venue, but I felt something else at work. Instead of asking, I followed our guide, deciding to keep my ears and eyes open.
This was more difficult than it sounded, especially once we were inside the Sistine Chapel. Vague lights caused long shadows to pour across the floor and spill out from the painted walls. From the stained glass, altered light played with these shadows, causing strange vibrations and many things to appear almost seen. Even solid objects became effervescent; excited.
Then Quinn was on my arm, and holding back my speed, allowing our guide to move further ahead of us.
“Notice anything?” he asked.
“Other than a very creepy chapel?”
“No Swiss guards. Not even in the guard post by the gate. Just him,” he said. “And now others ahead, near the door. Others like him.”
I didn’t question how he knew this.
“How like him?”
“They each have animals inside them.”
“Animals?”
“Shifters,” he added.
“Like you?”
He smiled, purely amused. “Nothing like me. However, nothing to take lightly either. The message is clear. C-Source knew we were coming here-. These beings are here to kill you.”
His voice became darker as he explained this, and I thought of the way the guide had ignored Quinn, focused only on me. A shifter? Like a werewolf, perhaps?
Standing next to a dragon shifted into the shape of a man, I could not just toss the werewolf thought aside as being impossible, or belonging to some bedtime tale on late night TV.
Now I seriously wished I had a long dagger hanging down my spine and I mentioned this to Quinn.
“We can do better than that,” he said softly, and put his hand on my lower back, just above my ass. There was a jeweled clasp, which held much of the dress in shape through knots and tension. I felt it click, and the dress began to writhe about me. It billowed for a moment and then sucked down into a skin tight body suit. At first, I felt a single layer of silk was hardly better than a long dagger — and my dress was gone.
My hands told me another story. The motion caused Raw’s iron nail to fall from its place against my breast, and I caught it before it fell, which wasn’t as cool as it sounds.
By the time I grasped it in my hand it was four inches long. By the time the dress became a body suit, the nail was a twelve inch spike, and the dress wasn’t silk; this was the suit Raw gave me, or one just like it!
Looking into the darkness, without hesitation I launched the mini drones, which ran down my spine. They were little more than cameras on propellers; eyes, which let me see in the darkness ahead without the obstructions of shadows, and altered light.
There were eight men up ahead, and four of those were armed with pistols.
Quinn grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back the way we came when I relayed this information to him. Three of my drones were shot out of the air, and I cursed. I’m not a good Catholic girl, but this was an amazing part of human history, no matter what you felt about the church or their beliefs. Firing a gun in here was worse than sin, or sacrilege; all the more reason to get out of the chapel as soon as possible. Recalling the rest of my drones I ran hard, stretching out my legs, and putting all I had into my thighs.
Quinn approved and let go of my arm, positioning himself behind me; though it couldn’t be for protection. With this suit on, I was far less exposed than he was. Perhaps he wasn’t aware, after all it didn’t feel like armor.
I hit the door with my shoulder and burst outside into the garden courtyard. An oppressive force came down on me like a hammer. The air was thick and heavy, as if gravity had tripled. The feeling created a primal fear in me, as if God were present in all of his Old Testament descriptions.
Then I was clutched, and lifted into the air. I would have screamed if not for the unwavering knowledge that this was Quinn in his dragon form. He wasn’t like Raw at all, but rather like the dragons of the Japanese or Chinese. Long and thin, his claws the size of my body, clasped around me easy enough to feel secure, but not crushed. His claws however were menacing, dangerous as the feel of his strength which pumped through me as he rushed us across the Vatican City and out over the Mediterranean.
I could no long feel the thick air, or see anything following us. “Those men,” I asked Quinn, “were they only there for us? Why so many?”
“I don’t think so. I believe they intended to use you to get into the room where the others were going to meet with you.” Quinn replied, his voice a growling of words.
“One of those people was the Pope, right? Who were the others?”
“Leaders of all the major religions,” he said.
“Then we have to go back. We can’t let that happen!”
“Go back? The feeling in the air was the approach of C-Source, or whatever you wish to call him. I’m not taking you back. I’m not sure I can defend you against it by myself.”
“Then call for help, but we have to go back. We will go back, now, or by God I’ll never talk to you again. I swear. You are immortal, and I am expendable. Every leader of the religious world is not. Go back!” I demanded.
It was a fury of motion when he turned into a cyclone, pulling the waters of the sea up into rising tornado, and the clouds down from the skies. Lightning struck around me in crashing violence, and he roared.
I think I pissed him off, I thought to myself, fear rushing through my veins.
But then he burst from the swirling winds, waters and storm hurtling us back toward Vatican City.
In the distance I heard two thunder crashes, one from the North, the other from the West.
“Raw, and Slate have answered,” Quinn told me.
“Will that be enough?” I asked.
“I don’t know. We’ve never gone up against one of the Sleepers before. We also have no idea which one has woken,” he said, but as he did a flood of his memories washed like surf into my mind.
“His name is Marchosias,” I said and even though I said it, I had no idea what it meant. Inanna speaking through me, or filling me with memories that didn’t belong to me wasn’t something I ever saw myself getting used to. Right now, however, there was no time to worry about such things.
“Sweet night, are you sure?” Quinn asked.
“Yes. I think I am.” I told him, sure, but not one hundred percent convinced. “Makes sense with the animal men…the shifters. Also, that feeling in the air as we came out of the chapel, don’t you think?”
According to the Ars Goetia, from the Lesser Key of Solomon, which might be all fiction or the ravings of a lunatic mind, Marchosias was a mighty aristocrat of Hell. He commanded a whopping thirty legions of demons. Sketches show him as a massive black dog, or a wolf, boasting gryphon’s wings and the tail of a serpent. As requested by the magician he so faithfully serves, Marchosias is also able to take on the form of a man. He had once belonged to the angelic order of Dominions, and wished to return to Heaven. At least that’s what I could gather from the stream of memories coming from Quinn, who I noticed had slowed down.
“We need to get there Quinn,” I said.
“Do we? Even if Marchosias is a Sleeper, and this is only a portion of him in action, he’s powerful. Far more powerful than I am, although I don’t believe he can summon his horde in this form. With that said, I care more about you living than whether or not you wish to speak to me again.”
From the West a red star appeared in the skies, moving fast across the sky as a meteor might. From the North, a blue one was descending at an even greater speed.
“Would you feel the same if I was Inanna?” I asked.
His expression appeared sour, but he made it clear that he wouldn’t.
“She’s mortal too, isn’t she?” I pushed.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Then make sure we’re there before your brothers arrive. I don’t want those dog men ruining my dinner.”
He growled, to show he wasn’t happy about this, but he also lost his hesitation, and the fury of his energy washed through me — it was better than sex to feel him like this.