A Deafening Silence In Heaven - Thomas E. Sniegoski Page 0,21
its back with a horrible squelching sound. “But I always have a bitch of a time pulling myself away from Law & Order marathons.”
The odd stranger wiped the blood-covered blade on the sleeve of his jacket as Marlowe again began to growl.
“So, got anything to eat? I’m fucking starving.”
CHAPTER SIX
The Vatican
Normally Patriarch Adolfi would have had one of his Keeper assistants drive him from his apartment across Vatican City to the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana—the Vatican Apostolic Library. But today the seventy-eight-year-old leader of the Keepers decided that it was a beautiful day for a walk.
For the first time in many months the holy man had slept well. Instead of the nightmare of an approaching apocalypse that had plagued his sleeping hours of late, last night, he had dreamed of a single word, spoken in the languages of the world. A single, special word repeated over and over again in every language spoken, or ever spoken, upon the earth.
Unification.
And he’d awakened refreshed and rejuvenated, with a sense that something wonderful was going to happen.
“Good morning, Patriarch,” the guard at the door of the library said in Italian as he bowed and pulled open the door.
“Yes, yes it is,” Adolfi agreed, feeling the muscles around his mouth stretch as he smiled for the first time in a very long time.
It was a good morning.
Adolfi passed through the doorway into one of the oldest libraries in the world, the smell of ancient texts—of knowledge—permeating the air of the beautiful building. He mourned the day that the priceless information contained in one of the most significant collections of historical texts would be stored within a computer. He doubted very much that a computer could produce an aroma so enticing and filled with promise.
Not wanting to taint his mood, he pushed aside the concerns of the future library and strode across the meticulously maintained marble floor, beneath high, curved ceilings adorned with Renaissance art. He spied people at heavy oaken tables here and there, perusing texts and making notes in their pursuit of wisdom.
The Patriarch walked from one building to the next and through a security checkpoint into an area of the library where the Holy See’s most sacred and secret writings were stored. At the back of this room was a nondescript wooden door, and that was where Adolfi stopped. From the waistband of his cassock, he produced a key, inserted it in the lock, and turned it, hearing a muffled click.
The door swung open, symbols of ancient power carved into the doorframe glowing white in response to Adolfi’s presence. He thought briefly of the recent fate of a reporter who’d been attempting to do an exposé on secret organizations within the Vatican. He had found his way to this very door, managing to pick the lock with great expertise, but the poor inquisitive soul was struck dead by the security spell infused within the frame of the door, his mortal form reduced to ash. Adolfi believed that a votive candle was still lit in Saint Peter’s Basilica in the man’s honor.
The heavily reinforced door slammed closed with finality behind the Patriarch, and the intensity of the light thrown by the sigils over the door softened but still provided ample light to guide his way.
He headed toward an elevator at the end of the sharply inclined corridor, feeling another security spell wash over him, before the metal door slid open to grant him access. Stepping inside, he positioned himself in the center of the cab as he always did, and waited for the journey, miles beneath the Vatican Library, to begin. The magick of the place flowed around him, like the electrically charged atmosphere before a summer storm. This was a place of great power, and that was why the Keepers had been assigned to police this great and often forbidden arcanum.
Every day Adolfi came to the Atheneum to expand his knowledge, lording over tablets, books, and scrolls, collating and translating the ancient writings of some of the world’s most powerful magick users. But today he had another purpose.
Unification.
The elevator came to a stop, and he waited for what seemed like an eternity—it always seemed like an eternity—for the door to slide open into what had been his primary domain for nearly sixty years. The light of a Tiffany lamp, a gift from the United States’ ambassador to the Vatican, shone from the desk in his study. Despite his exuberant mood, he felt a sudden spike of anger as he saw an open notebook