luckily, beyond. Thus, one day the Holy Father himself ordered for him to come to the Vatican to update the security technology. Today he is in charge of the monitoring systems, especially for the St. Peter’s Basilica. And as he is so good, he was asked to apply his approved technology also here at the Forum. He is obsessed with our kind, and besides me he also keeps some black rascal on this site, who runs away pretty frequently though. At least, I don’t see him very often. After Umberto had bought me from a breeder, he only talked Latin to me ever since I was a kid. He may live in this world, but his heart beats for the old world. He thinks our times are totally rotten. Like infested by a special kind of Alzheimer’s, one after one would for their most primary and most important language, as well as the values of the Christian western civilization. For what it’s worth, he’s way over the top. Equidem me satis dixisse puto, Narra historiam tuam, Francis. Non hinc esse videris.«
So now it was my turn to tell my story. Well, this one would sound rather crazy. For a beauty queen who spent her days with nothing else than comparing herself with stony beauties and turning up her nose at tourists in XXL-shorts, it may even sound a little silly. We had climbed the Palatine Hill meanwhile, a mystical-mythical world of ruins. The emperors of Rome had resided on the Palatine for ages. Rich Patricians, writers like Cicero, politicians and scholars used to live here, and emperors like Augustus and Domitian had built temples and city palaces on this hill – the word »palace« originates from Palatine by the way. Even the rudiments of these buildings were able to give a clear impression of the former glory. Walking between the terraces and flower aisles, lawn, little buildings, fountains and groves was even more pleasurable than a stroll over the Forum. From up here it was also possible to see the empire’s remains from the well-ordered aerial perspective. The best thing though was the unrestricted, breathtaking view of the Flavian amphitheater, also called Collosseum.
I told Sancta about the circumstances of my journey to Rome, the friendly reception by Antonio, Giovanni and Samantha in the city and about the events that had followed in quick succession. Of course I came to talk about the rampant murders and the last victim, which I had been forced to see with my own eyes. I presented her my thoughts on that score and the resultant theories. Sancta seemed to be far from the picture I had created of her, namely that of a delicate flower blossoming in a fissure of a broken column, and – thank God! – turned out to be a realist. She had also heard about the murders, was even afraid to lose her ear and life at the hand of the killer and had decided to energetically support my investigation with any information she could possibly give.
»Igitur investigator es, Francis, quaerens verum ultimum?« she said and narrowed her eyes to slits because of the scorching sun. We had rested on one of the terraces of the Thermae Severianae. The giant substructures, which once supported pillars and arches in the walls, some baths and corridors and even the heating system, were still in good condition. From here we could even see the Collosseum and the Circus Maximus. But still the most wonderful site of all was my ancient bride. In daylight, the blue color had totally disappeared from her fur. The silver tone in it had become a cosmic glowing though, which made her a saint once and for all. Her sexy odor was stuck in my nose like some happy childhood memory, it almost brought me to my knees. Lordy! I hadn’t felt like that since my blissful days of youth! The old fox had fallen in love! I had almost mocked myself if the use of animals in mockery didn’t get on my nerves so much.
»Yeah, now and then the detective takes me over, Sancta«, I replied, after I had recovered a little from the daze caused by too much sunlight and hormonal frenzy. »But only chance brought it about that sometimes I have to descend to Hades. Or fate. But as of today, I want to be just one thing, namely the one who adores you till the end of days.«
She smiled mischievously, as if she would think of