Pandora's Box: Book 3 of the Crystal Raven Series

“The vampyres got to the Pope!”

Twelve pairs of eyes turned to stare at Gabriel as he burst into the room. He sounded like a panicked chicken and looked like one too. Chicken Little crying the sky is falling, and for the Brotherhood, it was.

“It’s a total disaster! They’ve turned him!” Gabriel cried. “Jonas and his people took his head. There was a pitched battle with the Swiss Guard. The entire Brotherhood has been excommunicated, and the Choirs are scattering.”

Stunned silence met his words.

April was the first to shake off her shock. “Have the Choirs gather at the academies. They are no longer Church property. The Brotherhood owns them directly. Thank God Jean Claude was able to manage that before he died.”

No-one moved.

“Well,” April demanded, “don’t just stand there gaping like a fish. Activate the emergency protocols and have all Brotherhood personnel report to the nearest academy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gabriel stammered, heading to the basement.

“And Alvaro,” April continued, “invite the department heads to meet upstairs in an hour. I’ll want a full report by then.”

An hour was too little time to prepare for thirty guests, even with so many extra hands. The girls, dragooned into service, were quick to point this out – even if April only found extra work for them. She compromised and catered something from the diner. April had Angel and the Wandering Jew bring up the second dining room table from her apartment and then place the two together to make one long table for the meeting. In the kitchen, she set up two coffee urns and a third of hot water for tea, a collection of finger foods, and a plate of sandwiches. April was anticipating a long night as they worked out exactly what had happened and then what to do about it.

The first of her guests arrived – two of the most senior members of the local coven and a representative from the National Congress of Covens. They brought several young ladies along with them to help host, and these joined Gwen, Aiko, Ember and Alex in the kitchen.

Crystal was closeted with Angel, Cantara, and Alvaro, and April suspected she would face another headache from that quarter before the night was over. When those four got together, she never knew what unearthly plot they would hatch, nor how much work would be required to clean it up. Their first project had left the Covens and the Brotherhood nursing hundreds of orphaned vampyre children – a monumental task given their unique dietary needs. Shortly after the arrival of news of the Vatican disaster, the four had disappeared behind closed doors, ignoring even her demands for help with the preparations. April supposed they had decisions to make in the wake of the Vatican’s pronouncement, having requirements their mortal counterparts did not. It did not cool her anger any.

At the meeting, they were joined by Father Alfonso of Saint Dismas Church. He was there both as their spiritual advisor and as a representative of the Church. It was not a comfortable position, and April did not envy him it.

The Choir representatives included Brothers Gabriel and Jonas, and a Brother Watkins from Jean-Claude’s faction. Principal Rontgen and Miss Sweider represented the training arm, and there were, of course, the Wiccans. They were settling in when Angel, Alvaro and Crystal joined them.

“What are they doing here?” Brother Jonas demanded angrily.

“This meeting concerns our future as much as yours,” Alvaro returned calmly.

“Hasn’t your kind done enough damage?” Brother Jonas replied with an equal portion of spit. He looked like a rabid dog.

“It was one of your people who took the Pope’s head,” Crystal replied dryly. “If others were included in that decision, it could have been handled differently.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Mother Gable chided gently. “Shouldn’t we find out what happened and how before we play the blame game?”

“We cannot continue with non-council members present,” Brother Jonas insisted.

“Oh, pooh,” Mother Gable scoffed. “I move that we extend seats to the three representatives from the specialists. We certainly have no right to make decisions that affect their future without them.”

At that moment, April could have kissed the woman. The Wiccans, of course, voted as a block, Miss Sweider and Principal Rontgen – Yoda to his students – were split, Jonas and Brother Watkins were opposed. Everything hung on Gabriel’s vote. With April already to say aye, they would then have the quorum they needed to pass the motion.

“I have fought beside them,” Gabriel replied, turning to his fellow Choir leaders, “and while soldiers need generals, deciding their fate without giving them a voice is wrong. I vote aye.”

“The quorum has been met,” April replied. “For further motions, a quorum of nine will be needed. Gabriel, your report, please.”

The Pope had recently replaced his butler after the last one resigned amidst a storm of controversy. Accused of theft, the original butler had appeared briefly for a news conference with his lawyer, and then suddenly disappeared. The police and the Swiss Guard were still looking for him. Brotherhood agents looked upon the entire sequence of events with suspicion and had opened their own investigation. Sometimes people disappeared when facing a criminal investigation, running away from their problems, and sometimes someone or something forced them to disappear. When that disappearance brought a stranger so close to the Pope during this time of crisis, the latter option seemed all the more probable.

The new man seemed to fit in well within the Vatican, and everything settled into a normal routine. And then the Pope began to act peculiar. The cooks noticed first – his constant complaints that his meat was overcooked no matter how rare they served it, his favourite dishes coming back untouched, and not a single vegetable eaten despite his strict diet. Soon his chambermaids and other servants added to the list of oddities. His sudden aversion to sunlight, his midnight prowling about the halls and grounds of Vatican City. His unusually pale complexion and sudden fits of weakness. He became more antisocial and withdrawn and began to neglect his duties as leader of the largest unified church in the world.

Initially, it was a change in his sleeping patterns that alerted the medical staff. The Pope began to prowl more at night and sleep through the day – missing several appointments and an important Easter appearance in the process. A doctor was consulted. He was anemic, and his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Blood work was taken and sent to a lab, and bed rest was ordered. News of the Pope’s ailing health reached the press, and the Vatican released a statement. Such was not unusual amongst modern popes, all tending to be men well into the later decades of their lives. Pope-watching had become a vocation, and an entire industry had grown up around it, keeping experts and pundits employed almost year-round.

And then the remains of Notre Dame, the old mouser who called the Vatican her home, was found by a chambermaid. Recognizing the desiccated remains for what they were, she carried them to a Brother Jerome of the Brotherhood.

A watch was set up. As the Pope became increasingly isolated, it became harder to get anyone close to him. An attempt was made to recover some of the blood taken by the doctor for testing. It had already disappeared. Monks carrying swords began to stalk the rooftops and shadows of Vatican city. Something was definitely wrong in the Vatican, but finding the proof they needed before they could act was proving difficult.

Cats and dogs were disappearing from the neighbourhoods around the papal residence. Where and how he was slipping past the Brotherhood screen or even the security of the Swiss guard, no one knew. The man was eighty-two years old, far from spry, and in frail health before all this began. It wasn’t possible, even within the Vatican’s ancient architecture, not for someone his age and condition.

There was only one way for this to be possible, and all the evidence seemed to point to it. The head of the Catholic Church was no longer human. The vampyres had turned the pope.

The signs were there – the nocturnal habits, the missing pets, and the change in diet – but this was the Pope. They needed undeniable proof. Without it, they dare not act. If one of the specialists had been available, and if Brother Jerome had been the type of man who would consult a non-human, maybe things would have turned out differently. He came to believe the Pope was an abomination, an abomination who was defiling the Holy Church. There was only one solution. He and his team needed to storm the Vatican and take the Pope’s head. Using his authority as a field commander, Brother Jerome issued the orders.

At first, everything went well. The initial penetration of the Vatican compound went undetected, two teams slipping unnoticed to the rooftop of the Pope’s residence. Here the trouble began. The teams split up, one heading off to track down the Pope, the second in search of the butler. Both heads needed to be collected, or their mission would fail. The Pope was one of the few people who knew the Brotherhood’s secrets, and the butler had to be killed before whatever intelligence had been passed on could be smuggled out of the Vatican. The butler and three other vampyres were waiting inside the attic. The ambush claimed two of the Brotherhood agents before the weight of their numbers were brought to bear.

The noise, unfortunately, had alerted the Swiss Guard. As a team raced after the butler, they ran into a checkpoint. The guard opened up with his handgun, catching the vampyre in the chest and shoulder, and one of the Brothers in the face. The return volley took out the vampyre and the guard. But the damage was done.

Alarms were ringing. The compound was filling with light and armed guards. Brother Jerome and two others raced to reach a now alerted target. Already he and his people were exchanging bullets and bolts with the Swiss Guard. Cut off from direct access to the Pope, the trio stopped with a wall between them and the corridor leading to the Pope’s bedroom.

“When we blow it,” Brother Jerome instructed, “you two keep the Guard occupied. I’ll go after the Pope.”

Nodding, one of his companions set a satchel of C4 against the wall. He set a digital timer and ran back to join the other two around a corner immediately ahead of the explosion. As the hall filled with smoke and dust, the trio dove through the breach, firing their crossbows at the back of the dazed guards. Leaving his companions to engage the Swiss Guard, Brother Jerome slipped off in search of the Vampyre Pope. Live or die, they could not leave such an abomination at the head of the Holy Church. It was one of the signs in both Revelations and the Prophesies of Hsatan, one that could be interpreted in several ways. Only evil could follow if they failed.

At the head of the hall, a small alcove led to a locked door. Using their last satchel of explosives, Brother Jerome blew the door from its frame. Riding the wave of debris and sound, he leapt through the breach. Sword and cross in hand, he raced through the ruined wall, hoping to catch his prey off guard.

The Vampyre Pope stood, red-eyed and hissing, his meal of a cat interrupted. Throwing the cat at Brother Jerome’s head, he leapt at the monk. Brother Jerome rolled. Cat and vampyre missed. The two rolled to their feet, facing each other. Jerome feinted with the cross, using it like a dagger. His only advantage here was his experience. The vampyre was still new to its strength and speed, unsure of the depth of his advantage. The Vampyre Pope leapt in, drawn by the feint.

Holding his sword two-handed, the cross falling to the ground, Jerome struck. Its blade severed the Pope’s head as a squad of Swiss Guard burst in. Pope and Monk died in the same breath.

“Only three of the twenty Brotherhood agents survived,” Gabriel concluded.

“Brother Jonas,” Jean-Claude shook his head sadly, “look where your hatred has led us, you silly old man.”

Of course, none of them had heard him. Wandjina was right. In this time and place, he could not touch the physical world. As the room grew quiet for several moments, he stepped through the wall to rejoin the Aboriginal ancestral spirit. He did not see how he could help here if no-one could hear him, and he could not manipulate the physical world on this plane of existence. And still, he had agreed to follow the godlet to this time and place in hopes of preventing a premature Rapture.

“I suspect,” Angel replied dryly, oblivious to the visitor who had only now left them, “that this was the point all along. Sever the Brotherhood from the Church and weaken both.”

“All we can do now is focus on damage control,” April sighed, exasperated. “Playing the blame game will get us nowhere. I want reports of the musters from each academy. We will make more detailed plans when we have all the facts.”

“Is there any way to repair the damage?” Mr. Rontgen asked. “Is the rift with the Church permanent?”

All eyes turned towards Father Alfonso.

“The Brotherhood has been ex-communicated. As long as there is a Brotherhood, its members are persons non-gratis in the eyes of the Church.”

“Outlaws,” Crystal breathed. “We can’t afford to start over at this point.

“No,” Alvaro agreed, and the others around the table nodded.

“And on that note,” Father Alfonso rose, “I have to make my excuses. I have delivered my message, and as it looks like you will persist in this unsanctioned activity, I can no longer participate.”

The room fell quiet again. The priest’s departure made it all the more real. When he was gone, April turned back to the others. They had work to do, and people who were depending on them – too much so to wallow in their doubts.

“I have more bad news,” she continued. “The British, American and Canadian governments are moving to have the Brotherhood declared a terrorist organization. Most European governments will most likely follow suit. I expect we will find ourselves on the official UN list in another week, two at the most.

“We have moved our assets to safe havens,” Alvaro replied. “We have parked our North American assets with the Wiccan Congress. Somewhere shy of a billion dollars.”

“How about the Academies and our other properties?” Miss Sweider asked, frowning. Would she lose the only home she had had since leaving her parent’s house?

“Jean-Claude moved them into a charitable foundation,” April explained. “While the Brotherhood has a tenuous link to them, it’s only one of ten organizations across all denominations that run the schools. I don’t anticipate any problem in that quarter.”

“And now it is time to end this,” Crystal seethed. “Some of us have been working on a plan to end the vampyre threat once and for all.”

“Why would we put our faith in the schemes of children?” Brother Jonas asked sarcastically.

“Watch who you are calling a child,” Crystal snapped, her eyes glowing red. “I was already ancient when your earliest ancestors were competing with the monkeys for space in the trees.”

“And that makes you an abomination!” Brother Jonas snapped, his eyes a mask of hatred.

“What do you have in mind?” April asked, giving everyone at the table a hard stare.

“We are working on a ‘Final Solution,’” Crystal explained, her voice still rough with anger. “A vampyre doomsday device. With it, we will kill my father.”

“And what will the death of one demon do?” Brother Jonas scoffed.

“Not demon,” Angel replied.

“And why should we commit our resources to this plan?” Gabriel wondered aloud. “Can we risk our futures on your daddy issues?”

“Because we can afford only one campaign,” Alvaro replied, “and this one gives us best shot at destroying the vampyres…”

“And what will you need from us?” April held out a hand to prevent everyone from speaking at once.

“We need one last relic, and we think we have located it,” Crystal announced, surprising even her allies on the council. “When we attempt to retrieve it, the Vampyre Nations will move in force to stop us.”