"Did you see who killed my brother?" Michel says onceagain.
The old man closes his eyes and makes the sign of thecross.
"The Dragon has returned and even now walks among us. Someone strong must destroy his minions and send Him back to the pit where Hebelongs."
Michel shakes his head and turns to me, disappointment clear in hiseyes.
I sigh. "We told you he wasn't …reliable."
Michel turns away, but before we can leave, Antonio reaches out and grabs Michel's pantleg.
"Your brother wanted to fight," he says, looking up at Michel. "He would have killed the Dragon if he could have, but he was not strong enough. It happened too fast and we were not prepared. And I . . ." The old man shakes his head and rubs his eyes. "I was weak. I couldn't savehim."
"What are you talking about?" Michel jerks his leg out of Antonio's grasp and strides down the street towards thecathedral.
"Don't be so quick to dismiss what I say," Antonio calls out when Michel's a few paces away. His voice has lost its age and is now strong and firm. "This guise is useful, for it protects me from those who would try to stop me and others likeme."
Michel turns back, and I'm also compelled to stay and listen. A thrill goes through me at the sound of lucidity in Antonio'svoice.
"What do you mean, others like you?" Michelsays.
"Others who are pure. One day, you'll understand – if you survive thetrials."
"I'm not pure," he says and shakes his head, his voicecatching.
"You have no idea who you are, either of you," he says and points at us. "Still, the Dragon has returned. He must be defeated. We must all watch and be vigilant and those of us who can, must try to destroyHim."
Michel turns away as if he can't bear to listen anymore.
"The Dragon and St. Michael have been fighting for thousands of years," Antonio says. "You think you've read church history but you have not read it all, not even close. But don't believe me. After all, I am just an old man, am I not? Go," Antonio says and waves his hand. He picks up a piece of cardboard and places it over his head to protect himself from the rain, which has just started once more. "Be withGod."
Michel turns to me. "I have an appointment with the Bishop about Julien. Do you have a ride? It's not safe for you out herealone."
"I'll call a cab," I say and hold up my cell. "Don't worry aboutme."
"Let me get my driver to take you home." He takes my head in his hands and pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. "I can't have anything happen toyou."
"It's OK. I'm just going to look at the crime scene again and then I'll call acab."
"Just let my driver know when you're ready, and he'll take you. I won't let you go home alone, Eve. You shouldn't even behere."
Michel opens his cell and speaks into it, and his limo drivesup.
"Take it when you'reready."
I nod and watch Michel enter the long winding path to the cathedral, knowing there's nothing I can say to comfort him. I want so much to be with him, but he hasn't asked and I know this must be a lonely journey forhim.
The rain starts again and so I open my umbrella and walk along the sidewalk towards the crime scene. I stand alone in the deserted garden. The police and forensic units have long gone. Only a lone ribbon of yellow tape flapping in the wind marks the spot as a crimescene.
I enter the enclosure and stand in the center of the darkened garden, trying to imagine what Julien was doing here so late the night before. From where I stand, the lights from the street cast a baleful yellow glow over the area, but it does little to illuminate the enclosure. Tall firs and oaks line the wall and block out most of the light so that it's almost completely dark. The street noises are muted and only the sound of the rain pattering on my umbrella fills the silence. The previous night, the rain wasn't as heavy, but it had been constant. Why had Julien come here at midnight, to meet his killer alone? Was this part of some cult to which hebelonged?
I glance up, feeling the odd sensation of being watched. A figure stands in the entry, no umbrella in hand. After a moment, he walks over to me. Michel. He says nothing as the rain falls and drenches him so that his eyelashes cling to each other and rain drips off hischeeks.
"I thought you had a meeting with theBishop."
"I can't relax until I know you're safe. Have you foundanything?"
"No," I say. "Come under the umbrella. The rain's cold." I hold it up, but he declines with a shake of hishead.