SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - U.S. Edition (20 page)

»Only God knows who the killer is«, I went on in an angry voice. »But I already know with a certainty of 150 per cent that this dark figure can
not
be the killer. Wounds like that, caused by surgical devices, cannot be caused by animals of our size and mass. Somebody surgically meddled with these bodies!«

»But why are you suddenly so upset, Francis?« Miracolo said. He looked at me both puzzled and reproving. As I turned around I noticed that all of the others gave me the same kind of look. A plummet of shame and guilt pressed on my head and sque
ezed me down. I forced a smile.

»Because I had already built myself a theory with a human being playing the killer’s role, and now there comes this suspicious dark figure and ruins everything«, I replied.

»Like you already said, my son, evil has many faces, and it has the power to change its appearance. Trust in God, he will guide you to the right trail.«

This guy really had a divine sense of humor!

»Right, right,
Excellency«
,
I said
in a voice that sounded pretty resigned. »Hopefully, God hurries a little, before even more bite the dust.«

I turned my attention to the group again.

»One last question to all of you. Did the victims have anything in common? I mean, maybe a passion or a habit only they had? Or maybe they had special skills? For example, did they have sharp ears or something like that?«

Again it was Blixa, whose chocolate face slowly began to percolate something indefinite. She thought and thought, and the longer she did the more lu
ster got into her copper eyes.

»I can be wrong«, she finally said, »but I actually noticed two common features in those four. First of all, they were very young, they had just reached puberty. And
then they, how shall I put it ...
«

»...
made th
eir marks with acrobatic stunts
«, I finished the sentence for her. »They even were capable of rotating their own axis a couple of times and then landing on four paws.«

»Exactly!« she uttered. »How do you know that?«

»Giovanni«, I replied. »But that again is a different matter.«

Shortly before we reached the chapel, I noticed how a priest in a long monastic garment hobblingly scurried past us and disappeared through an old door that reminded me of a simple stable hatch. Everything went so fast that the others didn’t even notice it. Turned out they weren’t interested in such sensitive observations anyway. Because in front of the chapel so many plates with delicious food had been arranged that I could hardly count them. The Vatican colleagues brisk up to the delicacies like pilgrims to the bread at the Easter mass. Quickly a cordon of fur had emerged in front of the chapel, and hadn’t it been for the up and down of the heads that greedily sank on the plates, one could have mistaken the view for an edgy arrangement of flowerbeds. While I contained myself at first and in my mind struggled with wild speculations on motive and offender, it was impossible for my empty stomach not to murmur at the sight of such tempting food. Suddenly I realized that indeed I hadn’t eaten anything in a quite a while. Thus, I quickly joined the others and gulped down the delicious pieces of meat with sauce at a record time.

After the last plate had been licked clean, the community members gradually left the area in all directions. First they cordially said goodbye to me though and adjured me to find the offender of the massacre at all cost. Their wish was my command. Everyone left – except for Miracolo. Thoughtfully, he gazed after his sheep, which eventual
ly disappeared in the distance.

»Was the funeral meal to your liking, Francis?« he wanted to know.

»Couldn’t have tasted any better, Excellency!«

»So let’s pray for those who passed away«, he said and turned away from the park, on which a wine-red light had settled upon by now. The sun had set long ago, and in the next couple of minutes total darkness would finally lay upon the State of God. Right now, it was still clearly visible how more and more cobalt blue clouds entered the echo of the red evening sky, which would pro
bably bring heavy rain tonight.

»It shall become a very strong prayer, my son«, Miracolo went on and moved towards the chapel’s door that stood open a little. »Thus, I need the support of a very strong man. Follow me
...
«

We entered the chapel and plunged into a twilight kingdom. The cleric, who had entered before us, had lightened countless candles, which emerged from countless long-handled holders and multi-armed candelabras. In a corner there also was a low table, on which tightly packed sacrificial candles burned. The first impression confirmed my assumption. It really was a very simple chapel from ancient Christian times, which reminded of a cave. A hand-carved big cross, which roughly showed the crucified, stood on a very simple altar made from a dresser. It was decorated with a white cloth with a Christ-monogram. The few ancient pews were nothing to speak of. In this confined room it wasn’t even possible to hold a small gathering, let alone a mass. Through the only window directly under the ceiling I saw the last bright shim
mer of the ending day outside.

The only impressive thing here was a masterly carved cub-shaped basalt baptismal font, at which the cleric prepared the baptism ritual with his back turned on us. The water-filled bowl showed the specific creamy shimmer of real silver and seemed to be detachable. Miracolo and I moved towards the first row and then jumped on the upper backrest of a pew.

»Turn your thoughts to the dead, Francis, and pray for them«, His Excellency whispered. I obeyed, closed my eyes and gave it my best. But my concentration was disturbed by unbridled feelings of hate. The butcher was still out there and was probably hatching his next battle plan. Every time I tried to remember the many dead and let them come to life as purring living creatures in my mind, the picture of this soulless phantom and the clasping hand
s of this monster forced on me.

Suddenly the chapel’s door was opened, and a white-dressed man in a wheelchair was pushed inside by two young priests. And when the warm light of the many candles revealed more and more of his appearance, it took my breath away: It was the pope!

»Relax, my son«, Miracolo said, who had noticed the highly nervous state I was in. »He is only a child of God, just like you. Like every night, he comes here to dedicate the water for St. Peter’s Cathedral. So lean back and enjoy!«

The Holy Father was pushed in front of the baptismal font, and with shaky hands and shaky voice he began to speak the Eucharistic liturgy, which was also supposed to me the memory of the renewal of baptism. Life, lavation, hazard and salvation – in the prayer, these meanings were combined to Jesus Christ as their cradle. Slowly, I was able to contain my craving for sensation, my churned up state turned into a transcendental, and yes, I enjoyed it! No ugly pictures of the killer blemished the deads' faces, but on the contrary, I saw them vitally alive and playing around the Garden of Eden. Some of them engaged in wild duels in sunshin
e and next to noisy waterfalls.

»
Impossibile! Incredibile! Non lo è assolutamente certo! Dio c'assiste!
« the young priest next to the Holy Father suddenly shouted out and immediately roused me from cozy rapture. I ope
ned my half-shut eyelids again.

»Impossible! Unbelievable! I can’t believe it! The Lord help us!« the cleric had said. And truly, I saw how the water inside the baptismal font, which was clasped by the priest who had prepared everything, suddenly turned red. The obvious thought was that it must be a magic trick. The holy water kept changing its color, and the intense color soon didn’t leave any doubt that it must be blood. Miracolo, who had watched the unbelievable act at my side, was so amazed that he almo
st buckled down the church pew.

»What
’s happening?« he croaked out.

»Good heavens, ever since I live here, nothing comparable has ever happened. A miracle is going on.«

The pont
iff subscribed to this opinion.

»
Questo è un miracolo che c'è stato rivelato! Il sangue di Gesù Cristo ritorna da noi! Chi è responsabile?
«

The pope, Miracolo, the young priests, they all believed it to be a miracle. It was the blood of Jesus Christ that revealed itself to them. A crackling silence filled the chapel, while different kinds of interpretations of this sign and its reason were discussed. Had maybe something else here changed too? Was there something different tonight from other nights? The clerics let their eyes wander the room and tried to find deviants of the usual picture. As there wasn’t anything to find but the water that had become blood, their eyes finally came to rest at us, well to be more accurate, my humble self. Yes, something was different. There was a stranger sitting next to Miracolo.

The old pope’s face, which reminded of rugged cliff scenery, darkened and the watery blue eyes were afflicted by a kind of tension that scared me. He maintained this expression for quite a while. The gem-bearing cross around his neck blinded me with reflections of the candlelight. I fe
lt like I was taken for a test.

»
Portatemi a lui!
« he eventually ordered in a steady voice, which sounded
like a pistol shot to my ears.

The two assistants did like they were told and pushed the wheelchair very close to us. Only the priest, who had prepared the dedication ritual, stayed at the baptismal font with his back turned on us. I felt that Miracolo was close to fainting, or maybe I imagined him to be because I myself expected to faint any minute. Standing face to face with the representative of Christ surely was no bed of roses. Meanwhile I actually got the feeling that his already hardened face
had gotten a few levels harder.

Suddenly – as if there had been a hole ripped into a foggy blanket of clouds and a blazing ray of light had been guided to the earth with unbelievable power – all rigor disappeared from his face. The bushy snow-white eyebrows raised, the mouth corners twitched, and a nice smile appeared in the old man’s face. Muttering at first, but in a steadily growing voice the primate began to consecrate me! My whole body shivered from happiness and emotion and I tried to wait a little before I actually passed out. As when I had started my journey to Rome one day ago, I had expected everything but getting consecrated by the pope himself. Had I known the real reason of the miracle at this hour or even suspected what immense horror was still waiting for me, for the first time in my life I would have opened my mouth towards a human and for safety’s sake I would have asked him for
the last rites!

T
he following incidents I witnessed through a mist of rapture while I carried a continuous smirk, which seemed to be engraved in stone, the whole time. Still totally enraptured by the Holy Father’s blessing, I noticed only vaguely, how he was pushed out of the chapel by the young clerics after the unctuous words. Eventually all of them left the room. Proud on his new protégé, Miracolo now also gave the impression of being under the influence of happiness suppositories.

»You’re a very special person, my son«, he said when we were alone again. »One doesn’t like to utter word »career« in this state, but let’s suppose one did, you certainly would have launched the most glorious career one can imagine. You brought us the miracle. Your steps were guided, so that it would be performed at this place. Maybe it is a sign that by this means the ordeals of the murder victims are honored by heaven. Or else ...«

He pontificated about this topic at large and presented one religiously inspired theory after another. But eventually even he noticed that the recent day had completely ate up my strength as well as my absorption capacity. As he felt the approaching rain as well as I, he suggested I’d spend the night inside the chapel. The warmth of the burning candles would create a cozy blanket for me, he said, and he made me promise to visit him at the pope’s domicile the next morning. Then he said goodbye and disa
ppeared through the door crack.

Only moments later the twilight began to turn into a gold-glistering fog in front of my eyes, which gradually filled every corner of the chapel. The altar cross on the communion table, the holy water with the blood in it, the old pews, everything around me sank into a sea of blazing brightness. In the end the gold fog also covered me, and I hovered through the gleaming mist direct
ly into the land of the dreams.

I walked through the catacombs again. But although no torches were burning this time, I didn’t miss light. Everything lay clear and visible in front of me, even the smallest details were spared from shadows. I started to realize, that the walk, which my paws did like due to a hypnotic order, couldn’t actually be happening inside a catacomb. It was a cave which had ups and downs and mysterious narrowings and then again sections, which felt strangely greasy. I felt a slowly rising tension inside of me, which how I believed was supposed to prepare me for something real special. This numb feeling mixed with fear, but nothing stopped me from going on like a fanatic search dog, without the slightest clue of what or whom I was hunting. Eventually my route ended at a sandy-yellow membrane, which embraced the passage without a gap. It looked like someone had built a wall with one of these modern super synthetic materials. Without further thought, I bared the sharpest claw on my right paw and cut a clean hole in the elastic material. Then I slipped through and found myself in a very bizarre, snow-white room. The inventory in it remembered of the installation of a hypermodern artist. A gigantic construct in the shape of a snail, from whose shell grew some kind of crown with semicircular arches, hovered from the ceiling. A long connecting cable branched off the mysterious thing and petered out to the range of the room. In the upper range the membrane more and more took the shape of a beak, whereat the material fluently transformed into cartilage, and then from cartilage into bone. Finally the beak docked on the snail with the help of fine little bones. Some of the objects shimmered in the color of very tender meat, and underneath their surface I could see thousands of little blood ve
ssels in which blood pulsated.