The chamber doors closed with a bang, and I spun around to see Constantine standing there. He smiled and lowered his hand from the door, folding his hands behind his back. “‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.’” He said and paced forward. “The words of a man who became known as Doubting Thomas.”
"Your Eminent Highness," Sanguinetti said, scrambling to bow.
Constantine held up a hand, halting Sanguinetti and the others without fully acknowledging them. His attention remained fixed on me. “Our religion is one of faith, Father Oliviera. Not proof. We believe in things unseen, unheard, and unknown. That is the very nature of Catholicism, is it not?”
“Of Catholicism, yes,” I replied. “But Cardinal Azevedo—”
“Is dead,” he said firmly, stopping in front of me. “And you were tasked with avenging him. Tell me, where is the assassin, Lorenzo Vasquez?”
I swallowed and dropped my head. “I don’t know.”
“And yet here you stand.” He smiled almost pleasantly, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Have you abandoned your charge, Father Oliviera?”
“No, I—”
“Then why are you here?”
The chamber went silent. Even the cardinals seemed to hold their breath.
I clenched my jaw and met Constantine’s ice-cold gaze. “I need to know thetruth.”
“The truth is,” Constantine continued, his voice perfectly calm, "you were sent to kill Lorenzo Vasquez. Instead, you met with him. You danced with him, and then you fought with him at the Palazzo Farnese. And then you let him go."
I flinched. How could he know about that? It’d only been hours since that happened, and none of the Vatican’s people had been there. I hadn’t told anyone. Had the Pantheon contacted him somehow?
"I—"
"And now you come before the circle, repeating the very accusations Mr. Vasquez likely whispered in your ear. Conspiracies about child trafficking. Claims that the Church collaborates with organized crime." Constantine's voice dropped lower, colder. "You were sent to eliminate a threat to the Church. Instead, it appears the threat has corrupted you."
"That's not—"
"You have been compromised, Father Oliveira. Whether through seduction, manipulation, or simple weakness, Lorenzo Vasquez has turned you against the institution you swore to serve."
"No,” I said, backing away. "I came here for answers. That’s all. My loyalty is still to the order. Still to God. To you."
"Your Eminent Highness," Torretti said carefully. "Perhaps we should discuss this in counsel. The boy has served faithfully for years."
"Has he? He met privately with the assassin who murdered Cardinal Azevedo. On neutral ground. He now parrots that assassin's accusations. You call this faithful service?"
Torretti went silent. No one else spoke.
"There is nothing to discuss." Constantine said with finality. "This man has failed his mission, and he has failed the Church. He has broken his covenant with God and the order." He looked at me. "Guards."
The doors opened. Four men in black entered, their faces hidden behind silver masks. The Sacra Custodia.
"Take him to the lower levels," Constantine said. "The circle will deliberate on his fate."
The guards moved toward me. I backed away, hands raised. "Wait. Please. Just letme—"
"You had your chance, Father Oliveira." Constantine turned away, adjusting his cuffs. "You chose poorly."
The guards grabbed my arms. I struggled, but it was pointless. They dragged me from the chamber. Constantine's back disappeared through the doorway, deaf to my pleas.
We went down, descendingpast the sacred chamber, past the archives, past levels I recognized from my years here. The guards said nothing as they dragged me six levels down, seven. Eight.
The stone changed, growing older and rougher. The Christian symbols faded from the walls until there were no more crosses, no more saints watching from alcoves, nothing but ancient stone and torchlight and the echo of our footsteps.
At the ninth level, they finally halted before a massive wooden door. The door opened into a chamber that made the Sanctum look young. The walls were bare stone, rough-hewn, stained dark. A drain waited in the center of the floor. Iron rings jutted from the ceiling, which I found strange until one of the guards produced a coil of rope.
