Jessica gasped."What?" She pulled away from him. "No way! Nuh-uh! I can't!"
"Earlier tonight you told me—" Abel began, but she cut him off.
"I'm just a stewardess!" she yelled.
His smile dropped. "So you're just going to let us crash?"
Jessica didn't have time to refute his point. They both heard footsteps running down the hall.
"Oh no!"Jessica nearly fainted.
"It's not him; the footsteps are too light," said Abel.
The little boy who'd had the red balloon suddenly rounded the corner. He looked lost and scared. He ran to Jessica, about to burst into tears.
Immediately, Jessica pulled herself together. "Oh dear. Come here. Are you lost?"
The boy nodded vigorously.
"Didn't I tell you to go back to your mother?" she asked.
"Mommy's down there," the boy said.
"What?" Dread filled Jessica's heart.
The boy sniffled and continued. "Mommy's in Rome. Daddy and I are going to see her."
"You'll see her soon," Jessica reassured him.
The boy smiled at her confidence and calmed down.
Jessica bit her lip. This boy won't see his mother. He'll probably die. And not just him. All the other passengers, including herself, and the airship that her own mother worked so hard to build, would most likely be destroyed.
"Father?" she whispered.
"Yes, Jessica?"
Abel smiled knowingly at the light in Jessica's eyes. Her shock and despair had given way to strong determination—she was ready now.
"We have to get this boy back to his father," Jessica said.
"And then?"
She shrugged. "And then we do what we need to do."
"Yes, we will. I like that kind of spirit in humans—" Abel stopped in mid-sentence and shook his head.
†
The radio transmission that came in at 01:40 A.M. was loud and clear, even if the message itself was warped: The Vatican must release all vampire prisoners within the next hour or we will destroy Коте. It was insane.
In the castle of San Angelo, the Messenger Angel Hall, otherwise known as the Vatican war room, was hectic—people shouted and papers scattered about. Everyone important was there: Head Priest of Papal Security, Deacon of Transportation, and even the pope's sister, Foreign Affairs Minister. They'd all been roused from their beds, but none of them seemed the least bit tired.
The skinny young boy at the head of the table, on the other hand, looked like he was about to doze off.
"We've received preliminary intelligence from Department of Inquisition!" shouted an aide.
"Duke of Meinz, Alfredo, vampire—wanted for sixty-seven counts of murder and diablerie," read Head Priest of General Security. "How did that murderous thug get onboard the Tristan? How did he slip past security?" he asked, fixing accusatory eyes on the deacon of Transportation.
"Your Holiness, are you awake yet?" asked Minister of Foreign Affairs. The beautiful woman clad in cardinal red smiled as she looked down at a boy.
The youth, his mouth stretched wide with an enormous yawn, collected himself enough to look up in surprise. Alessandro XVIII, three hundred ninety-ninth Pope, looked very much like a child kept up past his bedtime rather than the ruler of the Vatican, the most powerful authority in the world.
"Sorry, elder sister. I fell asleep," he said sheepishly.
"You shouldn't be up for this, Alec. We can handle it," she said soothingly. The Duchess of Milan, Minister of Foreign Affairs Cardinal Caterina Sforza, looked warmly at Alec from behind her monocle. "You should be resting."
He blinked rapidly. "I'm okay. What's going on?"
"It's bad." Her calm expression downplayed the gravity of the matter. The situation inside the airship was still unclear, and there was nothing the Vatican could do at this point. "Worst-case scenario? We give into their demands," said Caterina.
The young pope frowned. "It would prevent bloodshed." Alessandro thought for a moment in silence. Then he nodded vigorously and tapped the edge of the table. "Yes. We will release the prisoners," he stated flatly.
A deep baritone voice raised an emphatic objection. "We cannot do that,Your Holiness," the voice boomed.
"Elder brother?"
"Cardinal Medici," Caterina nodded, acknowledging the man who'd spoken.
The siblings exchanged cold glances. There was no love between them, and everyone in the room knew it.
Secretary of Vatican Papal Doctrine Francesco di Medici was a large, intimidating man. His body was more suited for war than the papacy. He removed his mortarboard and stiffly bowed to the pope. "I have returned from my visit to the Assisi Air Force Base."
"Wh-when d-did you get here, elder brother? I thought you were away until next w-week," the boy stammered.
"I have just arrived. I also heard about the incident on the Tristan. Well, Caterina?" Cardinal Medici asked.
The blonde beauty stiffened at his rebuking tone.
"You should know better than to advise the pope to give in to the demands of vampire terrorists. He will become a weakling in their eyes—a puppet that they can hold hostage any time their desire fancies it. You should be ashamed of yourself!" he barked.
"Bro .. . My apologies; I meant Cardinal Medici," she replied to her half brother. "What are we to do? The Tristan is from Albion, full of Albion civilians. The deadline for signing the Albion peace treaty is next week. We can ill afford a problem in the peace negotiations. Matters with Albion must be handled delicately," she reasoned.
"The Vatican does not negotiate with terrorists. Especially vampire terrorists!" Cardinal Medici scoffed. "Your Holiness, we must not submit to their demands. Forbid them from entering Vatican airspace."
"Will they obey our orders?" the pope wondered. The room fell silent and the young inexperienced pope felt everyone's stares burrowing into him. He swallowed thickly. "If they were the kind of people who would obey our orders, they wouldn't have hijacked the airship in the first place, would they? I'm sorry. It's no use."
"It would probably be a waste of breath," confirmed Caterina.
"Then what do we do?" the timid pope asked.
"We give them a warning. If they invade our airspace, we shoot them down. It's quite simple," said Cardinal Medici. His words fell like a ton of bricks.
Caterina shouted in protest. "Are you out of your mind, Cardinal Medici?! I've just said the Tristan is Albion's ship!"
"Beate sumpto qi miribundum in Domino. Happiness is to die in the name of God," he replied.
The priests instantly backed up Cardinal Medici:
"The Vatican enforces God's will, and we will shed blood to protect his holy doctrines!" shouted one.
"God will not bow down before terror!" yelled the cardinal.
Caterina looked at every man in the room, but saw only bloodthirsty fools. They desperately wanted to slaughter in the name of God. And they would, unless the pope forbade it.
Her older half brother was very charismatic, but he often wielded the Vatican's authority too forcefully. Times have changed; the public won't support unnecessary violence. The people are no longer a mindless flock of sheep. Caterina's train of thought was interrupted by a deacon.
"Cardinal, ma'am, we have urgent information," the deacon said hurriedly. He quickly handed a list of names to Caterina.
"The Tristan's passenger roster? Good work, Deacon."
Caterina's heart sank as she saw the long list of names. Each one was a brother, sister, father, mother, or child. They were all in grave danger.
When she spotted one name in particular, her demeanor instantly changed. "Deacon? Are you sure this is correct?" she asked carefully.
"Yes, ma'am. It's been confirmed by three different sources," he said. "It's accurate information, ma'am. There is a Crusnik on the Tristan. The evil abomination was on his way back to the Vatican after arresting Father Scott."
"Watch your tone, Deacon. That 'evil abomination' is one of my most loyal agents. In fact, call in all AX agents. Which ones are readily available?"
The deacon bowed. "My apologies, Cardinal. Gunslinger and Iron Maiden are standing by. They can be in contact with the Tristan in four hours."
"Those two can support the Crusnik and safely secure the Tristan. It's going to be bloody . . ." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Casualties are acceptable as long as they remain less than fifty percent. Anything more than that will ruin our chances of peace with Albion."
Caterina looked around the room. The hall continued to swirl with activity. The matters they handled were life-or-death in nature, but the bigger picture was at stake. A treaty with Albion could mean a lasting peace, an end to all bloodshed between the two nations. While she silently weighed the global ramifications of the Vatican's actions, she looked at her brothers.
Cardinal Medici barked orders. He looked like a madman who could barely control himself. Meanwhile, poor Alec seemed completely overwhelmed. He was just a boy, even if he was Pope. The Lord saw fit to make him Pope, and she would do all she could
to help him in this trying time. Having her most trusted AX agent aboard the Tristan was an absolute godsend.
God's dove is flying to Rome.
"Laudare nomune Domini. Praise the Lord," she whispered.