Chapter 42
Two days later, close to midnight, Cosimo stood at the back of Santa Maria delle Grazie on Via Caradosso, Marcella's hand in his. Valentine, Yelena, Bas, and Bridget waited with them, staring up at the church's lit-up red and cream facade.
They had decided that it was less risky to go through one of the back entrances. It would give them the shortest route to the Old Sacristy and avoid the main part of the church with its extra guards and cameras to watch over Leonardo Da Vinci's masterpiece.
Cosimo had tried to hide his disappointment that they couldn't take advantage of a visit with no crowds. It was such a beautiful building and had always been one of Cosimo's favorite churches. At times like this, he could feel the threads of fate tugging at him.
One of the last times he had been with Maria before her disappearance was during a trip to Milan, when they had visited this church together.
Earlier, Cosimo had asked if she wanted to come along and search the tunnels with them.
She had declined, wanting to be at home in her tower and study the bracelet she had found in Minerva's temple.
Apollo and Reeve had promised to keep her company and make sure that she was okay. She was his sister, not his child, and Cosimo knew she could handle herself. He had another woman to worry about.
Marcella was dressed in black boots, jeans, and a turtleneck. Her hair was pinned up out of the way, and she was still distractingly beautiful.
My mate, his dragon growled happily. It hadn't forgotten that as soon as they found the grimoires, Cosimo had promised to tell Marcella exactly what she meant to him. It wanted to claim her and to tie her to them forever.
"Are you ready, amore mio?" Cosimo asked her.
Marcella's eyes were determined, but he could smell the nerves in her scent. "I need to know either way. It will eliminate one more place we need to look."
"Exactly. Something off the list," Bridget said with a firm nod. She shared a look with Cosimo behind Marcella's back. They both knew that she was trying her best not to get her hopes up.
"The guards are about to change shift, so get ready," Valentine interrupted.
Cosimo turned to Marcella and wrapped a glamor over her the way Valentine had taught him.
It was the same one he had been using to jump scare Cosimo and his brothers in the mansion.
Bas put the same glamor on Bridget. Invisible to everyone except each other, they followed Valentine and Yelena to where two guards stood in front of iron gates leading into a small green space at the back of the church.
Yelena smiled at them and asked if they had a lighter. They obliged her, distracted by her pretty face and laughter, while Valentine's magic spun black and scarlet threads around them.
"This isn't going to hurt them, is it?" Marcella whispered to Cosimo.
"No. Valentine is just going to implant some memories and take a few away. It's easier to do with only two people, which is why we are invisible," he replied, trying to explain the magic as quietly as he could.
The guard's eyes had gone dazed as they opened the back door for them. They followed Valentine and Yelena before the guards closed it behind them.
When they were inside, Cosimo touched the small bud in his ear. "Okay, Layla, we are in. Switch the CCTV feeds."
"Onto it, Cosimo," came the reply. Layla had been more than happy to act as their tech support, but only after they promised Arne it was only for the night.
"You should be good in three, two….one. Watch for the interior guards.
There are three patrolling the Cloister of the Frogs. Such a cool name by the way."
"Thanks, Layla. We will check back in before we go into the tunnels," Cosimo replied and tapped the earpiece.
Bridget turned on the small camera attached to her backpack's strap and gave it a thumbs-up to Layla on the other side.
Marcella's hand tightened in Cosimo's as they moved silently out into the small cloister. It was a pretty little garden with a fountain in the middle that had four bronze frogs, giving the cloister its name.
The guards were on the opposite side of them, chatting to each other about the recent football game. The pillars and greenery weren't enough to keep them hidden, so Cosimo was once again grateful that Valentine had taken such a liking to glamor magic.
"Marcella, you're up," Valentine whispered.
Marcella nodded. "Follow me. The door that leads into the sacristy is this way."
Going slow so their footsteps wouldn't be heard, they edged their way along the walls. It would have been quicker to cross straight through, but the rustling of the gravel path would have given them away.
Marcella stopped in front of a sturdy wooden door and tried the handle. One of the guards looked up at the rattle of the lock, and they all froze. The guard turned back to his companions a moment later.
"Allow me," Cosimo whispered, moving Marcella aside and taking the thin metal picks from his pocket.
"Man of many talents, aren't you? Did you use to be a thief or something?" she teased.
"What do you mean by 'used to'?" Cosimo slid the picks in the lock. "I stole your heart, haven't I?"
"Oh my god, Dad, can you flirt later?" Bas hissed.
Marcella's lips pressed together in an effort not to laugh.
The lock gave, and Cosimo gestured at Valentine. He made a small gesture, and car alarms started to go off on the Via Carodosso. Grumbling, the guards went to see what the fuss was about.
Cosimo opened the door for Marcella, "Ladies first."
The sacristy was long and rectangular with a semi-circle apse down the far end.
The roof above them was a vivid starry sky, with paintings of the Madonna and other figures on the walls.
The room was lined on either side with two-tiered wooden cabinets that had been created by Vincenzo Spanzotti for Ludovico Sforza.
Marcella pointed at the pictures of Ludovico il Moro and his son Massimiliano on the interior faces of the apse pillars. "The Moor himself."
"What were all these for?" Yelena asked, staring at the cabinets.
"Originally, they held sacred furnishings and other objects that the French stole and never returned," Marcella replied, slowly walking along the cabinets and looking at the paintings on them. "I believe one of them will be Ludovico's entrance to the tunnels."
"Can you feel anything?" Bridget asked.
"Give her a moment," Cosimo chided gently.
Valentine offered Marcella his dagger. "Here, cut something. Maybe some blood will help reveal it."
"Enough," Cosimo said, taking the dagger. "You four stay there." Cosimo followed Marcella as she kept looking at the paintings on the wardrobes. She was lost in her own thoughts, not paying them any attention at all.
The doors on the upper cabinets along the western wall depicted various scenes of Christ's life from the Gospel of Luke, except for the last three, which were of the god Triton and a nereid, Mary of Egypt in the desert, and the vision of Saint John.
Marcella was mainly focused on the lower cabinets that were painted with the coats of arms and other insignias of the Sforza, Visconti, and Este families. She paused when they reached the paintings depicting allegories of death.
"It has to be here somewhere. He would have wanted it to be where his family was represented," she murmured to herself. She reached over and lightly ran her hands along the wood.
"Marcella? What is it?" Cosimo whispered.
Marcella's fingertips touched a cabinet painted with a faded skeleton with snakes curling about it, and her necromancy magic flared around her.
"Madonna Mia!" she exclaimed softly. "There's something… I can't explain it…"
Cosimo gestured at the others to join them. "Open it, Marcella."
"It will be locked. It has to be," she said, shaking her head.
Cosimo smiled. "Not to you."
Marcella leaned down, gripped the brass handle, and the small door swung open. They all peered inside….at a slab of stone.
"Damn it, it felt so right," Marcella hissed, reaching in to touch the stone. "There's nothing. No keyhole or anything. Whatever was here has been blocked off."
"Time to try the Sforza door wards theory," Valentine insisted, gesturing to Cosimo. "Give her the dagger, Dad."
Cosimo crouched down beside Marcella and offered it to her, hilt first. "Just a small cut on your finger. You don't need to hurt yourself just to test a theory."
"This feels so silly," Marcella said. She took the knife and used the tip of the blade to prick her finger.
A small bead of blood rose to the surface, and Marcella put her hand back on the stone.
They stared in wonder as the blood trickled and formed the family crest of the House of Sforza.
With a deep rumble, the stone slid back, revealing only darkness beyond it.