The Chamber of Sins
Chapter 3.3 "The Order's treasure"

Robert stayed five more minutes to admire the Ark before going to the next shelf. A thin book covered in bright yellow material shone like a star under the bright lights. Angels inlaid in a thick layer of valuable material, and precious engraves made the book a masterpiece. Ethereal whispering and dense fog were coming out of it. Robert remained there for a long time, mesmerised, listening to the sermon. He pressed his feverish hand against the window until it vibrated under his energy.

The book opened with a high-pitched ringing, and droplets of blood slipped from the boy’s ear. Miss Lionette snatched his hand from the window.

“It was talking to me - the book,” the boy confessed as he fell on the floor.

“That writing is the Book of Exodus,” the woman said while patting the boy’s shoulders. “You can go crazy if you listen to it,” she said and handed him a tissue.

Robert wiped his ear and got up with difficulty.

“I cannot believe that we have something like that in our house! Does my father know?”

“Your father is one of the Order’s supporters. He had been with us long before you were born.”

“This is incredible!” The boy exclaimed while touching a halberd. The item glowed, and a magnetic force pressed it against the boy’s palm as the pendant displayed electric light flashes. Robert began moving - one step before the other, a skilful movement from his elbow, a flexing to the left followed by a complete turn and a faint collision with the marble floor. Robert widened his eyes, astounded by his skills, skills that he had never had.

Lionette observed his movements.

“There is your weapon, boy,” she applauded as she looked for something else in the room.

“Now we need to replace you an armour,” the woman mumbled. Lionette’s eyes scrutinised the selves, and replaceing want she needed, she aimed to it. She came back victorious and handed Robert a leather vest.

“This is a Broigne, an armure médiévale,” she pronounced it in a pure French accent.

“I don’t need any armour,” Robert said confidently. “Look!” He urged Lionette to watch him as cutting a deep wound in his forearm. The blood glistened before the flesh stuck back, covering it.

The woman’s first impulse was to come and cover the wound. Instead, observing the healing process, she came closer and placed her hand on the boy’s forearm.

“You have significant power, but the underground world comes with higher dangers. There is never too much protection. We deal with different demonic forces. You might meet Arnaxans - the warrior demon, Margrul - the cunning demon, Vogron - the sucking soul demon, Kugalen - the possession demon, Ith’til - the angels’ killer demon and many others. You should fear the Ith’til. They can kill everything. If the world is going to end it is because of them.” Lionette paused for a while. “So, that is why you must pray not to meet them. Wear the vest, and you may get to live another day!”

Robert grabbed the vest and the halbert, feeling much calmer about the entire story. Then he felt a caressing breeze on his torso and turned. Margo was there, watching with her big, anxious eyes.

“What is wrong?” the boy asked.

“I need you to help me with something,” the girl whispered. She looked pellucid, some parts of her body fading away. The girl was nonrigid as a marionette, her body waving like a flag under the wind.

“Are you talking to me?” Lionette questioned.

“No, Lionette. Sorry,” the boy answered faintly, making the woman examine him with her myopic eyes until he disappeared up the stairs.

One o’clock and still so crowded, Robert thought, while his chauffeur was trying to squeeze between a parked car and another on his left. The cars were crawling along in the traffic. He peeked at the girl next to him. Margo was still translucent but had got her body heaviness back, signifying that she was recovering after the encounter with the life-sucking creature.

The girl pointed to go right, and the arriving point was past the roundabout, the first street on the left. Once the car stopped, the boy found himself in front of an old chapel. It is here where she had spent all her years. Renegaded by her family and raised by nuns, he thought. A deep sense of sadness overflowed his heart.

The street was almost empty. Only a few children were playing with an orange ball, and they were laughing like crazy as letting the gentle sun caress the top of their heads. Robert scanned the surroundings. A small antiquated cemetery, accommodating nuns and priests long gone, was next to the Chapel. Near the graveyard, a dense line of trees was hiding a noble mansion from curious peeks.

“We have to go in there.” Margo pointed to the Chapel. In front of the gate, a middle-aged woman was trotting from left to right. She was wearing a long dark robe, head covered in dark and white attire. The woman was keeping her hands together while scrutinising the street, waiting for somebody.

Robert signalled at the driver, and the man opened the truck. They unloaded boxes full of fruits and vegetables, bags with flour and sugar, and cans of olive oil. The boy wanted to make a significant donation to Margo’s friends. A boy joined the nun and together came to greet them.

Sister Mary, visibly exhilarated, embraced Robert.

“My dear boy,” she said with teary eyes. “So glad to meet Margo’s friend. Have you recently met her or talked to her?” the woman asked, her voice trembling. “She disappeared. It has been two weeks. I haven’t heard from her since the 16th of April.” Sister Mary wiped a rebel tear from her flushed cheeks.

“Don’t you worry, Sister. We will replace her alive or-” the boy stopped, hit by a sharp elbow straight in his stomach.

“Hey,” he yelled while keeping his stomach tight. The woman and the boy next to her looked at him worriedly. “Sorry,” he said. “Stomach problems,” he continued, releasing fire arrows from his eyes. Margo smiled and turned her back to him.