"I can't," the angel choked. "If I could I would, but it's not possible."

"But you just said-"

"Your sister isn't eligible ..."

"Why?"

"Because she committed suicide!"

Ca.s.sie's spirit plummeted, and Angelese almost did too when Ca.s.sie nearly lost the telekinetic grip. What have I done, what have I done? She let Angelese down as gently as possible, then she fell to her knees.

"I'm sorry," she begged. "I don't know what came over me.

Angelese took deep breaths, rubbing her throat. "It's all right."

"No! I'm really sorry!"

"Forget about it. You're human. Humans are f.u.c.ked up."

Tell me about it, Ca.s.sie thought.

Angelese picked up the book of Appendices. Then she looked inside again.

The Maemae had drifted down from the platform, standing off, her perfect body a sleek curvy line. Her smile burned into Ca.s.sie's eyes. In spite of the tiny fangs, it was a smile of good-will, not the opposite, not a smile born in h.e.l.l.

"Not all angels have wings," she said to Ca.s.sie. She closed her scarlet eyes again, and raised her arms.

"Ca.s.sie," Angelese said. "I have to keep my part of the bargain. Destroy her."

Ca.s.sie understood. She liked the Maemae, so she tried to think of something painless.

"Please," the Maemae whispered through the smile. "Send me out of here ..."

"Smoke," Ca.s.sie said.

There was a faint PUFF! and the most beautiful woman in h.e.l.l dissipated into black dust. Within the dust, however, a glittering mist swirled, very faintly. It hovered, then rose.

Then disappeared.

The dust of the Maemae's Spirit Body settled like soot to the wooden floor, leaving a ghostly, diaphanous outline, but within it the woman's features could still be deciphered, especially the tiny-fanged smile. The smile of bliss in the midst of misery.

The light which now filled the Repository was nearly blinding. Ca.s.sie shielded her eyes when she approached Angelese, who was reading the book with wide-open eyes. "I haven't seen this language in ages. Even the Archangels have forgotten how to speak it."

"What language?"

"It's called Zraetic, the first protodialect of the Tabernacle of G.o.d. This language predates the Enochian alphabet; it's what was spoken before Adam and Eve."

The text was stiffly handwritten. Had it been the Maemae who had written it? Ca.s.sie glimpsed the first incomprehensible lines: Eeaan nesaaa sen f Brud de Liaat ...

The same strange language that R.J. had spoken in back at the clinic during the Merge: the Paresis Incantation he'd put on her. Was this the language that all angels once spoke in? It scarcely mattered, though. I'm not an angel, she thought. I could never understand it.

"G.o.d Almighty," Angelese whispered.

"What's it say?" Ca.s.sie asked.

The angel had never appeared more troubled. Her lips moved in silence as she continued to read.

"Whatl" Ca.s.sie snapped, twisted in suspense.

"Well, the first part is something that we already know, but it's not complete. It's something to do with Retrogations. Astral Retrogations."

"You told me about that," Ca.s.sie recalled. "Sorcery-based time-travel."

"Um-hmm. Lucifer's had the power to do that for a while, from something he stole from Heaven. He can go back into different time-segments, for very short periods of time."

"And whatever this big plan of his is, it's got something to do with that?"

"Evidently, but this entry isn't complete."

This miffed Ca.s.sie. They'd come all this way and gone to all this trouble, and they still wouldn't get the whole story? "I thought every secret in h.e.l.l was kept here?"

"Complete secrets. There must be a final part that they're working on that isn't complete yet, so that's why it's not here. And I think it has something to do with you."

"The reason that Lucifer wants me," Ca.s.sie guessed.

"Yes. He doesn't want you, he wants your power, for something else. Same reason he wants the Etherean I was telling you about earlier. Lucifer always likes options, and he's well-versed with failure. If he can't get you, he has a back-up."

"The Etherean?"

"Right. And that's probably who he's gunning for now, since we escaped the Merge at the clinic."

All this just frustrated Ca.s.sie more. She'd never been known for patience. "What else? What else is in the book?"

"The second entry is a summary of the Spatial Merge in Maryland, where-"

"I know, I know, you told me. A Fallen Angel named Zeihl committed suicide, at some ... map library or something."

"Yes. And why?"

How could Ca.s.sie forget the angel's previous explanation-when the Umbra-Specter had tortured her with its talons for divulging it? "Zeihl incarnated himself during the Merge at the map library, then he committed suicide to generate a Power Exchange. It's because of a Rule. If an angel sacrifices himself, then material objects can be exchanged. Zeihl took something from that library in the Living World, and through his suicide had it transported back to h.e.l.l."

"Right."

"So what was the object that he exchanged from the library? Was it a book?"

"No, that place wasn't really a library. It was a front."

"You mean a place that they wanted people to think was a library, but it really wasn't?"

"Correct. They made it look as una.s.suming as possible."

Ca.s.sie thought about it. "Who are 'they?' "

"The Pope's security contingent."

"The ... Pope's?"

"Yes. The Catholic Church has its Power Relies just like Lucifer does, and just like G.o.d."

"So they were protecting some kind of object in the fake library? "

"Yes."

"And Zeihl's suicide provided the necessary occult power to-"

"To transfer that object from the Living World to h.e.l.l," Angelese grimly affirmed. When she closed the book, the Repository, as well as the entirety of the Infernal Archives, snapped back into its former moonstone-lit darkness.

Ca.s.sie didn't like the vibe. "What was the object?"

Angelese stared a Ca.s.sie, eyes propped open in dread.

"What was the object?" Ca.s.sie repeated.

"The Shroud of Turin."

The ... Then Ca.s.sie frowned. "The Shroud of Turin is at the Vatican, everybody knows that, and everybody knows it's fake. They tested it. It's phony as a three-dollar bill."

The angel's voice grated. "Not that Shroud of Turin, Ca.s.sie. The real Shroud of Turin."

Chapter Fourteen.

(I).

"I wish you'd stayed in school, Walter," No-name's head remarked. "Get your doctorate by twenty-one. One day you might've won the n.o.bel Prize."

Walter considered the comment. No-name was a soothsayer. Is she implying that might have happened, or will happen? "I thought you weren't allowed to reveal the future."

"I'm not."

"So why did you just say that? Are you suggesting that if I abandon whatever it is we're doing here, I win a n.o.bel Prize someday?"

The head smirked. "Sorry. No. I was just daydreaming about your potential. You do have a lot of potential, you know."

Walter took it as a compliment. "You're the nicest severed head I've ever met."

"Oh, thanks a lot!"

But it was clear what she really meant. I'll never win the n.o.bel Prize... "So ... does this mean I'll never get my doctorate, either?"

"Walter, you know I can't tell you thatl" No-name almost seemed scolding. "Sometimes I think you deliberately try to make me slip up."

"Is that possible? Can a d.a.m.ned soothsayer accidently break her vow?"

"With me, it's not a vow. It's a curse. If I disrespect the curse, then I'm destroyed."

"What about the angel you were telling me about?"

"The guardian of the Etheress," the head recited. "What about her?"

"You said she was like you in a way. She can't reveal secrets either."

"No, she can't. But with her, it's a vow. With me-a curse." No-name smiled under Walter's arm. "The angel and I serve a similar function. She's the Etheress's guardian, and I'm your guardian. But at least I'm lower maintenance. I'm just a head."

Walter didn't quite connect with the levity. He just kept thinking. "I'm Plan B," he remembered. "I could really screw everything up, simply by leaving. I could go back to the Deadpa.s.s, go back to the Living World."

He waited for a response.

Nothing.

She'd said that everything was already mapped out, she'd said that the future wasn't mutable-it couldn't be changed. "With my brains? I could get a big job with a big research company, make millions."

"Yes, but-" No-name bit her lip. "Walter, it's not like you to be deceitful."

"What do you mean?"

"Stop trying to make me slip up! I'll admit, I'm easy to fool. I'm not as smart as you-it's not fair. Don't take advantage of me. It's not nice, and you're a nice person, so be nice."

Walter shrugged. Can I help it that I want to know what's going on? I don't even know where I'm going but according to her that's how it's supposed to be. I won't find my destiny. My destiny will find me.

"This is the district's Steamworks," No-name said. They were walking down what seemed to be a service lane paved with ground skulls, and to either side were factory-sized networks of pipes fifty feet wide. The giant pipes vibrated, hissing. They seemed endless.

"What's the function?"

"Heat regulation. Lucifer doesn't want any area of h.e.l.l to be cooler than another. He wants everything hot."

And hot it was, like Texas in August. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," he remarked, gazing up at the ranks and ranks of pipes. "It's all useless. It's an affront to logic. With all these resources, and all that power? Lucifer could turn this place around in a heartbeat."

"Of course he could. But he doesn't. You know why?"

"No."

"Because he's vain. G.o.d's better than him and he knows it but he can't ever admit that. He can't ever admit that he's inferior because of his pride. So all these resources, and all his power, he uses to offend G.o.d. You're right, it's the dumbest thing, but Lucifer's very insecure. So he'll just keep doing what he's been doing."