Samantha looked at the tactical body suit and equipment that she had used last night for her final revenge. She stood there in the just her lingerie debating with herself. She had accomplished her goals in Rome. She no longer had need for the tactical body suite, gloves, two pairs of boots, and custom built pistols. She should get rid of everything now, but something was telling her it was not yet time.

She had already gotten rid of the laptop last night. Of all the issued electronic equipment only the cellphone and original glasses remained. Everything else was at the bottom of the Tiber River. With the exception of the additional guards, everything had gone as planned. Well not really. There had been several things that she hadn't planned on. There was still that nagging feeling that told her she wasn’t completely out of the woods.

Samantha hadn’t lived for as long as she had without listening to her gut feelings. It was a practice that made her one of the best manhunters in the Marshals. It had saved her life far too many times to just ignore it. With it being late winter and the different temperatures she would be traveling through today Samantha made up her mind. After slipping on the glossy long sleeved body stocking, she quickly dressed in the stylish tactical body suit.

She left the tactical harness and pistol belt off. Those she would pack in the false bottom of her suitcase. Along with one of the pistols. The other pistol she would continue to carry in the hip holster on her right side. Her trench coat would carry the five extra magazines. As she picked up one of the three knives, she had carried last night Samantha paused.

One she had carried out of tradition to honor the name of Capizeo. The knife she had earned the night she joined the Guild of the Moonless Night Wraiths. She was only thirteen when her mother, Mary Anne Capizeo, walked her through the ceremony. Samantha had used that blade to carry out her blood fueled revenge in Toledo following the death of her family. Then for fourteen years, it lay hidden in the church, along with the keys to her old house. Until three years ago it had not seen the light of day. It was the same knife she used to swear her Blood Oath over the graves of her dead family. Last night it was this knife that had drank the blood and pain of the architect for all of her misery.

Slowly pulling the blade from its sheath Samantha whispered. “Mama, papa, I’m done. I made the last one pay for what they did. I even followed the traditions of leaving a warning. I did everything exactly as you taught me. I left no witnesses. I used the catacombs and back passageways that the journals talk about. Up to the top floor then down through the floors one by one. I made sure to use bullets that couldn’t be traced. Kyle’s armorers have improved on the Hyperion Drill points. You actually have to use a smooth bore barrel for them now, papa. I used them to clear out a real rat’s nest. The Iscariots will be spending the next decade recovering from last night, mama. You’d both be proud of me. All of our traditions were upheld, and a new legend was born in my passing.”

Samantha returned the last true Capizeo knife to its sheath. “I can finally put the past in the grave. I no longer have need for you old friend. Your time to rest in peace has finally come.”

Samantha placed her Capizeo family knife in the false bottom of the suitcase. Picking up the knife Bobby had forged for her Samantha smiled. “You; on the other hand, still have work to do and miles to travel, my friend.”

This knife and the one that Maria had given her three years ago, she placed at the small of her back. The belt that surrounded her waist was more than just an accessory. It was thick enough and heavy enough to hold both of the sheaths and a belt holster for a pistol. With the last of her preparations done, Samantha pulled on the more stylish knee high boots with three inch heels. Samantha place the flat sole boots from last night in the suitcase before placing the rest of her UC wardrobe on top closing the bag.

After sweeping the room to make sure she was leaving no trace. Samantha pulled on the trench coat, fedora, shoulder bag and grabbed her suitcase then headed for the lobby. Twenty minutes later, Samantha was pulling out of her parking spot headed back the way she had come. Only her final stop wasn’t at Federico Fellini International airport, Rimini, Italy. She had a different final destination on this journey.

One that had nothing to do with what had happened last. Yet everything to do with those four very dangerous passports in her possession. She did understand why she couldn't use them and agreed with the reason. Temptation had been hard to resist, but she managed to do it. That didn't mean they wouldn't be able to serve a purpose though. A small thing that could be overlooked. A stop at the first Roseline orphanage in the town of San Lorenzo di Sebato. After what she had done last night, Samantha knew that it was time to get the last of the family out of Italy.

The private quarters of Bishop Karl Ferdinand, Iscariot Division HQ, Vatican: 0815

Father Daniel burst into the Bishop’s private quarters unannounced and frantic. “Your Eminence come quick! We have a problem in Monsignor Delacorte’s room.”

“Peace, Father Daniel, peace. We need a calm countenances in the face of adversity, not panicked overreaction. Remember the teachings of Hebrews thirteen: verses one through two.” At the younger man’s blank look Karl sighed. “Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

“Yes, of course, your Eminence.” Daniel took a few deep breaths to calm himself before giving his urgent news. “Sir, the Monsignor Jonathan Delacorte has been assassinated in his own bed.”

“I see. Details are most critical now. When did this happen?” Karl asked as he stood up from his breakfast. “I need to know as close as possible Father Daniel.”

“It happened during the blackout. Sometime between zero-one-thirty-five and zero-two-thirty. The exact time is unknown, sir.” Like most of the priests in the Iscariots Daniel knew that the Bishop preferred a 24 hour time frame for making reports. “For reasons that the IT people are working to discover, URIEL and RUMBUS were rendered useless.”

“Understood. More than fifty percent of our automated security measure were also affected by the attack on our servers I take it?” Karl asked as he led the younger man towards the halls of the Iscariot Division Headquarters. “What of the extra patrols? Why didn’t they stop the intruder?”

“Um… sir, I don’t know how to say this, but thirty-eight members of the Section twenty-one Strike Teams now reside among the Heavenly Host.” This admission stopped Karl in his steps.

“Did I hear you correctly? Thirty-eight of our highest trained operatives killed in under sixty minutes.” Karl fumed. “And no one saw anything?”

“Yes sir. Though it was closer to twenty minutes.” Daniel swallowed hard at the look from the Bishop. Dropping his voice to barely above a whisper. “Sir, I believe that the way Monsignor Delacorte was killed will explain everything. A message was left behind.”

“Why?” Karl demanded of the young priest. “What do you know or believe?”

“Sir, the Moonless Wraith has returned once more.” Daniel choked out. “At least their newest bloody incarnation has returned.”

“Are you sure? I mean absolutely fucking positive Father Daniel?” Karl hissed in a voice that held more than a little shock. When the younger man nodded his Karl grabbed him by the upper arm. “Upon the Sacrament of the Confessional; you are not to share your thoughts with anyone, Father.”

“Why, Bishop? Word will spread no matter how hard we try to hide it from our fellow clergy. Wouldn’t it be better to admit the truth?” Daniel asked. Hoping that for once Section Twenty-one would have to face the world for their crimes. “We can get ahead of this and control the outcome.”

“We say nothing to no one, Daniel.” Karl ordered the young priest. “Not until I see this message left by our newest Wraith.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.” Daniel didn’t really understand but over the last few days of working directly for the Bishop the man would often keep things to myself. Like overriding the Judas orders concerning the recall of every Section twenty-one Strike team within the US. Certain teams the Bishop was actually leaving in place for the CIA to handle. The ones that he and his fellow Rose Society would happily slit the throats of during their sleep. That was just one of the many things the Bishop had done without Delacorte’s notice. In many ways the Bishop was doing more to change the Iscariot Division than the Rose Society.

It took the two men twenty minutes to cross over to the Iscariot Division Headquarters. When they arrived, Bishop Karl wasn’t surprised to find the two Swiss Guardsmen standing at the entrance. He wasn’t even surprised when the Captain of the Guard tried to stop them at the entrance to the wing that held the secure rooms for his Section Heads. He was however surprised to find the two Investigators from the Gendarmerie Corps standing inside of Delacorte’s room. None of his Division’s investigators were anywhere near the room.

This was not good. Not if he wanted to control the outcome of the investigation. He had to steer the investigation away from the Wraith, if he wanted to stay off that person’s very short and bloody list of enemies. He had the very distinct feeling that if he could not restructure the order away from the entity it had been for so long, his days would be numbered in the span of one hand. And not reach the third finger.

“Inspectors may I know what you are doing here. Besides interfering in what is very obviously an Iscariot Division matter.” Karl blustered.

“This is the crime scene of a murder, Bishop. As such, it is a matter for the Gendarmerie Corps not for the amateurs of the Iscariots. The Gendarmerie Corps will handle the investigation into the death of Monsignor Delacorte. Not that it matters.” The one Inspector grunted as he pointed towards the blood written message on the wall. “This is a politically or most likely personally motivated assassination. I doubt that we’ll find anything of forensic worth here anyway.”

This was good news to Bishop Karl’s ears. “Oh, why do you say that?”

“With the number of bodies found in the lobby and the lack of evidence already found. It all points to a team of five or more professional assassins. Fundamentalist religious radicals looking to make a political statement most likely.” The second Inspector summed up their working theory for Karl.

“May I know how you came by this theory Inspectors?” Karl asked.

“For starters, Your Eminence, the sheer number of well-armed guards would require at least three to four men to take down. Even with surprise on their side. Then there’s the shell casings. All of them are the same caliber. Forty-five ACP. A heavy round preferred by Special Operations teams for the knockdown power of the round. Usually it only takes one round to put down a target permanently. Not that it mattered with the rounds that whoever did used.” The first Inspector grumbled. “The closest thing to these rounds I have ever seen is a shotgun slug. The rounds have their own rifling. The pistols that fired these rounds had to be fitted with smooth bore barrels. Only extremely wealthy persons or Governments can afford such weapons, Bishop. The main reason is the time it takes to clean such a weapon after its use. That’s the downside. The upside is there is no ballistic evidence. For them. For investigators, it's a nightmare.”

“I see. So, you’re looking at highly trained team of people. Most likely a small group of former military trained operatives. Mercenaries most likely. That is your working theory, correct, Inspector?” Karl questioned the man.

“That is the only theory that fits all the facts, but one.” The second Inspector said as he pointed to the blood written message. “What can you tell us about; that?”

Karl couldn't help himself as he read aloud the message. “Blood for blood. The Great Betrayal has been repaid again. I am the Crimson Ghost that passes unseen through the night. I am the Wraith of Justice. In my hands I hold the blades of both justice and vengeance. I take no pleasure in the taking of a life. Mine is a sacred honor and duty that has be passed down generation to generation. Only the most dangerous, most vile, most hated, most unjust, need fear my blades. The innocent, pure of heart and oppressed shall be avenged by my family’s blades. I am the unseen Right Hand of Lady Justice. Tremble in fear at my passing. I am the Crimson Ghost of the Moonless Night.”

When he finished reading the bloody message, Karl looked down at the body of Delacorte. Everything was exactly as the legends of the Wraith described. Delacorte’s arms crossed upon his chest. The eyes were closed with gold coins on their lids. The final touch was a single white rose clasped in his hands. Not just any rose, but a white Hemlock Rose. One of the most expensive roses to raise, making them equally as expensive to sell or buy.

“Call off your investigation and search teams, Inspectors. You will not find the person who did this.” Karl ordered the two men as he turned to leave. “No reports. Nothing to anyone. This is an internal matter for the Papacy.”

“Excuse me, Eminence, but we’ll decide what is and isn’t a matter for the Papacy.” The first Inspector corrected Karl. “Not the Head of the Iscariots.”

Karl spun on his heel and stepped to within inches of the man’s face and hissed his displeasure with the two Inspectors. “The Iscariot Division does not answer to the watchdogs of the Gendarmerie Corps or Swiss Guards.”

“Bishop Ferdinand please understand, this is a matter that needs to be handled by professionals. We cannot just let these terrorists get away with attacking a member of the clergy.” The First Inspector countered.

“Let me explain to you two dunderheads exactly what THAT message means.” Karl said as he pointed towards the bloody words. “Monsignor Delacorte violated an unspoken truce and paid the price. He pissed off a force of nature that the Vatican has gone out of its way, for generations, to pacify.”

“Just who or what are you talking about Bishop? Do you know these criminals?” The second Inspector jumped.

“What do you fools know about the Moonless Night Wraith Guild?” Karl asked. Then sighed at their blank looks. “They have been the most feared guild of assassins in the history of Europe. A guild that was forged in the bloody treachery of the Holy Roman Catholic Church’s greed and hubris five hundred years ago to become our unholy vengeful conscience. The one who did this is long gone. Just as the legend tell us. They are vengeful shadows in the night.”

“Are you saying that there is nothing we can do to catch these criminals sir?” The first Inspector asked.

“There was but a small window of opportunity for when this could have happened. Between one-thirty and two-thirty. That was more than seven hours ago. The Vatican Wraith has a massive lead and has mostly changed identity twice by now.” Karl looked back up at the message one last time. “Or I should say, the newest incarnation of the Vatican Wraith; the Crimson Ghost.”

“I have phones calls to make gentlemen and you need to end this investigation now.” Karl turned to walk away but stopped. “And gentlemen. I suggest that you pray. Pray with all your faith that the Crimson Ghost has satisfied their need for vengeance.”

“And if this Crimson Ghost hasn’t satisfied their vengeance, Bishop?” The second Inspector ask of retreating back. “What then?”

“Hope they leave enough of the Church standing to hold Mass, so what's left of us can pray for a more agreeable appointment with Saint Peter.” Karl called out as he stormed down the hall.

San Lorenzo di Sebato, Italy: 1545

Sam pulled off the autostrada one exit before San Lorenzo. She had spent the last six hours going over what she was about to do. It had taken her eighteen months to track down her remaining family. They had gone into hiding during the mob war in Sicily six years ago. To the one place no one would ever look to find four of the best trained ballerinas in the world. The original Roseline orphanage in the Alpine mountains of Northern Italy. Unlike her or her mother, Samantha’s aunts and cousins only ever wanted to be dancers and teachers of dancers.

Even as she pulled off to the side of the road to stop in front of the orphanage, Samantha Justice was having second thoughts. Hell, she was on seventh and eighth thoughts by now. The problem was she knew that sooner or later the Iscariots might come for her cousins. Climbing out of the car, Samantha settled the fedora on her head at a cocky angle and tied the belt of the trench coat against the whipping cold of the mountain winds. She made sure that her weapons were well hidden. She may be entering an orphanage in the backcountry of Italy’s Alps, but she wasn’t home yet.

“Like mama always said; never turn your back on the Reaper.” Samantha said into the empty air as she approached the orphanage’s gate on foot. “At least they have off-street parking.”

As Samantha pushed the gate, the sounds of children laughing reached her ears. Looking through the bars of the iron gate she was greeted by the sight of children playing in the late afternoon sun and smiled. As she entered the courtyard a two legged missile struck her at hip height.

Samantha staggered back a little as she looked down at the five, maybe six, year old little boy. “Hey there little guy. Can you tell me where the Mother Superior is?”

“Wow. You’re pretty. Are you a movie star?” The little boy asked in wonder as he looked up at Samantha in awe.

“Why thank you, piccolo.” Samantha chuckled as she help the little boy stand back up. “That is very kind of you to say. But no, I’m not a movie star.”

“You sure do look like one.” The little boy countered then smile and pointed at her hat. “You look like the pretty thief from the cartoon Carmen Sandiego.”

“Sssshhh! Not so loud. You’ll give me away. I don’t want VILE to know I’m here.” Samantha had put her index finger to his lips. The little boy’s eye bulged as Samantha gave him conspiratorial smile and wink. “Can you tell me where I can find my contact, the Mother Superior?”

The little boy nodded his head and pointed towards the back of the orphanage. “She’s in the kitchen with Sister Mary Carmella and Sister Mary Catherine. If you hurry, you might catch them bring out the fresh bread!”

Samantha stood up straight and ruffled the boy’s hair as he giggled. “Thank you, piccolo. Remember, I’m not here. Now go play with your friends.”

Samantha gave the boy a playful swat on the butt and sent him off to play with the other orphans. Double checking that the passports and plane tickets were still inside her inner coat pocket, Samantha headed for the kitchen. As she neared the back of the orphanage where the kitchen would be, her nose was greeted by the heavenly sent of fresh baked bread. Her mouth started to water out of an automatic reaction to the smell. It also brought back childhood memories that were both painful and pleasant at the same time.

Shaking her head Samantha knocked on the backdoor of the orphanage. She had no sooner stepped back than the door was open by a woman in her late fifties to early sixties. The Mother Superior was already chewing someone out.

“Jason Allen; if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you.” She stopped midsentence of what had to be a well hashed ass chewing. “Oh, I’m sorry young lady. I was expecting someone else.”

“It’s quite alright Reverend Mother. I have a feeling that I was setup by one of the boys.” Samantha held her hand at about hip high with a smile. “Say one about this tall. Real ladies man.”

“Yes, you were, Miss. That was Jason. A rascal of the first order.” The woman chuckled. “I’m Sister Sara Mary Margaret. How can I be of help?”

Samantha placed the palms of her hands together horizontally at chest height and bowed her head slightly with a small curtsy. “I am, but a shadow wishing to stay the night, my passing will be quick for I have far to go in my journey to my destination. I’ll leave peacefully, fading into the depths of the Moonless night. I but seek warm company and a comfortable hearth with which to share the night. I am a shadow passing in the moonless night.”

The Mother Superior quickly aped Samantha’s actions. “May your journey in the night, be quiet and your passing, unseen; bringer of justice.”

The older smiled and looked around before waving for Samantha to hurry inside. “Come, come. Hurry inside before you catch your death of cold child. Are you a DeMarco?”

“Not out here where others can hear Reverend Mother. I promise to explain everything. Once we are somewhere no one else will overhear.” Samantha told her as she entered the kitchen. She was brought up short by the sight before her. She knew the two nuns that were baking the bread. In a voice barely above a whisper. “Aunt Susan, Aunt Carol.”

The Mother Superior grabbed Samantha by the arm and dragged her to her office. Once inside the orphanage’s main office, the old woman turned on Samantha. “Exactly who are you? How do you know the real names of those Sisters? Do not lie, Shadow.”

“I don’t have much time, so I’ll cut to the chase. I was born Joseph Capizeo. Most people know me as the Silver Bullet Ballerina. You can just call me the Hemlock Rose and I have come to escort my Aunts and cousins out of Italy. Or at least to give them the choice of leaving.” Samantha told her bluntly.

“Wait here. I’ll find your family, Shadow.” With that the old woman left Samantha alone in the office. Samantha knew that this was going to be hard, but she had to at least give her last remaining family a way out.

Twenty minutes later; the Mother Superior returned with the two nuns from the kitchen and two novice nuns all in tow. Samantha’s two aunts took one look at her and promptly fainted.

“That went well.” Samantha whispered to herself.

Her cousins were too busy tending to her aunts to notice her. Samantha knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. After all, as far as the rest of her family knew, Joey Capizeo was dead along with his family. The original Witness Protection plan had been changed with single bullet to the chest.

Her Aunt Susan was the first to recover. The old woman looked up at the person who should have been dead. Then asked a one word question. “Stephany?”

Both of her cousins looked up at her for the first time. Her cousins did a double take before her cousin Cathy said. “You’re dead.”

“We saw you killed. You died on those steps.” Her cousin Karen blurted.

“Quiet you two.” Her Aunt Carol, the oldest of her aunts, snapped as she opened her eyes looking up at a ghost. “Who are you?”

“Let’s just say that the reports of my death were not greatly exaggerated. Joseph Capizeo did die on those courthouse steps that day.” Samantha told her bluntly but smiled as she continued. “Stephany Capizeo on the other hand walked through the door of Witness Protection.”

Carol Capizeo stared at this ghost before her as her daughter helped her to her feet. With a shaking hand, the older woman reached and touched the left cheek of Samantha’s face. “You’re real.”

“Very real, Aunt Carol.” Samantha chuckled. “Only I am Samantha Justice now. I have an offer for all four of you.”

“Sister Mary Carmella, who is this woman?” Asked the Mother Superior.

“A vengeful Wraith from the past dressed in Crimson.” Samantha’s Aunt Carol answered with a wicked smile. “Come straight from the heart of Holy Rome by the looks of things.”

“Or Hell.” Samantha’s Aunt Susan put it with the same wicked smile. “Tell me honestly, my niece, is the nightmare finally over? Can we finally go home?”

Samantha just reached inside her trench coat, pulled out the four Vatican passports, plane tickets and Letters of Transfer. “You just need to replace the photos. There are open ended plane tickets in these names waiting for you at Linz International. From there you’ll go to London then on to JFK in New York. The choice is yours to make. Stay here or return home with two conditions.”

“What conditions?” Samantha’s Aunt Susan asked.

“One; this is a one-timer. Use these travel documents only once, then burn them. So, make sure, the place you go, is the place you want to stay. Two; you go back to dancing or teaching. Whatever, so long as you stay away from organized crime. You can be whatever you want, so long as it is legit.” Samantha told the four of them.

“When do we have to decide?” Karen asked, not liking the choices she was being given. She wanted to find the men that hand killed her brothers and father. She wanted her own revenge.

“Let me explain something for you cousin. You can stay here, as a humble nun. Which I have no problems with, or you leave here to live an honest life. Only ever killing in self-defense. Those are you choices. You go hunting vengeance against the men that killed your father and brother; I come hunting you.” Samantha turned cold as ice as she gave her cousin the ultimatum.

“You may have been the heir and the great protégée cousin, but we also know the Way of the Dancing Blade.” Karen snorted. “And our training wasn’t interrupted. Unlike yours.”

Samantha sighed and placed her righthand middle finger in the center of the office desk. The movement slight, barely even seen, the result wasn’t. The whole that appeared out of nowhere stopped all bragging on the part of her cousins. “But I have mastered the Great Enlightenment.”

Samantha picked up the passports and handed them to her Aunt Carol. “Remember Aunt Carol. You step out of the light, it will not be some stranger that comes for you. It’ll be me that hunts you down. The last Hemlock Rose.”

With that, Samantha walked out of the office and the lives of her aunts and cousins. The last of Samantha’s family rushed outside to watch the petite woman climb into the sports car. All four stood there watching as the last Hemlock Rose drove off into the growing evening light. Yet their encounter with their cousin and niece would be as nothing to the already growing legend in Rome. The legend of the Crimson Ghost.

Nondescript Office Building in Washington D.C. 0945 local time…

The desk phone had only rang once before the man seated behind the desk snatched it up. In a gruff manner he said. “Report.”

“I who offers Absolution, seeks Him, who brings Resolution.” The voice on the other end said gruffly.

“Has Resolution been found old friend?” Paul asked.

“And Absolution granted in return.” Bishop Karl Ferdinand Head of the Iscariot Division answered heavily. “Tell me old friend. Did you know the force of nature that you were unleashing?”

“I won't lie to you, Karl. No one was ready for the return of that particular Ghost.” Paul knew exactly who Karl was talking about, but not to the ends she would go to achieve her final revenge. Even his wife Maria DeMarco had no idea of just how lethal the woman had become.

“So, this Crimson Ghost is not one of the Black Badges?” Karl asked.

“No. The Black Badges ended their operations two days ago.” Paul answered honestly. “Should I say 'sorry about your Strike Teams getting burned'?”

“No. We both know you’re not. To tell you the truth, neither am I.” Karl answered with a chuckle. “I’ve never been a fan of that particular practice. With a little bit of luck, the CIA will scoop up our undesirables.”

“Karl, you better pray that the Black Badges never find out that you intentionally used them to burn your own people.” Paul snarled.

“I said I was never a fan, Paul, not stupid. You know that the Strike Teams were started long before I gained control over my Division.” Karl told Paul hotly. “I’ve spent the last ten years culling their numbers, to no effect. For every one that I was able to disband two more were put in place by my Superior.”

“Leaving you with no way of gaining any real control. I get it. Then this investigation comes along exposing far too many secrets for your Division to cover up. Secrets that all tie into one Section and one man.” Paul sighed before continuing. “Section Twenty-one and the now late Monsignor Delacorte. What did he have on you or your boss?”

“More than enough blackmail to cause multiple international crises. All of which is even now being purged by shredder and fire. His whole Section is burned and disbanded. Nothing will be left by the time my people get done. I'll put the house in order.”

“You'd better, Karl. End that private between the Iscariot Division and the Moonless Night Wraiths. Because I have a feeling that the next time they visit. It won’t be just one of them. They’ll hit you in numbers and a manner the likes of which have never been seen before in the long bloody history of Rome.” Paul told the man. “Take the advice and make it happen Karl.”

“What is it that you know that I don’t old friend?”

“Just that the newest Mistress of that deadly guild has absolutely no love for your organization, and above all, little to no desire to let you live. From what I understand, she left you a warning.” Paul grunted.

“You could say that. Here let me read you the transcript.” Karl quickly read the unofficial report on the message. “What's your take on that?”

“I’d say that can be taken one of two ways. The first; a peace treaty. The second; a declaration of war if you or your people cross a line.” Paul wanted to laugh at the misdirection Samantha had used. It was perfect.

“Thought as much, myself.” Karl sighed.

“Let me give you another piece of advice. Tell your boss to keep his fucking Strike Teams out of my backyard. This is the last warning, Karl. Next time won’t be so nice. Understood?” The big Spook snarled.

Karl replied. “In the words of Stephen Fry. ‘Compromise is a stalling between two fools.’ Those that I want are out and the rest have been left to face their actions.”

“So be it. That leaves just one last detail.” Dannigan prompted.

Karl Ferdinand thought for a moment then answered. “Ah, yes. The good Sister Magdalena. The position she found herself in unsettled her greatly.”

Dannigan remarked. “That one just won 'understatement of the year', Karl.”

“I suppose it does. I propose this; Sister Magdalena may return at any time and will be reassigned to any posting she believes suitable. I can at least do that much for her. However, should Angelic DeMarco choose to remain 'with family', that too is acceptable. She should follow her heart, with Blessing, for it has never led her astray so far. I'll send what she needs to you.” Karl answered. “Paul, I hope our paths won't have to cross in this manner again. I'd much prefer to share drinks and pleasant topics. May God, one day, rest your conscious before your soul.”

“Same here old friend.” Paul hung up the phone. “You better keep your damned people out of my country Karl. Because I know that next time Stephany Capizeo will use their bones to build an altar to Iscariot stupidity.”

Ram’s Rock Island:

Sam climbed out of the Bell. She had rode in with Lonestar and Mindy after her school let out.

“Welcome back.” Maria greeted and smiled to Mindy.

Samantha looked around. “What is the latest?”

“Lyssa still has not returned. Kimberly only comes out of that damned cave long enough to get Mindy ready for school, shower and go back.” Maria said.

Samantha asked. “She hasn't?”

Maria shook her head. “No. And no word about her either. The only thing Kimberly would say, is that she was sent to Africa. West Africa.”

“And she went alone?” Samantha was surprised.

Samantha was no world expert, but she knew that region of Africa stayed in constant upheaval. Conflicting rebel armies, roaming guerilla forces and criminal groups of various degrees of organization kept those countries unstable. Sporadic revolts, coups and frequent attempts of overthrows made the governments temporary.

Maria nodded. “Yes. We are all concerned whether or not she will return this time. It has been implied; the odds are definitely not in her favor.”

“Is that you trying not to say that they sent her out on a suicide mission?” Samantha asked in disgust.

Maria sighed. “Apparently, the powers that be are not concerned that she could fail. Only she does not leave much of her body behind if she does. I confess, I am certain I would be so willing to accept such disregard. Worse, that she cannot refuse them.”

The two began to walk toward the DeMarco house.

“I'm still pissed about having them standing over our shoulders. I'll do the evaluation, but I don't like it.” Samantha said hotly.

Maria nodded. “That is something I wanted to discuss with you privately. It seems that certain holes in our backgrounds gave them reason for that. It has always been in our nature to be deceptive and secretive. It does work against us though.”

“Us? Or them?” Samantha countered.

“Everyone.” Maria said. “For them, just about everything about them is already documented. Their talents and capabilities are known. Ours are not. That brings doubt. How does Paul know who to send, if he does not know if they can even attempt the task? Confidence is admirable. Confidence, unfounded, is wishful thinking. I now see from Paul's perspective. How can he have faith in us, when he doesn't know what we can do? The only way he can have hope we can perform, is if he knows we can.”

Samantha groaned. “You have a valid point. It sounds like somebody pointed it out though.”

“I will not lie. It was. I took Lonestar a meal, up in the tower. I did not tell him I was coming. Please do not do that. He had his helmet off, up there.” Maria warned then gave her a stern look. “No questions about him.”

Samantha quickly shook her head. She had been told once, by Mindy, that he had suffered burns. The fact that only those two knew what was hidden beneath the helmet and flight suit, made it obvious how bad it must be.

Maria went on. “You can't send a handyman to install a state-of-the-art electronics suite. His knowledge and skills only go so far. Do you send a traffic-officer after a terrorist leader? Certainly, he knows the Law, but he could never hope to arrest him.”

“Right. I understand.” Samantha admitted.

Maria nodded. “I'm glad. Now another thing. Krystel. You may think she went off without reason, but she had cause. Even I wanted to accuse her of not being professional. In truth, she has been more professional than we are. You gave her attitude without warrant. To be honest, had you done so to me, I would have slapped you for it. In truth, I did something I regret now. For that I have lost her trust and respect. Rightfully so. We, all of us, will make amends for that. Krystel has carried out her orders, though she objected, she carried them out.”

Samantha agreed. “True. She didn't like it, but she was doing it anyway. She even took in consideration about the glasses. It would be better for us to make them. I'll bury the hatchet with her and promise not in her back or anywhere else in her.”

“Thank you. Now, Anna made your favorite for dinner and it should be ready soon.” Maria smiled and guided Samantha toward their home.

Angelic wandered aimlessly. It had been four days since Samantha had returned, yet the other people on the island were still concerned over their Sergeant Major. She could understand why her cousins liked living on this island. It was beautiful and peaceful. A refuge from the tumultuous world around them. Looking up at the starry night sky made her smile. It was a place to both hide and heal. The sound of a helicopter drew her attention. It was getting closer and sounded like the one that took the little girl to and from Freeport daily. When she saw its lights, Angelic went toward the hangars to see.

Maria had gone out to see where her niece had wandered off to and heard the Bell approaching. Who could be flying at this late hour? She went to the hangars to find out. Just as she rounded the corner, she saw Angelic standing at the end of the alley between them. She was watching the helicopter land. Maria walked up behind her.

“So, this is where you are.” Maria commented.

Angelic looked to the landing area. “Who could be coming at this hour?”

“I don't.” Maria started then gasped. “Lyssa? What are they doing? Oh god. Oh god, they're carrying her!”

“In the Hangar. Get her in the hangar, Joe.” Rodrick said loudly.

Maria held Angelic back. “Not so quick.”

“But something is wrong.” Angelic protested.

Slowly they edged to the hangar doors and listened.

“Jesus! I can feel it through my damned gloves! What the hell is going on, she's burning up!”

“Oh my god!” a woman's voice almost shrieked.

“Kimberly.” Maria said softly. “Now you emerge.”

“Lay her down here.” Rodrick ordered. “Kim, grab her kit!”

“Kit?” Angelic whispered to Maria, who shook her head, not knowing of it.

“I'm getting it!” Kimberly called back.

Moments later they heard Kimberly again. “Oh god. Tell me she didn't...Lyssa didn't...”

Maria gasped and Angelic looked back fearfully. “Has she?”

They heard Rodrick say softly. “Please. Get out. The worst is coming. You don't want to be here. You don't want to know.”

Maria and Angelic both flinched as a woman's screams of anguish shattered the night and echoed within the hangar.

Angelic crossed herself. “Lord God, in Heaven, deliver that woman from whatever is being done to her. Surely, no sin could merit this. Spare this torment.”

“Dear niece, that is not what we should beg God for. Better that we beg this passes quickly.” Maria said then crossed herself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the screams softened, and they heard an angry man's voice from inside.

“This isn't illness, Mason. You don't pick this up in any goddamned jungle! It isn't even a condition! She's one of them! It's because, she's one of THEM! ISN'T IT? ISN'T IT? They push beyond every limit! They literally BURN themselves out to stay on the edge! THIS! THIS RIGHT HERE! This is the price they pay!”

“Yes.”

Angelic had to grab her aunt to steady her. Maria was stunned.

Maria looked at her niece and shook her head. “The house. We must go back to the house. We shouldn't be here. By all you hold Holy; never speak of this. That poor woman.”

Neither of them slept well that night. The next day, it was obvious, everybody understood Lyssa had returned. That wasn't all. She was unconscious. It lasted for three days. A select group of Demon Wraiths arrived, along with Dannigan. Whisper, Patch and the one called Quest. This visit was unlike the previous. They were not sociable at all. Only nodding to the other residents of the island. That evening they left without a word, just as they had come. The air about them was ominous.

----tbc----