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  He continued for several minutes, offering directions, a bit of history, and some reflections on the architecture of the key chapel in Montgat. Cass pretended to carefully note all these additional details.

  Even if he’s lying, Cass thought, he’s lying in great detail in order to send us someplace quite precise.

  Cass nodded along until he was done, then stood up and thanked him for his time.

  On their way out the door, Miranda bobbed her head in gratitude and Cass waved goodbye. Zach, though, stopped, took the priest’s hand in both his own, and enthusiastically shook it.

  “Thank you, Father. Thank you so much,” Zach said. And then, with his crooked grin, dropped the thirty-seven cents he’d found into the priest’s hand. “This is for you.”

  The priest looked at the coins in his hands in bewilderment as Zach skipped off to catch up with Cass and Miranda.

  In just a couple of seconds, they were back to the car. Car doors thunked and Richard hit the ignition. The car rumbled to life.

  “Well?” Richard said, turning to look at Cass. Zach and Miranda did the same.

  “Well,” Cass replied, “that was not Father Vizzini.”

  25

  On the heels of Cass’s revelation, Richard instinctively stepped on the gas to put some distance between them and the old chapel. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, just somewhere away from here, and now he was driving more like Miranda than even Miranda cared for. Miranda was busy stepping on her imaginary brake instead of her imaginary accelerator.

  But unlike Miranda, Richard drove expertly through the narrow streets, deftly cornering and blowing past slower cars.

  He probably owns a whole fleet of Formula One cars, Cass thought, then turned her attention back to the business at hand.

  “That wasn’t Vizzini,” Cass started again. “And the relic he showed us was a fake. Just eyeballing the relic, I would have thought it had a shot at being authentic, but then my—powers—kicked in and I could tell that he was lying. In fact, I could tell, somehow, that the wood was lying.”

  Cass couldn’t help stumbling over the word powers. It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud. She doubted there would ever be a day when she didn’t silently add scare quotes whenever she used the word.

  She took a deep breath. She was relieved, though, to be out of that house. She was relieved that Richard had taken her warning seriously and sped them out of there. And she was relieved to have her sword in hand again. They hadn’t even been in Vizzini’s house for half an hour but, now, she squeezed the sword’s grip like she’d just found a long lost friend.

  Cass finished her story, filling Richard in about the priest’s tip about Barcelona. After she’d finished, everyone was quiet for a minute, digesting the news, until Miranda chimed in.

  “If that wasn’t Vizzini, then someone went to a lot of trouble to impersonate him. And if that’s the case, then Vizzini is probably dead,” Miranda said flatly.

  This hadn’t occurred to Cass but, as soon as Miranda said it, she knew it was probably true. Vizzini was dead. And Cass was, at least in part, responsible: they’d killed him to get at her. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  Richard glanced at Cass in his rearview view and saw her face go green. In response, he downshifted and immediately slipped into an open spot outside a cafe.

  “It’s time for a break,” he said. “And I’d like to check-in with my team about these developments.”

  Richard claimed a table on the sidewalk and snapped his fingers to catch the attention of the waiter. In perfect Spanish he rattled off an order of coffee for Zach, Miranda, and himself, and a cup of tea to calm Cass’s nerves. Then he made a call with his cell and wandered down the street to conduct the conversation in private.

  Cass, Miranda, and Zach took a seat at the table. The mood was somber, but the tea helped soothe her stomach and Zach and Miranda both drained their coffees gratefully.

  Richard tucked his phone in his coat pocket and rejoined them.

  “It seems, then, like we have two options in continuing our search,” Richard proposed. “One, we go look at Valencia Cathedral. Or, two, we head straight to Barcelona and see what we can find there in Montgat. My people agree with our initial assessment: that the Valencia Cathedral is a dead end. However, cross-checking a variety of leads with the instructions given by our fake Father Vizzini has revealed that the site in Montgat is indeed a potential hotspot. If we take some precautions, I think it’s worth the risk to check it out. Plus, they don’t know that we’re onto them, and we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

  Zach was hesitant. “It smells like a trap. You recognize this and still your advice is to spring it on purpose?”

  “Yes,” Richard said.

  “Using us as bait?”

  “No,” Richard corrected him, “using Cassandra as the bait. Cassandra is all they care about here.”

  “Right, that makes it much better,” Zach countered. “Asshole,” he added under his breath, taking another sip of coffee.

  Richard’s face hardened, but he didn’t respond.

  Miranda looked like she was leaning toward Richard’s idea. She generally preferred an aggressive approach.

  Cass, though, wasn’t sure about heading to Barcelona. It was true that they’d already ruled out Valencia Cathedral. But there was something about the way the fake priest had been anxious to divert her attention from it that had piqued her curiosity. Her gut said to check it out. Plus, they were already here near Valencia. Why not take a look before driving hours to Barcelona?

  Before she even realized that she’d made a decision, Cass said, “We’re going to the Cathedral. Then we’ll decide from there.”

  Her words had an air of finality.

  She could see that Richard disagreed and that, now, he also itched to make another call. He hadn’t expected disagreement but he stayed quiet. Cass admired his self-control.

  She didn’t trust Richard, exactly. She hadn’t yet felt like Richard was lying to her—though, still, she’d also never felt like he was telling her everything. He was holding something back. He was only revealing the bare minimum.

  Miranda backed her up. “If Cass says we go to the cathedral, then our next stop is the cathedral.”

  Zach also agreed, happy to position himself on Cass’s side and perhaps even more happy to see Richard not have his way.

  “Okay,” Richard relented, tossing some money on the table and standing to head back to the car. “Let’s go.”

  But before he could get far from the table, Cass stopped him.

  “No,” she said. “I’m driving.”

  She needed Richard’s help, but she didn’t want him running the show anymore. This was her life on the line, now. She’d be damned if she was going to let someone else be in charge.

  She held out her hand, waiting for the keys. Richard dangled them and then reluctantly let them drop into her palm.

  “Okay,” Cass said, “now let’s go.”

  Richard angled for shotgun, but Miranda cut him off.

  “Boys in the back,” she said, hiking her thumb.

  Cass revved the engine and they were on their way.

  God help us, she thought.

  26

  Cass parked a couple of blocks out and they walked the rest of the way. Entering the square from the south, Cass was lost in her own thoughts, worried about the responsibility she’d just claimed for herself, and when she finally looked up she was rocked by the beauty of what she saw. The Valencia Cathedral was stunning. It was built in a predominately Gothic style with blocks of sand-colored stone. Parts of the building dated from the thirteenth century. A sweeping, colonnaded wall buttressed the main entrance.

  Cass had read about the cathedral for years and knew its history by heart, but she’d never seen it in person. Her mouth fell open and she accidentally leaned against the arm of whoever happened to be nearest: Richard.

  He smiled, squeezed her shoulder, an
d steadied her.

  “You’ve only seen pictures?” he guessed.

  Cass nodded.

  “Then it is almost impossible to be prepared. Don’t be embarrassed. Take a moment.”

  Cass did. She took a deep breath and tried to take it in.

  Then she tried something else. She closed her eyes, felt for that hint of heat deep behind her cloudy eye, and latched onto it. She opened her eyes and felt her knees go weak again. She leaned harder into Richard’s shoulder. The cathedral blazed with a new light, with a beauty that was rooted not just in how it looked but in Cass’s deeper vision of what it was.

  The cathedral was lit from the inside out. It projected its own halo.

  The cathedral was true.

  God. Damn. How much of the world looks like this? Cass wondered. How much of this light goes unseen, everyday? How much of it shines in the most ordinary things? How blind are we?

  The longer Cass looked at the cathedral, the more she felt like her own body was saturated with the light. She felt the light lift and strengthen her. She felt calm and powerful. She was reluctant to let go of Richard, but the light surging through her body pulled her toward the door.

  You made the right choice, Jones. You’re in the right place. There’s something here.

  Richard, Zach, and Miranda hurried to match Cass’s pace.

  They paused just inside the narthex. Evening mass was already underway. Cass sighed. They couldn’t afford to wait until it had concluded and everyone had emptied out. Cass didn’t feel like they had a lot of time to waste—they needed to act now. They needed to slip through the nave unobserved and into the Chapel of the Holy Chalice.

  Sensing the reason for Cass’s hesitation, Miranda stepped in. “I’ve got this,” she said. Weaving a delicate net of green light with dancing fingers, Miranda said something Cass couldn’t quite hear and then cast the net over the four of them.

  “Now,” she smiled, visibly taxed by the effort, “we’re invisible to any prying eyes.”

  Cass looked at her own hands and at the bodies of her three companions. They didn’t look invisible to her, but they were each tinged with a faintly green glow.

  “Don’t worry. We really are invisible. Just not to anyone included in the spell. But this is difficult for me to do. And it won’t last forever. Let’s get a move on.”

  Cass led the way. Even though she knew the cathedral’s layout from memory, she wasn’t relying on that now. She just followed the light. And the light was, unmistakably, coming from what had to be the Chapel of the Holy Chalice. The four of them moved silently down the length of the nave and into the chapel.

  The altar at the head of the Chapel of the Holy Chalice was flanked on both sides by pews. The front wall of the chapel was covered in detailed carvings. At the center of these carvings, the Chalice of Valencia—the cup that Christ himself is said to have used at the Last Supper—was displayed in a glass case.

  For Cass, the supernatural light was so strong in the chapel that she almost didn’t notice when Richard sat down abruptly. He was shivering, his hands were shaking, and his teeth chattered. He looked sluggish and his lips were blue.

  Cass knelt beside him.

  “Are you okay, Richard? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Cass asked.

  “Holy ground,” he managed. “It doesn’t bar my entry, like the Lost. But passing through it comes with a cost.” He held up a shaky, blue hand. “I’m like a snake sliding around on frozen ground.”

  Cass rubbed his hands between her own, as if she were trying to make a fire.

  “Cass,” Miranda called, “we need to hurry.”

  “Yes, please,” Richard stuttered.

  “I’ll take care of this guy,” Zach offered, sidling up to Richard on the pew. “Don’t you worry about it, Cass.”

  Then to Richard, “Come here, big guy. You’re getting a bear hug.”

  Richard tried to scoot away, but he ran out of bench. Zach laughed, hugged him close, and rubbed Richard’s arms briskly. Zach squeezed Richard’s bicep and raised his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed.

  Richard was not pleased but, at the moment, there was nowhere to go.

  “Here, try this buddy,” Zach said, pulling out his lighter and striking a flame. He waved it underneath Richard’s chin and then laughed again.

  Cass couldn’t tell if Richard was suffering more from the sanctified ground or Zach.

  “Please, Cassandra. H-h-h-urry,” Richard moaned.

  Richard was right. It was time to get to work. Cass turned her full attention toward the front of the room where the light shone brightest.

  Saturated with light, Cass’s normally cloudy eye was clear and sharply focused. She advanced on the front wall, angling toward the display case that contained the chalice. She rounded and approached the altar. She had little doubt, just on the basis of the available scholarship, that the chalice was a fake. But, still, it seemed undeniable that the light was centered on the chalice itself.

  As she scanned the stone carvings to the left of the display, her attention snagged on a depiction of the crucifixion. Something was out of place. She traced the shape of the cross with her index finger, from the crown of thorns to the foot of the cross’s vertical beam.

  There, she thought, right there.

  She pressed an unusual indentation at the base of the cross and a small, hinged door popped open.

  Yessss! Of course! A fragment of the One True Cross, hidden—where else?—in the cross itself!

  But when Cass looked inside, she didn’t see anything. She poked her finger into the chamber and felt around—nothing. The chamber was empty.

  Whatever had been here, they’d already missed it. They were too late.

  She didn’t know what she’d been thinking. That it would be easy? That they would just waltz in here and find a piece of God, just waiting for them? As if she were special in some way?

  Ridiculous, she thought.

  She swallowed hard. She’d dared to hope so much so quickly. Hope, she recalled, hurt.

  She turned and faced her companions.

  “It’s not here. It’s gone.” Cass’s voice trailed off. She coughed to hide the tightness in her voice and throat.

  Richard was turning an unnatural shade of blue. They needed to get him out of here. He was in bad enough shape that he was actually huddling into Zach’s arms, encouraging his embrace. Zach, in turn, had softened a bit. The banter and bravado were gone and his efforts to respond to Richard’s obvious need were more genuine. Cuddling on a pew in an ancient cathedral in Spain, they were a striking pair.

  Huh, Cass couldn’t help thinking, they actually make a pretty cute couple.

  She flashed on an image of them meandering down the Champs-Élysées in Paris, holding hands and laughing. Then she flashed on an image of them trying to strangle each other beneath the Eiffel Tower.

  That’s more like it, Cass thought. The darker image matched her darkened mood.

  But that didn’t really help. And Cass wasn’t sure what to do or say next.

  Miranda solved that problem for her.

  “Holy shit,” Miranda said. “What the hell is that?”

  27

  Their heads swiveled toward Miranda, expecting the worst, but Miranda was pointing at the display case as her voice broke into a high, musical laugh.

  “Holy … shit,” Miranda managed again, doubled over with laughter, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Cass turned to see what Miranda was pointing at: an orange tabby cat was in the display case with the Chalice of Valencia, purring and curling around the base of the chalice.

  “That’s my damn cat,” Cass whispered.

  She stepped up to the display case and almost pressed her nose to the glass. The cat was wearing a thin black collar and the tag, in a thin cursive script, clearly read “Atlantis.”

  “That,” Cass repeated a second time, “is my damn cat.”

  Richard and Zach look
ed at each other in disbelief.

  “What did she say?” they said almost simultaneously.

  Cass couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it, either. Of all the crazy things that had happened in the last couple of days, this one seemed a bit too far. Sure, her aunt was a witch, her new crush was a playboy billionaire vampire, and her best friend was desperately in love with her—she could maybe swallow all that. But her cat? Licking the holy grail? Inside a locked display case? In a cathedral blazing with supernatural light? In Spain?

  Miranda’s laughter still echoed lightly in the chapel. Her makeup was starting to run.

  Cass tapped lightly on the glass.

  “Here, kitty-kitty,” she said. “Here, kitty-kitty-kitty.”

  Atlantis responded immediately. He turned his attention to Cass, purred, and pressed against the glass opposite her hand. The cat looked Cass square in her weak eye and Cass felt a little jolt that brought the cathedral’s additional dimension of light back into sharp focus. Then the cat batted the base on which the chalice was displayed. A second secret compartment popped open—Sure, why the hell not?—and Atlantis pawed a fragment of wood out of the slot.

  The fragment blazed with so much light Cass was almost blinded.

  That, Cass thought, is a true piece of the One True Cross.

  Richard, Zach, and Miranda were all at her back now, watching.

  Cass checked to see if they were seeing what she was seeing. From the stupefied look on their faces, they were. When she looked back at the case, though, the cat was gone. And so was the fragment.

  “They have the wrong piece,” Cass realized. Whoever beat them to discovering the missing fragment in the first compartment at the foot of the cross, didn’t have the real thing.

  Cass took a step back, trying to process the implications, and tripped over the cat. Zach dropped Richard like a ton of bricks and gently caught Cass before she hit the floor. He set her back on her feet.