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With his grubby face, ragged clothes, and greasy hair, he reminds me of a character in a Dickens novel—one of the Artful Dodgers out thieving for Fagin. A boy who’s not so unlike me.

Only this boy has convinced himself he’s stealing for God, while I…

Well, I’m beginning to think I might be thieving for a man who wants to play God.

Either way, this poor child has no way of knowing that I’m not just another terrified Florentine. I’m willing to fight with everything I have in me.

“Che cosa?” he shouts, his eyes narrowing on mine, his lips curling into a sneer as his hand slides free of my pocket and he dangles my talisman before me.

Shit.

My belly plummets, my mouth goes dry, as I watch the delicate golden cage swinging before me.

I mean, seriously, what the hell?

I chance a quick glance around, ensuring the boy is working alone, then I arc my arm toward him, determined to claim it, but he quickly snatches it out of my reach.

I can’t let him get away with this. I won’t—

“What is this you hide?” His Italian comes at me in a pitch so high, it would be heartbreaking if it weren’t for the fact that he’s gotten hold of the one thing I can’t afford to lose. “Give up your vanities,” he yells, “or risk an eternity burning in hell!”

Though the boy is only a child, his eyes bear the fevered glaze of a zealot who’s convinced he’s an essential part of God’s army, and that alone makes him dangerous.

“Give it back,” I hiss in my own version of Italian that comes out so disjointed, the boy screws up his face and leans closer.

“Scusa?” His voice rises above the noise, causing a few passersby to slowdown and watch.

Damn. I can’t afford this kind of attention. But I also can’t afford to lose my talisman.

My hand clamps down on the boy’s wrist, and though he tries to jerk free, I squeeze my fingers so hard he lets out a yelp and the charm falls from his grasp.

His eyes blaze on mine, and just when I’m sure he’s about to attack, a piercing scream cuts through the square, the boy whips his head around, and I seize the moment to push him away as I spin on my heel and lose myself in the crowd.

50

With my head ducked low, I drive my legs forward, hoping to appear as just another street person in search of solace, sanctuary, refuge. And aside from a few random fanatics screaming in my face about eternal damnation, I’m able to enter the cathedral mostly unscathed, relieved to find I’m the only one here.

I linger by the door, needing a moment to settle my nerves. Then, lifting my gaze to the painted clock above the entry, I remember reading how it runs in accordance with Italian time, or ora italica, where the clock hand runs backward, and the twenty-fourth hour of the day ends at sunset. Five hundred years from this day, that clock will still be in that same place, still tracking the hours that pass.

There’s a dome on the other side of the room displaying a mural of the Last Judgment. And as I cross a mosaic floor with a design so elaborate it resembles a rug, I wonder if the Moon might be hiding in here.

There were three tarot symbols on that map—the Hermit, the High Priestess, and the Moon.

Last time around, the Hermit card helped me find the Sun, because of its association with the Roman god Saturn. This time, the connection is different. As the ninth card in the deck, it shares a numerological link to the Moon, which, as the eighteenth card, reduces to nine after you add the one and the eight together.

The Hermit’s astrological link is to Virgo, and since this place is clearly all about the virgin birth, it seems as good a place as any to begin my search. The Hermit is also a card with a message of healing, which also works.

The High Priestess, being a number two card, links to both Justice, the eleventh card, since one plus one equals two, and Judgment, the twentieth card, because that number also reduces to two.

I gaze up at the interior of the dome and take in the Last Judgment once more, hoping it’s proof that I really am onto something.

The High Priestess’s astrological sign is the Moon, her element is water, and she stands for secrets, wisdom, and things of a spiritual nature, which also fits for this place.

And then there’s the Moon card itself. As the eighteenth card, it’s directly connected to number nine, the Hermit, and, like the High Priestess, its element is water. Astrologically, the Moon is linked to Pisces, the fish, which just so happened to be used as an ancient secret symbol for Christianity, which also makes a pretty good case for this cathedral being the right place.

The symbols etched onto that map were a crown, an hourglass, and an archer’s bow. But one of those objects was placed upside down, and another was sideways, and while I’m not entirely sure why, seeing as how it’s a treasure map of sorts, it’s got to mean something.

But does it point to the traditional reverse meaning, like I’ve assumed?