Page 27 of Skotos (Of Shadows & Secrets #6)

T he telephone rang once.

Sharp.

Precise.

Then silence.

A moment passed.

Then it rang again.

This time, a weathered hand moved—slow and deliberate—toward the receiver resting on an antique cradle carved from dark mahogany.

“Yes?” the old man said, his voice like sand scraping across stone.

Static crackled faintly on the other end, then settled. The voice that followed was cultured, clipped, British, perhaps, or something close to it.

“They are in Rome.”

A pause.

“They met with Rinaldi this morning.”

The old man waited.

“They spoke with the Pope himself,” the caller continued. “Just the three of them. No witnesses. No aides.”

A sound—a long exhale, almost a sigh—slipped through the line.

“Of what did they speak?” the old man asked.

“We do not know,” the caller said. “They were alone. The Pontiff insisted on privacy.”

The silence was absolute. It was the kind that drew out confessions.

“Cardinal,” the caller added, his voice losing a bit of its blusterous confidence, “will not be pleased.”

A grunt came in reply.

Whether in agreement or contempt, it was impossible to say.

The caller hesitated. “Should I remove them from the board?”

“No,” the old man said at last, his voice calm but firm. “Not yet. Gather information, but do not interfere, not until we understand what they know.”

“They are also meeting with the Curia. They are in the lower vaults as we speak.”

Another pause.

“What have they found?”

“They requested information on symbols and ancient orders. One of them recognized a spear icon—believed it might connect the killings.”

“Did they use the word Longinus ?”

“I know only that they seek meaning in something old, something very, very old.”

The old man rose from his chair, joints cracking like dry wood as he moved toward a sideboard where a silver seal—small, ornate, and depicting a jagged spear over a circle—rested beside a stack of parchment.

“Continue surveillance. If they find the name, I want to know before they draw breath to speak it aloud.”

“Anything else?”

“Do not inform Cardinal. That task is mine alone.”

The old man hung up without another word.

Outside the window, Roman rooftops glistened with sun, domes shining like sanctified shields.

Within the room, shadows thickened and lengthened.

Some relics, the ancient man thought, were never meant to be exhumed.