The Sum of All Shadows, page 1
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For Victoria, who keeps me from floating off into the ether, the upper air beyond the clouds. Always and forever.
SHAW FAMILY TREE
LAST FIVE GENERATIONS
IN THE BEGINNING
In the 1500s, with the Franciscans at the height of their power and influence, the increasingly autocratic pope issued a verdict that would change the order forever. Worried that the Franciscan would soon rival his own Jesuits, Pope Leo X ordered the Franciscans to become Conventuals. This edict was in direct opposition to St. Francis’s command to his followers when he formed the order. He told them to go out into the world to spread the word of God to the four corners of the earth. An intrepid group of Franciscan Observatines had traveled abroad over the Mediterranean to plant God’s words in what seemed the fertile soil of the Levant, Constantinople, as Istanbul was then called, and beyond.
This was territory the pope had promised to the Jesuits, and so the edict called back these Observatine wanderers, called them back to Italy to work and study at home. In other words, to keep to themselves, while the pope’s chosen order carried his increasingly bellicose word to the Muslim world. To ensure the Franciscans obeyed the edict, the pope had cause to form the Knights of St. Francis. But the group of Observatines already in the Levant refused to return home. They defied the pope’s edict, even to calling themselves Gnostic Observatines, which poured salt on the wound they inflicted on the pope. They resisted the cohort of Knights the pope sent to take them home, by force if necessary. But it was the Knights who failed to return to Italy, their blood fertilizing the soil of the land the pope hoped to conquer.
The violent schism with Rome was accompanied by an equally angry break with the Franciscans who chose to obey the edict and become Conventuals. Over the years, decades, and centuries the enmity between the Gnostic Observatines and the Knights of St. Francis grew until they became the bitterest of enemies, even after Gideon Shaw, Bravo’s great-grandfather, turned the Order further away from Romish doctrine in order to explore the more esoteric aspects of religion that the Vatican deemed anathema.
Today the Gnostic Observatines are more of a lay order, more powerful and influential than Leo X could ever have conceived, its reach extended into banks, industrial and tech corporations throughout the Americas, Western and even Eastern Europe, due mainly to the brilliance and uncanny business acumen of Bravo’s grandfather, Conrad. And as for the Knights of St. Clement, their fate will be explained in due course.
PROLOGUE
SLIGHT RETURN
The moon, bone-white and beautiful, hung like a paper lantern in the sky, so close that Haya could almost reach out and touch it.
“It’s time,” her mother said. “Are you ready?”
Haya nodded as her mother bundled her into a black cotton jacket, then slipped on a quilted coat, also dyed black. Hand in hand, mother and daughter stepped off the porch of their house facing the beach on Arwad, and picked their way down to the shingle, where a small sailboat was waiting for them. Haya was lifted in, then her mother unwound the lines, pushed the boat out into the shallows, and kept its momentum going until she was waist deep before springing lithely aboard. She rowed a bit, then shipped the oars when deeper water opened up.
By the time they passed between the scimitar arms of the breakwater, the sail had gone up and had caught the offshore wind. She tacked starboard, coming around the outside of the southerly breakwater arm, until they were headed due west.
Moonlight fell upon the water like shards of ice. The stars sparked and twinkled. The water was pitch-black. Haya let her fingertips trail in the water. Her mother breathed deeply of the salt air and, for the first time in many years, felt the ecstatic brush of freedom against her cheek.
There were no boats about. She had placed them in an area free of both the fishing fleet and the shipping lanes. They were all alone in the night.
“Are you happy, my darling?” she said to Haya, though she could just as well have been talking to herself.
“Yes, Mama,” her daughter answered. “Oh, very yes.”
“Excited to meet your father?”
Haya screwed up her face. “I don’t know my father.”
“But, my darling, that’s part of the excitement, isn’t it?”
Haya, safe and secure in her mother’s arms, allowed that it was.
The wind shifted and the sail needed tending to. A gust blew wide the open edges of Haya’s jacket, lifted up her thin cotton shirt, exposing her belly to the moonlight. It was as smooth and unruffled as a porcelain vase. No navel indented or protruded from its perfect velvet surface.
Her mother, finished with her brief tacking maneuver, raised her eyes to the moon, noting its position in the sky. A shiver of presentiment passed through her as the last barrier to her freedom was left behind.
“He’s coming, my darling.” She held out one arm, gripping her daughter tighter with the other. Overhead, a flock of cormorants circled. “Your father is here.”
Directly in front of their small boat loomed a darkness deeper than the night. As they closed with it, its six wings became apparent, then its massive upper body. For Haya’s sake, the face was entirely angelic. No trace of the demonic was visible.
“Greetings, my husband.” She put her hands on Haya’s shoulders, presenting her. “Meet your daughter. Her name is Haya.”
“How beautiful you are, Haya, just like your mother,” Leviathan said. Then, he turned his gaze upon his beloved. “At last, Chynna. We are together again.”
And with that, he scooped up the boat, gathering it and its passengers into his effulgent embrace.
PART ONE
DEATH BE NOT DEATH
1
Bravo Shaw, hands on hips, stood beneath the brilliant Maltese sun. He was atop the highest point of the headland, the better to give him perspective on the site of the castle of the Knights of St. Clement. Of the castle itself, ancient and holiest of holies to the Knights, there was no longer the slightest sign. And, after the former head of the Knights’ Circle Council, Lilith Swan, to prove her love for Bravo’s sister, Emma, and her newfound loyalty to the Gnostic Observatines, had given Emma the electronic keys to the Knights’ main server and thus the means to destroy them, the Knights themselves were scattered to the four winds, leaderless, penniless, without hope.
Over the protestations of some, Bravo had taken in a number of former Knights, after he and his sister Emma had vetted them properly. Currently, they were being used as guards, but in the longer run he felt their perspective could prove useful to the Gnostic Observatines in the war to come. One of those—a young woman he had newly recruited into the Knights—was Lilith’s younger sister, Molly. He had initially sent Molly to Ethiopia, to learn as an assistant to one of the archivists working diligently on deciphering ancient codices, before summoning her to Malta. The two sisters hadn’t seen each other for many years. Bravo did not know why: Lilith wouldn’t speak of it, even to Emma, her lover. And as for Molly, she turned stony and nonresponsive when Bravo had queried her on the matter. At first, his motivation for bringing her aboard was simply to effect a reconciliation between them, but after vetting her he had begun to formulate another idea. In any event, Molly’s presence had served only to infuriate Lilith. Molly was here now, helping him and Ayla supervise the construction of the Observatines’ headquarters. As for Lilith, she was in Addis Ababa, the Order’s previous headquarters, directing the huge and complex move to this group of new buildings on the headland of Malta. Emma was scheduled to join her tomorrow.
In the months since the Order had taken over this acreage, the burned-down castle had been completely razed, the basement excavated and exorcised by giant machinery that broke the concrete apart, lifted the pieces, and ground them to a fine powder that was trucked away. A new basement had been designed and poured; the stones, bricks, steel beams, and wooden rafters brought in and erected. Belgian blocks were set, repurposed wooden paneling scavenged from shipwrecks nailed in place, and winding staircases up to the second and third floors installed with Arabic filigreed balusters and newel posts, Moroccan tile risers, and pecan wood treads. The glazed tile roof shone green or blue depending on the angle of the sun. On clear nights, it glowed indigo beneath the full moon, and in storms it rippled like mercury unleashed.
There was still work being done on the western wing of the main building, as well as a number of the outbuildings that would ho use personnel, equipment, stores, and the like.
The largest of the outbuildings—quartering the staff soon to arrive from Addis Ababa, housing the various labs, study areas, seminar spaces for the newbies from the Knights, meeting rooms, and sheds to store maintenance equipment—were nearly finished.
Emma Shaw did not turn when Bravo came up beside her. She was staring beyond the cliff face, at the sea. The wind pulled her hair back from her face.
“About Lilith…” She turned to him. “She’s very special.”
“I believe you.”
“I wouldn’t have made it all the way to Arwad without her.”
Bravo touched her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t need my blessing.”
“Need has nothing to do with it.”
He nodded. “I know. I misspoke.”
“It’s true that she’s been with the Knights of St. Clement, our erstwhile enemy, but she’s proved herself by allowing us into their servers, by handing what’s left of them to us on a silver platter. They’re scattered, all but finished forever. Because of her. We could not have a better, more loyal ally. I very much want you to like her.”
Bravo’s heart melted. Why, he wondered, did it take a near-death experience for him to realize how precious she was to him? “I don’t even know her.” He stroked her arm, lightly. “But once I do I have no doubt I will.”
That brought a smile to her face. “This is very important to me.”
“Nothing could be more apparent, I assure you.”
The moon, full and blazing with a cool, bluish light, highlighted her neck and cheeks, threw her eyes into shadow.
“So, Lilith aside, how are you doing?” he said softly. “Really.”
She shrugged. “I wish I knew. This shameful episode in our family history … Great-great-grandmother, Chynna, mating with the Seraph, Leviathan.” She turned her head away momentarily. “It’s unspeakable.”
Bravo let some time pass. “I meant you. Inside you. With all that’s happened.”
“I feel as if I’ve been hollowed out.”
“How so?”
For some time, Emma stayed silent, staring out to sea, not meeting his gaze.
“Emma, what is it? Please tell me.”
She sighed. “All right. If you really want to know I keep thinking about Beleth.” She meant the Fallen angel who had invaded her.
Unconsciously, one hand stroked Beleth’s talon. It hung around her neck by a gold chain she had purchased in Cyprus on their way across the eastern Mediterranean. She had bored a small hole near the top of the talon with a small bronze-bladed knife she had found where they had made their successful stand against the Fallen, deep within the bowels of the Arwad, the island off the coast of Syria. Nothing, not even diamond drill bits, could make a mark on the talon, but the Fallen were susceptible to bronze. The point of the blade punctured the talon without difficulty.
She shot him a sideways look. “It might sound strange, but in a way I miss him.”
“That is strange.” Bravo’s brow furrowed. “And, frankly, worrisome.”
Emma tossed her head. “I knew you’d react that way.”
“Is there any other realistic way for me to react?”
“While Beleth was inside me, he changed.” She rounded on him, her eyes flaring. “I changed him. Me. Not you, Bravo, but me, Emma Shaw.”
“I thought we had hashed this all out.”
“This power thing between us isn’t so simple, Bravo.” She tossed her head. “Sometimes I feel like a child around you.”
“You’re on the wrong track.” Bravo shook his head. “Listen to me: It’s your fixation on Beleth I object to. He wasn’t your friend, Emma. Beleth was a Second Sphere Power. A warrior, in every sense of the word. Evil doesn’t change. It’s monolithic in its thinking.”
“Now you’re spouting Church doctrine.” Sometimes searching his face was like looking at a rock wall. You saw the crevasses, but they didn’t reveal the way forward. “Beleth wasn’t evil, but I can see you don’t believe me.”
“I’d like to, Emma, but I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.” She tossed her head. “You don’t know. You can’t know. He was inside me. I saw into his soul.”
“Fallen angels don’t have souls.” The hint of a sardonic smile wreathed his lips. “Ah, yes, more Church doctrine.”
“You have to trust me,” Emma said firmly.
“Normally…” He shook his head. “Forgive me, but my concern is that with all you’ve been through your judgement might be a wee bit skewed—”
“So you don’t trust me.”
“Right now I don’t trust your reaction to the trauma with Beleth. We stopped Leviathan from transforming you. By the skin of our teeth. You seem to have forgotten how close you came to being transformed by Beleth into one of them.”
She laughed bitterly. “Nope. It was the other way around. You don’t get it at all. But that’s okay. I’m on my way to Lilith tomorrow morning, which means I don’t have to see you for a while.” The edge of sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.
“Emma.”
She shook off his offering as too little, too late. “I mean this family—our history.” She shuddered. “In the bigger picture what you don’t get is that no matter what we do or say, we’re Shaws. We can’t escape the fact that we have a Seraph’s venom in our blood. We are steeped in ancient sin, murderous impulse, and treachery. We’re damned, Bravo, and that’s the truth of it.”
Behind them the air was filled with shouts and the grinding of machinery as the Order’s new headquarters was being constructed. Overhead gulls swooped and cried, skimming the air, then down the cliffside to the thrashing sea.
Bravo drew her to him. “Emma, believe me when I tell you that what we’ve just gone through has made us stronger. The past is the past. We can’t change it, that’s true enough. But what’s important is how we handle things going forward.”
She bristled: “It’s too late, Bravo. You’ve said it over and over.” She broke away from him. “A few chosen Fallen have already found their way into this realm through the Rift; and Leviathan’s master must be close to opening the Rift completely. That will begin their final assault on Heaven, and surely our world’s destruction.”
“If you have a suggestion now’s the time to voice it.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind a small voice was wondering why she had become so hostile. But a far louder voice, one she’d been holding down during years of frustration and resentment sent the small voice packing. “I’m going to find one of the Fallen, one like Beleth, cull it out of the group.”
But Bravo was already shaking his head. “Absolutely out of the question.”
“You didn’t even hear me out.”
“I don’t have to. It’s far too dangerous.”
“Yes, of course. My judgement is a wee bit skewed.”
“Put such suicide missions out of your mind, Emma. I need you in Addis Ababa, supervising the laboratory’s move here.”
“No, Bravo. You want me there.”
“Parse it any way you want. The simple fact is I don’t trust anyone else to do it.” He raised a hand at her protest. “In any event, what you propose is too fraught with peril.”
“But don’t you see? I can get through to these demons.”
“Just because you did it before, doesn’t mean you can do it again.”
“I can turn them, I know I can.”
“I’m not going allow you to put yourself in harm’s way again.”
Her eyes blazed. “Your time of protecting me is over and done with. Besides, since I’m already damned what do I have to lose?”
Bravo looked at her skeptically. He seemed bewildered by her aggression. “Where do you even think you’d find one?” He shook his head. “No. I forbid it, and that’s final.”
“I will find one,” she said, “and when I do, my blue fire will protect me, I’m sure of it.”
“You can’t be sure of it,” Bravo said softly.
“If you say so.” She dropped her head, made her voice small and weak. “And perhaps you’re right. I’m unsure of so many things. We’re not even Shaws. Shaw is a name Chynna made up.”
