“Okay. I guess you have a point,” she admitted with a smile. “So these monks made booze and got ritually sloshed? Not a bad setup, when you think about it. What happened to them?”
“This place was a monastery and a distillery back before the Revolutionary War,” he explained. “But I think the Order of Gabriel went underground some time in the eighteen-hundreds.”
“The Order of Gabriel.” She repeated the words as they moved up together in line. Standing next to him was actually more effective in keeping her warm than his coat was. And she was grateful for his presence. “I’ve never heard of it. Wasn’t Gabriel the Angel of Death?”
“Yes.” Herman nodded, smiling as she edged a little closer to him in the chilly night air. “In some Christian doctrine, he was so called. He was also known as the Spirit of Truth.”
“Interesting… what happened to them? The monks, I mean?” Annie was curious, although she was a little incredulous at the turn their conversation had taken.
Herman shrugged. “The monastery closed down. During prohibition, the distillery became a factory. Styx bought it ten years ago and turned it into an after-hours club. As for the Order of Gabriel, they never disbanded. Rumor has it that they continue to protect the secret of life and death to this day, although no one knows where the sect is located anymore.”
“The secret of life and death?” Annie blinked up at him. “They protected the secret of life and death?”
He nodded, smiling at the stunned look on her face. “What else would the Order of Gabriel protect?”
“Why do I feel like I’ve just been plopped down into the middle of the Da Vinci Code?” she murmured, shaking her head and glancing toward the ever-nearing door with a little laugh. She spoke mostly to herself. “First bees and now secret monastic sects…I can’t imagine what’s next.”
“Bees?” He cocked his head at her, his smile bemused.
“Never mind.” It was Annie’s turn to wave his question away. “It’s a long story. So tell me, Herman…what is the secret of life and death?”
“Do you really want to know?” His question was casual, but his eyes were very serious and she found herself transfixed by his steady gaze.
Finally, she nodded. “I think I need to know.”
Leaning in to her, his whisper warmed her ear. “The secret is…death is not the end.”
Annie let his words sink in, trying to comprehend the fullness of them, and found that she couldn’t. Instead, she turned and asked him, “How do you know all of this?”
“Let’s just say I’m a bit of a trivia buff.” He winked and crossed his arms and Annie again glimpsed a fuller view of the black tattoo on his upper arm. She lifted the sleeve of his shirt slightly to reveal several strange characters that wrapped around his upper arm:???????.
Annie raised her eyebrows. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I bet you want to know what it says?”
She nodded, studying the tattoo. “Is it Greek?”
“It’s all Greek to me.” He winked. Leaning close, he whispered, “It says…Gabriel.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She smiled up at him. “Just a bit of a history buff, huh?”
“Hey, would you look at that! A lucky penny!” Herman stooped to pick it up off the ground. “What’s that old saying?”
Annie murmured it, a rhyme right out of childhood. “See a penny, pick it up, and all the day, you’ll have good luck?”
“That’s it!” He held the penny up to the light. It gleamed as he turned it from side to side. “Did you know there’s more to that saying?”
“No.” Annie shook her head and smiled. “But I bet you know it.”
He beamed. “I do! ‘See a penny, let it lay, and bad luck you’ll have all day.’”
“Good thing I’m not superstitious.” She pulled his coat around her, shivering and still somehow feeling cold, even though her body was warm enough now. “I don’t believe in black cats or broken mirrors or lucky pennies…or boozehound monks who protect the secret of life and death, for that matter.” Herman gave her a lop-sided smile. “My mother used to have another saying.”
“What’s that?”
“Better safe than sorry.” He winked and pressed the penny into her hand, folding her fingers carefully over it. “I think you’ll be glad we picked this one up.” Annie was surprised the coin felt warm. She would have opened her hand to look at it, but they had reached the front of the line and a voice distracted her.
“Who are you?” The doorman’s eyes swept over her and Annie felt herself shrinking.
“A-Annie Thanos.” She stumbled over her own name as he glanced down at the clipboard he was holding.
“You’re not on my list.”
Damn Dita. Of course, she would end up waiting out here this whole time and not be on the list to get in! After the coffee bean fiasco and the bizarre honey bee pursuit, Annie wouldn’t put anything past the woman.
“She’s on my list, Doc.” Herman winked as he slipped his coat off her shoulders. The sudden change in temperature made Annie shiver as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Let her in.”
“All right.” The doorman gave Herman a nod and stepped aside.
“Aren’t you coming?” Annie stared back, incredulous, as she started through the door.
“Nope.” Herman waved her on. “I like it better in line…between Scylla and Charybdis!” She shook her head at the obscure reference to Greek mythology-
the origin of the phrase “between a rock and a hard place.” He winked and disappeared back into the line as she made her way into the club, and she didn’t have any more time to wonder at his strange allusion.
The club was dark and loud and sought to swallow her whole. There were so many people it was hard to move. So much for exclusive. She shaded her eyes against the pulsing colored lights and looked for Dita. How was she ever going to find her? The club was huge, laid out in several levels, very like a warehouse with steel railings and stairways. The place was hazed with a thick blue light that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Annie noted the lights located high above, placed sporadically on the warehouse ceiling.
Looking up, she spotted a crowd of people on the second level, all grouped together. Then she heard a high, familiar laugh, floating over the pounding of the music coming through the dance floor speakers that were taller than she was. She knew she had found Dita.
Annie’s boot heels clicked against the metal as she made her way through the couples dancing together on the stairs. Edging her way against the railing, Annie made her way toward the throng of people that surrounded Dita as if she were some modern day Scarlett O’Hara entertaining a crowd of would-be suitors.
Dita’s eyes met hers through the crowd and Annie reached into her skirt pocket to pull out the jar of honey she had put there on her way out the door that night.
She waved the honey back and forth and heard Dita squeal in delight as she stood and beckoned to Annie.
“Oh, yes!” The woman’s voice was unmistakable. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Dita moved toward her. The woman snatched the jar of honey from Annie’s hand and held it up to the light as if she were looking at gold.
“Perfect! Lovely! Thank you, dear.”
Annie pursed her lips and put a hand on each hip. She had to speak loudly to be heard over the music. “Eric doesn’t live with Virgil!” Dita raised her eyebrows. “I never said he did. Would you like a drink?”
“No… thanks.” Annie shook her head, eyeing the older woman. “Why didn’t you just give me Eric’s address?”