Aristo wondered why they had let the boy live as he had seen them and could identify them. He could be a potential witness. Aristo’s unuttered question was answered next.
‘I crawled into the corner behind that chair and tried to stay as still and as quiet as I could. They must’ve forgotten about me. They searched the place, and left annoyed and cursing.’
‘Did they say anything before they killed Dimitris or after?
‘They got Dimitris by his shirt collar and shook him several times, saying “Where is it? Where is it?” Dimitris kept saying “I don’t know what you are talking about”, but they didn’t believe him. Then they got angry and killed him.’
‘Do you have a home, somewhere to go to? Your family must be worried about you.’
‘I live here. Dimitris was my grandfather. He taught me how to survive. I will be fine. Don’t worry about me. Please, no more questions. Listen. He asked me to give you a message. He said he was expecting two people called Aristo and Katerina and that if anything happened to him, I was to find you and tell you. He told me before… before… they…’ and he broke into tears, whimpering like a frightened animal.
Katerina kneeled and wrapping her arms around him, held him close for the tears to subside. He put his head in her bosom and she felt him trembling. When the tears had dried up, he gently gestured for her to release him. And he gave them Dimitris’ message.
Katerina and Aristo tried to absorb what the boy just told them, but they struggled and it was a while before they regained their composure.
CHAPTER 22
Constantinople (Istanbul)
Present day
The sun was shining. The giver of life moulded nature’s vibrant colours, its buoyant rays fun-jumping from molecule to molecule, from time rift to time rift, bringing each one to life, shifting the fabric of time and space, our lives and this earth’s that we call home which are but a moment in the fabric that is the universe.
But the rust-coloured leaves had started to fall signalling the advent of autumn. They knew their short life had come to an end as part of the cycle of life. The soil’s hunger was demanding to be sated, was calling for the required sacrifice. The leaves had decided to enjoy the ride, their last glorious descend and go out with a bang, oblivious to breaking human and other animal hearts.
They played their favourite game of hide and seek, skating on the air molecules as if on the first fresh snow. Their message was loud and clear. There would be no return to the jolly lazy days of summer, till the owners of the sad eyes mesmerised by their light dance survived the harshness of the winter days and the cosiness of the nights in front of a roaring fire.
September was rushing in unencumbered by the wild expectations of summer brutally crashing them, leaving emotional ruins in its wake. Suddenly thunderclap broke out.
The clouds grew goose bumps and shivered, and chattered and murmured and gossiped amongst themselves and pushed and bumped into each other, challenging each other into their eternal game. But the clouds soon tired of their demanding display and disappeared to have their daily rest.
It was the fourteenth of September, the day of the Holy Cross. Katerina and Aristo were crossing the Ayia Sophia Square, oblivious to the occupying armies of tourists pillaging and desecrating the area’s treasures with photos, and with the excuse of enhancing their experience touching everything to extinction.
The day was perfect, sunny but cool. Katerina and Aristo blended in with a crowd of Greek tourists who were entering the great Church. They stayed with them for a while, and then discreetly slipped away and climbed the stairs to the next level, all the time checking whether anyone suspicious-looking was following them.
Their eyes were involuntarily drawn to the weightless dome, the beauty of which raised the eyes to the heavens with the spirit in tow, as intended. They knew it weighed a good few tonnes and were amazed at the achievement of the original architects, but especially the architect that came a few decades later and who was responsible for adapting the design, so that it would hold the dome from then on. It had worked beautifully for over fourteen centuries and counting, with a bit of maintenance of course.
While waiting for the right time, they admired the church, Emperor Justinian’s greatest work, still standing proud after one thousand four hundred and sixty-five years to be exact, with all the earthquakes that had hit this area and the passage of time and pollution and all sorts of abuse, including the millions of people that had crossed its threshold over its lifetime.
They heard a sound coming from the other side of the wall, like an echo. They were startled, and were instantly drawn away from their reverie. They tried to pinpoint the source of the sound, which felt as if it was getting closer and closer. The sudden hollering almost incapacitated them and they both fell to their knees on the floor, capping their ears and begging for salvation from the fiendish nightmare.
At that moment the sun dipped into the sea. But a single ray escaped, as if not quite ready for the dive just yet, shot through the window and straight onto the Eastern wall, and as if it had a grievance, started to bore a hole trying to uncover what was underneath.
Suddenly a monstrous creature appeared in front of them with the face and torso of a human and below the waist the body of a serpent. Aristo saw the mark of the Ruinands. A Ruinand in costume. In its hand was a dagger, the likes of which Katerina had never seen before, spitting fire, and with the fiery tongues licking and singing her hair. Katerina was terrified and in great agony. But she could not move.
‘Katerina. That’s a Ruinand. The whole serpent thing is a disguise. Beneath it is a human being. They certainly like to dress up.’
She was frozen to the spot, her feet growing numb. A glowing amber ball came out of what appeared to be the Ruinand’s gaping mouth and landed where she was kneeling only a moment before. She struggled with her mind to send orders to her body through congealing blood and nerves that seemed to have been congested and unresponsive, like lifeless, atrophying limbs hardening and turning to stone. But somehow she found the strength to move but only slightly, yet that was enough, thank God.
When she recovered her composure, and feeling brave, she shouted to Aristo. ‘It’s all an act. There’s nothing to worry about then.’
Aristo dispelled any ideas of complacency Katerina may have acquired in the last few moments following her lucky escape. ‘It’s not a masked ball. They are as dangerous as hell. They undergo a rigorous military-style training regime before they are let loose out on an innocent world. Watch out.’
The Ruinand was coming at them with relentless intensity and power. They successfully evaded possibly fatal after fatal blow, but they began to grow tired and Katerina came close to giving up. Aristo could not shield Katerina from all the blows. But she was tough herself and knew how to fight. She was struggling though to hold her own.
She stood there with burn after burn marking her delicate body, and gradually losing hope and trust in her strength and stamina against this enemy. Katerina’s spirit was packing for the journey to the other world. Another blow would finish her off. Her eyes, shining brightly, stared into the heartless vacant eyes of their attacker.
‘Katerina, just go and watch what’s going on with the wall. I’ll try and keep the bastard occupied.’ Katerina lost no time, started to move further down the gallery. Meanwhile, the lonely ray was continuing its work.
Gathering the last vestiges of what strength was left to her, she yanked the cross from her neck, opened it, took out the chip and held it into the ray. The chip began to heat up and burn her hand, but she held steadfast.
She gazed at the wall, which was slowly revealing golden letters that were burned onto the cool stone, and she read and memorised, as the letters disappeared as fast as they appeared.