Search Results for 'bartolo'

“Why has Frella gone so soon?” asked Truella, when the beastly morality prayers were finished. “She was supposed to accompany us down the cellars tonight.  I tell you what,” Truella rubbed her eyes and pushed her hair back, “This has been the longest day I’ve ever known. And it’s not over yet. Maybe we should leave the exploration of the cellars until tomorrow night.”

“Suits me,” said Zeezel, “I didn’t want to go down there anyway.  The thought of going down there would ruin my evening, and I’ve got a gorgeous little cocktail dress picked out for tonight.”

“Jeezel, ” Eris said warningly, “We’re here on business.”

“Oh, lighten up, Eris! None of us even knows what we’re really here for! One minute it’s a boring merger or even a takeover, the next minute it’s all cloak and dagger mystery, then it’s a morality play, what’s it gonna be next?”

“A Barbara Cartland novel? Or 50 shades of undertakers?” Eris said with scowl.

“You don’t want to go down the cellar either, do you, Eris?” Truella asked, knowing the answer.  “Never mind. You go and say some more prayers with Audrey. Jez, enjoy your evening to the hilt,” Truella wiggled her eyebrows.  “I’ll go on my own.”

The others looked at her open mouthed. “You can’t be serious!”

“She isn’t going on her own,” Eric said darkly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Truella pretended innocence.  Of course she wasn’t going on her own. Rufus would go with her, and she even had an idea to invite Sassafras and Sandra.  “Oh, alright then, I won’t go,” she lied. ”  I’ll wait for you and we’ll go tomorrow night.  But only if Frella comes back so she can come with us.”

Eris wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly what Truella was planning. She had to rein Truella in, but how? Suddenly, inspiration struck.

“We’d better go and get ready for dinner,” Eris said, “See you all later in the dining hall.” And with that she stalked out of the room.

As soon as she was out of the door, Eris sprinted up the hallway. She had to get to him before Truella got there.  Crashing into Brother Bartolo as she careered round a corner, she apologised hurriedly and asked if he knew where Rufus was.  Bartolo informed her that he’d seen Rufus by the fountain. Eris resisted the temptation to remark snidely about him needing to cool down.

He was still there when Eris reached the courtyard, sitting on the side of the water feature, trailing his hand in the water and looking gloweringly pensive.  Eris took a deep breath.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked pleasantly, sitting down beside him. “We’re so grateful to you guys for coming to help us out, it’s all quite a lot for us to take in, you know?” Eris smiled disarmingly. “We’d feel so much better if Frella was here with us. We did manage to get her here, but something went wrong and she didn’t stay as long as we hoped she would.  She’s on a mission in Ireland, and couldn’t come over, but Sister Audrey kindly offered to let Frella posess her for 24 hours, and then I don’t know what happened but Frella was called back abruptly to her own body.”  Eris knew she was garbling semi incoherently, which was most unlike her normally, but she thought this approach would appeal.  Rufus seemed to be the type to be a sucker for a damsel in distress.  “If only someone else would offer to let Frella possess his body for 24 hours so that she can come and join us…”

Eris’s little spell must have worked a treat, as Rufus promptly agreed. “I can help you with this. I offer my body for Frella to possess, if you think it will assist you.”

Eris beamed at him. “What a charming gentleman you are!” she gushed, surprisingly both of them as she leaned forward and impulsively kissed his cheek.  “I must go,” she said. Horrified, her face crimson, she fled back inside the cloisters.

“Wait! Look at that one up there!” Truella grabbed Rufus’s arm. “That cloth hanging right up there by the rafters, see it? Have you got a torch, it’s so dark up there.”

Obligingly, Rufus pulled a torch out of his leather coat pocket.  “That looks like…”

“Brother Bartolo!” Truella finished for him in a whisper.  “Why is there an ancient tapestry of him, with all those frog faced nuns?”

Rufus felt dizzy and clutched the bannisters to steady himself. It was all coming back to him in a rush: images and sounds crowded his mind, malodorous wafts assailed his nostrils.

“Why, whatever is the matter?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come, come and sit down in my room.”

“Don’t you remember?” Rufus asked, with a note of desperation in his voice. “You remember now, don’t you?”

“Come,” Truella insisted, tugging his arm. “Not here on the stairs.”

Rufus allowed Truella to lead him to her room, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was so damn hot in this leather coat.  The memories had first chilled him to the bone, and then a prickly sweat broke out.

Leading him into her room, Truella closed and locked the door behind them.  “You look so hot,” she said softly and reached up to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.  They were close now, very close.  “Take it off, darling, take it all off. We can talk later.”

Rufus didn’t wait to be asked twice. He slipped out of his clothes quickly as Truella’s dress fell to the floor. She bent down to remove her undergarments, and raised her head slowly. She gasped, not once but twice, the second time when her eyes were level with his manly chest.  The Punic frog amulet! It was identical to the one she had found in her dig.

A terrible thought crossed her mind. Had he stolen it? Or were there two of them?  Were they connected to the frog faced sisters?  But she would think about all that later.

“Darling,” she breathed, “It’s been so long….”

“If you ask me,” said Trella, although nobody had, “If anyone wants the merger to fail, it’ll be someone from the Cloisters.”

“Seems like none of us want it, why single them out?” asked Frella. “Well,” she added, glancing at Eris, “Not all of us maybe but for most of us it’s just a hassle.  Just more work, and no real benefits for the likes of us, anyway.”

“Think about it, Frell.  Sure, it’s just a nuisance for the witches and the nuns, but not enough of a bother to play with fire meddling with far grander schemes.  That’d be way out of the depth of most of us, I’m sure.   But there’s more going on at the Cloisters than meets the eye. There are other, er, things here, things that don’t want change.”

“Like what?” asked Eris in a doubtful tone.

“I don’t know but I can feel it. Can’t you? Eris, you’re so busy looking at spread sheets and finances you are losing your second sight! The undercurrents are bubbling up so much we’ll drown before long!  We’re all looking at each other with suspicion, and meanwhile….”

“You mean we can trust the Morticians?” asked Jeezel hopefully.  Eris glared at her.

“Maybe,”  Trella said.  “Maybe.  We don’t know anything for sure yet.  But I suggest we stop looking at the nuns, I mean the ordinary rank and file nuns,  and the morticians with suspicion and focus on the place itself.  There’s a long dark history to this place.  And if you ask me, Brother Bartolo knows something.”

“Surely he’s not behind the whole thing!”

“Not behind the whole thing, no, but he knows something.  And the gardener, Brother Babbit. Sassafras told me there’s nothing Brother Babbit doesn’t know about the history of this place, but that he only wants to talk about the plants, you know, the local wildlife and such. And,”  Truella paused dramatically, “Sandra dropped something out while we were smoking weed in the orchard after the reception.  She said Brother Bartolo said he’d seen the Sisters of the Sacred Sepulchre roaming around in the cellar, waiting for orders!”

“The sisters of the friggen what?”  Jeezel  sighed. Not more characters to convolute everything even more! “Roaming around in the cellars? Oh come on!”

“And that’s not all,” Truella lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sassafras said something about them being reanimated.”

Finally, Eris started taking Truella seriously. “Reanimation? I don’t like the sound of that. We’d better find out as much as we can about the sisters of the cellars, who are they, I mean who were they, have they been reanimated before, and what were the circumstances.”

“Right ho, I’ll just boogle it, shall I?” Jeezel said sarcastically.

Eris rolled her eyes. “No need for the snark. The clues will be here, right here at the Cloisters. We need to check the library, look in every room for clues, check out all the tapestries and paintings, speak to Brother Bartolo and Brother Babbit, but without making them suspicious, mind!  Just pretend an interest in history, no mention of the merger! Keep it light!  And keep it light with the morticians, but keep it superficial, until we know more. And then…,” Eris looked at each of them. “we need to go down to the cellars.  I suggest we do that together.”

“We need Frella to come for that,” Truella stated the obvious. The others murmured their agreement.

After everyone got the program for the six rituals, they dispersed. Jeezel observed groups reform and the whereabouts of people. Eris walked alone toward the dark corridors. Truella, Sandra and Sassafras went to the gardens. Rufus followed shortly after, his dark moody eyes showing intense reflections. Jeezel noticed that Bartolo from the convent had been observing the mortician and hurried to catch up with him. Mother Lorena stood as stern as ever in the center of the lobby. She kept cupping her hands around her ears to check if her earpieces were working. Which they weren’t from the irritated look on her face. Silas was in an animated discussion with Austreberthe and the remaining nuns were laughing heartily and running around as if they had overindulged in Sister Sassafras’ hallucinogenic mushroom canapés.

Jeezel decided to go back to the lounge and explore the antiques, maybe see if there were hidden passageways behind those tapestries. She found Garrett waiting for her in the corridor as if he knew what she intended to do. His deep blue eyes seemed to embrace her whole silhouette in a myriad of unspoken emotions, and when they settle on her emerald green eyes, a subtle grin showed his appreciation.

“Don’t look back,” he said, his voice a deep velvet baritone. “Old Silas and Austreberthe are looking at us with a very disapproving look.”

Jeezel couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “And what if they do? We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Garrett’s grin widened. He took a step closer, the scent of his cologne– a tantalizing mix of cedarwood and bergamot– mingling with the faint aroma of her own enchanting perfume.

“You intrigue me, Jeezel. More than the rituals, more than any relic or spell.”

Jeezel laughed heartily. Don’t they say keep your enemy close? I have questions for him. And I wouldn’t mind the company while I’m exploring the area? she thought.

“I was about to check for secret passages in the old lounge,” she said. “Would you join me?”

She let him take her hand and guide her toward the lounge. As they entered the heavy scent of aged wood and old books greeted them. Jeezel’s eyes darted to the tapestries lining the walls, each depicting scenes of ancient rituals and forgotten histories.

“Where do you think we should start?” Garrett asked, his deep voice barely above a whisper, adding to the mysterious ambiance of the room.

Jeezel tilted her head, considering the possibilities. “That one,” she said, pointing to a particularly intricate tapestry depicting a moonlit garden. “It looks like it could hide something.” She reached out to the fabric and pulled it aside, revealing a wooden door. She tensed when she noticed lingering traces of cedarwood and bergamot. “Or someone,” she added, turning toward him. “You’ve been here recently, have you not?”

“Direct as ever. Very well. I’m here to protect and help you. You need to be careful with Silas. He has hidden motives.”

Jeezel narrowed her eyes. “And why should I trust you?”

Garrett pulled out his crimson handkerchief from his pocket, revealing a symbol embroidered in gold. Her eyes widened as identical to the one on the key Malové had given her.

“How did you get that?” she asked.

“Malové entrusted me with this,” Garret explained, “to show her chosen allies. I was told to seek you out and offer you my assistance. This symbol matches the one on your key, doesn’t it?”

Jeezel felt the weight of the key in her purse. She hadn’t shown it to anyone, not even to her friends. She felt even more confused than before. It was possible that Silas would try to divert her attention from him if he was against the merger. And what better way to do than alert her to unknown enemies. The fact that Garrett knew about the key just added a layer of complexity to the situation, but also a layer of excitement. She wondered what game was being played here, and who were the true players.

“Alright, Garrett,” she said, her voice steadying as she added, “I’ll hear you out. But if you’re lying, you’ll regret it.”

He nodded. “Faire enough. Silas isn’t just interested in the failure of the merger; he’s got his own agenda. Something to do with ancient punic artifacts and power that could rival even the Crimson Opus. And he’s not the only one. There are some ancient Punic families that are looking for the same things.”

Jeezel’s heart skipped a beat. If Silas was after the same kind of power, it could jeopardize everything—the merger, her mission, and possibly the balance of power in their world. Jeezle felt she was in way over her head. She had to breathe and connect to her inner Queen’s innate knowledge in order to slide into her role of leader.

“Then, I accept your assistance,” she conceded with a slight node. “But this doesn’t mean I trust you, Garrett. You’ll have to prove your loyalty.”

Garrett folded the handkerchief back into his pocket. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. For now, let’s just say our interests align. And if we work together, we might just come out of this with everything we need—and more.”

“Then show me where this hidden door lead!”

Rufus was not a man for small talk and the past couple of hours had been punishing for a man of his reticent character.  He would have liked to get to know Truella better to try and recall which life he’d known her in, for he was sure now that it wasn’t a past encounter in this one, but that was not something to discuss in a crowded room. It would have to wait.  Despite being a serious man himself, he had found the more frivolous and jolly witches and nuns more compatible than the severe looking grim ones.  Even so, having to meet and speak to so many people in such a short time was overwhelming.

As soon as he could politely do so, he excused himself. Avoiding the smoky courtyard, he wandered around the labyrinthine building looking for another way outside.  There were tapestries hanging on the walls in every room, ancient and faded, many with unusual designs.  Rufus photographed them all in order to have a closer look at them later in the solitude of his room.  The wall hanging with the frogs caught his eye in particular, and without thinking he found himself touching the Punic frog amulet hanging on his chest underneath his white silk shirt.  As he lingered looking at the frog tapestry, he was startled by the swish of Bartolo’s robes behind him.  Bartolo looked at him keenly for what seemed like an interminable length of time but in reality was only a moment. Damn it, he seemed familiar too.

“Exquisite decor, Brother, I like this one in particular. Such needlework! May I ask the provenance of this specimen?”  Rufus tried to lighten the mood, not that lightening the mood had ever been his strong suit.  “It looks very old, I assume this is not a recently made handicraft?”

Brother Bartolo decided to play along. He had recognised Rufus immediately, as if the name wasn’t enough of a clue, his eyes were exactly the same as old Rufino’s had been.  Rufino, one of the oldest Punic families in Baetica. Oh, Bartolo remembered them well.

“That one has been hanging here since well before the convent was built,” Bartolo explained.  “It happens to be one of my favourites.  Another glass of cordial, sir?”

“No thank you Brother, I need some fresh air. I’d like to see the gardens, if I may.”

“Follow me,” replied Bartolo, as he lumbered down the passage.  “The kitchen gardens are through here.  There’s a gate at the end of that path to the rest of the grounds. Don’t worry about the mongoose, they’re quite tame.”

Such was the relief to be outside on his own, that Rufus didn’t immediately wonder what Brother Bartolo had meant.  That frog tapestry had been hanging right there since before the convent was built? Hanging on what?  Rufus’s hand involuntarily clutched his amulet again.

At the end of the undertakers’ speech, conversations surged, drowning out the 14th-century organ music. Mother Lorena, who seemed to have taken the expression lines to a deeper level, gave imperative angry looks at her nuns who swiftly moved to meet with the witches.

“Hold your beath,” said Eris to Jeezel. “That Mr ash blond hair is coming for you.”

“Sh*t! I don’t have time for that,” said Jeezel looking at the striking young man. Meticulously styled to perfection and a penchant for tailored suits, she knew that kind of dandy, they were more difficult to get rid of than an army of orange slugs after a storm. She stole a champagne flute from Bartolo’s silver tray and flitted with a graceful nonchalance towards the buffet.

“Hi Jeezel! I’m sister Maria. You’re so beautiful,” said a joyful voice. “You want some canapés? I made them myself.”

Jeezel turned and almost moved her hand to her mouth. A young woman wearing the austere yet elegant black habit of the Roman Catholic Church was handing her a plate full of potted meat and pickles toasts. She had chameleon eyes busy looking everywhere except to what was in front of her. The white wimple covering her red hair seemed totally out of place and her face made the strangest contortions as she obviously was trying not to smile.

“Hi, I’m… Jeezel. But you already know that,” she said. The young woman nodded too earnestly and Jeezel suddenly became aware the nuns certainly had files about her and the other witches like the ones Truella gave them. She looked at the greasy canapés and refused politely. She just had time to notice a crimson silk handkerchief in a breast pocket and a flash of ash blond hair closing in.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I just remember, I have to go speak to my friend over there,” Jeezel said noticing Truella with a nun in a Buddhist outfit.

She left the redhead nun with a laugh that twinkled like stardust.

Truella’s friend didn’t seem too happy to have Jeezel barging in on their conversation. She said she was called sister Ananda. Her stained glass painted face didn’t seem to fit her saffron bhikkunis. And the oddest thing was she dominated the conversation, mostly about the diversity of mushrooms she’d been cultivating in the shade of old cellars buried deep in the cloister’s underground tunnels. Truella was sipping her soda, and nodding occasionally. But from what Jeezel could observe, the witch was busy keeping an eye on that tall, dark mortician who certainly looked suspicious.

Young sister Maria hadn’t given up. She joined the conversation with a tray full of what looked like green and pink samosas. Jeezel started to feel like a doe hunted by a pack of relentless beagles.

“You need to try those! Sister Ananda made them for you,” said the young Nun. Her colourful lips showed she had just tasted a few of them.

“At last,” said Garrett with a voice too deep for such a young handsome face, “you’re as difficult to catch as moonlight on the water. Elusive, mesmerizing, and always just out of reach. One moment you’re dazzling us all with your brillance, the next…”

“As usual, you speak too much, Garrett,” said Silas, the oldest of the morticians who just joined the group. The old man’s voice was commanding and his poise projecting an air of unwavering confidence. He had neatly trimmed grey hair and piercing hazel eyes that seem to see right through to the heart of any matter. “May we talk for a moment, dear Jeezel? I think we have some things to discuss.”

“Do we?” she asked, a shiver going up her spine. Her voice sounded uncertain and her heart started beating faster. Did he know about the sacred relic she was looking for? Was he going to ask her on a date too?

“The ritual, dear. The ritual we have to perform together tonight.”

“Oh! Yes, the ritual,” she sighed with relief.

Silas took her hand and they left the group just as Truella was asking a Garrett: “Won’t Rufus join us?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered coldly. But his eyes were full of passion and his heart full of envy as he watched Jeezel  walk away with his mentor in a secluded lounge.

“It’s your fault I’m late, Sandra!” Sassafras hissed, adjusting her wimple and throwing a large crucifix around her neck.  “You told me it was witches costumes, I had to run back upstairs to change.”  Missing a step as she rushed down the stairs, Sassafras grabbed the bannister, managing to save herself from a possibly fatal tumble down to the tiled floor below.

“I thought it was! That’s why I’m late too. And anyway you look half witch and half nun in that outfit.” Sandra gripped Sassafras’s wrist.  “Ok, calm down and deep breaths. Demure and collected, remember?  We need to look serious and efficient.”

When they reached the door of the grand reception hall, they stood aside to allow Brother Bartolo to pass, on his way to the kitchen for more refreshments.  He allowed himself a small smile, holding up an empty decanter.  “Crimson Cordial, that’s what she told me to give them. It’s not every day she gives me the key for the cordials cabinet.”

“Not the Crimson Cordial!” the girls gasped in unison. They looked at each other, perplexed. “What is she playing at, Brother?”

“That’s not all,” whispered Brother Bartolo, leaning closer to Sandra, “She’s re animated the Sisters of the Sacred Sepulchre from the crypt.  I’ve seen them wandering around in the cellars, waiting for orders.”

Sandra and Sassafras looked at each other in alarm.  “This is serious.”

“But is it to assist the merger or derail it?”

“Who only knows what goes on behind that prune faced scowl. And why has she invited a team of morticians, eh? Ask yourself that! Morticians!” Sandra said.

“This is too dark for me, I’m off. Tell them I’ve been taken ill, I’m going for a walk in the woods.”

Brother Bartolo barred her way. “Oh no you’re not. You won’t get away with that this time,” he said grimly. “This is too dark for those petty tricks. And you may be needed,” he added cryptically. “All hands on deck, and as many fingers as you like.”

“Welcome to The Cloisters, everyone!  Please, make yourselves comfortable, our girls will be with you shortly. Ah, here’s Brother Bartolo with refreshments.” And with that, Lorena turned on her heel and clacked noisily off down the corridor in search of the nuns. How appallingly rude of them all to be late for the reception!

Beattie and Leonora ordered another two gin and tonics. The longer they had to wait for Bartolo, the less they minded waiting; the generous measures of gin and the friendly banter with the locals in the venta was warmly pleasant and convivial. Bartolo was the ‘runner’, the man who knew about houses for sale, or available to rent in the valley, and he was several hours late.

Jose Maria had been eavesdropping on the conversation, and suddenly had an idea.