— A short ten-minute walk, I hope you don't mind — said Saul, retrieving the cane from the back seat with a precise motion, his gaze fixed on the avenue stretching before them like a corridor of damp stone.
— If the result is worth it, I promise I won't complain — replied Raphaniè, adjusting the collar of his cassock, the cold wind brushing his face like both a blessing and an omen.
— We're heading to one of my favorite places for afternoon tea. — Saul began walking at a steady pace. — The stroll through the park is the amuse-bouche, the prelude to what comes next. I thought about calling you a couple of days ago, but I ended up having a strange dream… I figured you might help me understand it.
— What kind of dream? — the priest asked, attentive, as if sensing that coincidence is never truly random.
— A red dragon… I think it had seven heads and ten horns, and someone called it Samyaza.
Raphaniè paused for a moment, gazing at the overcast sky as though mentally weighing the words.
— Signs — he murmured. — When the demon prepares to attack a place, more sensitive people tend to have apocalyptic dreams. The dragon is a classic. I spoke about it in my last lecture in Rome.
— Are you saying it was a warning? A demonic attack?
— What is your religion, Saul? — the priest asked, slowing his pace.
— Is that relevant?
— In this case, yes. Faith is the lens through which we perceive the invisible.
— I had an Anglican upbringing, but I left the church a few years ago.
— May I ask why? — The priest's voice was calm yet firm, as if compassion and judgment were intertwined.
— You'd make a great reporter, Father. — Saul smiled ironically, but noticed the other's persistent silence. — I had a car accident and lost my girlfriend. After that, I didn't want to hear sermons about divine plans anymore.
Raphaniè lowered his eyes.
— I'm very fond of an English author named C. S. Lewis. He wrote The Problem of Pain; perhaps that book would do you good.
— Thanks for the suggestion, but from Lewis I only like The Chronicles of Narnia. The others make me sleepy, and I'd rather continue this conversation over a good cup of tea.
— Everyone likes to escape into magical worlds — the priest commented.
— No, Father. — Saul replied without hesitation. — What we really like is escaping the real world.
THE ORANGERY appeared ahead like a refuge of timeless elegance. The maître, dressed in black and silver, led them through the hall adorned with fresh flowers and white columns. The light filtering through the stained glass cast a golden, almost sacred glow over the place.
Saul's table was to the right of the entrance, facing a window that offered a privileged view of the park and the swans gliding across the lake.
Besides them, three couples and a solitary man occupied the room. There was a restrained murmur of porcelain and hushed voices.
— An English Tea Palace with Earl Grey, please — Saul ordered, carefully resting his cane beside the table.
— For me, a strong coffee — said the priest, as though rejecting the ritual of English delicacy.
— Now — Saul began, leaning slightly forward — tell me about dragons, demons, and this mission of yours in London.
— Off the record, Saul. — Raphaniè lowered his voice. — I'm part of a brotherhood of exorcists, and for us, Lucifer is not a metaphor.
— You mean he's as real as the people in this room?
— Yes.
— And Samyaza? The angel who supposedly lay with human women?
— We could say he is just as real.
Saul took a deep breath, trying to grasp where the conversation was heading.
— And why did you come to me, after all?
Raphaniè glanced around before answering:
— Because I need to prevent the enemy from winning this battle, and for that, I need you.
Saul laughed in disbelief.
— I respect your beliefs, Father, but I don't see any threat. The last time I got involved in something like this, I almost lost my career, was publicly humiliated, and honestly, I still haven't recovered from it.
— That only proves we are on the right path — the priest said, unshaken.
— The right path should lead to happiness, not ruin. — Saul rested his elbow on the table. — As Einstein said, it's insanity to expect different results doing the same thing.
— Sometimes doing what's right requires sacrifice.
— That word again… — the journalist muttered.
The priest looked at him gravely.
— At dawn on Sunday, a woman died during an exorcism. Hours later, my assistant was murdered by a satanic sect — the same one we're trying to expose. Today, when I opened my suitcase, I found a human tongue still bleeding inside it. — Raphaniè's voice trembled. — This is a real threat, Saul.
The journalist leaned back, staring at the stained glass.
— And don't forget we were followed since Temple Church — he added. — This could make an excellent story…
The priest frowned.
— In a secret meeting, the members of the brotherhood analyzed cryptic phrases uttered by demons during rituals. They were coded warnings, each indicating three things: the location of the attack, the key person, and the enemy's instrument.
— And the location?
— London.
— And the other two?
— "Hail… the queen's omnipresent eyes reveal the key of Armon."
Saul repeated the phrase under his breath.
— "The queen's omnipresent eyes…" — He raised an eyebrow. — Sounds like something out of a spy novel.
— Exactly. Do you know the English spy, James Bond?
— Of course. Created by Ian Fleming. 007.
— Between the 16th and 17th centuries, a man named John Dee was Queen Elizabeth I's favorite spy. — The priest leaned in. — Do you know how he signed the letters he sent to the queen?
— Zero, zero, seven — Saul replied with a half-smile.
— The real 007. — Raphaniè confirmed. — Besides being a spy, he was an astrologer, alchemist, and advisor. He even chose the date of the queen's coronation. Fleming drew inspiration from this code to name his agent.
— He was also a geographer and advocated for a global empire under British rule.
— Yes.
— And what does that have to do with the devil?
— Elizabeth called him "my omnipresent eyes," and Armon, according to apocryphal manuscripts, is the place where fallen angels swore allegiance to Lucifer.
Saul let out a nervous laugh.
— So John Dee would be the keeper of the key to hell?
— Or perhaps the man who opened the first door — the priest replied darkly. — I need to find out which one is still open.
AT THE NEXT TABLE, the solitary man fiddled with his phone. He wore a dark gray overcoat that concealed a muscular build beneath the expensive fabric. His cold eyes followed their every move.
Raphaniè, with his back to the room, didn't see him, but Saul caught his reflection in the bar mirror: it was the driver who had taken the priest to the church hours earlier — and now he watched them closely, as if waiting for an order.