The laptop I stole from a Catholic priest has access to the Vatican's secret library (part three)

part one
part two
I returned to Raphael and Angela?s house early the next morning. The implications of Angela?s note had prevented me from sleeping. Father Bonnard seemed like a genuine man of God?my stomach turned at the thought that his righteousness might be a fa?ade.
Was he truly capable of harming a child? Based on the exorcism I had witnessed, he was doing everything in his power to save the boy, not condemn him. Still, there was always the possibility that yesterday?s events could?ve been an act?a ruse designed to mask a motive so sinister that even my own active mind couldn?t deduce it.
?I?m more welcome here than you are. You?re just not wise enough to realize it yet.?
Raphael?s words sounded in my mind as I approached the door. At the time I had taken this warning as an attempt by his tormentor to frighten me, but now I doubted the veracity of this impression. Given the content of Angela?s note, the demon?s words might?ve been a genuine taunt.
The thought that Father Bonnard might be in league with the forces of Hell made my blood run cold.
When I arrived at the door I knocked a few times and then placed my hands in my pockets.
A cold front had descended over Rome during the night, bringing with it thick mists and gray skies. The early hour only intensified this cold. I could already feel redness rising in my cheeks, and cursed myself for not packing the proper hat.
Angela swung open the door a few moments later. Her hair was wild and her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying.
?Thank goodness you?ve come,? she said. ?I was worried that you might ignore my note. Please, come inside.?
I followed her into the living room. ?I apologize for not coming sooner,? I said. ?I had difficulties giving the cab driver directions to your house. I?m still new to the city.?
?There?s no need to apologize. I?m happy that you came at all. I was up all night wondering if you would show my note to Father Bonnard. Given that it?s you standing in my living room and not him, I suspect that he doesn?t know you?re here.?
?I haven?t spoken to Father Bonnard since yesterday evening.?
?So he knows nothing of my note??
?Yes.?
Angela?s shoulders straightened as a wave of stress visibly rolled off her body. ?I appreciate your secrecy. Your presence means more than you will ever know.?
?It?s not a problem. Although I can assure you?Father Bonnard is a good man. You shouldn?t have any reason to fear him. He?s been nothing but kind to me since I arrived in Rome.?
?You only say that because you don?t know what he?s capable of. His kindness is only an act. Il suo male non conosce confine. His evil knows no boundaries.?
?What do you mean??
Angela sighed and ran her fingers through her graying hair. ?He?s a bad priest. One of the worst in the city. And that?s saying a lot.? She paused and locked the door behind us. She then followed me into the living room. ?I?m getting ahead of myself though. I haven?t even offered you anything to drink. Please, take a seat by the fire. I?m sure that you?re cold.?
?Thank you.?
I walked across the room and sat down in the rustic armchair beside the fireplace. Pleasure washed over my body as heat bathed my skin.
Angela?s cottage was simple and well-kept. A beautiful tapestry of the Virgin Mary hung above the fireplace, and the walls were dotted with crosses. On the wooden shelf across from me sat a portrait of Raphael.
?Care for some coffee?? said Angela.
?Yes please.?
?One moment.? She disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few moments later holding a steaming cup.
?Thank you,? I said, grabbing the cup.
?I?m afraid that I don?t have any sugar,? she said, sitting down in the chair across from me, ?but I added some milk. Is it hot enough??
?It?s wonderful. Thank you Angela.?
A scream sounded from Raphael?s room. This scream was followed by the pounding of wood and creaking of floorboards as Raphael struggled against the straps binding him to the bed frame.
?That poor child,? said Angela, glancing towards the room. ?He?s been through so much this past month.?
?So you think he?s truly?? My voice trailed off. I couldn?t force myself to say the word, especially to the boy?s mother.
?Possessed? Absolutely. There?s no other explanation for his symptoms.?
?When did his symptoms first arise??
?After we met Father Bonnard.?
I lowered my cup, which was raised halfway to my mouth, to the end table beside me. ?I don?t understand. Isn?t Father Bonnard trying to save him??
Angela let out a distressed laugh. ?That couldn?t be any further from the truth. He?s the one that tainted Raphael?s soul.?
?What do you mean?
?Ever since Father Bonnard entered our lives Raphael?s?affliction?has only gotten worse. Like I told you?he?s a bad priest. Like so many other priests in this cursed city.?
?Let me make sure I?m understanding you properly. You?re saying that Father Bonnard is the reason your son is possessed??
?Yes.?
I flashed Angela a concerned look. ?You can?t seriously believe that. The man?s a monsignor for Christ?s sake!?
?I know it sounds crazy, but I can assure you, Father Bonnard is not the man you think he is. He?s evil, and he?s ruining my son?s life!? She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. ?Raphael is a good boy. He doesn?t deserve this fate. He?s not the only innocent soul being tainted by the Church though. There are whispers of possession cases just like his popping up all over the city. Everybody knows that the Church is responsible, but nobody has the power to do anything about it. The Church controls everything around here?from the police to the politicians.?
?If that?s the case, then what good can I do you? From what you?re saying the police can?t even help him.?
?You?re a foreigner, which means you?re not corrupted by the Vatican?s influence. Take Raphael back to America with you. Please! He?ll be safer in your country. What you do with him when you get there is up to you. Drop him off at an orphanage if it suits you. Just please rescue him from the priest. I beg you!?
Angela?s tears, which had been slowly building throughout our conversation, began to fall full force.
?I want to help you Angela, but what you?re saying is impossible. I would never be able to get him past customs, and that?s not even taking into consideration his condition. Bringing him with me would do him more harm than good.?
?You don?t know that! I?m sure that you can find a way to smuggle him into America if you think long enough. I?ll give you all the money that I have. It?s not much, but it?s more than enough to pay for his keep.
?I?m sorry Angela. I can?t do it.?
Raphael screamed so loud that it made us both jump in our seats.
?Do you mind if I go and check on him?? I said.
?Not at all,? said Angela, wiping away her tears. ?That?s very kind of you.?
I walked towards the hallway beside the kitchen. Raphael?s room was at the end of this hallway, and I approached the weathered wooden door on silent feet and turned the door knob.
The moment I entered the room I nearly vomited. Never before had I encountered such a foul smell. I felt like I had walked into a room filled with spoiled meat, and raised my shirt above my nose.
I glanced down at Raphael. Even though the boy appeared to be asleep, his limbs writhed every few moments, as if he were covered in ants. Bed sores lined his entire body, and his wrists and ankles were severely bruised from his straps. In short, he looked like a living corpse.
?You poor child,? I said under my breath.
I lowered my shirt and approached the bed. Pity filled me as I stared down at the child?s emaciated frame. So moved was I by emotion that for a moment I considered agreeing to Angela?s plan. Deep down though I knew that this plan was impossible, and mourned the impossible situation that Raphael had been dealt.
Just as I was about to return to the living room, I heard a loud knock drift in from the entryway. Angela raced through the door a few seconds later, face pale.
?It?s Father Bonnard,? she said, voice rushed. ?You need to hide. Quickly.?


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