Authors: Carolyn McCray
“
Your gunshot wound?
”
Rebecca prompted Brandt.
Brandt leaned back on the bench.
“
I got shot. It hurt. It looked like it was bleeding a lot. She put pressure on it
,
and it stopped. No big deal.
”
“
T
hat
’
s when
the first
earthquake
hit
,
”
Levon
t added
,
taking a huge bite of
lentejas
, a Spanish lentil stew
. Brandt glared at his point man. Levont shrugged.
“
It was, Sarge.
”
“
A three
-
point one,
”
Brandt countered.
“
We barely felt it.
”
Rebecca looked to her fiancé. This was
her
first time hearing about an earthquake.
“
Anything else you are holding back?
”
“
No,
”
Brandt stated
,
then leaned forward to take another bite.
“
Nothing at all.
”
“
Well…
”
Levont said, flinching as Brandt glared at him again. Still
,
he went on.
“
The witch
doctor dude we left her with called her a
mo-mo
. That means
‘
messiah
’
in Swahili.
”
CHAPTER 22
═══════════
═══════
Lennore, Spain
5:48
p
.
m
.
(
CEST
)
Brandt was seriously going to have to give Levont a refresher course on which glares to stand up to and which to back down from. Like don
’
t tell everyone the witch
doctor
had
called the kid sitting next to him
a messiah. Although
,
in this discussion, Brandt had the upper hand. All he had to do was point toward Vakasa
,
who currently had o
lives on each of her fingertips after sucking out the anchovies. She was now
eating each one off at a time.
“
Look at her,
”
Brandt said
,
shaking his head.
“
She
’
s just a kid.
”
“
That she might be,
”
Hern
á
ndez
said
,
nodding to one of the women serving them. The villagers began clearing off the table.
“
Wait,
”
Levont said, scooping huge spoonfuls
of
guiso
from
one of the pots
onto his plate.
“
Why are they taking away the food?
”
Brandt wasn
’
t sure, but took a few scoops himself. Apparently
,
he
’
d pissed off the priest. Even though they had come her
e
to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Vakasa was not in fact the Messiah so they could get the Disciples off their ass, Rebecca had warned
them
to keep the
“
T
his isn
’
t the
M
essiah
”
rhetoric to a minimum.
Quickly
,
though
,
it became apparent why they had removed the food. They needed the table for something else. On a large wooden platter, one of the wom
e
n presented a burnt statue. Not any statue, but that of the Black Madonna. Even though half of her face was blasted away by flame, it was clear this was a treasured relic. And there was not doubt that the artist had meant for this Madonna to be dark skinned. From the striations, it was clear he
’
d used several different types of wood to complete the statue. Her features were also clearly African.
“
Borgo
ñ
a,
”
the priest explained,
“
dying, covered her with his body, sparing the Madonna for generation
s
to come.
”
The villager set the platter down in front of Vakasa. The girl stroked the wood
,
then laid her face against the figure.
“
Momma.
”
“
That doesn
’
t prove anything,
”
Brandt said.
Hern
á
ndez
actually agreed with him.
“
No, it does not.
”
Rebecca put her hand on Vakasa
’
s arm.
“
We need your help to prove whether she is or is not the child of the Black Madonna.
”
“
Are we not all children of her blessed womb?
”
the priest asked
,
his accent thinning. The guy clearly spoke more English th
a
n he liked to let on.
“
The Disciples commissioned this statue, didn
’
t they?
”
Rebecca asked.
Brandt watched the priest
’
s face as he clearly struggled with how much to share with them. In the end
,
he stood, smoothing his robes.
“
There are some preparations to be made, but as much as we can answer
,
we shall.
”
His face softened as he looked to Vakasa and then the statue.
“
We owe her that much.
”
Brandt wasn
’
t sure which
“
she
”
the priest was referring to, but he
’
d take it. The sooner they got out of Europe and back to the States
,
th
e better. The villagers left the room
,
taking the Black Madonna with them.
“
S
o,
”
Talli asked.
“
ar
e they really getting ready to help us or…
?
”
“
Firebomb us?
”
Levont finished.
Brandt wasn
’
t sure which way that one was going to go
,
either.
“
C
heck
the doors.
”
The men set up on either side of the room, protecting the only two exits out of the room. Rebecca rose, keeping Vakasa close.
“
If we do prove she
isn
’
t
the
M
essiah,
”
Rebecca asked quietly
,
“
w
hat
happens to her once we get home?
”
It was getting a little old not having any firm answers.
“
I don
’
t know.
”
Rebecca crossed her arms over Vakasa. Like a mother would her child.
“
I was thinking…
”
She didn
’
t need to finish the sentence. Brandt knew exactly what she was thinking.
* * *
Rebecca waited as Brandt studied her face. She knew what she asked was a lot. A whole lot. More than she thought she
’
d ever be ready for
,
but with Vakasa
’
s hands in hers
,
it felt right.
“
I was thinking the same thing,
”
Brandt answered.
“
Are you sure?
”
Rebecca asked, wanting to make sure he
’
d understood her unspoken question.
“
What about your family?
”
To her surprise
,
Brandt chuckled.
“
Are you kidding me? Vakasa wouldn
’
t be stateside a week before Mom had her entered into a beauty pageant
,
and trust me
,
the family Christmas letter would announce,
‘
Three generations of beauty queens.
’
”
Rebecca smiled back. Could something so good come out of such a horrible set of events?
Before she could ponder the notion any further,
Hern
á
ndez
returned.
“
Follow me.
”
Vakasa didn
’
t hesitate, skipping after the man. Re
becca had to grab her hand
and keep her in proper formation as they made their way out of the cottage and toward an older
, overgrown
monastery. The wooden structure had fallen into disrepair. Tiles hung down from the roof
,
and it looked like squirrels had set up housekeeping in the eves.
Ahead of her, Levont had to lower his head to make it into the broken doorway. Once inside the monastery
,
it seemed like they had stepped back several centuries. With no electricity and branches covering most of the windows, Levont and Talli turned on their flashlights, the beams cutting across stucco walls and leaf
-
covered floors.
Was it just Rebecca
,
or did the wind rustling through the vines sound like a monk
’
s devotional chant?
Nothing
,
however
,
adorned the hallway. Not a single cross or painting. Had the monks taken everything with them
,
or had the place been looted?
Hern
á
dez
led them through an ivy-choked chapel and back into the living quarters. Here there was more filtered light through the broken windows. The priest
pushed aside
a large swath of moss from the floor and moved a board to reveal a stash of artifacts.
Silently
,
he brought them out one by one, laying them on the lone moldy bed.
The first item was a
h
a
larii
—
actually
,
it was a small pendant shaped in the image of a
h
a
larii
,
or Basque gravestone. The top was
a disc shape that conno
ted the rising or setting of the sun. This disc sat upon a triangular base. Several
ancient
Basque symbols filled both the disc and its base.
Vakasa smiled as her finger traced the six-leafed rosette. The most ancient of iconry. Yes, primitive man drew bulls and horses, but those were meant to be literal. They were drawing animals. Many scholars tried to argue that these stylized flower petals were only meant to represent the plant and nothing more. Others argued that the sun-like disc and rosette were representational of the gods
’
gift
s
to man. Sun and foliage. The two things man needed to survive.
I
ncluded
i
nside the base
were
several lines of ancient letters and a crude symbol for running water.
Rebecca had never really had
an
opinion one
way or the other. In some ways
,
she felt it was splitting hairs, but seeing the ancient totem, it did feel like whoever
had
carved it was trying to send a message.
Who knew what it was
,
though?
Rebecca couldn
’
t translate the lettering. She turned to
Hern
á
ndez
.
“
What does it say?
”