Chapter CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Holy Woman
When the alarm buzzed, Lucia pushed out of bed and showered. After she had dressed, she roused him and said, “Wake up lazy American and shower, five minutes, no longer.”
While walking to the dining room, she pushed his lingering hand away, and when he placed his hand gently on her shoulder, she shrugged it off.
It appeared that he would be breakfasting with Abrupt-Lucia, all the same, he couldn’t stop himself gazing at her admiringly.
Lucia noticed, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“No, nothings wrong, I’m just thinking about last night.”
“What about last nght?”
“You know, us, you know, you and me.”
Lucia looked at him curiously and asked, “Fonok, you keep saying you know. Why did you not just say, us, you and me?”
“Arhhh, I don’t know, I’m still a bit, you know, hesitant around you.”
Looking straight at him, Lucia asked, “Hesitant means unsure, uncertain?”
“Yes.”
“So you are unsure and uncertain around me?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you say, I don’t know, if you know that you are hesitant?”
Miles laughed, then said “Okay, yes, sorry, maybe I didn’t need to say that.”
“Fonok, you say I don’t know to things you know, and you say you know to me when I know those things.”
Miles laughed heartily, and Lucia frowned as she asked, “Are you laughing at me?”
Miles settled himself, then said, “No, I’m not, anyway, how is your breakfast?”
Lucia cut a strip of bacon, and before feeding it into her mouth, she replied blandly, “I am eating.”
Early days, sure, although Miles was already captivated by the young woman. Wanting to shock or surprise her, wanting to gauge her reaction to a personal question, he said, “Lucia …”
“What?”
“Did you enjoy the sex last night?”
Without looking up at him, she replied, “Were you not there?”
“Well I was, yeah.”
“You should know then.” she said crisply.
“Okay, but I want to hear your thoughts, I want to know if you enjoyed it.”
She put her fork down and glared at him, seemed to be studying him, then she said quietly, “Ohhh, you know, I don’t know, it was okay.”
He grinned, understanding that this time she was taking the piss out of him, but that was okay, because he realised that underneath the tough exterior, there was a very interesting person lurking.
“Yeah, anyway I enjoyed it, so thank-you.”
“I know, I was there.” she replied, “And fonok …”
“What?”
“You owe me fifty American.”
*
Frank Johnson lived in a second-floor apartment just outside the city centre, and he greeted his guests, “Please come in.”
Miles shook his hand and said, “Gavin Miles, and this is Lucia.”
Johnson led them into the living room, and with the sun high in the sky, the west-facing room was bathed in sunshine.
“Why did you want to see me?” Johnson asked.
“We were out at the Holy Light Convent, and Sister Renata gave us your name.” Miles replied.
Johnson raised his eyebrows in surprise, for he hadn’t heard the phrase Holy Light Convent or the name Sister Renata for more than a decade. Gumming his lips, he asked curiously, “Okay, I can guess what this is about, but tell me, what do you want from me?”
“I’m interested in the history of Iveta Horvat, a girl who was born in the convent in nineteen sixty-eight.”
Iveta Horvat … another name Johnson hadn’t heard for a long time, although it was a name he would never forget. Johnson held the man’s gaze, then said, “If you’ve spoken to Sister Renata, I assume she would have told you about the girl’s history.”
“Father, the nun talked crazy talk. Mr Miles wanted to know about the girl, but the nun told us a ghost story.” Lucia replied.
“I am no longer a man of the cloth young lady.”
“Igen, I understand, but the nun spoke of men with red eyes and Angels with wings.”
Johnson looked at both of them and asked, “Did you believe her?”
Lucia said, “Nem.” although Miles replied, “I was interested in finding out more.”
“Can I ask why?”
“I’m a private investigator from America, and a client of mine wanted information about Iveta’s time in Hungary.”
Johnson seemed to be deep in thought, then he asked, “Mr Miles, can I ask you a question?”
“Certaintly.”
“Is the girl alive?”
“Yes she is.”
“So you know where she is?”
“No I don’t. I’m simply seeking information about the girl’s early history, and I’m hoping you can help me fill in a few blanks.”
“To what end Mr Miles; what do you hope to achieve by delving into Iveta’s history?”
Miles was surprised by the question, yet he regathered quickly as he replied, “As I said, I’m a private investigator and I’m simply collating evidence for my client.”
Johnson considered him, then asked, “Who is the client?”
“My client wishes to remain anonymous, although I would like to hear what you know about the girl.” Miles replied calmly.
Johnson pondered. He knew very little of Iveta Horvat, and of the things he did know, they’d been presented or offered up by third parties; so at best, if he did tell the man what he wanted to know, his recollections could be classified as fourth party recollections; although Johnson surmised that if the man was collating information about the girl, maybe the man could fill in a few blanks for him. Blanks that had never been filled, blanks that had rendered his multi-decade long search for the girl fruitless. Cocking his head, Johnson said wryly, “Telling you what I know of Iveta Horvat and her history is not a ten-minute exercise Mr Miles, because it is complex and mysterious.”
Miles shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, we’re here, and since you’ve been kind enough to see us, I’d like to hear what you know.”
Johnson pointed to a couch and said, “Please sit.” And after sitting in a chair that faced them, he said, “Okay, well Iveta was born in the-”
“Excuse me,” Miles interrupted, “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Ohhh,” Johnson began, “Your anonymous client wants our conversation recorded?”
“He’s paying me, so my objective will be to provide him with as much information as possible.”
Johnson nodded then said, “You may record.”
Miles pulled out the recorder and placed it on the coffee table, turned it on, then said, “Thank you, please continue.”
Johnson joined his hands on his lap and gazed at the ceiling as he said reflectively, “What happened in the Szant Feny Convent is the most puzzling thing that I have ever investigated.”
“What do you mean by investigated?”
“Ohhh yes, maybe I should give you a little background about who I am. I was ordained into the priesthood in nineteen fifty-five, and by the middle seventies I was seconded to a specialized group that investigated, ummm, shall we call them unexplained or paranormal events.”
“What kind of events?” Lucia asked.
“Strange things like weeping statues of the Virgin Mary, or cases of impaired and stricken people who were miraculously cured of their ailments, and we also investigated many cases of supposed demonic possession. In my time in the unit, we were able to debunk or provide rational explanations to most of the cases I was involved in, although after investigating the events at the Szant Feny Convent, the whole event simply became even more mysterious.”
“I’m interested to hear what you have to say Mr Johnson, because if we peel Sister Renata’s story back to the bare bones, the one confirmable fact that we have is that a woman gave birth to two girls at the convent in nineteen sixty-eight, and she took one girl with her and left Iveta at the convent. On behalf of my client, I would like to know more about Iveta’s mother, and I would also like to know why she abandoned Iveta.” Miles said.
“Okay, well I am better placed to tell you about Iveta’s mother than Sister Renata, because when Iveta was born, we were actually investigating the mother.” Johnson replied.
“Investigating her? Well, you have me intrigued,” Miles began, “Please tell us what you know.”
“Certainly. Whispers of a strange woman, a woman we later dubbed the Holy Woman, began in Poland during the first World War. The Holy Woman helped wounded soldiers, and she comforted young widows, and somebody said to her, You are a saint. The woman replied, I am no saint, and as our investigations came to suggest, maybe she was right, maybe she was much more than a saint. The church became interested in her in the late nineteen thirties, and as stories of the strange Holy Woman sprang up right across Europe, the church set up an investigative team to search for her, because a few sightings had suggested that the Holy Woman had wings, as in wings like an Angel. The Holy Woman’s actions were those of a saint, for she helped those in need, and she comforted those who required comforting, and it appeared that she was a woman who lived her life to help others. The church became seriously interested when it was reported that the woman had been shot and killed during the second World War in Poland, although not long after, she was seen in France, then in Germany. Eye-witness accounts swore that she had been killed, although alive she was, helping those in need. In the nineteen seventies, me and my superior, Father Dominic Corsivo, spoke to an old woman who confirmed that she had seen the Holy Woman get shot in the war. The old woman told us that the woman was lying on the ground, dead, her chest ripped to pieces by a volley of gunfire, and the woman raced away to get some assistance, and by the time she had returned, the body was no longer there. The old woman also said that she would swear on the Bible that the woman was an Angel, because she saw her wings flapping helplessly as the woman drew her final breaths.”
“This tends to slip into Lucia’s ghost-story category.” Miles offered.
“Yes, it is far-fetched, although I’m only telling you this to give you a brief history of the woman, the one dubbed the Holy Woman, because obviously you are more interested in her time in Hungary. After hearing many bizarre whispers, Father Corsivo and me found ourselves in Hungary in the early eighties, and our investigations led us to the convent. The girl you speak of was born in the convent, and it was confirmed that the Sister’s handed her over to the authorities when the girl was two years old. How the child was concepted was what interested Father Corsivo, and we spoke to Sister’s Renata and Olga separately, and with haunted looks, they both relayed exactly the same story.”
“That the man with red eyes raped the woman?”
“Yes.”
“What did you and Corsivo make of that?”
“One possibility is that the Sister’s got together and concocted this story, or the other posiibility is that, errr …”
Miles waited a moment, then prompted him, “What is the other possibility?”
“The other possibility is that what Sisters Renata and Olga said is true.”
“It doesn’t make sense though, I mean a man raping a woman on convent grounds.”
“If you’re looking for sense, I mean common sense, or even logic or reason in the story of the Holy Woman, I doubt that you will find it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The church was investigating the woman for more than fifty years, and nothing about her history can be explained logically.”
Miles immediately assumed that this was going to be a waste of time, although they were there, and the tape recorder was on, so he asked, “Okay, so after fifty years of investigations, did the church come to any conclusions?”
“No, the church has never been able to locate the woman, so no conclusions or theories have ever been offered, and I don’t know for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the investigation was still open.”
“Okay, what about you personally, did you believe what the Sister’s said?”
“I was puzzled by the whole story, and even now I still don’t have an opinion one way or the other, although Father Corsivo had been involved in the investigation for decades, and he believed that the stories were true, and he believed that the woman was an Angel, or if not an Angel, she was a child of God.”
“Father, are we not all children of God?” Lucia asked.
“Yes, I take your point, but there is an unprovable theory that the woman, the Holy Woman could have been sent down in much the same way as Jesus Christ.” Johnson replied, then he added, “You can call me Frank.”
“I will call you Father,” Lucia advised, then she said, “Are you saying that this was the Second Coming? Is the Holy Woman supposed to be the new saviour?”
“Errr, no, maybe I didn’t phrase that correctly. Very little is known about the origins of the Holy Woman, although Father Corsivo suspected that she was an Angelic Being.”
Lucia pondered, then said, “Father, I am Catholic, and I believe in Jesus Christ, although I doubt the story of his conception.”
Johnson nodded, then said, “The conception is open to scepticism, but I guess it comes down to how strong one’s faith is. Those of unwavering faith believe that God is all-powerful and his capabilities are limitless.”
Lucia was pleased to have the opportunity to raise a few issues with someone who should have answers, so she said, “I would like to have stronger faith, although some of the stories in the Bible are not realistic, like the story of Noah’s Ark.”
“Many stories in the Bible stretch one’s faith, and the story of Noah’s Ark is one of them. There has never been any scientific evidence that Noah’s Ark ever existed, and there is no geological evidence that a global flood occurred, yet Biblical scholars and theologists have been careful not to dismiss the story completely. The plain and simple fact is that many Biblical stories don’t stand up to scientific or rational scrutiny, yet while the stories can’t be irrefutably proven, they can’t be conclusively disproven either. Many Biblical stories may have been written with the intention of steering people toward the path of righteousness and virtue.”
“If you are no longer a man of the cloth, is your faith still strong Father?” Lucia asked.
“Yet it is. I still believe in the higher power, and after the things I’ve learnt and the stories I’ve heard, my faith has never been stronger.”
“Getting back to the reason why we’re here,” Miles jumped in as soon as he got the opportunity, “I’m interested that Father Corsivo believed that the mother was an Angel, or at the very least, special.”
“Yes, special is a good word for her, and he also believed that the man who raped her was special, or maybe different.”
“In what way?”
Johnson gazed at Lucia and asked, “Young lady, have you heard the name Azazel?”
“Yes Father,” she replied, “Azazel was a Fallen Angel.”
Johnson wandered over to the bookshelf and pulled out a book. He sat down and studied an inside sleeve, then flicked through and opened the book. “What I’m going to read you is an excerpt from the Book Of Enoch. It says that Azazel has connection with the Biblical story of the fall of the Angels. The fall of the Angels was said to occur on Mount Hermon, a gathering-place of the demons of old, and Azazel is one of the leaders of the rebellious Watchers in the time preceding the Great Flood. Azazel, banished from Heaven, is said to have taught men the art of warfare, of making swords, knives, shields, and coats of mail, and he taught women the art of deception by ornamenting the body, dyeing the hair, and painting the face and the eyebrows, and he also revealed to the people the secrets of witchcraft and corrupted their manners, leading them into wickedness and impurity until at last he was, at Yahweh’s command, bound hand and foot by the ArchAngel Raphael, and chained to the rough and jagged rocks of Dudael, where he is to abide in utter darkness until the great Day of Judgement, when he will be cast into the fire to be consumed forever. The whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin.”
Miles thought about it, then asked, “How is that relevant?”
“A few well-respected theologians of the past and present while not fully accepting the story of the Fallen Angels, have been careful not to completely dismiss the stories either. The Fallen Angels were said to have been banished to Earth, and a few of the Fallen Angels were attracted to the female humans, and they coupled with and subsequently impregnated the women. The offspring of this union were called-”
“Nephilim!” Lucia jumped in.
“Yes young lady, they were. Being the product of celestial beings and human beings, Nephilim were superior to human beings, although having been sired by Fallen Angels, Nephilim worshipped and obeyed the Dark Gods.”
“Father, Mr Johnson, I’m still not sure of the relevance.”
“Okay, let me lead you there Mr Miles. Father Corsivo told me that he met a man in Hungary in the early nineteen-sixties, a strange man, a man who was living in a cave. The villagers had told Corsivo about this strange, God-defying man, and Corsivo found the man. Corsivo said that when he told the man he was in the service of God, the man treated him with contempt, and he began mocking him. Corsivo asked the man if he knew about the Holy Woman with wings, and the man said that the woman was from the Heavens. The man claimed to be the last direct descendant of the Fallen Angel, Azazel, and he told Corsivo that his last task on the planet would be to find the woman with wings and impregnate her. Skipping straight to why this is relevant, Corsivo’s subsequent investigations had him believing that the man in Sister Renata and Olga’s story, the man with red eyes, the man who raped the Holy woman, was this man he had spoken to a few years earlier.”
“Okay, so a man who lived in a cave, a man who said that he was the last descendant of a Fallen Angel, found the Holy Woman and raped her?”
“Yes, raped her and impregnated her, and of course, the girl you are interested in was one of the girls produced from this act of violence.”
“Okay, but how could Corsivo be sure that the man he met was the rapist?” Miles asked.
“Quite simply because he fitted the description.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr Miles, the first thing that struck Father Corsivo when he met the man in the cave, was his eyes.”
“The man had red eyes?” Lucia asked.
“Yes, he did, and Father Corsivo told me that he would never forget the eyes, because they blazed with intensity, yet they were soulless.”
“All very interesting, but what I want to know is where is this Holy Woman now, and why did she keep one daughter and leave Iveta in the care of the nuns?”
“To your first question, as to the Holy Woman’s whereabouts, Sister Renata and Olga were the last people to see her, so I have no idea where she is. To the second part of your question, the mother didn’t leave the girl in the care of the nuns, she asked the nuns to kill her.”
“Sister Renata did tell us.” Lucia said.
“If the mother was supposedly an Angel, why would she want to kill one of her own children?” Miles asked.
“Okay, I can tell you what I’ve learnt, although the further into the story we go, the more bizarre or unbelievable it becomes.”
“Well, we’re here now,” Miles said, “So tell us.”
“Certainly, and this is cross-referencing and inter-weaving Renata and Olga’s story with the conversation Corsivo had with the strange man. The man predicted that he would find the Holy Woman with wings and he would sow his seed and impregnate her, and at the very least, Renata and Olga swear that they saw a man with red eyes rape the woman with wings, but importantly, we can confirm that our special lady did give birth to two girls. The man told Corsivo that one day one of his offspring would triumph, and after that, the Gateway to Hell would be opened. He told Corsivo that one of his children would shine, while the other child would begin the decline. The man also said that when light and dark meet, you get shade, when purity and sin combine, you get danger, when love and hate clash, you get chaos, and when virtue and evil collide, you get destruction. The man’s message to Corsivo was that one day the two girls born out of the act of violence would engage in battle against one another, and the battle would be for mankind’s very existence.”
“Father, what did the man mean by open the Gateway to Hell?” Lucia asked.
“I don’t know Lucia, I can only tell you what Father Corsivo told me.”
Lucia pondered, then asked, “Is there a Gateway to Hell?”
“Again, I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you. Do Heaven or Hell exist? I suspect that we will only find out the answer when we depart this world.”
“Father, the man said that one day the girls would battle against one another for mankind’s existence, and in the Bible, there is reference to God and the Devil engaging in the final battle.”
“Yes there is Lucia, although an important fact here is that this statement came from a man who prophesised that he would one day find the woman and commit a criminal act against her, so I have never placed much credence on the man’s rantings.”
Miles shook his head and said, “It all sounds a bit too mythological to me.”
“Indeed, and I can understand your scepticism, although in my twenty year journey of investigating the Holy Woman, and adding Corsivo’s information to our tale of mystery, dozens of people have sworn that they saw the woman’s wings, and a few saw her killed, then mysteriously, she is sighted again; and we have two nuns in God’s service who saw the woman raped by a man with red eyes, and then two girls were born.”
“Father, we know that Iveta is alive, but we do not know if the other girl is still alive.” Lucia said.
“Nobody knows where the woman went, so the fate of the other girl is unknown.” Johnson conceded.
“If she is still alive, the battle that the man spoke of may still happen?”
“If it does Lucia, I suspect we may all know about it.”
“Father, the crazy nun, errr, I mean Sister Renata told us that the woman said, Kill this one, she is bad; so the one who we know is alive, must be the bad one.”
“Yes, based on what the Sister’s told us, that is correct.”
Miles rubbed his brow then said, “Part of this exercise was to try and find the Iveta’s parents, but it appears like we’ve struck a dead-end.”
“I believe that Father Corsivo did return to the cave a few years later to look for the man with red eyes, but he wasn’t there, and the mother has not been sighted since she fled the convent. One of the girls, Iveta obviously, left a trail, and myself and Father Corsivo followed that trail.”
“What are you saying?”
“In the late eighties, Father Corsivo and me travelled to America in an attempt to track down Iveta.”
While Miles didn’t know exactly where she was, he presumed that she was in America, so he waited for Johnson to expand on the statement, although Johnson was staring into space refectively, so Miles asked, “And what, you located her?”