THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA: - { FOUR YEARS LATER, ITALY } - [ PART. 3 ]

[ PART. 1 ] FORTUNA CAUTIOUSLY POKED HER:  wizened face out of the doorway, slanting her head to the right. Seeing no one, she beckoned to Angelica to follow. They tiptoed over Enzo's unconscious body, into the hallway, down the stair and out of the building. The streets were as black as the cosmos. It was as if the entire village was midway through a hundred-year slumber. There was not a light in sight, but for Fortuna's little torch, which shed just enough for their actions to remain covert. They hurried through the Lilliputian streets, which wound round the hilltop village like the perfect peel of an orange--manoeuvring between the cars and mopeds which were parked with tight precision along the irregular stone pavements. They reached a cobalt Fiat 500, stationed outside a house with a matching blue door that looked too small to allow the passage of a normal--sized person. Fortuna entered the driver's side while Angelica, wearing an exaggerated, grey hood which concealed her appearance, crouched in the back. The car eased itself away, gently, silently, down the sinuous avenue, leaving behind it the quietude of averted ears. Hours later, Angelica stirred.                        

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{ PART. 2 ) - Sunlight flooded through the windows as the car pulled up to black iron gates so high and imposing that it was as if they concealed the most secret of locations. Above the gates stood an unimposing sign in black serif front that read, Santa Maria L'adorata. Above the sign was a metal structure, intricately constructed in the form of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Christ in her arms. The car entered and the gates glissaded to a close.                                           ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- { PART. 3 } -