27 20: Hope of the Hopeless Romantics

Cardinal Lawce always felt at peace. Whether he would argue with his brothers at the Vatican about the Lord's scriptures or when he would exorcise a demon or a devil with his words and prayer, he always felt a calm within him. But now that he walked side by side with Samuel in the basement under the house the queen has generously provided him, he felt a stirring feeling. He didn't know what or why this could be. He tried to deduce the emotion, if it was anger, hate, excitement, nervousness, joy, relief—it simply wasn't neither of anything he could come up with. But what he was certain of was that something was amiss with him and he prayed to the Lord that he be delivered from it and guided to the right path.

They stopped at a double door leading to a chamber as two priests watched on guard. "Your Eminence," the two priests bowed their heads in greeting.

"He is with me," declared Lawce

"Yes, Your Eminence." The two priests put their hands on the door and prayed. They prayed with frowned heads and closed eyes as a chain of light appeared on the handles and suddenly broke apart. When they opened their eyes, they pushed the doors open, to a small chapel, much like the royal church.

As they treaded the aisle towards the altar, Lawce found Samuel ignoring the view around him, despite the gold statuettes of angels on the walls and idols of Jesus and Mary. Samuel had a hungry sight on a long casket-shaped container ahead covered in black cloth.

When they had arrived at the front, Samuel stayed at the bottom of the staircase as Lawce headed up the casket and pressed a hand on the cloth. "I trust you would honor our deal, even though, I know you have no honor," threatened Lawce.

"It is my desire to do so, Your Eminence," agreed Samuel. "I am already here, aren't I? Now please, let me see her, so I may know what to do."

"Very well." He grabbed a full palm of the black fabric and tossed it aside.

The casket was a glass chamber framed with iron. In it was a body of the fairest woman Lawce had ever set his eyes on completely immersed in a very light green liquid. She had full lips, a long straight nose and deep red hair. Her body was slender as her femininity was comparable to goddess statues made by the Greeks.

"May I?" inquired Samuel hungrily.

"If you must," he answered.

At the sound of confirmation, he pressed his face and hands on the glass, observing intently the promise he had made. "How did you manage to keep her so fresh?"

He winced inwardly at the term fresh like she was some kind of object, or a piece of meat. "She has a name. Rebecca," he spat.

"I apologize, Your Eminence," he answered hurriedly. "How did you manage to keep Rebecca so…so…not…dead?"

"Science and prayer," he announced, feeling proud of his achievements beyond death that a necromancer had praised him for. "Can you do as I ask or not?"

"I shall do it with all my heart," he beamed.

"Good. Then I'll leave you to it." He went back down the staircase and started for the door.

"Your Eminence, there is one problem." As Lawce turned, Samuel continued, "It is Death. He does not like to raise the dead back from its own body. We are prohibited to do so. If she exists in our world in a long time, he will know about it."

While he waited there, calculating his odds against Death, he finally understood what this feeling was. It was a spark of hope. Hope that his beloved may live. Hope that there was more to life than the end of it. Hope that God would finally answer his prayers, if he worked for his own blessings hard enough. Hope that he will live his life, the way he chose it to be and no one could ever stop him. After all, he was a man of God. Hope. And just like that, he was hopeful. No one should dare a challenge a man, dreaming of hope. "Leave him to me," he said.