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THE SIX(122)

Author:Anni Taylor

I kept walking, my muscles forming knots. I could be jeopardising everything. But Jennifer didn’t own the search for the Saviours, even if she had been looking for most of her life. Gray and I were searching, too.

Petrina’s reply text came back quickly. Please call me. I have information.

I called her, reminding myself not to sound anxious.

“Where are you?” Petrina asked.

“We’re still on Sikinos. With Jennifer and Sethi.”

“Sethi’s there?”

“Yes. He seems nice.”

“He is. I’m glad Jennifer has someone like him. How is she?”

“She’s fine. We’ve had a lot to talk about.”

Petrina sighed. “I’ll bet you have.”

“We just had a chat. Nothing too major,” I lied. I waited patiently for her to tell me what she knew about the chapel.

“Constance, where did you get that picture you sent me?”

“Oh, Gray and I have been looking at all kinds of things, trying to find clues. This is just something we couldn’t find any information on.”

“Well,” she said, “as it turns out, it’s extremely interesting. You must tell me later exactly where you found this. This discovery is going to cause quite a stir in Greek history circles. Rico and I went down to search at the library. We have special access to a rich catalogue of Greek literature that ordinary people do not. We found the chapel—it’s of a particular style that we were able to find the origins of.”

“Wonderful. Can you tell me where it is?”

“Well, that’s a little more difficult. We couldn’t pin down an exact location, but it is definitely situated on an island between Greece and Turkey. The chapel belongs to a twelfth-century monastery. What is interesting is the history of the monastery.”

“Oh?” I didn’t want to know the history. I wanted a location.

“Yes. It seems that the monastery was built by an order of monks, all based on the number six, which was thought to be one of God’s divine numbers. Many facets of the building, including the shape of the rooms themselves, are based around the number six. The rooms are all hexagonal, apparently. Like the cells of a beehive. We read that the monastery was built with the purpose of taking in the people with mental illnesses from the surrounding islands. Of course, they didn’t have the same understanding that we do now of mental illness. They believed they were afflictions that came from demonic power. The monks aimed to destroy the power of the demons and restore health to these poor creatures.”

“Goodness, well, I guess we can assume that didn’t work very well,” I replied.

“I would guess not. It seems that the monks even went as far as to install secret passageways through which they could observe the patients and see if their methods were working. Apparently, there was even a passageway they ran from the chapel into the cellar, where the monks kept the worst of the patients. The history is murky after that point. We couldn’t discover what happened.”

“How bizarre.” I held my breath for a moment. “Were there any maps of the monastery, showing where these passages are? Or any drawings of the exterior?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Her tone changed. “I’ll ask again what your interest is in this place? I’m finding it difficult to believe you found it by accident. It’s quite obscure.”

“It’s nothing, really. Like I said, Gray and I are casting a wide net, and he happened to find this. I’d ask Gray exactly where he found it, but he’s . . . gone out fishing with Sethi.”

“Fishing?”

“Yes,” I said weakly.

“I haven’t been able to get in contact with Jennifer this morning. Could you tell her I’d like to talk with her?”

“Of course, Petrina.”

I ended the call, thrusting the phone into my pocket, feeling like I was betraying everyone. Petrina’s worst fear was that Gray and I were going to pose a risk to Jennifer. And it turned out that we were doing exactly that. Jennifer was about to head into extreme danger, and I hadn’t even warned Petrina. I knew it wasn’t fair of me to risk her daughter to save my own.

But I couldn’t force myself to call her back.

I hoped they could all forgive me. I saw what I’d done as leaving a breadcrumb trail, just as Jennifer’s parents had done when they’d uploaded the photos of the Saviours’ meeting to the internet.

Gray sprinted up to me as I returned to the grounds of Jennifer’s house. “We’re going now.” He was breathing hard, his expression taut and determined.