Jack stood in the dimly lit hallway of the church, the weight of the task ahead pressing heavily on his mind. His eyes flickered to Father Joncy, the aging priest whose gentle demeanor contrasted sharply with the darkness of their mission.

  "Father Joncy," Jack's voice broke the stillness, "I would like to get started on locating where the boxes are so that we can go get them tomorrow."

  The priest turned to face Jack, his expression serene yet burdened. "Come with me to my office, Jack," he said softly, "I will give you the information you need."

  As they made their way to the office, Clara, with hawkish eyes, hovered nearby, watching Jack's movements with scrutiny. Her presence spoke of a cunning wolf, tracking its next meal. "Miss Harris," Father Joncy addressed her, "if you and your driver would like to make yourselves at home in the kitchen, there is plenty of food. You must be getting hungry."

  Clara's white teeth shone through her tired smile. "Yes, I am hungry. Thank you, Father," she replied before heading off with the driver.

  Inside the office, the air was heavy with smoke and the smell of old tomes. Father Joncy raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he spoke in hushed tones. "Jack, as you may not know, we have made up the story about pallets that were sold accidentally," he stated, his voice tinged with regret, "however, I will give you the address of the auction house location."

  With an exaggerated nod, Father Joncy passed an envelope to Jack, motioning for him to open it. "Again, we apologize for such an imposition this has been for you," Father Joncy continued, his tone filled with genuine gratitude, "but believe me, we appreciate all the help and cooperation you have given us."

  “Let me bring up the file here, you will have to excuse my slowness, we in the clergy are not how you say tech savvy.”

  "That's quite all right Father." holding up the envelope as if to illustrate his understanding of the theatrical conversation they were having, "I am just now beginning to understand all of what is happening."

  The small office seemed to close in on Jack as he carefully unfolded the letter enclosed in the envelope. His heart pounded against his chest, an audible echo in his ears, caused by the words that unfolded before him. The letter, penned by Father Timothy, bore the weight of urgency and despair.

  "Mr. Porter," the letter began, "we may not meet due to my failing health, but please be assured I am of sound mind at the writing of this letter. You have been deceived and are in danger, I am afraid," the letter continued each sentence a chilling revelation of betrayal. "Father Murray is in on the conspiracy to collect the boxes to get them to the evil ones in the Vatican."

  A shiver ran down Jack's spine as the truth unfolded before him. "Do not trust anyone but Father Joncy, and the witch they call Gray Raven," the letter warned, "Whatever you do, do not deliver those boxes."

  Jack's head started to spin as the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm him. His grip tightened on the letter, his fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. "You need to take them without the others knowing," the letter urged, "For God's sake, please keep them hidden, forever."

  The weight of Father Timothy's plea bore down on Jack, the burden of responsibility a slow poison upon his mind. With a heavy heart, he realized that he had been unwittingly thrust into a deadly game of cat and mouse, with stakes far higher than he could have ever imagined.

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  "I am sorry that you have been duped into this situation," the letter concluded, its words a bitter reminder of the treachery that lurked in the shadows. "But now the stakes are too high for you to walk away. Godspeed, Mr. Porter. Godspeed."

  As the room swayed around him, Jack felt a wave of lightheadedness wash over him. His vision blurred, the edges of reality fading into darkness as the truth of Father Timothy's words engulfed him.

  “Mr. Porter! Are you ok, do you feel ill?” Father Joncy's voice cut through the fog of Jack's thoughts, pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness. The suffocating threat of vomiting and exhaustion threatened to engulf Jack as he stumbled under the weight of his distress.

  “Yes Father,” he managed to croak, his voice strained with discomfort, “I am feeling ill, I need to lie down.” With gentle hands, Father Joncy guided Jack to his quarters, the shallow light casting elongated shadows across the worn wooden floor. Jack sank onto the small wool-stuffed mattress, the coolness of the fabric a stark contrast to the fevered heat that consumed him.

  “You lay here awhile I will return with a glass of water.” As Jack surrendered to the embrace of sleep, the world around him dissolved into a hazy blur. Time lost all meaning as he drifted into the realm of dreams, his consciousness slipping further and further away. When he awoke, the morning light streamed through the narrow window, casting a golden glow upon the room. Jack's heart leaped with a start as he realized that he had slept through the night.

  Panic surged through him, driving him to action as he sprang out of bed and rushed out of the room. It only felt as if he had been asleep for a few hours, but it was 7 am the next morning.

  “Father Joncy!” Jack's voice echoed down the hall, urgency laced with a hint of remorse, “I apologize for sleeping so long and taking up your bed.” The priest turned from the computer his expression serene and understanding,

  “Do not worry my son, all is well we have many beds here, so I was just fine.” He said.

  “Where is Clara and the driver? They must be pissed that I have slept so long.” Jack said in a tenuous voice.

  “I have sent them to a warehouse, or, at least what they think is the auction house,” he said matter of factly.

  “I don't understand Father the letter said..” The Priest lifted his hand and stated,

  “Please Jack follow me, I will give you the answers you need.” Together, they descended the creaking stairs, the lantern light casting long, ominous shadows across the worn wooden floor. Jack's heart pounded in his chest, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip around his throat.

  Standing before the storage door in the basement, a heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the mumbled, sinister voices that seeped through the cracks like strings of darkness. The sound of animalistic growling sent shivers down his spine.

  At that moment, a primal fear gripped Jack's soul, his blood running cold as he realized the depths of the danger he faced. The priest turned the key, the metallic click echoing through the dark room, and swung the door open, revealing a scene shrouded in eerie silence.

  “Are these the so-called pallets that the auction was supposed to have sold mistakenly?”

  “Yes, Jack,” the priest's voice was heavy with regret, his gaze unwavering as he met Jack's troubled eyes, “These are the pallets. We told Father Murray that they were sold at an auction to buy time.” A sense of betrayal gnawed at Jack's insides as he took in the sight before him. The truth lay bare, a sinister scheme unfolding beneath the guise of innocence. “Gray Raven has taken the worst ones that we had, these are what’s left over. You must get these to a place of safety and secrecy.”

  As they stood in the spectral confines of the basement, surrounded by shadows and secrets, Jack started to ask, “But what about Clara she will..” the priest Interrupted. “She was sent to the auction house, who happens to be a devout follower of the church” he explained, his words laden with calculated reassurance, “And he will then send her on to another location, giving you time to disappear with the boxes.”

  “But Father Murray knows all about my life, and where my collections are stored. There is nowhere I can go after this without his interference.” Jack said suddenly realizing the depth of his involvement. “Jack, your life will need to be on hold for maybe a few weeks to possibly a year, until we can secure things on our end”

  “You mean the mess that is going on at the Vatican, that could be years Father. You know as well as I do how those things are covered up which does not guarantee me that no one is going to come looking for me or the boxes in the future.”