THE SEVEN CHAIRS

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

A few extra members of the Vatican joined to add substance to the group set for France. The fifth chair needed proper protection. It would be religion ending if someone was able to steal it away.

I rested my head against the glass of the train. Rapheal sat beside me, a silent sentinel. Oh how I yearned to touch him. God as my witness, it is not wrong to love another.

The train settled at the French station. We all rose like the pope had commanded worship. Straight into a line we fell. Other passengers looked on helplessly, bowing their heads to us. They understood we deserved respect, we were not like all the others. I was not like all the others.

The streets of France were filthy, the poor begged on the streets and there was trash and fecal matter everywhere. The revolution clearly didn't do them much good.

I could feel the impoverished gaze boring into us as we rode in the car provided by the archbishop. I barely could contain my joy when we reached the extravagant church. It was beautiful, and clean.

We all blessed ourselves as we entered, on the platform the bishop stood to preach was the fifth chair. It was beautiful. It looked to be made of cherry wood, white lacing covered the cushions. Images of water were carved into it.

"There is your name sake." I whispered to Raphel beside me. I could see his jaw tighten.

"Thank you for rushing here as fast as you could." The bishop emerged from the door leading to the private chambers. "I was not sure how much longer I could keep this hidden from the people."

"You clearly didn't try hard, seeing as it is right out in the main chamber." Augustus snapped at him, quickly being silenced by Christine.

The bishop shot Gabriel a look as if to say keep your men under control. "We received a call when you arrived at the station from your driver, one of our altar boys. That is why it is out here. We moved it."

The bishop and Gaberiel began to discuss what would be the best way to get it onto the train and back without suspicion. Although it may have looked like a rich man's chair, anyone who was near could feel the holy power pouring off of it.

My feet started to move toward it of their own violation.

"Cordelia, what do you think you're doing?" Raphael snapped, attempting to grab at my arm. I shrugged out of his grip.

The chair was calling me, it needed me.

Everyone's eyes were on me, telling me to stop, that my body couldn't handle it. They were trying to grab at my arms.

I collapsed onto the chair.

Electricity coursed through my body, I was floating and falling and everything in between. Angels were singing. I could hear God speaking right to me. And then, nothing.