Night Music by John Connolly

for them. But in recent weeks Father Delaney had made it clear that Angela was to be left in peace for a while, and rumors began to circulate about the arrival of priests from the Vatican who would talk with Angela and try to discover the nature of her gift. Father Delaney had asked her about it, of course, but she could give him no explanation. She had experienced no visions, seen no flickering images of Our Lady at night. No voices spoke to her from the dark, and she was untroubled by angels.
    Or so she said.
    Now here were the priests, drinking tea, eating cake, and each in his own way considering what he was being told. Faraldo was tugging at his chin, from which a few wisps of beard hung like pale, trailing ivy on old stone, yet his smile remained in place, and his eyes were placid. But Oscuro looked troubled, and even Manus had lost something of his joviality.
    â€œHas your daughter been threatened by anyone?” asked Manus.
    â€œWhat?” said Lacey. “Why would anyone threaten her?”
    â€œPeople can act strangely when confronted with something that they don’t understand,” said Manus. “Fanaticism takes many forms.”
    â€œNot in this village,” said Lacey. “No one would ever wish any harm on Angela. God, I think some of them would be willing to lay down their lives to protect her, especially after what she did for Kathleen Kelly.”
    â€œIf what you tell us is true,” said Oscuro, “her fame is already spreading. It will attract others: the desperate, the lost. There will be some who might hurt her without meaning to, and others who will arrive with only that intention in mind.”
    â€œOh Lord,” said Lacey’s wife. Clearly this was a possibility that she had never considered. She put her right hand to her mouth, and her husband held her left, rubbing it gently.
    â€œZacatecas,” said Oscuro, and the word appeared to cause him pain.
    â€œYes, Zacatecas,” said Manus.
    â€œWhat is that?” asked Lacey.
    â€œA city in Mexico,” said Oscuro. “A child, José Antonio, emerged from one of its suburbs.”
    â€œEnough,” said Manus.
    â€œNo,” said Lacey, “let him speak. I told you already. We have a right to know these things, if they may affect Angela.”
    Oscuro looked to Manus for permission to go on, and it was granted with a tired wave of the hand.
    â€œJosé Antonio was said to have gifts not unlike those now being associated with your daughter,” said Oscuro. “He healed the sick, and caused water to flow from under stones in barren desert. He had the stigmata, too, but only on his wrists. The local bishop requested the assistance of the Vatican to corroborate what were already being described as miracles, but Mexico is a long and arduous trip, and it was almost a year before a Curia team could be dispatched. When the investigators arrived, the boy was gone, and nobody could say where he was. He was an only child who lived with his father, but their home was now uninhabited, even though many of the family’s possessions remained in place. The local police were of no help, and the parish priest confessed himself baffled by their disappearance.
    â€œOn the evening before the investigators were due to return to Rome, there came a knock on the door of the small inn at which they were staying. An old peasant stood before them—a vagabond, an outcast. He was covered in dust, and tired and filthy from the road. He said that he had walked many miles to find them, and claimed to know the fate of the boy and his father. The next morning, just after dawn, the investigators had their driver take them into the desert, with the peasant guiding them. He led them first to a cairn of stones, beneath which he said were the remains of the boy’s father. The driver dug, and sure enough, bones were exposed, but the investigators could not have said how long they had been down there, or