Chapter Sixteen
White Worms

Yes, patient readers, the White Popess indeed made the trek to that mysterious alleged home of the Green Ray, intent on recovering a precious document from Estella Themis, only to find...nothing. No Grail Gestapo, no Lone Star, not even a Scorpio Sister to liven up the tiny hamlet occupied only by Templar treasure seekers and UFO watchers; certainly Estella-Madeline did not surface, nor Astro Anubis Assassin or even Prince Vladicule, for that matter, the latter who might have proved a good cussing companion, so frustrated was the leader of the OTC by such a disappointing turn-of-events.

"Buggering infidels," LOL muttered on her return trip home, forced to chuckle when she remembered beleagured Professor Peyton's favorite Grail Gestapo indictment. "Damnable, slippery snakes...although I don't mean to insult wise serpents," she thought silently, forced to turn her thoughts to locating an obscure work of art she had seen only in a dream, a canvas of Flemish origin encoded by an Anonymous Master.

Many months passed, a quiet interval in which the leader of the Croissant contingent worked diligently, scouring art books, visiting the local library for more art books and visiting more art museums than she had ever thought possible...but still no canvas that matched the one in her mind's eye.

One sunny afternoon, the determined art history bloodhound returned to find an email from Olivia that read:

"Oh my Gods, something horrible has happened - I just got this email in my Inbox from Estella - more of an engagement announcement, really - the worst part is, she's tying the knot on Mary Magdalene's feast day at Nôtre Dame in Paris and she's marrying Prince Stewart of Albania and she's calling herself Madeleine de la Croix now instead of Madeline Lacroix, if you can believe it. Why, she even had the nerve to affix a Crescent stamp on her stationary, LOL..."

"WHAT??? She did WHAT? Send me that email, el pronto mundo...I think we have a wedding reception to crash! She only caught Shortshanks by dangling the papers from my dream in front of his nose, that cow...not to insult cows...anyway, send me the info, Olivia - if it's genuine, I'll be meeting you on the Rue Cambon in a couple of months."

"I had to tell you first...I cannot believe that your nightmare may be coming true...gods, I hate all of those buggering infidels..."

What soon arrived in 22's Inbox did little to allay her fears, and set her on a new course of action, all in the stroke of one tiny click found next to a trusty computer keyboard...









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