Deus.Ex.Machina Chapter 41

The plane ride to Ro was quiet. I'd never flown to Ro without my parents before. Now it was just and Alessia, my new executive secretary who sat across from reviewing docunts.

"We'll be landing in thirty minutes, sir," she said, placing a tablet in front of . "The Vatican delegation will et us at a private airstrip."

I scrolled through the briefing docunts.

"These Church contracts," I said, trying to focus. "What exactly are we providing them?"

Alessia glanced up from her tablet. "Primarily technology. Advanced security systems for their archives, specialized equipnt for artifact preservation. Your grandfather had... unique insights into their needs."

"And why do they need there in person? I thought everything was handled remotely."

"Normally, yes." She hesitated. "But with recent events, they're insisting on eting the new head of Mishima Corporation face-to-face."

Recent events. Right.

"They're testing too, aren't they?"

"Everyone is, sir." Alessia's voice was gentle but firm. "The supernatural world functions on a clear hierarchy. Your position needs to be established."

I nodded, thinking about my position. Dad never had to deal with this. As far as I knew, he'd been completely ordinary, just a normal human running an extraordinary company that straddled the supernatural world.

I studied her for a mont. I still wasn't used to her presence, the board had insisted I needed an executive secretary "befitting my position".

She was efficient. Terrifyingly so. And sohow seed to know everything about both sides of Mishima Corporation's business.

Alessia was Scandinavian – her silver-white hair usually pulled back in a tight bun and turquoise eyes that seed to hold centuries of wisdom. She looked young, maybe mid-twenties, but I knew better. Much better.

Because I recognized her instantly. Rossweisse. A Valkyrie. Odin's bodyguard. She was hiding her identity, of course, playing the role of "Alessia".

I'd decided to play along with their charade. For now, it was more useful to have her think her cover was intact while I figured out exactly why the Norse faction had planted her in my company.

Still my thought drifted back to my dad.

Dad..

How the hell had he managed it?

The thought hit like a freight train. My father had sohow taken over after Grandfather died and run everything smoothly. He'd navigated vampire contracts, negotiated with devils, maintained boundaries with fallen angels, all while being utterly, completely human.

"Sir?" Alessia's voice pulled from my thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just thinking." I leaned back in my seat. "My father—how did he handle all this?"

Alessia tilted her head slightly. "Based on my knowledge. Your father was... exceptionally skilled at delegation. He maintained a network of trusted advisors for supernatural matters."

"But he was just human,"

"Yes. Which made his accomplishnts all the more impressive."

"They recognized his position as your grandfather's successor. They understood the value of maintaining established relationships with Mishima Corporation." She paused. "And they feared crossing certain lines."

"Because of Grandfather's legacy?"

"Partly." Her eyes t mine. "But mostly because your father was exceptionally good at making contingencies. Everyone knew that harming him would trigger... consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

"The kind that even gods would prefer to avoid." Her smile was thin. "Your grandfather built safeguards into the very fabric of his agreents. Dead man's switches, essentially."

Damn.

"And now?" I asked. "Do those safeguards protect ?"

"So do," she admitted. "But you're in a transition period. The supernatural world is... reassessing."

Translation: they were circling like sharks, testing for weaknesses.

"Your father was extraordinary in his own way," Alessia said quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "But he also had years of preparation. Your grandfather made sure of that."

I hadn't. My parents' deaths had thrown into the deep end without warning. Without the careful guidance Dad must have received.

"The Norse," I said abruptly, watching her face. "Why did they recomnd you specifically?"

If she was surprised by my directness, she didn't show it. "The Norse faction has always maintained cordial relations with Mishima Corporation. When they heard of your... situation, they offered their support in the form of my services."

"Just being neighborly, huh?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.

Alessia's expression softened slightly. "It's more personal than you might think. Your grandmother was Scandinavian. Did you know that?"

I blinked, caught off guard. I knew Grandmother had been European, but the specifics weren't clear in my mory or Leon's.

"She was Norwegian," Alessia continued. "Astrid Larsen before she married your grandfather. She and Lady Frigg were... quite close. As was her friendship with All-Father Odin."

That was unexpected. "My grandmother knew Lady Frigg and Odin? Personally?"

Alessia nodded. "She was remarkable, brilliant, fearless, and surprisingly comfortable with the supernatural. She helped establish many of the Norse-Mishima agreents that still stand today."

My mind raced with this new information. Grandfather's vampire contracts and devil negotiations were one thing, but having a grandmother who was on first-na basis with the king and queen of Asgard? That put things in a completely different light.

"So this is what—repaying an old debt? Honoring my grandmother's mory?"

"The Norse don't forget their friends," Alessia said simply. "And Lady Frigg was particularly fond of your grandmother. When news of your parents' deaths reached Asgard, she personally suggested I be assigned to assist you."

"And what do they want from ?"

"For now? Your safety and success." Her expression turned serious. "They want the Mishima Corporation to remain as your grandfather and grandmother built it, a neutral zone. A buffer between competing factions."

Just like Grandfather had designed it. I wondered if Dad had felt this sa pressure, the weight of maintaining a delicate balance he hadn't created.

—

The welco party consisted of three people. Two n in simple black suits with white collars, priests, obviously, and a woman in more formal business attire. All three bowed slightly as I approached.

"Mr. Mishima," the woman stepped forward. "I'm Sister Gabriella, liaison for technological acquisitions. These are Father Moretti and Father Chen."

I shook their hands. Sister Gabriella's grip was firm, professional. The two priests were more hesitant, like they were afraid of catching sothing from .

"Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice," I said, falling into the practiced corporate heir routine. "I understand there are matters requiring imdiate attention."

"Indeed." Sister Gabriella gestured toward a waiting black sedan. "If you'll follow , Cardinal Benedetti is expecting you."

Alessia tensed beside . "Cardinal Benedetti? We were scheduled to et with Bishop Torino."

Her expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight narrowing of her eyes. She pulled out her tablet, fingers flying across the screen. "The change wasn't in our itinerary," she noted quietly.

The priests exchanged glances.

"There's been a change of plans," Father Moretti said. "The Cardinal specifically requested to et with Mr. Mishima personally."

Well, that wasn't suspicious at all.

The drive through Ro was surreal. Ancient ruins next to bustling cafés. Scooters zipping past buildings older than most countries. History and modernity colliding in chaotic harmony.

This was my first ti being in Ro, both past and present life.

We passed through a series of security checkpoints before entering Vatican City. The guards eyed with thinly disguised suspicion, hands resting near concealed weapons.

"Is it always this intense?" I asked Sister Gabriella.

"Security has been... enhanced recently," she replied carefully. "There have been incidents."

The car stopped in front of an unassuming building away from the main tourist areas. No signs, no markings, just weathered stone and heavy wooden doors.

"This way, please."

Inside was a stark contrast, sleek, modern offices with state-of-the-art technology. People in both religious and business attire moved purposefully through the halls.

We were led to a conference room where an elderly man in a cardinal's robes waited. He stood as we entered, leaning heavily on an ornate cane that looked more like a weapon than a walking aid.

"Leon Mishima," he said, his accent thick but his English perfect. "At last we et."

"Cardinal Benedetti." I bowed slightly. "I wasn't expecting such a high-level reception."

"These are unusual tis." He dismissed the others with a wave. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Once alone, the Cardinal studied with piercing blue eyes that seed too sharp for his aged face.

"First, let offer my condolences for your parents. Their deaths were... unfortunate."

"You sound like you knew them."

"I t your father once. Your mother several tis." He tapped his cane against the floor. "Impressive people. Especially considering their... associations."

"You an the business?"

"I an their willingness to stand at the crossroads between worlds." He leaned forward. "Not many humans can do that without being consud by it."

My guard went up instantly. This wasn't standard business talk.

"With respect, Cardinal, I was told this eting was about contract renewals."

"It is." He smiled thinly. "But contracts between Mishima Corporation and the Holy See have never been rely about business, have they?"

Before I could answer, the Cardinal reached inside his robes and withdrew a small wooden box. He placed it on the table between us.

"Do you know what this is?"

I shook my head.

"This," he said, "is a relic detector. Specialized equipnt your grandfather designed for us twenty years ago. It can sense items of supernatural origin—holy artifacts, cursed objects, demonic residue."

He opened the box. Inside was what looked like a compass, but instead of a needle pointing north, it had a small crystal suspended in the center.

"Fascinating," I said, trying to sound politely interested rather than wary. "And it still works?"

"Oh yes." The Cardinal's smile didn't reach his eyes. "In fact, it's working right now."

The crystal was spinning rapidly, glowing with a faint blue light. Pointing directly at .

"Cardinal—"

"You see, Mr. Mishima, this device doesn't just detect relics." He closed the box with a snap. "It also reacts to beings of significant supernatural power. Angels. Devils. And occasionally..." he paused aningfully, "dragons."

So much for keeping a low profile. They already knew.

"Is this an accusation?" I kept my voice steady.

"rely an observation." He set the box aside. "Your grandfather was forthright about his dealings with various supernatural factions. He understood that knowledge was safety."

"And what do you want to know?"

"The nature of what you've beco." His voice hardened. "And whether it represents a threat to the balance your grandfather helped maintain."

I leaned back, weighing my options. Denial seed pointless. The detector had already outed . But revealing too much could be dangerous.

"I'm still figuring that out myself," I said finally. "But I can assure you, I have no interest in disrupting any balances."

"Yet power like yours inevitably does exactly that." The Cardinal picked up his cane, running weathered fingers along its length. "Already there are... ripples. The vampire covens are in disarray after your little demonstration. The devil houses are watching you with great interest. Even the fallen have taken notice. Even other pantheons are watching you."

"Sounds like you have excellent sources."

"The Church has been monitoring supernatural activities for millennia, Mr. Mishima. Long before your family beca involved." His eyes narrowed. "Which brings to the real reason for this eting."

He pulled a folder from beneath the table and slid it toward .

"What's this?"

"Information about your parents' plane crash."

My heart jumped. I opened the folder with hands that suddenly felt cold.

Inside were photographs. Surveillance images. Flight data. And most disturbingly, close-ups of wreckage that showed clear scorch patterns.

"The official investigation ruled it chanical failure," Cardinal Benedetti said quietly. "We believe otherwise."

I stared at the images, my throat tight. "What are you saying?"

"The pattern of damage suggests magical interference. Specifically, a targeted strike using high-level lightning magic."

"Lightning magic?"

"A specialty of certain fallen angel factions." He tapped one of the photos. "These burn patterns are distinctive. No natural lightning could create them."

Why are you showing this?"

"Because your parents maintained a delicate balance between multiple supernatural factions. Their deaths have created a vacuum that many are eager to fill." The Cardinal's voice was grim. "Including those who may have orchestrated their murder."

"You think fallen angels killed my parents?"

"I think," he said carefully, "that you deserve to know what you're dealing with. The supernatural world is larger and more dangerous than you realize."

"And what does the Church want in return for this information?"

Cardinal Benedetti smiled. "A continuation of our existing arrangent. Perhaps expanded in certain areas."

"Such as?"

"Access to so of your more... specialized holdings. Artifacts your grandfather collected over the years that might be of interest to our scholars."

Of course. Nothing was ever free in this world.

"I'll need to review exactly what you're requesting," I said, my mind still reeling from the photos. "And verify this information independently."

"Of course." He nodded. "Take the folder. Consider it a gesture of good faith."

I stood, tucking the folder under my arm. "Is there anything else, Cardinal?"

He looked at for a long mont. "Just a word of advice, from soone who has watched supernatural politics unfold for decades. Be careful who you trust, Mr. Mishima."

"Noted." I turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. If what you're saying is true, why would fallen angels target my parents specifically?"

"That, young man, is the question you should be asking everyone."

—

The return flight was silent. I sat alone in the main cabin, the folder from Cardinal Benedetti open on the table in front of .

Fallen angels. Magic.

The door to the cabin slid open, and Alessia entered with a tablet and a fresh cup of coffee. She set both down in front of without a word.

"Thanks," I said, more out of habit than genuine gratitude. My mind was elsewhere.

I need to talk to Azazel, and clear this once and for all.

As much manipulative and cunning that bastard is, he has nothing to gain from killing my parents.

After Laevateinn of course.

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