The Mephisto Club

guide.”
    Even in that chilly subterranean room, Lily felt her face go hot. “Yes,” she said, after a long silence. “I’m just a tour guide. Nothing else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check on our driver.” She turned and headed back into the labyrinth of tunnels. She certainly would not be getting any tips today, so they could damn well find their own way back upstairs.
    She climbed from the Mithraeum, with each step moving forward in time, ascending to the Byzantine foundations. Here, beneath the current Basilica di San Clemente, were the abandoned hallways of a fourth-century church that had lain hidden for eight centuries, buried beneath the medieval church that later replaced it. She heard voices approaching, speaking French. It was another tour group, on their descent to the Mithraeum. They came through the narrow corridor, and Lily moved aside to let the three tourists and their guide pass. As their voices faded, she paused beneath crumbling frescoes, suddenly feeling guilty that she had abandoned her own group. Why had she let the comments of one ignorant tourist so upset her? What was she thinking?
    She turned, and froze as she confronted the silhouette of a man standing at the far end of the corridor.
    “I hope she did not upset you too much,” he said. She recognized the voice of the German tourist and released a breath, all her tension instantly gone.
    “Oh, it’s all right. I’ve had worse things said to me.”
    “You did not deserve it. You were only explaining the history.”
    “Some people prefer their own version of history.”
    “If they don’t like to be challenged, then they should not come to Rome.”
    She smiled, a smile he probably could not see from the far end of the murky tunnel. “Yes, Rome has a way of challenging us all.”
    He moved toward her, stepping slowly, as though approaching a skittish deer. “May I offer a suggestion?”
    Her heart sank. So he had his criticisms, too. And what would his be? Couldn’t she satisfy anyone today?
    “An idea,” he said, “for a different sort of tour, something that would almost certainly draw a different group of visitors.”
    “What would the theme be?”
    “You are familiar with biblical history.”
    “I’m not an expert, but I have studied it.”
    “Every travel agency offers tours of the holy sites, for tourists like our American friends, people who wish to walk in the footsteps of the saints. But some of us aren’t interested in saints or holy sites.” He had moved close beside her in the tunnel, so close that she could smell the scent of pipe tobacco on his clothes. “Some of us,” he said softly, “seek the unholy.”
    She went absolutely still.
    “You have read the Book of Revelation?”
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    “You know of the Beast.”
    She swallowed.
Yes.
    “And who is the Beast?” he asked.
    Slowly she backed away. “Not a he, but an
it.
It’s…a representation of Rome.”
    “Ah. You know the scholarly interpretation.”
    “The Beast was the Roman Empire,” she said, still backing away. “The number 666 was a symbol for the emperor Nero.”
    “Do you really believe that?”
    She glanced over her shoulder, toward the exit, and saw no one barring her escape.
    “Or do you believe he’s real?” he pressed. “Flesh and blood? Some say the Beast lies here, in this city. That he’s biding his time, waiting. Watching.”
    “That—that’s for philosophers to decide.”
    “You tell me, Lily Saul. What do you believe?”
    He knows my name.
    She spun around to flee. But someone else had magically materialized in the tunnel behind her. It was the nun who had admitted Lily’s group into the underground passage. The woman stood very still, watching her. Blocking her way.
    His demons have found me.
    Lily made her choice in an instant. She lowered her head and slammed straight into the woman, sending her sprawling backward in a swoop of black fabric. The nun’s hand clawed at her ankle as Lily stumbled forward, kicking free.
    Get to the street!
    She was at least three decades younger than the German. Once outside, she could outrun him. Lose him in the crowds milling near the Coliseum. She scrambled up the steps, bursting through a door into the stunning brightness of the upper basilica, and ran toward the nave. Toward the exit. She managed only a few steps across the brilliant mosaic floor when, in horror, she slid to a halt.
    From behind marble columns, three men emerged. They said