The Man Who Waited

Jessica stared at the note in her hand.

“You are looking in the wrong place.”

Her fingers curled around the paper, the edges creasing beneath the pressure of her grip. The words weren’t just a warning, they were a message. Someone had been here before them. And they wanted her to know it.

She exhaled slowly, glancing at Olivia and Leanna.

Olivia muttered a curse under her breath, pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of the note. “We’re being led.”

Jessica nodded. “Yeah. But by who?”

Leanna’s gaze swept the empty storage locker, her jaw tightening. “More importantly, where are they leading us?”

Jessica glanced at the note again. The handwriting was precise, deliberate. Not rushed. This wasn’t left behind in a hurry. It was placed here with intent. Someone had known exactly when she would arrive. That thought alone made her skin crawl.

She tucked the note into her jacket. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They walked in silence through the streets of Paris. The city was alive, the air thick with the scent of rain on old stone. The Seine shimmered under the glow of streetlights, the sound of distant conversations and clinking glasses drifting through the night air.

Jessica led them to a quiet café near the river, choosing a table near the back, away from the windows. She ordered a whiskey neat. Olivia ordered coffee, fingers tapping against her phone screen, cross-referencing Vatican archives and intelligence leaks. Leanna didn’t order anything. She just sat, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she was waiting for something to go wrong.

Jessica sipped her drink, the heat of the alcohol spreading through her chest.

They were chasing ghosts. A man who had lived under the same name for centuries. A Vatican interrogation that led to nothing. A missing file. And now someone was guiding them toward something they couldn’t yet see.

Jessica exhaled, setting her glass down, “We’re not done with him.”

Olivia looked up. “Iacopo?”

Jessica nodded. “If his file is gone, that means someone still considers him a threat.”

Leanna frowned. “He should be dead.”

Jessica gave a humorless smirk. “So should I.”

The words hung between them. Then Olivia sighed, pushing a hand through her hair. “Okay. Let’s think. If the Vatican buried his name, where else would we find him?”

Jessica tapped her fingers against the table. Then she had a thought. She sat up slightly and said, “His trial.”

Leanna raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

Jessica smirked. “All of them.”

* * *

It took them an hour to reach the National Archives of France. A towering structure, old and regal, filled with centuries of bureaucratic records, criminal trials, and forgotten histories.

Jessica led them inside, flashing forged credentials Olivia had prepared before they left Avignon. The clerk barely glanced at them before waving them through.

They stepped into the reading room, the scent of old parchment and dust filling the air. Rows of wooden tables stretched beneath high ceilings, scholars hunched over stacks of documents, their whispers lost beneath the quiet hum of fluorescent lights.

Olivia moved first, logging into the database. Her fingers moved quickly over the keys, searching. Filtering. Cross-referencing. Jessica stood behind her, arms crossed, watching the screen.

Minutes passed. Then Olivia muttered, “Got something.”

Jessica leaned in.

Iacopo di San Luca: Templar trial records, 1415.

Jessica exhaled. “Let’s see it.”

Olivia clicked. The document loaded. Handwritten testimony. Transcribed in Latin.

Jessica’s eyes scanned the page.

“He spoke of visions. Of memories he did not understand.”

She swallowed.

“He claimed to recall cities that did not yet exist.”

Her hands clenched into fists.

“The Church accused him of heresy, of claiming to have lived before.”

Her stomach twisted. This was exactly what the Vatican had erased. Olivia was already pulling up the next record. 1592. Another trial. Another accusation. Same name. Same crime. 1740. Again. Then 1857. And this time, something different.

Jessica’s breath caught.

“The accused was not executed.”

“He was taken into Vatican custody.”

“He is to be sent to Rome.”

Jessica exchanged a look with Olivia. Rome. Again.

* * *

Jessica sat back, exhaling.

Leanna rubbed a hand down her face. “So. What are we saying? This man survived for centuries?”

Jessica shook her head. “Not necessarily. But someone wanted the name to survive.”

Olivia’s voice was quiet. “Or maybe, he wanted to.”

Jessica frowned. “What do you mean?”

Olivia tapped a finger against the screen. “What if he wasn’t running? What if he wanted to be found?”

Leanna crossed her arms. “Or maybe he was never gone. Just… watching. Waiting for someone like Jess to show up again.”

Jessica glanced at Leanna, then stared at the text. Her mind flashed back to the note in the Vatican archive.

“You are not the first.”

Then the one under her door.

“This is not the first time we have met.”

Her fingers curled against the table. Because now, she was starting to wonder. Not if Iacopo di San Luca had survived, but rather if he was still out there. and if he had been waiting for her. She’d chased ghosts before, but this didn’t feel like a haunting. It felt more like a summons.

* * *

The three of them sat in silence, the weight of the discovery settling over them. Jessica reached for her whiskey, took a slow sip, then set it down. Then she exhaled.

“We need to go back to Rome.”

Leanna let out a quiet laugh. “Of course we do.”

Olivia smirked. “I’ll book the flights.”

Jessica pulled the note from her pocket one last time, unfolding it carefully. She didn’t need to read it again. She already knew the words. They weren’t fading. If anything they were getting louder. She read it anyway.

“This is not the first time we have met.”

She ran her fingers over the ink. Then she slipped it back into her jacket, stood, and walked toward the door. She didn’t know who was leading them. She didn’t know if she would like the answer when she found it. But she wasn’t stopping now. Not until she knew the truth.