The Shadow That Remembers

Jessica turned the page slowly, the parchment crackling softly under her fingertips. She had found her name before. In government files. In medical records that shouldn’t have existed. She had even found it in other Vatican records. But this was different. This was older than Vanguard. Older than Lazarus. Older than everything she thought she knew.

Jessica looked to Montesi. His face was pale, his hands still resting on the table, as if he had been holding back a truth even bigger than the one they had just found.

Jessica narrowed her gaze. “You kept this ledger for a reason.”

Montesi exhaled sharply. “To protect it.”

Jessica shook her head. “No. If you wanted to protect it, you would have hidden it where no one could find it.”

She leaned forward. “You kept it because you knew someone like me would come looking.”

Silence. Montesi hesitated, then nodded.

Olivia swore under her breath. “Yeah, okay, we’re definitely leaving.”

Jessica wasn’t ready to move yet because Montesi’s hands were still trembling. And the way his eyes flicked to the window. He wasn't just afraid of what they had found. He was afraid of who else might know.

Jessica followed his gaze. And that’s when she saw the car parked across the street. The engine still running.

Jessica didn’t recognize the model, but that didn’t matter. The way it was positioned, half-shadowed by a lamppost, angled toward the front door, meant one thing. It wasn’t a coincidence.

Jessica exhaled slowly. “We’re out of time.”

Olivia followed her line of sight. “Shit.”

Jessica looked at Montesi. “Are you coming with us?”

Montesi’s expression hardened. “No,” he said simply. He glanced toward the shelves, not in fear, but in resignation. “I’ve spent my life with these records. If they come, they’ll expect to find me here.”

Jessica stared at him for a long moment. Then she stood leaving the ledger where it was. It didn’t matter if they took it. They had already seen what they needed to see.

Montesi would stay behind. Jessica didn’t blame him. He had spent his whole life keeping this secret. Now, it wasn’t his burden anymore. Now, it was hers.

* * *

They slipped out the rear door, the wooden frame groaning faintly behind them. No words, no wasted breath. Just motion.

Jessica led, low and fluid, the folds of her coat catching the wind as she moved. Olivia trailed a half-step behind, silent and quick, the soles of her boots whispering against damp cobblestone.

The alley behind Montesi’s residence was narrow, ancient stone walls rising on either side like forgotten battlements. Laundry lines sagged above them, casting long shadows in the fading light. The city exhaled smoke and twilight.

They didn’t speak.

The only sound was their breath, controlled but sharp. Jessica’s eyes flicked across windows, doorways, cracks in the brick, watching for movement, listening for the wrong kind of silence.

They reached the next street.

Jessica paused at the mouth of the alley, scanning left, then right. A child’s bicycle leaned against a shuttered bakery. A dog barked three blocks over. Church bells echoed from a dome they could no longer see.

With a low growl, the parked car across the street came alive, its engine flaring in the quiet like a match struck too close to dry kindling.

Jessica didn’t hesitate. She gripped Olivia’s wrist. “Move.”

They ran. Not sprinting, not yet. Fast enough to vanish into the crowd, but controlled. Calculated. A rhythm born of too many nights like this.

They ran through markets still clinging to daylight. They ran past cafés where espresso curled into the air like incense. Into the arteries of the city, alleys, cut-throughs, tight turns only a local would know.

Jessica didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. The sound of the engine faded, then reappeared, turning corners just seconds behind.

Someone was following them, but not actually trying to catch them. Not yet anyway. Jessica had seen this play before, long shadows, slow pursuit, never close enough to force a confrontation. It wasn’t about catching her tonight. It was about living in her head tomorrow.They were just to remind them that they were watching, and there was no hiding.

* * *

They reached the apartment breathless but quiet. Jessica slammed the door behind them and locked it with the kind of practiced urgency that said this wasn’t new. She slid the bolt, then moved from window to window, lowering blinds, watching shadows stretch across the street below.

Olivia dropped into the nearest chair, sweat beading at her temple. Her voice was dry, more tension than humor.

“Well. That was fun.”

Jessica didn’t answer. She was still standing near the window, hand resting on the sill, knuckles white.

Someone had been waiting. Not by chance. They had timed it. They had known.

She sat down slowly, as if gravity had increased while she was standing. Her hands trembled when she pulled them through her hair.

She thought of Pasolini in his last days. Not frantic. Just… knowing. The way someone starts looking over their shoulder not because they’re paranoid, but because they’re finally right.

Jessica had seen that look in the mirror before. And now it was back.

“They’re not trying to stop us,” she said quietly. “Not yet. Just to let us know…”

“They’re close,” Olivia finished.

Jessica nodded.

The hum in her skull wouldn’t stop. Her thoughts moved like old film, flickering, slightly out of sync. The Jesuit records. The name on the parchment. Her name.

“Pasolini saw it,” she whispered. “And they killed him.”

Olivia didn’t respond at first. She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, the weight of it all settling on her spine.

Then in a concerned voice she said “We’re running out of places to hide, Jess.”

Jessica turned toward her. In the low light, her face looked drawn, older than it had that morning.

“I know,” she said.

She had spent years chasing the past, decoding it, pulling it into daylight. But now the past had turned. It had found her name. It had followed her home. And this time, it wasn’t going to let go. Not until it buried her with it.