I stood in the darkness, my back pressed against the wood, listening to the muffled shouting outside.

A soft scrape of leather on stone echoed from the back of the nave.

I froze.

A small match flared in the darkness near the altar, casting long, jumping shadows across the stone pillars.

A figure stood in the glow of the flame, holding a single white candle.

The light revealed a pale, thin face, but it was not a priest.

It was a young woman, her eyes wide with fear, wearing a dark wool coat.

She looked at my torn, bloody wedding dress.

“You are Emily,” she whispered in English.

She held the candle higher, the flame flickering in the draft.

“Matteo sent me,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Before I could answer, a loud, metallic clatter echoed from the floor beneath us.

A heavy iron grate in the floor of the nave began to rise, creaking on its ancient hinges.

I took a step backward, my hand searching for the door bolt behind me.

A hand reached out from the darkness of the opening in the floor.