I figured out what was missing from this story: it needed more Edgar Allen Poe. So I did some reading tonight, and now I have a pretty good idea what happens now. So all I have to do is write it.
“This is a sacred place,” the Monsignor informed them as they descended the staircase. “One fallen into disuse, but still not for profane feet or eyes. Anyone who realizes that you do not belong here will try to slaughter you, so feel free to kill them first.”
“Many people have already gone this way this evening,” muttered Maddox. “The rails are greasy with sweat and fear. Have they formed this line you spoke of?”
“No.” Nat and Maddox could hear the scorn in the Monsignor’s voice, although its object was unclear. “Only a few in the hierarchy know of this place, and even fewer knew its greatest secret. Our wonderful anti-Pope is of the first group, but not the second. He has no greater goal this night than to rut and squeal until the Dragon-Bitch comes with her scouring fires.” He chuckled. “Perhaps he even thinks he can hide here down below, until she goes away.”