Of course. The Episcopal Church, Anglicanism’s American offspring, allowed not only married priests but female ones as well. Teag snickered, and introduced himself, shaking Father Anne’s hand.
“St. Hildegard’s has been in Charleston for a very long time,” he said with a glance in my direction. “It founded St. Roch’s as a burial church.”
“I’m Father Conroy’s many-times great-granddaughter,” Anne said. “And I also inherited his role in the Expeditus Society.” I took a second glance at her. There was mischief and purpose in her blue eyes. Her tattoo was custom-inked and beautiful, but mysterious. I saw a Roman soldier with his foot on a black crow, a man in a bishop’s miter reaching up into a thundercloud, and a fish with a pearl in its mouth.
“Obscure saints—Expeditus, Deodatus, and Petroclus—all of which are good against evil, demons, black magic,” she said in response to my unanswered question. She wore a plain iron cross on a chain around her neck. Her small pierced earrings were agate, like my necklace, good for protection against things that went bump in the night, and on her right hand, she wore an onyx ring. Father Anne met my gaze, and we had an understanding.
Teag handed Father Anne the wooden box with the knife and carefully folded stole. “Sorren said you’d know what to do with this,” he said.
Father Anne opened the box and looked at the knife with a startle of recognition. “You found the knife,” she said quietly. She let her fingertips brush the faded purple stole. “He managed to keep it safe all these years.”
She took the knife from the box and then offered the stole to Teag. “Please, take the stole with you. Sorren’s told me about your gift. Consecrated items have a power all their own.”
Father Anne slipped the knife into a sheath on her belt. I noticed it wasn’t her only knife. At least two other blades hung from her belt, one that gleamed like real silver, and another of iron. I also noticed she had a small messenger bag.
“It’s good to be prepared,” she said with a smile. “Bell, book, candle, and all that. A little holy water, some other things most spooks don’t like.” Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious.
Sorren wouldn’t join us until after sundown because he couldn’t, but the rest of us had work to do, preparing for the night’s confrontation. Caliel had his own transportation, and when we arrived at the old Wellright mansion, I saw a black motorcycle parked off to one side. Teag, Father Anne, and I tromped through the brush, following the path Teag and I had beaten down on our previous visit.
We found Caliel already in the clearing with the half-circle of trees and the old well. He had paced a large circle in the high weeds, and also stomped down a big “X” a short distance away. Inside the circle, it looked as if he had burned away the tall grass to leave a charred, clear area in which to work. I saw a gourd rattle covered with a loose web of beads and bones with a small bell. Next to it was a cylindrical wooden drum marked with veves and covered with a skin drumhead.
Caliel wore a white t-shirt and denim pants, and a white bandana was tied on his head. I saw several amulets hanging from leather straps around his neck. Some I recognized as veves. One was a St. Peter’s medal—for Papa Legba—and another was a medal with the same Roman soldier with his foot on a crow that I had seen on Father Anne’s tattoo. I was certain that all conveyed a level of protection on their wearer.
“St. Expeditus is the stand-in for Baron Samedi,” Caliel said, noticing my interest. He looked up and grinned, welcoming the others.
“I thought I’d make ready,” Caliel said in greeting, sweeping an arm to indicate the area. Since he could not chalk the veves to call the Loa on the uneven ground, Caliel had brought two small smooth boards, on which he had marked the symbols of Papa Legba and Baron Samedi. These he placed near the large X on the ground. Near the X Caliel had left offerings to the Loas of rum and yams, pipe tobacco and cigars along with a freshly killed chicken and candles of yellow and red.
“I have some things to do as well,” Father Anne said, taking in Caliel’s preparations. He walked widdershins around the circle and lay down a thick line of salt for protection, leaving a quarter of the circle’s outline open, to be closed later. That would let us hold something in, or keep something out. Father Anne moved clockwise around the area, stopping at each of the compass points and bowing her head in prayer to the Almighty and the archangels for assistance.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon. I was worried that Renya’s spirit would not appear and equally scared that he would show up with a vengeance.
“The developer ordered a total work stoppage after the crew was killed,” Teag said. “There haven’t been other reports of unusual deaths—public or covered up. So he’s hungry.” Neither of us had called Renya by name. Names have power, and we weren’t ready to confront an angry, hungry vampire ghost just yet.
Teag and I had carried in four camping lanterns, and we set them in the circle and lit them. Supernatural energy could drain batteries, and none of us wanted to be out here in the dark. Just in case, we each had flashlights, but I had seen what Renya could do to those down in the crypt.
I wore my agate necklace, and I had Theodora’s disk in my pocket, as well as my own supply of salt. Teag had Father Conroy’s stole, and a vest he had made for himself out of bits of cloth that had a strong positive resonance. He had salt, a bag of rice, and a quartz crystal, all things that were supposed to ward off malevolent spirits. Unwilling to be caught in the darkness, we had each gotten the largest, thickest glow sticks we could find and tied a couple with string to the belt loops on our jeans. It seemed like a paltry defense against a vampire ghost.
The sun set. Now it was a race to see which vampire showed up first: Sorren or Renya.
“Thank you for coming.” Sorren stepped out of the shadows just a few moments after the sky darkened, giving me to guess that he had found a day crypt nearby, perhaps in the ruined cellars under the old mansion.
Sorren wore a dark t-shirt and jeans. He had nothing to fear from the mosquitoes that buzzed around the rest of us. Sorren scanned the clearing, taking in our preparations and the ominous darkness of the tree line.
“He’s out there. Watching.”
“Oh yes,” Caliel agreed. For the moment, his voice was his own. But as he had moved through his rituals of preparation, it was almost as if I could see his energy and that of Mama Nadege’s ghost swapping back and forth. “I can sense him, smell his energy,” Caliel replied. “He’s waiting. And he’s hungry.”
For the moment, Teag and I stood inside the half-formed salt circle. I wasn’t entirely sure what we could do to help, since the others all had prior training for this kind of thing, while Teag and I were feeling out the limits of our psychic gifts as we went along. But I was ready to do whatever I could, and thinking about Theodora and Father Conroy, and all the victims that Renya and Betienne had claimed made me angry.
My hand closed over Theodora’s ivory disk, and I opened my gift. I could sense Theodora’s presence. When I opened my eyes, I was certain that I saw misty shapes in the distance, near where the construction had disturbed the graves. Maybe the spirits want to watch Renya get what’s coming to him, I thought.
The air grew suddenly colder. I felt the temperature change, and a sense of hopelessness washed over me like a riptide, dragging me under. Failure. Utter failure. Wasting our time.
Tears rose in my throat, and I wanted to fall to my knees and weep. Movement seemed too difficult; even breathing seemed like a strain. I was cold and growing colder, so suddenly tired and overcome. Why fight? It’s a lost cause.
I looked around and saw my companions stopped in their tracks, their expressions bereft of hope, eyes heavy and bodies slumping. Only Sorren seemed unaffected. He rushed toward a spot not far from the edge of the glow cast by our lanterns. In that single spot, the darkness seemed absolute, as if no light dared enter. Sorren moved with immortal speed, and I caught a glimpse of a stout metal bar in his hand, which he wielded like a sword,
slicing it through the darkness. An agonized shriek filled the air, and the dark space broke apart, scattering on the wind. Immediately, the haze that had gripped my thinking disappeared.
My left hand rose to stroke the agate disks at my throat, and the despair lifted. I saw Teag slump, then rally as he touched the crystal that he wore on a strap around his neck. Caliel clutched a small cloth pouch, a gris-gris, and his eyes cleared, then filled with determination. Father Anne had a white-knuckled grip on her iron cross, and she looked at the darkness with defiance.
Fortified, we knew how to drive back that attack if it came again. Caliel took up his gourd and drum, chanting in an island patois, raising his voice to call down the power of his Loas. The darkness reformed, gliding at us like a faceless winged creature, blotting out the stars.
Father Anne muttered, “God help me,” as she drew Father Conroy’s knife and ran for the rippling darkness. She slashed at the blackness, but it buckled and snapped like a sheet on a laundry line, evading her strikes. Caliel paid them no attention, continuing his drumming, his gourd-rattle making a gravelly rhythm of its own.
Sorren pivoted and came at the void that was Renya’s ghost, stabbing at it with his iron pole. I knew that spirits disliked iron, as did many supernatural creatures, but it was one weapon Sorren could wield with impunity since it had no effect on vampires. He moved faster than Father Anne, and several of his strikes pierced the center of the apparition. Another scream echoed from that churning darkness, and once again the blackness vanished.
Father Anne had fallen, but she struggled to her feet looking wan and drained. She still clutched the knife in her right hand and the iron cross in her left. Sorren stood protectively next to her and scanned the horizon watchfully.
“He’ll be back,” Sorren said.
The knife was our ace in the hole. The plan was that the rest of us would weaken and distract Renya’s ghost to give Father Anne a chance to strike with the knife and destroy what remained of his corrupted soul.
“I slashed everywhere in that darkness,” Father Anne said. “And it didn’t seem to make any difference at all.”
“You wounded him,” Sorren replied. “His energy level dropped. Consider it a glancing blow.”
I gripped Theodora’s disk and felt her presence. When I opened my eyes, I saw that the rippling line of spirits had drawn closer, waiting for us to gain their long-overdue vengeance. If there’s any way you can help, we could use it, I begged silently.
“The Loas have heard us,” Caliel said quietly. “I can sense them, out there. They’re watching to see what happens.” I caught a whiff of pipe smoke and the scent of black coffee.
“Can you keep the connection?” Sorren asked.
“Oh yeah,” Caliel said, and I heard Mama Nadege’s voice in his laugh. “The Loas, they like a good show. Baron’s prob’ly taking bets. We show ourselves worthy, they’ll do their part.”
Caliel walked toward the burned circle. “I set up a few things in case we needed a Plan B,” he said. “Let’s get Renya to dance in the circle,” he said.
The ring of salt could either trap or protect, depending who was on the inside and who was sealing the circle. “I’ll draw him in,” I said, stepping forward.
Father Anne looked worse for the wear, but she wore a grim smile. “And I’ll get him,” she promised, the old knife gripped in her hand. She moved behind me, into the nearly-complete circle of salt. Teag looked nervous, standing just outside of the circle, looking for a way to make the most of his gift.
“He’s tried twice to get me,” I said when Sorren looked like he might object. “Well, here I am!” I shouted to the darkness with far more confidence than I felt.
Part of the night sky grew blacker than the rest. A rush of cold air dropped the temperature far below the summer swelter. I stood just inside where the salt circle would have been completed. The dark shape came at me fast, and just as quickly Sorren was behind it, ready with his iron bar to drive it into the circle.
Caliel’s chanting and the rhythm of the gourd rattle grew faster. The darkness settled just at the entrance to the circle, and I could make out Renya’s ghostly shape in the mist. Sorren swung with the iron bar, forcing the spirit into the confines of the nearly-full circle of salt, and I saw the shape waver.
Caliel shouted in a voice of triumph, and a glittering, reflective curtain formed around the dark shape out of nowhere. It was insubstantial and yet blindingly intense as if thousands of mirrored beads had been hung with the sun at their center.
“Mirrors trap evil spirits,” Caliel shouted. “Turns them all around, so they lose their way. Get ready. When the lights go out, you strike fast!”
Abruptly, the glittering curtain of power winked out. Father Anne threw herself toward Renya’s silhouette as Sorren barred the open space of the circle with his body and the iron bar.
Father Anne brought the old priest’s knife down with a powerful overhand blow, a strike that would have dug the blade deep into the chest of a mortal opponent with deadly results. The silhouette writhed and shrieked, tearing away and leaving part of itself behind, as if the knife had shredded an old garment.
Renya’s ghost wheeled, and before Sorren could interpose himself, the ghost hit Father Anne full on, passing through her. For an instant, her body hung suspended off the ground, blood starting from her nose and the corners of her mouth, and the knife dropped from her fingers. Sorren ran at the darkness, beating at it with the iron bar wherever he could strike the ghost and not hit Father Anne.
Caliel stopped his drumming. Still chanting, he tore a pouch from his belt, opened it wide and raised it to it mouth. He blew a cloud of dust into the air, right into the space where Renya’s silhouette was tearing itself free from Father Anne’s body. Again and again, Caliel blew lungfuls of air across the powder in the pouch, sending it to cover Renya’s outline.
The ghost vampire screamed in rage, throwing Father Anne clear. She fell just inside the boundary of the salt circle and lay still for a moment catching her breath. Whatever Caliel had done with the dust, Renya had grown nearly solid, no longer a translucent wraith.
I saw a flash of purple as something whipped out to encircle Renya’s form. Teag held Father Conroy’s stole, the one that had been wrapped around the knife. The sacred energies of consecrated cloth met the power of Teag’s Weaver gift, magic that channeled through every thread, into the warp and woof, until the old vestment glowed with intention.
“Cassidy, quickly! Grab the knife. It’s blessed and has divine power… you must finish for me.” Father Anne rolled out of the way as Renya lunged at her again, fighting against the stole.
I dove for the fallen knife and sprinted toward Renya’s newly-solid form. My fingers closed around the knife hilt as I barreled toward where Teag had trapped the revenant. Renya was screaming curses, trying to charge Teag as he had attacked Father Anne, but Teag kept moving, using the stole to keep Renya from coming at him full on. Renya got close enough to land blow after blow with his outstretched hands, raking Teag with his spectral claws, each strike draining Teag’s energy.
Sorren worked with Teag, helping to keep Renya at bay and distracting him from what I was doing and moving him away from Father Anne.
It was a race to see who would weaken first. Renya was grounded by salt and Caliel’s Hoodoo dust, and by the power of Father Conroy’s consecrated stole. But he had been both a powerful vampire and a strong Voudon houngan. Even weakened, Renya was a formidable foe.
Memories flooded through me as I ran toward Renya’s shade, knife raised. In a blur of images, I saw glimpses from Father Conroy’s life: his ordination, his work with the Expeditus Society fighting evil in a direct and hands-on battle, his joy in administering the sacraments, and his final, fatal battle with Renya. Power swelled with those memories, flooding through me. Father Conroy’s memories resonated through the knife, lending the moral force of consecrated purpose.
Even with Sorren’s help, Teag was pale and bleeding a
s I threw myself at Renya’s form. No longer insubstantial, Renya’s nails clawed at Teag’s skin, and he snapped at Teag with his fangs. That same substance let my knife find purchase as I struck with all my might and all the borrowed power of Father Conroy’s psychic shadow. The blade bit into a solid body, instead of passing through thin, dark air. Renya shrieked again, abandoning his attack on Teag to wheel, trying to grab me with his hands or rip into my flesh with his teeth.
My left hand clutched Theodora’s disk. And as I screamed, trying to keep hold of the knife and prevent Renya from jerking it out of his chest, Theodora’s presence overwhelmed me. Surrounded by powerful magic, I could see the spirits of the dead surging toward us, flooding into the circle through its opening, hungry for vengeance on the vampire that had sent them to their long-forgotten graves.
Renya thrashed, trying to beat off the wave of angry ghosts, bucking to throw me clear and dislodge the knife, straining to free himself from the tangle of Father Conroy’s stole. I gritted my teeth, and twisted the blade, aiming for the heart. Teag still had a grip on the stole. He staggered, but his martial arts training came through. Teag jerked back on the stole, and brought one foot up into a high kick, driving Renya back toward me, forcing the knife deeper into his body, through the heart.
At the same instant, Sorren swung the iron pipe with his full immortal strength, connecting with Renya’s skull with a sickening crunch, and ripping the head from the neck.
Renya’s spirit gave one final, enraged curse, then the magic that had grounded his spirit and forced it into nearly solid form began to unravel.
“Get back, all of you!” Caliel shouted, then began to chant and drum at a frenzied pace, shaking his gourd rattle as he traced a stagger-step dance from the salt circle toward the X trodden into the weeds.
A wisp of mist, all that remained of Renya’s corrupted spirit, was compelled to follow, bound by Caliel’s ancient magic.
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