by Lincoln Cole
He rounded the steps to the fourth floor. The guy stood in the doorway leading out to the central hallway. He peered around the corner, not paying attention to the stairwell at all.
The man had drawn a gun, a nine-millimeter, and held it ready while he watched the hallway. Arthur moved up the steps quietly, closing the distance. Finally, the guy heard something when Arthur reached only a couple of steps away, but by then it was too late.
The stalker spun, raising his pistol, but Arthur proved quicker. He caught the guy’s wrist and jerked it at an odd angle, slamming his hand and gun against the doorframe. The weapon fell to the floor, landing at their feet.
Then Arthur punched the stalker in the throat, collapsing his airway. The guy tried to fight back, but got caught off-balance and off-guard from the sudden lack of oxygen. He threw a few wild punches, which Arthur blocked and avoided with ease. Arthur twisted under a particularly wild blow, caught the stalker around the neck with his arm, and tightened his grip until the guy passed out.
Once Arthur felt certain that the man had fallen unconscious but remained alive, he set him against the wall, retrieved the pistol from the floor, and slipped it into his waistband.
Just in time, too. A door opened. Arthur stepped around the corner just as Father Jackson Reynolds came out of his apartment. Arthur didn’t want the priest to see the unconscious stalker just yet in case he freaked out and caused a scene.
Better to explain to him somewhere in private that he had just avoided getting murdered.
The priest had a bag slung over his shoulder and paused when he spotted Arthur. He wore a worried expression.
“Oh. Hello, again.”
“Hi.” Arthur nodded.
“Were you … uh … following me?”
Arthur lied, “Yes. I’d hoped I could talk to you in private for a moment.”
Jackson moved toward the elevator, keeping his eyes on Arthur. Unsettled, he tried to find a way out of the situation. Arthur didn’t give him the chance, and instead, walked toward him with his hands in front of him in a non-threatening manner.
“About what?”
“A lot, actually. Just not here. Where is Father Paladina?”
“Back at the church.”
“Alone?”
“No, with a few of my parishioners. Why do you ask?”
Arthur ignored the priest’s question, “Why do you have the bag? Going somewhere?”
Jackson pursed his lips. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just get back to my church. Niccolo is waiting for me. If you don’t need anything specific …?”
“You don’t trust me,” Arthur said. “And that’s perfectly fine. Right now, though, we have bigger problems to deal with.”
“Like what?”
“Let me give you a ride back to your church, and I’ll explain everything.”
Jackson appeared unconvinced. “I think I’ll pass. It’s a nice day, and I don’t mind the walk.”
“I insist.”
“No, really, I don’t …”
Arthur pulled up his shirt to show the pistol grip tucked there. Jackson’s eyes widened, and his wary look morphed to one of fear. Arthur didn’t like threatening him, and he sure as hell wouldn’t shoot him, but this was neither the time nor the place to explain everything.
“All I want to do is talk.”
Jackson hesitated, and then nodded. “Okay.”
He guided the young priest back out to where he’d parked his car, and they both climbed in. Jackson put his bag in the back and sat with his hands folded in his lap. He seemed calm, given the circumstances, and Arthur felt impressed.
He got into the driver’s seat and started the car. They lay only a couple of blocks away from Saint Joseph’s Cathedral.
“I’m not sure what Niccolo told you,” Arthur said, “but I swear I don’t bite.”
“The gun creates a slight contradiction to that,” Jackson said.
“Fair enough, but I won’t shoot you. Consider it a prop piece.”
“And what, all of this is theater?”
“Something like that.”
“Niccolo told me little about you, but I know you two have history there. What happened?”
“A lot of things,” Arthur said. “He met me at a bad place in my life, and his impression got skewed. But he’s not wrong, and I have a lot to atone—”
“Why are the lights off?” Jackson said, alarmed. He sat looking out of the window at his church, and he grew tense. “The lights shouldn’t be off.”
Arthur frowned. “Do you think maybe the power went off from the rain?”
“No, that’s not common with so little—”
From somewhere inside the church, something crashed to the floor, followed by a shout.
“What was that?” In shock, Jackson reached for the door handle.
Arthur caught his arm, stopping him. “Wait here.”
“Something’s going on inside my church. Niccolo and Tim could be in danger.”
“I know,” Arthur said. “This is what I do. Let me take care of it. I’ll come right back to get you when it is safe.”
Jackson pursed his lips, resting back in the seat, and then nodded. “All right.”
Arthur slid the nine-millimeter free and handed it to the priest. “If anyone you don’t know comes after you, use this.”
Arthur climbed out of the car before Jackson could respond, slamming the door shut behind him. Maybe the priest would just use the opportunity to contact the police or find help, but he didn’t have time to worry about that just now. He would have to deal with that problem if it came to pass.
He hurried into the church.
◆◆◆
The main area of Saint Joseph’s Cathedral loomed dark and silent when he pushed his way inside. Arthur held the front door open for a long moment, letting light filter in and making a mental map of the area.
Pews and tools lay scattered around, and one of the benches lay on its side in the center of the room. Arthur picked a path across the floor, let go of the door, and moved quietly across the room.
Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, but for the moment, he focused purely on sound, listening to what happened around him.
“Vile abomination!”
The words came from up ahead and sounded muffled, as though coming from behind a thick door. Or, maybe, from down below. Arthur moved toward the sound, weaving around the pews to a backroom of the church. He found himself in what looked like an office space, though it lay in complete disarray with papers scattered everywhere.
“You don’t belong here. By the power of Christ, I compel you. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
Niccolo’s voice, wavering and afraid. Arthur saw an open doorway and staircase off to his right, leading down into darkness. He crept to it and peered in, gun held ready.
“You compel me?” another man asked. Arthur didn’t recognize his voice, but it came from the basement as well.
“You do not belong here. Return from whence you came. Through the power of Christ, I demand that you leave this place.”
This time, Niccolo’s voice sounded stronger, full of confidence. Arthur moved onto the staircase, walking as quietly as he could down the stairs. His eyes had adjusted, and he could see two forms standing at the bottom of the staircase, maybe fifteen feet below him. One of the people crouched, trapped, in a corner just to the right of the stairs.
A moment passed, and Arthur could hear Niccolo’s breathing. It belied his confidence, and he took in short and ragged gasps. The other person, though, barely seemed to breathe at all. Arthur moved closer, staying on the far side of the staircase and circling.
“Silly priest. Don’t you know you have no power here?”
Then came a sizzling sound. Niccolo let out a gasp of terror, and the other man laughed, taking a step closer to the priest. Something small and metallic clanged to the floor.
Without a sound, Arthur kept moving down the
stairs. Only a few steps away now, and his vision had almost adjusted to the darkness. He wanted to make sure that the assailant stood alone before stepping in, and he couldn’t hear anyone else in the basement around them.
“How does it feel?” the man asked. “How does it feel to know you are truly alone? How does it feel to know your God has abandoned you?”
A grunting sound came when the guy reached up to choke Paladina. Long enough, Arthur decided. He didn’t know if anyone else might have come here or not, but the time to act had arrived.
He stepped in close, punching down with the metal grip of his pistol into the man’s shoulder. Bone and cartilage crunched under the attack, and the arm fell to the man’s side, limp.
He tried to turn to face Arthur but never got the chance. Arthur bashed him in the side of the temple with the gun, and he blacked out, falling like a sack to the ground between Arthur and Paladina.
Arthur looked past him. The priest stood there, bug-eyed and terrified.
He couldn’t help himself from glancing down at the body and then back up at Paladina. Niccolo looked confused and terrified while he stared at Arthur, and Paladina couldn’t suppress a small and bitter chuckle.
“Now do you believe me?”
Chapter 16
Niccolo felt lifeless and dazed when Arthur led him out of Saint Joseph’s Cathedral and into the morning air. It seemed as though he had stumbled out of a nightmare and back into reality and that every ounce of energy had drained from his body all at once, leaving him a wasted and useless mass.
When they stepped out into the sunlight, he winced. Then his eyes started readjusting. The glare felt painful, and the information difficult to process. He barely noticed anything around him and ran on autopilot. Arthur led him like an invalid toward a gray rental car parked in front of the church.
“Are you all right?” Father Jackson Reynolds asked, climbing out of the passenger side of the car with a concerned expression on his face. “What happened? Where is Tim?”
Niccolo didn’t have a good answer to any of his questions, so he just shook his head. He certainly was not all right, and he didn’t know if he ever would be again. Arthur helped him climb into the backseat of the vehicle. Jackson climbed out and stood beside the passenger door.
“We need to get moving,” Arthur said to Jackson. “I’ll explain everything.”
“Explain what? What’s going on?”
“Please, just trust me.”
“Trust you? How could I do that? You need to tell me, right now, what is going on with my church and where Tim and his son have gotten to. Otherwise, I’ll not go anywhere—”
“Just get in,” Niccolo said, looking up at Jackson. “Please.”
Jackson seemed as if about to object, but changed his mind. Something in Niccolo’s face had convinced him that this made neither the time nor the place. Instead, Jackson climbed back into the rental, and they drove away.
Niccolo didn’t even ask where they headed. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything apart from how close he had come to getting killed by Tim, or whatever controlled him, back in the church. His mind had scattered. The world had flipped on its head. All of a sudden, nothing made sense. Everything he had believed, every truth he held dear about the world he lived in, all of it had now come into question.
Nothing made sense.
They drove for twenty minutes or so before Arthur pulled off the main road, following a dirt path into the woods outside the city. It looked like an old access road, not often used.
He took them out of sight of the highway, and then stopped the car. However, he just sat there, staring out the front window with a thoughtful expression.
“Was he …?” Niccolo said, after the silence became uncomfortable. He couldn’t finish the thought, however.
“Possessed,” Arthur said. “Yes. He was.”
“What are you talking about?” Jackson turned in his seat to look from Arthur to Niccolo. “What do you mean ‘possessed’? Who?”
Jackson gave Father Paladina a direct look.
Niccolo had no idea how to explain, but found himself speaking anyway, “After you left, something happened.”
“What?”
“Tim … changed. I don’t know what happened to him or if his son is okay, but he … the lights went out and I …”
He had no idea how to explain. The insects, the bugs, the body of Tim’s son. Tim taunting him and coming down the stairs. None of it made sense, and it all seemed so horrible. Just thinking about it made him feel like something crawled across his skin, and he let out a shudder.
“Arthur saved my life. Tim tried to kill me.”
“Not possible.” Jackson shook his head. “Tim isn’t capable of doing something like that. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Tim might not,” Arthur said. “But Tim didn’t pull the strings inside his body anymore. He’s gotten possessed.”
A long moment passed in silence. Jackson stared at Niccolo as though expecting him to burst out laughing at any moment and tell him it was all a joke. But, for Niccolo, it proved all too real.
“It’s true,” Niccolo said, finally. “All of it. Someone sent Tim to kill me.”
“Someone tried to kill you, as well,” Arthur said to Jackson.
The news surprised Niccolo, and he looked up. “What?”
Arthur held up a pistol. “A man wearing a flannel shirt. He carried this. I saw him following you, and if I hadn’t intervened, you would be dead.”
Jackson stared at Arthur. “Who the hell are you?”
“A Hunter,” Niccolo answered with a sigh. He rubbed his face. “He works for the Church.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“You aren’t allowed to know,” Niccolo said. “No one is. He works off-books. A cult and demon Hunter.”
Jackson struggled to process the information. “I didn’t even think those existed.”
“We do,” Arthur said. “But not a lot of us.”
Jackson turned to Niccolo. “So, what you said earlier at Rose’s house …?”
Niccolo started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His standard explanation that Arthur was a cold-blooded killer felt hollow now. He had thought that Arthur killed cultists, people who had stumbled off the wrong path and into dangerous territory.
It had never seemed plausible that Arthur might face real demons.
Niccolo had never believed in demons. At least, not the kind that possessed people and seized control. Certainly not the kind he had witnessed firsthand, back in the church, trying to kill him.
Which meant that everything he’d thought he knew about Arthur was wrong.
“It wasn’t true,” Niccolo said, finally. He turned to Arthur, “I suppose I owe you an apology. I thought you just a cold-blooded murderer. I never imagined …”
“No apology necessary,” Arthur said. “You got it right about me. I have much to atone for, and I think, now, I finally feel ready.”
Jackson looked between them. “What are you talking about?”
Arthur looked to Niccolo. “He hasn’t got clearance for any of this.”
“He deserves to know,” Niccolo said.
Arthur hesitated, and then nodded. “Very well.”
Arthur took a deep breath, and then he recounted the events that had taken place at the manor in West Virginia. Niccolo had heard the story before, and he knew all of the details, only this time it sounded different. The reality that Arthur had battled actual demons shed everything in a different light.
By the time he finished speaking, Jackson looked completely overwhelmed by everything. He took a long time to process before speaking, “So … someone betrayed you and got your family killed?”
“Yes,” Arthur said.
“And you believe that it happened because of Bishop Glasser?” Niccolo said.
“I don’t think it was him. I know it.”
“The bishop?” Jackson asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” Arthur said. “I believe he lays behind events in the city and has responsibility for the demon possessions. He had two of my friends murdered and tried to kill the family of one of the people for whom I work. The only thing I don’t know is why.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“None of this does,” Father Paladina said. “But I believe Arthur.”
“I thought you called Arthur a murderer and liar and said that we shouldn’t trust him.”
“I did,” Niccolo said. “And I got it wrong. I got it wrong about everything, and it nearly got both of us killed. This changes everything.”
◆◆◆
“What happens now?” Jackson asked.
“We need to get to the airport,” Niccolo said. “We have a flight waiting. Nothing has changed.”
“They won’t let you leave,” Arthur said. “You’re both marked now, and they won’t let you leave Everett alive. If you try to go anywhere, they will kill you.”
“Then, you need to help us,” Niccolo said. “You can keep us safe.”
“I have to get to the bishop. If he didn’t know I was on to him yet, then he will when he finds out you haven’t died.”
“If we don’t go now, then we’ll miss our flight,” Niccolo said. “You have to take us there.”
“No,” Arthur said. “You can do whatever you want. I’ll drop you off at a gas station, and you can call a cab to get you to the airport, but I can’t spare the time for the trip. Not yet. I’ll not let the bishop get away.”
Niccolo wanted to object, but it would be a waste. Arthur believed the bishop responsible for the death of his family, and no way could Niccolo talk him out of it.
To be honest, he now believed it might be true. The bishop had acted strangely ever since he’d showed up, and he worried that maybe the bishop had wanted to kill him.
He did know for sure, though, that the safest place for him and Jackson remained with Arthur. The tickets, he could exchange at the airport for a later flight, or maybe fly somewhere else first. It didn’t matter where they went or how long it took to get to the Vatican. They just needed to get out of Everett.