The Castle

by J. B. Michaels

  “I assure you, my wits are more than capable of facing any threats, natural or supernatural. Can we get on with the investigation now?”

  A loud thumping knock sounded from the front of the church.

  “Father Quinn…”

  “Wait here and don’t make a sound. It’s the police.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  DEPARTURE

  “Hey there, Bill. What’s up?” Father Quinn asked loudly. He opened the door but still held the doorknob.

  “Hey, sorry to bother you, Fahder. We just wanted to ask you if you have seen these two young adults? The Feds said they might be seeking asylum in churches around town. Just thought I’d ask ya, is all.” The officer held up a picture of Bud, Ivy, and Maeve.

  “Can’t say that I have seen them,” Father Quinn lied. A sinner he still is. “Are they in danger?”

  “Quite the opposite. Apparently, the male is wanted for aggravated assault. They are dangerous. Just be careful if anyone else comes knocking tonight. Thanks, Fahder.”

  “I will say a few Hail Marys for these kids. God Bless you, Bill. Have a good night.” Father Quinn shut the door, sighed, and signed the cross as he walked back to the parish office behind the altar.

  The vaulted ceilings and grand display of Jesus’s sacrifice hung high over the pews. Father Quinn worried that the peace of this cathedral would soon cease. The clamoring forces of darkness have made some considerable headway the past few months. The Order of St. Michael, the only organization designed to stop these forces, would have to be on high alert.

  He walked back into the office. “We can’t risk you two being caught on the streets. The police and feds are looking for you. You must get out of town now.”

  “Yes, Father, but to where exactly? Ivy went missing right here in Chicago,” Bud said.

  “What is Ivy’s background, may I ask?”

  “She is a brilliant graduate student at Chicago Metro. As of now, though, she is academically fickle. Her study is archaeology.”

  “What other fields did she excel in?” Father Quinn asked.

  “Based on what Bert could dig up on her before he was shut down, she excelled in math and science as well,” Bud said.

  “Does she have extensive knowledge of your technology, Bud?”

  “She has experience and is aware of my teleportation tech and Bert. She is smart but certainly not a student of my technology, no.”

  “She could prove useful to them, this Danu Cult, we will call them, which is why they didn’t kill her but abducted her.” Father Quinn scratched his white beard.

  “The homeless man made it clear he wanted Ivy. It is possible he was trying to kidnap Bud as well, but I stopped him,” Maeve said.

  “You two must go to Scotland as soon as possible. I will continue the investigation to find Ivy from here, as I said.” Father Quinn pulled back an area rug in front of his desk. In the cloud of dust, he grabbed for a handle of a trapdoor. He pulled it open.

  “Scotland is in the floor?” Bud asked.

  “No, but the only connection I could find with that particular tree symbol was from a record label stationed in Glasgow, Scotland.” Father Quinn waved the dust from his face then sneezed.

  “We are going across the pond for a record label lead? Isn’t that a little thin, Father?” Maeve asked.

  “It isn’t as thin as one would be quick to judge, Maeve. Ivy does know how to make an elixir of immense power. It was also the last known location my grandfather used a passport. Perhaps there is a connection though purely coincidental at the moment.” Bud reveled in the renewed hope of finding his grandfather and Ivy.

  “Follow me. Be careful. The steps are rather steep.” Father Quinn stepped down to the stairwell revealed by the trapdoor.

  “Oh, I am sick of underground tunnels, labs, stairwells, sacrificial fonts, etcetera,” Bud said, but reluctantly followed.

  “I think you may get a kick out of this subterranean spot, Bud. Maeve, pull the trapdoor shut, please.” Father Quinn led Bud and Maeve down the stairwell that was lit by rickety electric lights as if they were original to the advent of electrical power.

  Their descent lasted a considerable amount of time, at least three to four minutes. A long way down.

  “Here we are. I hope this switch still works.” Father Quinn pulled down a cobwebbed large lever. Lights flashed in the narrow, arched room, over and over.

  “Sweet Jesus, please help us,” Father Quinn pleaded.

  The lights ceased flashing. They pulsed on and steadily accepted the power. The booming sound of a large engine combined with the steady rotation of a fan kicking on rumbled through the brick walls.

  “Yes! Phew!” Father Quinn walked over to a large cylindrical device on its side wedged in a toboggan-like track and pushed a button. A high-pitched whistle and forced air seeped from the device, and a glass door opened. The cylinder was a vehicle with two seats inside.

  “This can’t actually be real,” Bud said.

  “Oh, it’s very real, and it works, Bud. It works. Behold the I&M Tube!”

  “A pneumatic tube travel system in Chicago? How on earth…?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  RIDE OF A LIFETIME

  “When the I &M Canal was being built, the city of Chicago and churches helped finance this tube travel system for supplies for the workers and for fast transport to a hospital here in the city. Digging the canal was dangerous work. Lots of dynamite. It still works. Hop in. Take it all the way to the end of the line which will be the campus of Lewis University in Romeoville. Padre Martinez will be waiting for you on the other end to arrange your travel to Scotland.”

  Bud’s mouth was agape. Maeve cracked a smile.

  “This will be fun. Get in, Bud. Let’s go.” Maeve hopped into the copper tube. The chair was not comfy. It was cold and not cushioned at all.

  “Are there no seatbelts?” Bud asked, his wonder diminishing as reality set in.

  “Live a little, Hutchins.” Maeve patted the seat in front of her.

  “Rather amusing coming from you who just recently achieved a live state once more,” Bud said.

  “Hutchins. Time is of the essence. You must go now,” Father Quinn demanded.

  “Very well, then.” Bud hopped in the pneumatic vehicle. The Father quickly secured the door over their heads, then locked it from the outside.

  A loud hissing sound smacked Bud and Maeve’s ears. Forced air filled the vehicle. The metal tube readied for its journey.

  Father Quinn blessed the tube with the sign of the cross. He then smiled and pushed forward on a lever next to the mouth of the tunnel.

  “Here we go, Bud! Haven’t you ever been to an amusement park?”

  “Museums, yes. Kiddie parks. NO!”

  The stale yellow ambient light quickly faded. Darkness and speed overwhelmed them. The momentum of their launch pushed them back in their uncomfortable chairs. Bud’s head moved to the side.

  “Woohoo!” Maeve screamed in Bud’s ear.

  The pneumatic vehicle screeched down the tube, headed southwest to Lewis University, located in a suburb of Chicago. Sparks flew around Bud and Maeve.

  Maeve grabbed Bud’s shoulders. The journey lasted longer than they would have wished. Bud figured it had been ten minutes already.

  Their speed lessened. The end of the tube must have been near.

  The stress on their chests alleviated.

  Bud said, “Most unpleasant yet exhilarating. I must say.”

  “Totally amazing. How amazing is it to be alive again!” Maeve leaned forward and squeezed Bud’s shoulders again.

  The sparks dissipated. Light from the end of the line filled the tunnel. The forced air let up. The vehicle came to a full stop.

  Bud could barely move. Maeve seemed energized. Ready to ride the tube again.

  Another loud hissing sound.

  Padre Martinez unlocked the vehicle door.

  “Wonderful to see you, Father. What a dreadful trip.” Bud qu
ickly lifted himself out of the pneumatic tube.

  “Again! Again!” Maeve followed Bud out of the vehicle.

  “Glad you enjoyed the ride, Maeve my dear. I am afraid your next trip might not be so thrilling. There is a chartered plane ready to take you both to Scotland.”

  They now found themselves in a large hangar with mostly small regional airplanes, some propeller aircraft and choppers. Nothing with the range for the over 3000 mile trip to Glasgow.

  “I trust we will be transferring planes. Surely nothing in this hangar can make the trip,” Bud said.

  “Your personal chartered aircraft is out on the runway.” Padre Martinez closed a trapdoor where the tube was located and then pushed a few boxes that seemed to move quite easily over the floor that covered the tube’s location.

  “How clever of the Order to conceal that. Full of surprises.” Bud smiled. He started to feel a sense of camaraderie with the secret Order he’d found himself a part of.

  Padre Martinez wasted no time. He ran to a small door and waved to Bud and Maeve who were still wobbly from their intense trip through the pneumatic tube. They sped up and reached the door.

  Dawn’s light began to peek through the eastern horizon. Bud noticed a small jet airplane waiting for them. On the side of the plane were the words The Holy Spirit.

  “Get on board. Have faith, Bud.” Padre Martinez patted his back.

  The runway steps unfolded from the side of the plane.

  “Thank you, Padre Martinez!” Maeve hugged him.

  “Yes, thank you. Off to Scotland, then. Please do keep us in the loop of Ivy’s whereabouts.” Bud climbed the steps to the plane.

  The interior’s white leather chairs and warm wooden trim put Bud at ease. He looked to the cockpit. No pilot yet.

  Maeve climbed in after him. “This is beautiful. Wow. Just. Wow.”

  The stairs started to fold back into the plane.

  “Maeve don’t do that just yet. There is no pilot to fly the craft.”

  “Bud, I didn’t do anything.”

  “Father Martinez! We need a pilot!” Bud put his head in the fast-closing doorway.

  “Have faith and buckle up, Bud. You are departing immediately.”

  “Bud, sit. Do as he says.” Maeve buckled herself into one of the posh leather chairs.

  “Who is flying the plane?” Bud examined the door, trying to stop it from completely closing. It shut and locked itself.

  “Oh lord.”

  “Exactly. Sit, Bud.” Maeve again patted a chair for Bud to sit in.

  The engines fired. Still no one in the cockpit.

  Bud shook his head and sat in the chair, his eyes wide, his heart beating fast.

  The Holy Spirit moved down the runway and prepped for takeoff.

  Chapter Sixteen

  CAPTIVE

  Ivy’s head pounded with pain. Her left cheek and neck ached from the long sleep she must have experienced. She pulled herself up off the pillow and looked around. The room was small, circular, and the walls inlayed with large stone blocks, like the inside of a medieval castle. The cot she’d slept on felt more comfortable than it had any right to be. She fumbled for her glasses. Her blurred vision proved sufficient enough to find them on a round wooden table next to the cot. The table’s contents showed two ibuprofen, a glass of water, and a note.

  Ivy picked up the note and read aloud, “Please take the painkillers. Your headache will need to subside. Head down the winding stairs for further instruction.”

  Ivy’s nerves shook from fear. She fell back on the cot. Tears flowed from her eyes, and they quickly turned as cold as the drafty stone room. A few more sobs. A few more minutes of intense anxiety and fear petrified her fetal position.

  “The man we tried to help. He did this.” Ivy spoke aloud to comfort herself.

  She raised up from the cot once more. She wiped the tears from her eyes, dried the trails from her cheeks, and massaged her temples. She looked to the ibuprofen and water.

  “No. Don’t be dumb.” Ivy hit the glass and pills to the floor.

  The brilliant archaeology student examined the room. She turned around and looked up. Light peeked in through a small window. Ivy stood on the cot and pulled herself to the window. The view discouraged her. Grey skies, misty mountains framed and reflected off a large body of water, and a rocky bottom defended the base of her tower. No roads. She would have to swim away if she could find a way out of this castle.

  “Shit. Am I in a castle? Must be in Europe somewhere. This is not a window. It’s an arrow slit. Shit.” Ivy couldn’t get out of the room without following the note’s instruction. She would have to travel down the winding stairwell and find a way out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  QUINT

  Vincentas took his wireless headphones off his head and sighed. He stared at the instruments strewn about the room and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Elizabeth, we need to re-record that bass line. It is ever so slightly off rhythm. Then we can remix the whole track.”

  A voice came through the speaker in the studio he was in. “I was thinking the same thing. We can do that first thing when you get back from the show.”

  “I suppose. I just want to be done with this album. Ugh. Very well. You are dismissed for the night, Elizabeth. Send them in now, please.”

  Bela and a man dressed in rags entered the studio.

  “Disgusting, Quint. Could you have changed? You smell like piss.” Vincentas waved his hand in front of his face.

  “I had to get into character.” Quint smelled his sleeve.

  “We have her for you, sir,” Bela said meekly.

  “Bela, your pathetic lack of confidence is going to end me. What the hell did you say?” Vincentas stood from his piano bench.

  “Quint brought the Chinese woman from Chicago,” Bela said, louder this time.

  “What about the other two, especially that Hutchins kid?”

  “Dead. That young female monk was quite adept at fighting me off, but I overpowered the both of them. They have both been dealt with. Not a problem anymore.”

  “Very good news, gentlemen. I have to hit the road for a concert for the next couple nights. Prep the girl and set her to work. Upon my return, I want to meet her. ’Ninety-nine percent perspiration, one percent inspiration,’ an old friend of mine once said.” Vincentas grabbed a towel and wiped the back of his neck. A day in the studio playing several instruments proved good cardio.

  “Quint. Bathe, for Christ’s sake. You are coming with me on the road. Bela, I mean it about the girl. Expect to see progress upon my return. Make sure it happens.”

  Quint and Bela left the studio. The walked side by side through the castle hallway.

  “I lied to him,” Quint whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Bela’s brow furrowed.

  “I didn’t kill the other two. But I didn’t want to incur his wrath.”

  “Don’t you think his anger will increase if he finds out you lied?” Bela’s voice shook.

  “Those two were being hunted by the local authorities. I don’t think we have to worry about them anyway. He would have taken most of his anger out on you, Bela. You should be thanking me. He won’t find out. If he does, it may not be such a bad idea after all. To keep them alive.”

  “What does that mean, Quint?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE BOTTOM OF THE WINDING STAIRS

  Ivy’s choices were extremely limited. The note said to proceed down the stairwell. She sighed and opened the large arched wooden door. Blackened steel torches lit the narrow hall that immediately gave way to the steps. She took her step, surprised at how tall and steep it felt. She looked down and felt as if she would fall, but the well was so narrow, a far fall would be improbable.

  The musty smell of the tower stairwell attacked her nose. It was not unlike the smell of the Archaeology Institute. The smell of the hallway where Tricia had died. Ivy took a deep breath in an attempt to beat back the fear
she felt after witnessing her friend’s death. The cold touch of the stone walls provided no respite, no mercy from the overwhelming sense of dread.

  The stairwell ended with another arched wooden door framed by two torches protruding from the wall. The torches’ flames were robust, bright, and violently flickering. The door opened. A small hunchbacked man stood in the frame.

  “Ms. Zheng. Welcome. I trust you had a good sleep. You really should have taken the pain meds I set out for you. I am Bela. Please follow me.” Bela stepped aside to allow Ivy to pass.

  Ivy thought about bull-rushing him and running the hell out, but to where? The lake surrounding the castle she found herself trapped in? She didn’t have much of a choice.

  “I take it you were watching me sleep?” Ivy walked out of the tower into a large gothic hallway with vaulted ceilings and more torches.

  “We must ensure your safety and do take it upon ourselves to observe our guests so that we may anticipate their needs.” Bela led her down the hallway farther into the castle and away from the perimeter tower.

  “You kidnapped me and then treat me like a guest at a five-star hotel? Why am I here? Where the hell am I?” Ivy didn’t mince words.

  “You will be compensated for your work here at Castle McDougall. I assure you that the means with which you were brought here, you will consider a blessing.”

  “I am here to work? What makes you think I will be willing to work for you?”

  “You will not be forced to work. We think you will find the work stimulating. It is geared towards your strengths. Now please, no more talk of work. Dinner will be served shortly.” Bela pushed open another large wooden door just off the grand entrance of Castle McDougall.

  The smell of turkey filled the air. Ivy’s stomach growled immediately and audibly.

  “Glad you are ready to eat. The staff has been preparing your meal the majority of the day.”