“As I said, I lost control of it when we crashed.”
“So you chased after this madman completely unarmed?” His tone clearly said he didn’t believe him but Clay was determined to protect the possession of his own weapon. He didn’t know if it would be seized as evidence of something if discovered. Or simply seized.
“Not the wisest course of action, I guess.” Clay tried to look embarrassed.
“And he took two shots at you somewhere in the cemetery.”
“That’s when I decided discretion was the better part of valor and discontinued the chase.”
“How did he do that, Mr. Montague? I mean, since you initially had control of his weapon? Do you think he carried two guns, possibly like some of your American cowboys?”
“Perhaps...or when we collided and I lost his weapon, he picked it up.”
“Yes...how convenient?” The Chief Superintendent scowled at Clay. “There is something rotten here, Mr. Montague, but I have enough to do tonight. The constable has your hotel address and will drive you and Miss Lapierre back to your suite and collect your passports while he’s there. We shall send a car for you both about ten tomorrow. Please be ready.”
He stared at them again for a moment and then spun on his heel and stalked off.
~ 10 ~
Cardinal Malachi stepped out of the Pope’s office, his mind whirling. Behind him, the grinning Prefect Giuseppe Lopez retreated backwards pulling the double doors closed and bowing as he did so. As he looked back, Malachi thought Lopez was the perfect personification of a Cheshire Cat.
It was over, thought a stunned Malachi. Though he’d been allowed to give a shortened version of his presentation, he soon realized that his words were falling on deaf ears. It was obvious that His Holiness had already been thoroughly briefed by someone other than Malachi.
When the Cardinal finished, the Pope had simply said that there would be no more money expended on such a ridiculous venture. He briefly commiserated with Malachi about having inherited the Hellspawn dossier but ventured that this was plainly a holdover from the Middle Ages that should have been discontinued centuries ago. And, certainly not pursued in the active sense. The Church could no longer afford to squander millions of dollars on an ecclesiastical ghost story. Not to mention the risk to the Vatican’s reputation if word got out it was conducting a hunt for one of hell’s demons, purportedly living on earth.
After carefully questioning Malachi about the various expenditures, and finding his team had a flying administration center and hospital aboard a leased A320, he ordered the aircraft lease terminated immediately. He also wanted The Seven disbanded forthwith, the Crusaders returned to their duties as soon as possible, and the Watchers reassigned. Malachi was to work with the Holy See Budget Committee to salvage what they could.
Now, as Malachi walked across Saint Peter’s Square from the Papal Palace, storm clouds were gathering directly overhead; he felt a light but welcome sprinkling. How appropriate, he thought feeling the coolness of the rain on his face. There was little doubt he’d been set up. Someone had gotten to the Holy Father. Someone had made a point of deliberately undermining their work. But who? There had been little in the way of information from the tired looking Pontiff to give him any hint as to who had done the dirty deed; rather, it was plain he was extremely annoyed over the entire program and wanted it to cease. Based on the pointed and well-informed questions which His Holiness had so eloquently posed, one thing was obvious: there was a traitor in their group. Someone had passed on minute details and very complete information of the Hellspawn mission.
On exiting the Pope’s chambers Malachi had immediately called Father Peter Austin via his cell phone. He told him what had happened and ordered an emergency meeting of The Seven in the Chamber for the next morning. Just what he was going to tell them, however, he wasn’t quite sure. They were so damned close to finding their ancient quarry. And they seemed to have a weapon that might take care of it once and for all. His mind racing, he was already exploring possible options when his cell phone rang. It was more bad news.
~ 11 ~
After the constable had seen them to their room and secured both passports, he bid them a polite good evening and left Clay and Maria looking at each other. They said not a word but Clay could see Maria’s lower lip beginning to tremble. “Maria...what is it?” he asked, as kindly as he could.
She didn’t reply but instead gave a deep sigh and turned quickly away. She had wrapped her arms about her. After a moment he saw her shoulders heaving and deep sobs wracked her small frame. For a moment he stood there, unsure of what to do. Finally he allowed his natural feelings to overcome his awkwardness with her being a nun. He reached out, turned her slowly around and pulled her to his chest. She came willingly and cried for several minutes as he attempted to comfort her. Then, taking a deep breath, she eased out of his arms and sought to compose herself.
“T-Thank you....I’m sorry...so sorry,” she said.
“For what?” asked Clay, somewhat bewildered. “For feeling human?”
“N-no...” she stuttered. “For-for being useless. For not anticipating or sensing anything until it was on top of the car. And then, for not being able to help that poor policeman.” She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and mopped her eyes. “What good am I to you? What good am I to anyone in this-this...hunt...or whatever it is we’re doing?”
“Maria, that wasn’t your fault? We just happened to be there. That’s all. He would have died if we were there or not.”
“Y-you mean Adramelech wasn’t following us?”
“Well, we have no way of knowing if that is true,” Clay said, honestly. “But we don’t even know if it was him. Unless he moved his hunting grounds to Highgate and we just happened to come along at the right time.”
“Clay, he knew we were all coming to Rome. He knew what car we were in. And now he was able to know we were going to Highgate. Cardinal Malachi said he was knowing but not all knowing. And in all the teachings of Sister Raphael, she never once said that this thing was omnipotent. So how did he know?”
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“He already knows we’re trying to find him,” she reasoned, heading for her bathroom where she splashed some water on her face and returned with towel in hand.
They explored what happened for several more minutes and then Maria, eyes drooping, reluctantly yawned. “I’m exhausted. I’ll call Cardinal Malachi and tell him what happened and then let’s get to bed. The police will be here at ten tomorrow.”
An hour later, despite Clay gently sawing logs in the other bed, Maria found it almost impossible to sleep. She tossed and turned, rearranged her pillows, got up for water and finally went to the window and looked out at the almost deserted London street.
It was raining and the only life below consisted of a man in a trench coat with umbrella in hand hurrying along the sidewalk. He turned into a doorway as a cab, its dome light on, splashed by and vanished leaving the street empty. It looked as lonely and forlorn as Maria felt. Doubts as to her abilities, physic and otherwise, surfaced again. What if she no longer was able to sense evil or the Beast’s impending arrival until it was at their throats? What if it was on top of them, like tonight, before she had a chance to warn Clay? From everything she’d learned, it could kill them both in an instant. And, despite the detective seeming to feel confident carrying his small cannon, she knew it wouldn’t do much against a demon.
And there was something else bothering her. For the first time in many years, she was feeling a familiar stirring in her heart, much like when she first began dating as a teenager. She admitted to herself that she was finding Clay somewhat attractive. Not only was he inordinately handsome, but he presented qualities she found especially endearing: kindness, sensitivity and strength. At the same time his grey eyes conveyed a sense of vulnerability and deep loss that somehow made her want to help and protect him. Juxtaposed against this attraction was the guilt of knowing his true purpose
on their mission. Finally, despite how wrong it was, deep in her heart she wished there might be more between them – an impossible dream. She had dedicated herself to Christ and there could be no turning back.
Or could there? Indeed, she could sense that he had some feelings for her. And despite her best efforts, she was beginning to feel the same way towards him. But even if he did care for her in that way, how could she suddenly choose a secular life after so many years dedicated to achieving a closer relationship with God?
She sighed and turned from the window. Anyhow, she thought, for any of this to be relevant, first they’d have to survive. Lately she found it strange that whenever she tried to speculate on the future and consider possibilities for herself, or even to think about what her life would be like in a convent, she saw little. It was as though someone had put up a wall between her and the future. Well, fate was fate she decided and if it was the Lord’s will that they both survive and for her to cleave onto the man – she smiled at the biblical term that had swept into her mind – then it would happen. If it was His will that they give their lives for God, then so be it.
Being as quiet as possible, she crawled back into bed. There she lay until a growing blanket of darkness covered her worries and she fell fast asleep. The grandfather clock in the corner of their room labored on, slowly ticking away the seconds, turning them into minutes and then hours.
Maria didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when she partially awoke and kicked off the covers. She felt incredibly warm, as though burning up with a fever. She rolled onto her stomach and draped her bare arm over the side of the mattress looking for any way to cool down. That felt good, she decided through a half stupor; she would leave off the covers.
As she began to slip back to sleep, something long and milky slowly snaked out from the darkness underneath the bed. Maria felt the cold clamminess of its grip and the wiry bristles of hair on its skin a fraction of a second before it clamped down on her arm with a vice-like hold.
She tried to scream, tried to pull back, but the grip was like iron. It began to pull her across the bed.
Paralyzed with terror, heart hammering in her ears, she yelled for Clay to help her. No words came out. Desperately she grabbed the bed sheets with her left hand and held on. It didn’t work; inexorably she was slowly dragged towards the side of the bed. A fetid stench wafted upward and she retched. It was only through sheer will she didn’t throw up. Whatever had hold of her continued to relentlessly pull her towards the edge.
Maria tried to scream again; still no sound came out. The tucked sheets she gripped for a purchase abruptly let go. She slid towards the side and what she instinctively knew was certain death.
CLAY...MY GOD...HELP ME...IT’S GOING TO KILL ME!
But the call was only in her mind; his unbroken breathing continued barely a few feet away. There was to be no reprieve. She was certain that this was the end. She could feel hate and anger transferred through its grip on her arm. She tried to free herself, to cry out again. Nothing. As the balance of her weight shifted, she slipped over the bedside and fell towards the floor and the monster that lurked beneath her bed. She summoned her last reserve of strength and silently screamed....
HEAVENLY FATHER...PLEASE...PLEASE HELP ME!
Maria thudded onto the carpet on her back. The grip suddenly loosened and slithered from her arm.
“What in the hell...?” The bedside lamp snapped on and Clay, hair rumpled and eyes confused, stared down at her between the beds. “Maria...are you okay? What are you doing there?”
She was panting like she’d just run a marathon. Sweat poured from her face and she quickly yanked her hand from under the bed and dived over Clay and onto his bed behind him, hitting the wall with a resounding thump. “Dear God...it’s there...it’s under the bed,” she yelled, relieved to hear the sound of her voice. “Your gun...get your gun...!”
Clay’s stared uncomprehendingly at Maria and now leaned down and looked under her bed. “There’s nothing there,” he said, turning awkwardly because her weight was pinning him down with his own bed covers. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s under my bed,” she gasped, unconvinced the shadows were empty.
Clay pulled free of the covers, his feet hit the floor and he dropped to a prone position supporting himself with his arms. “There’s nothing under your bed except some pretty vicious dust bunnies,” he said lightly, realizing what had happened. “It was a dream, Maria, a nightmare.” He stood up.
She stared up at him, her eyes large and dark. Damp chestnut hair lay plastered by perspiration across her forehead. Her breathing gradually returned to normal.
“Nightmare?” she asked. “N-Nothing there? Are-are you sure?”
“Positive...look for yourself.”
Hesitantly she approached the edge of his bed and leaned over. “But I felt it grab my hand. It dragged me onto the floor.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently grasped her trembling shoulders. “It was a nightmare; you rolled off your bed.”
“B-But it felt so real,” she said, fingering the silver Crucifix hanging from her neck for comfort. Suddenly aware of her baby doll pajamas, she drew his blanket across her bare thighs.
“Of course it felt real,” he said gently, feeling a deep shudder run through her body as she remembered. “It’s no wonder with all this stuff going on. I’m not sure that this is the best thing for you to be doing. For either of us.” He wiped the sodden hair back from her forehead. “Are you okay now? Back into your own bed and catch a few winks...I mean before the ‘fuzz’ arrive in the morning?”
He smiled encouragingly at her, hoping to further relieve her tension.
She wasn’t buying it and shook her head, large eyes begging him for an invitation.
“You want to stay right there?”
She nodded. “We-we can’t...we mustn’t...you know,” She stammered, looking distressed and embarrassed. What exactly was she doing, she wondered, other than betraying her own thoughts?
Clay smiled again and got back into bed. “It’s alright. I’m sure we’re both too sleepy to consider anything untoward,” he lied gently, letting her off any perceived hook as he switched off the light and turned outward. “Now go to sleep. Okay?
“Thank you,” she said simply and curled up as close to the wall as she could. But that lasted only for a moment. “God...I’m-I’m still so scared,” she said, breaking the silence.
He turned toward here. “Come here, kiddo,” he said. “No more bogeymen tonight.”
She came to him without hesitation and he folded her into his arms. Within a few seconds she couldn’t help burrowing her head into his shoulder and Clay felt her beginning to relax. Her breath and her hair both smelled as sweet as a summer flower.
Despite the terror she had felt moments before, somehow she now felt totally safe in his arms. She found herself smiling in relief and contentment. Exhausted, it wasn’t long before she was snoring softly. For Clay, however, sleep was not so easy. As the minutes passed, all inhibitions banished by sleep, she had instinctively moved closer seeking warmth and he could feel her small apple-like breasts against his chest and the Venus mound of her pelvis pressed lightly against his leg. Every breath she took sent electric tingles through his whole body and he groaned as he fought a physical desire for her. There was no doubt in his mind now; this small nun had truly captured his heart. But what were the options? Really there were none, he admitted to himself. She had already told him she hoped to take her final vows after this was over. Any feelings he might have for her were most certainly doomed. If only we could stay like this forever, he mused silently and finally slipped into the nether world of sleep.
* * * *
PART SIX
“WHEN NIGHT IS DARKEST”
God answers sharp and sudden on some
Prayers,
And thrusts, the thing we have prayed
For in our face,
A gauntlet with a gift in
‘it.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
AUROA LEIGH (1857)
~ 1 ~
Three cups of tea were set down along with milk and sweetener on Detective Chief Superintendent Cruickshank’s desk. A female constable placed three spoons on his blotter, took her tray and began to exit. She stopped at the door and looked back. “Will that be all, Chief Superintendent,” she asked, matter-of-factly.
Cruickshank nodded: “Yes...I shan’t forget this, Constable.”
“Always glad to ‘serve’, sir,” she said with a smile. “Davidson will buy more coffee before lunch.” She exited, humming softly.
“Good,” Cruickshank said. He turned his attention to Clay and Maria “Very sorry about this. We each give a pound every fortnight into the kitty and we’re supposed to have coffee on hand. So there’ll be some jangled nerves this morning. Fortunately I’m a tea man, myself.”
Maria smiled and Clay was happy she was regaining a semblance of normality. The morning had been awkward when they woke up, her body still nestled in his arms. As she stirred he could feel that her first instinct was to recoil like a jilted snake, however, his grip was such that it wasn’t possible so she had settled for a sleepy good morning greeting. It had its intended effect and Clay immediately opened his arms and freed her.
It soon became obvious that both felt the awkwardness so he vanished into the bathroom to take a shower and shave. He met her once more as they simultaneously came into the bedroom to retrieve fresh clothes. Neither spoke but he tried to give her a friendly smile. He then worried for the next ten minutes as he shaved and brushed his teeth that it might have looked like a leer. A knock at their door announced a Metropolitan London Bobby, helmet in hand, who politely offered them a ride to Scotland Yard. On the trip, they exchanged conversation about the weather and little else.
“I’d like you to return to the crime scene this morning, in particular, where you crashed,” Cruickshank said when they entered his office. “I would dearly love to find this chap’s hiding place; if we can trace his path in daylight when he ran from you, we may have a spot of luck and find him.”
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