“Where are we going?” Clay yelled, but his words were whipped away by the wind as Maria clasped his hand tightly and looked at him for reassurance. For the first time he saw fear in her eyes.
Gallo motioned and then moved to the side. Carefully he led them onto a barely discernible, narrow, earthen path which led sideways along the cliff face and gradually sloped downward. Two hundred feet below, a single misstep away, the ocean boiled.
They moved across the cliff for a hundred yards, all the way fighting the wind that threatened to pluck them off the face; they were now forced to tread on a broken rocky shelf no wider than a foot. It led to another rock shelf and another. Clay put the flashlight in his pocket and used one hand to grasp rocks that jutted out overhead and the other to hang on to Maria who often couldn’t reach the viable handholds. After five minutes, the biting cold wind and the wetness were beginning to take a toll as his fingers gradually lost their feeling.
Father Gallo seemed to have discovered a renewed energy and was moving across the rock face with the agility of a mountain goat – one hand grabbing the rocks and the other securing the aluminum case with the Relic inside. Maria and Clay exchanged glances. They cautiously moved forward again towards the priest and started in shock; Father Gallo had vanished.
“Oh my God,” Maria yelled, straining to be heard above the shriek of the wind. “Where is he?”
Both looked down towards the raging ocean below but the mist and spray prevented them from seeing anything.
“Father Gallo!” Maria screamed.
Nothing.
“He’s gone,” Clay replied, his voice shaking. He felt himself sag with a mixture of despair, grief and some relief since there was no longer any question of going on to face whatever lived in the castle. But his relief was, in fact, short-lived.
“I’m here,” Gallo called, his voice seemingly distant and distorted by the roar of the wind and water. “In here.”
Clay and Maria looked at each other in surprise. “Where?” Clay hollered back. “We can’t see you.”
“Keep coming. I’m in an opening.”
They resumed their forward trek, Clay still holding onto Maria with one hand. He squeezed around an outcrop with the bulge of flashlight in his pocket and the holstered revolver forcing him to lean farther out over the ledge than he wished. Just as he got set to push off again, he felt the outer rock crumbling under his forward foot. Instinctively he kicked off with his secure foot to land on another ledge a foot away where he seized a firm handhold. In doing so, however, he also violently yanked Maria’s arm. She stumbled forward, managed to get one foot on another ledge and then swung out into thin air. With a shriek, she dropped like a stone.
Without hesitation Clay tightened his grip on her hand to a vise-like hold and bent double as her weight almost dragged him over; she dangled in space twisting in the wind staring up at him in terror. Desperation sent a surge of adrenaline through him and he summoned every ounce of his remaining strength. With an energy reserved for those in mortal danger, he pulled. She came up like a cork popping out of a bottle and was back on the ledge and secure in his arms within a second.
“Oh my God,” she cried into his ear. “I-I thought I was a dead ...thank you. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Maria, I’m sorry...my fault,” he said, panting with the effort.
“In here...get in here,” Gallo shouted, standing safely on the edge of a large round passageway cut in the rock; it was so perfect it looked like it had been quarried.
“You don’t have to ask us twice,” Clay said, anxious not to become a casualty of the wild and broken coastline.
They took a few more steps and were able to attain the safety of the passage. Clay felt Maria trembling uncontrollably; he suspected it was from far more than the cold.
“Where are we?” he asked, as they worked to catch their breaths. The wind roared into the opening around them and howled its way down the rock corridor for some distance.
“It’s a tunnel under the castle,” Gallo said.
“How-how did you know it was here?” Maria asked, the full realization of just how close to death she had been moments before sinking in. She continued to shake and Clay drew her to him.
“I escaped through here,” Gallo explained. Without another word, he picked up the case and started to lead them deeper into the depths of the tunnel.
“Wait,” Clay said, his voice sounding hollow in the round enclosure. “Do you have a plan? Is there something we should be doing?”
“Yes,” Gallo said. “Pray.” With that he reached under his coat, removed his Crucifix from his cummerbund and flung it backwards over the lip of the tunnel and into the abyss.
“Why did you do that?”
“This is no place for holy objects,” the priest said shortly. “He senses these things. No use telegraphing our presence. Use the light.” He moved on.
Clay and Maria followed with Clay snapping on the flashlight. As they moved through the tunnel, the shriek of the wind gradually faded until it became a distant, undulating moan. It was soon replaced by an uneasy stillness that was punctuated only by the hollow sound of dripping water as they moved ever deeper. Following the pathway, they soon encountered a number of small and large caves, some featuring the mouths of other tunnels. Gallo seemed to know exactly where he was going and confidently selected each new entrance, leading them deeper into the recesses. Clay played the flashlight over the rocky walls of the tunnels that seemed to be uniformly the same size and devoid of any stones or other debris on the paths they followed.
They had just reached the third series of new tunnel entrances and Gallo had chosen one to the right when they heard a far-off shriek of human pain that rose in intensity, faded to a moan and finally disappeared altogether. It was soon followed by further keening, the words indistinguishable but definitely echoing confusion, sorrow and desperation; Gallo turned suddenly in a panic and quickly pushed them back out of the tunnel and into another entrance.
“What was that?” Maria asked, her eyes wide.
“You don’t want to know,” Gallo said, with a shudder and strode forward into the darkness of the middle tunnel. Clay and Maria hurried to catch up as Clay tried to shine the light ahead to illuminate Gallo’s path. Water continued to drip from the rocks and the light bounced off the moisture creating strange shadows that twisted and jumped from wall to floor to ceiling.
Within a few minutes they reached a squared-off, man-made passageway that was built of stone. Along the walls were flaming torches set in metal sconces angled at 45-degree angles.
“Christ, it looks like we’re in Dracula’s castle,” Clay said, attempting to lighten his own mood that was stuck somewhere between fear and despair.
“We should be so lucky,” Maria answered, continually scanning ahead and behind. Clutching Clay’s hand tighter and tighter, she now seemed to be walking ever more slowly; Clay began to feel like he was dragging her.
“Do you want to stay here, Maria?” he asked.
“N-Not on your life,” she stammered, weakly.
Now Clay also felt it increasingly difficult to advance. He lifted each foot with great effort. Father Gallo, however, seemed to be pulling away from them while they felt like they were struggling to walk through a vat of molasses. Their feet dragged and an omnipotent sense of a thick, phantasmal evil seemed to envelope both making it almost impossible to proceed. Clay held Maria’s hand trying to help. He would swear the air was growing thicker and thicker.
“M-My God...are...you having trouble breathing?” Clay asked, gasping.
Maria met his eyes and nodded as she took ever deeper breaths to compensate for the lack of oxygen in a normal breath. Gallo looked back and motioned them forward with his head. “Quickly, we must not delay.” He came back and seized Maria’s other hand. With Father Gallo’s help, they were released from that mysterious rendition of virtual “quicksand” in which they had become mired; they were able to walk normally again.
“The power of Christ and his goodness is helping us,” Maria mused softly. With those words, her eyes glazed over and she ceased to speak. Her feet began to drag again.
To Clay, she exhibited every sign of being lost in a trance with a wide range of emotions playing over her features as they walked. She stumbled several times and then suddenly collapsed. Frightened, Clay stopped and tended to her. She was breathing quickly, her eyelids jumping as though experiencing REM sleep. His battlefield first-aid training clicked in. He took her pulse. It was rapid but strong. To his great relief, after some seconds, she opened her eyes. They were large and liquid, and she looked at Clay with pity and despair.
“Oh Clay,” she said, sorrow in her voice. “I’m so sorry...so sorry...! I never wanted anything like this to happen to you. It’s not fair.”
“What do you mean?” he asked in alarm. “What is it?”
She stared at him for a moment and then looked around at her surroundings. She took a deep breath and gathered herself together. “I-It’s okay,” she stammered.
“Did you have a premonition?” Father Gallo asked, staring at her strangely.
“Let-let’s move on,” she said, struggling to her feet and leaning on him.
“You did...you saw the future?” the old priest exclaimed. “You saw what’s going to happen.”
Maria turned to Clay. “Clay...I’m sorry...I didn’t want you hurt...” She trailed off, her voice trembling and uneven.
The detective looked at her with the sudden realization that unfolding events had become transparent to Maria. Somehow she had seen their destiny. And, it didn’t look like there was a happy outcome for him.
“I want you to go back,” he said, his voice hardening. “Now! I want you out of here now!”
Maria shook her head as she sought to regain her balance. “Not possible. What will happen will happen. There’s no changing it.”
“What did you see, Maria?” he pleaded.
“Come...hurry,” Father Gallo interrupted perfunctorily from ahead. He beckoned them with urgent waves.
Moving forward with reluctance, Clay decided that as long as Maria would be alright, he could accept his fate. He held her hand a little tighter and realized that he would gladly go to his death if it meant protecting her.
The stone passageway gradually curved to the left. As they rounded a corner, they came to a stone, circular staircase leading upward, seemingly forever. In the shadow of the staircase Clay saw a pile of abnormally large humanoid skulls and a heap of bleached, yellow bones. “What in the hell are those?” he whispered to Gallo.
“Familiars who displeased him,” Father Gallo answered, and then suddenly snatched Maria’s hand and ran up the stairs, pulling her behind him. Gallo paused halfway up, turned and smiled down at Clay. It certainly wasn’t a benevolent smile. Nor was it one touched by any modicum of humor. Rather it was a venomous, sadistic grin, with lips stretched wide and nostrils flared – a look of triumphant glee. A sudden chill washed over Clay.
“Maria had a little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow,” the old priest chanted in a singsong fashion. “And, everywhere Maria went, Clay was sure to go.” He then screamed out a laugh and increased his speed up the stairs, his cassock billowing as he dragged Maria.
Clay felt his stomach sink and goose-bumps rise on his arms. Whatever had happened to Father Gallo, he no longer was the kindly old priest they had come to know. He raced after the pair of them. They were virtually running full tilt up the long winding stairs now and Clay knew he and Maria were in far more trouble than they could have ever imagined. “Stop...Father Gallo...stop!” he shouted.
The priest continued the climb until they reached the top of the stairs where there was another stone hallway. He paused with an iron grip on Maria’s arm as Clay reached them, revolver in hand. Maria was now struggling to free herself from his grasp, terror on her face. Gallo’s eyes were alert and bright, his age seeming to have dropped off. He stood taller and more robust, his stance suddenly threatening.
“Let her go!” Clay said, pointing the weapon at the priest’s head.
Gallo looked at him in amusement. “Or what? You’ll shoot me? You can’t hurt me, Clay. Don’t you get it? I’m under his protection.”
“Whose protection?” Clay asked, already knowing the answer. They’d been had.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Now let’s stop this game shall we?” He grabbed Maria by the back of the neck with one hand; she froze, afraid to move. Next, he gently put the case with the Relic down and placed his free hand on the top of Maria’s head, his long and now powerful fingers extending over the crown and around her forehead.
She stared helplessly back at Clay, paralyzed by the neck hold, unable to move or speak. Father Gallo relentlessly began squeezing, his fingers putting increased pressure on her skull. Maria’s eyes widened at the sudden pain and she choked back a whimper.
“If you want to see her live for a few more minutes, you’ll put that gun back in its holster where it belongs,” Gallo said. He smiled as Maria began to moan.
Clay quickly pushed the Ruger into his pocket and held up his empty hands. “What’s the matter with you? Stop...please stop,” he implored the priest.
“That’s much better.” Gallo released his grip.
Maria sank toward the floor in a dead faint. Clay moved forward quickly and caught her.
“What are you doing, Gallo?” Clay demanded angrily. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Apparently so,” Gallo said, with a shrug. “I suppose you might say I lost it while I was here for six months abandoned by the church and God and everyone else in the world. Left for dead...or worse.” The light of madness gleamed in his eyes.
“So that’s what this is about? Revenge?”
“Revenge? Hardly. This is about loyalty to one that is greater than our so called Trinity. This is about a power that isn’t afraid to get down deep and dirty, and work with humankind. This is about a force that vets the people of earth and actively works to eradicate the useless baggage in humanity. Much better than a benign Being that professes love while watching His beloved people get slaughtered by the millions, surrender to disease, and destroy their own planet without a thought for the next generation. Humankind is one big thieving ball of greed, avarice, and gluttony. And those are the nice people. Am I coming through? Hello? Getting the picture, Mister Montague?”
“You’re crazy,” Clay cried. “Whatever is here will be defeated. You’ll be arrested –!” He stopped in mid-sentence and felt a sudden terror welling up inside himself. Still holding Maria, who was slowly regaining her senses and trying to stand, he turned halfway around to face a new danger. The Little Witch, Rosalita, was walking slowly towards him from twenty feet away. Her red-rimmed eyes glared at him and a snarl spilled from her lips.
“No!” Maria whispered pulling a Crucifix from her anorak pocket and extending it towards the little girl; she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Gallo demanded, angrily. “I got rid of them this afternoon.”
Maria then spun towards the priest. “Stay back, Father.”
“Oh don’t be silly. That can’t hurt me. I’m no demon. At least, not yet. I haven’t taken the exam, chewed the gum OR bought the T-Shirt.” Rosalita remained at bay watching them with interest.
“Father, why are you doing this?” Maria cried. “What about God? What about your eternal soul?”
“Haven’t you been listening, you little bitch. Or are you still so fixated on becoming Christ’s whore that you can’t see past your holy hormones? Your God is a frightened turtle. We can do what we want down here on terra firma and He’s not going to care squat. It’s time for the real lord and master to see what kind of world he can create amongst this rabble, don’t you think?” His voice suddenly changed into a deep rasping whisper. “Satan, through
his exalted disciple Adramelech, the King of Fire, has earned a divine right to rule.”
Clay grabbed Maria’s hand. “C’mon...we’re getting out of here.” He started for the stairs.
“Stop them!” Gallo shouted at the familiar and the little girl instinctively moved between them and the stairs.
In one fluid motion Clay dropped Maria’s hand, snatched out his gun and was thumbing back the hammer as it came up. When it reached eye-level, he didn’t hesitate but drew a quick bead on Rosalita and fired six times. Flame belched from the muzzle but only two of the heavy slugs hit her in the right side of her chest punching through her dress and blowing blood, cloth and tissue out her back. She jerked violently at the head of the stairs, swayed for a moment, and finally fell face forward and didn’t move.
They all waited for what seemed an eternity but the child did not rise.
“Well, that’s a surprise,” Gallo said, with all the emotion of one reading the Sunday newspaper.
Clay quickly moved to the little girl, a rising tide of bile in his throat.
“No Clay...don’t go near her,” Maria begged, but Clay was already rolling her over.
He steeled himself against what might happen next if she awoke, but she remained mute, her eyes closed. “She’s dead,” Clay said aloud. And then he surprised himself by saying: “May God have mercy on her soul.”
With those words Rosalita’s hand snaked out and seized his wrist; he couldn’t help yelling in fright. However, the grip was weak as her eyes slowly fluttered open; this time they were not the eyes of an animal but the eyes of a tired and frightened little girl. In fact, her eyes, dark as almonds, were quite beautiful; “G-Gracias s-senor,” she managed to say, bright human arterial blood from a lung wound spotting her lips. “Thank you...now I c-can be w-warm...and sleep.” She sighed once and closed her eyes forever.
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