Rapture Falls

by Matt Drabble

  Baine watched the man with interest from his vantage point, he could spot the police walk a mile away, from his plain clothes dress he could tell that the man was a detective and from his age and confident composed stride obvious a fairly senior one. The man was tall and powerfully built, he had a balance and grace despite his size, Baine’s keen intuition always warned him of opponents to avoid if confrontation was not extremely necessary and for the time being at least it was not. Baine had arrived at the church first thing only to be to have his plans thwarted by the appearance of the detective, he had observed their conversation with a growing interest that had peeked at the unexpected mention of his own name. If the detective, this McCullum, was any sort of a policeman he would have smelt the priest’s lies when denying any recognition of his name, Baine had no idea of his own connection to the priest nor why Gabriel had directed them together but he sure as hell intended to find out. Baine started his way back around to the rear of the building, he pirouetted his path through the large gothic tombstones that bared his progress and began to edge toward a small service door. The old disused entrance groaned and strained in protest as Baine forced it open as stealthily as he could, he came into the building to the right of the alter within the lengthy shadows and moved towards the office door. Through the solid oak he could make out the sounds of the priest who appeared to be using the phone, Baine sank down with his back to the door and listened.

  “Marsh be still and listen”, Jacobs’ voice drifted up and through the porous stone building, “If I want your opinion then I will give it to you child”, the one sided conversation continued, “The good Inspector’s name is McCullum, M-c-C-u-l-l-u-m, you know what to do about this, do it and do it now”.

  Baine was processing his options when his mobile abruptly sprang into life shattering his anonymity, the chair within the office scrapped loudly as if flung backwards, Baine moved and moved fast. He was shocked to hear the office door thrown open before he could make it out of the church, he turned to look over his shoulder as he broke for the exit, the priest was silhouetted in the doorway, nothing human could have moved that fast, Baine was quick but his guy made him look like he was running slow motion through quicksand.

  “Mr. Baine”, the priest’s voice boomed commandingly within the echoed boundaries of the dark church, “Perhaps you could spare me a moment of your time?”

  Despite himself Baine stopped, his legs ground to a halt and he stayed there rooted to the cold stone floor, his body would no longer obey his simple directions, the sensation was similar to his confrontation with Gabriel, he turned to face Jacobs. “Ah shit, now what the fuck are you?”

  “My child I am more than even you could possibly imagine” the priest walked slowly towards him until he stood within inches.

  A thin blood trail dripped onto the floor as Baine’s fingernails bit deeply into his palms, he clenched his fists in frustration, he itched to lash out and pound the priest’s arrogant face, but he could only stare daggers.

  “Why don’t you follow me son”, the priest turned and moved back into the rear office, unbelievably Baine found his feet following, soon he found himself seated opposite Father Jacobs unable to move but he still struggled in vain.

  “Why do you resist my brother?” the priest genuinely inquired, “Do you not feel our connection, do you not feel at home, we are one here, we are all brothers”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you are anymore than I really know what the fuck I am chief, up until five minutes ago I lived in a happy haze until someone woke me up” Baine barked.

  “Gabriel”, the priest shook his head regrettably, “He never did know his place”.

  Baine sat securely held, “I suppose you’ve got a story too, some great life tale about the world and my special place in it?”

  “Pretty much the same story I imagine” the priest continued, “Most of what Gabriel told you was the truth, the betrayal, the Cube, the Grigori and the 11th Order all of which happened and continue to do so”.

  “So where do you fit in, no doubt you’ve got some other jolly pirate gang nickname, I am so sick of you fuckers, all I want is my life and to be left the fuck alone”.

  “Ah if only that were possible” the priest feigned a mocking sadness, “We my friend are the balance, we are the protectors, we are charged with mankind’s security against those who would seek to destroy them, we are...”

  “You my friend, are a horse’s ass” Baine glibbed, he felt none of his outward bravado but felt it necessary for his emotions, or lack of them to remain hidden from the Priest.

  “You dare to mock me” Jacobs exploded, he stood and reached across the desk with lightening speed and grabbed him with painful anger, “You dare to stand in my house and disrespect your betters”

  Baine was thrown across the room with ease, he struck the far wall as dust fell from the ceiling caused by the power of the impact. He tried to rise to his feet in defiance but sank back down once again, the priest was already upon him raining blows down from furious angles, Baine was helpless, he tried to offer resistance but the priest was somehow too fast and too strong, he was a boy in the face of a man, almost as soon as the volcano had erupted it subsided, he released Baine and sat back down slowly, the kindly smile resurfaced once again. “Please forgive me, I.., I’m afraid that I can be somewhat temperamental on certain subjects”.

  Baine maintained his composure on the exterior but inside he was concerned, the priest had moved unbelievably fast and he was strong, stronger than him, he had felt the power of the man when he grabbed him, for the first time in this life he was overmatched and had to try a unfamiliar approach of tact,

  “My mistake father, truly, this is all rather new to me and confusing, I don’t really know my place in all of this”.

  “You Baine are one of us; you are one of God’s soldiers, one of the chosen. This is the house of the Knights Templar, forget about religion as you think you know it, the original word has been bastardized the world over, there is but one God, he who created the world and everything that lay upon it. What you’ve been told about the Cube of Matatron is correct, it holds the secrets of creation, the Archangels of heaven could not hold their jealousy of God’s love for mankind, the place at the right hand of God was usurped. So they attempted the most foul of betrayals and sought to take the Cube for their nefarious purposes, but there truly is no honour amongst thieves and they fought for control” the priest lowered his head in genuine regret. “My name is Hugues de Payens, I was born in the year 1070 in the Chateau Payn about 10km from Troyes in Champagne and I was charged by God himself with creating the order of the Knights Templar in the year of our lord 1118. Our solitary mission has always remained the same, to hold the line between the Cube and the Archangels of whichever side, you were part of that line child, you were part of the shield”.

  Baine did not waste any of his time attempting to process the latest fantastical information that had been laid upon him, he had already seen and heard enough in the last few days to know that anything was possible but everyone seemed to be lying and he trusted no-one. The only thing that appeared to be consistent in all of this was the Cube, hold the Cube and hold the power, this had rapidly become his new motto in life, he would hold the Cube and he would hold the power and everyone else could go fuck themselves. “So what do you want from me, you know other than boring me to death?”

  “You are to continue fulfilling your duties, it is rather unfortunate that Gabriel has awoken your dormant side, you were always more of a potent weapon within your single minded manner, but it matters not” de Payens waved a nonchalant arm across the conversation. “A problem has arisen in the form of the police detective that you were obviously observing, he is quite contrary to our wishes at this time and you are to remove him”.

  Baine felt the tension loosen and slowly release him from its grasp, he stood and flexed his arms, he stretched his spine and massaged his left shoulder blade with his right hand wind milling the arm. �
�So you have his details” he asked having no intention whatsoever of following anyone’s instructions ever again.

  “Ah if only it were that easy, I think that it is best for all concerned if you were returned to your previous, more manageable state” de Payens had plucked a large ancient looking leather bound book from his desk drawer, he stood tall and began to chant, “Somnus in filiolus lux lucios quod exito ut filiolus vengeance per incendia”, (sleep in Gods light and awake as Gods vengeance through fire), “Somnus in filiolus lux lucios quod exito ut filiolus vengeance per incendia”, (sleep in Gods light and awake as Gods vengeance through fire) over and over again.

  Baine would have laughed at the absurdity if only he were able, he began to falter, his head felt heavy and inexplicably weary, his vision blurred and his thoughts muddled, he was so very tired, he felt as though he could sleep for a thousand years, all the while de Payens continued to chant. Baine was slipping away, he was slowly being put back to sleep, his fledgling new life retired once again into hibernation. He sagged heavily forward, the desk was all that prevented him from falling to the floor and being lost forever, he grasped blindly, his fingers scattered the desks tabletop objects sending many crashing onto the ground. He was so close now, he was almost gone, at the last he clasped a silver letter opener with a crucifix handle, he thrust the blade hard into his right thigh, the flash of stabbing pain granted him a momentary reprieve as the blade tore open his skin, with all that he had left he threw the knife at de Payens. The priest was so enthralled by his incantation that even with all of his ability and experience he was unable to prevent the blade striking home, the silver knife embedded itself in his neck leaving a gaping slashed would that spouted a gyser of blood and halted his capacity for speech. Baine took his first and only advantage, he stumbled backwards out of the office and toward the small side service door, he flung himself fully at it shattering the old and decayed wood, suddenly he was in the morning’s cold embrace. He fell face first into the wet grass which served as a tonic to spur him on further in his somewhat ungracious retreat.

  De Payens had by now staggered to the door, he was choking on the acid copper taste of his own blood as it drowned him from the inside, he fell to his knees as the world turned dark, his mind still refusing to accept the facts as it had been so very long since anyone or anything had bested him in such an outrageous manner. He was drifting into the blackness accompanied by a shrill panic stricken scream provided by Delores Griffin, the churches sixty year old resident housekeeper who had just arrived for work and now stood hysterically over his prone body.

  The call over the radio interrupted McCullums musings before he was even halfway back to the station, he cursed the timing, he had known that something was wrong at the church he could smell it but whatever had happened he had missed it. He knew that he could not answer the call directly as he had no official business being there in the first place, the report was of a serious assault possibly a murder and it would require a senior officer to attend, he pulled the car over and waited. About three minutes later he got the call, “Charlie Alpha two zero” the car’s radio spat out his call sign, “Receiving” he answered, “Reports of a serious assault at St Paul’s church Adamstown uniform attending” the mechanical voice chimed, “Charlie Alpha two zero enroute”. McCullum turned the car around and headed back to the church already feeling responsible for whatever he might find. As he approached, the twirling dancing lights of the ambulances greeted him along with an increasing crowd eager for news, many clasped hands were being wrung with worry over their beloved pastor. McCullum parked his car across from the throng and waded through to the churches now locked and guarded gates, he flashed his ID at the young and nervous looking constable standing alone and lost amidst the agitated audience. He bounded across the churchyard and into St Paul’s, the paramedics were now propelling a figure laid upon a wheeled stretcher through the gloom of the church, the figure was momentarily highlighted by the windows stream of light as it passed through before returning to the gloom in between giving McCullum only a intermittent glimpse of identification. As he rushed forward he was relieved beyond words to see that the figure was not completely covered by the sheet that wrapped it but merely tucked in up the head. He was shocked into temporary bewilderment as he realized that the horizontal motionless man was in fact Father Andrew Jacobs, in his heart he had felt that whatever had happened here the priest was going to be at great risk and he had furiously cursed himself during the panicked drive back. He had been struck by a fierce desire to protect and almost serve the Priest, but now as Jacobs lay under a warm red blanket unconscious he felt that desire ebbing away leaving him bewildered by the departure from his normal senses as though waking from a particularly vivid dream, he pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to draw tears in an attempt to ground himself further.

  McCullum recognized one of the paramedics from his frequent trips to the emergency wards to either interview victims or perpetrators, Ian Durham was a cheerful wiry man in his mid forties, in his experience always one of life’s eternal optimists.

  “Glad to see it’s you McCullum” Durham said looking ashen faced and distraught, “I hope you get the bastard that did this and cut off his balls” he spat with venom

  In a week of surprises McCullum found the amiable paramedics face one of the most disturbing

  “What have we got Durham” he asked.

  “Some cunt has cut Father Jacobs’s throat, some bastard, some..” spittle froze on his lips as he became speechless with ravenous fury.

  McCullum attempted a soothing tone as the other paramedic, a man whom he did not know, looked evermore nervous and uncomfortable at his partners demeanour, McCullum chose to address him instead, “What’s the situation son”

  The younger man answered, “Throat wound sir, there’s a silver letter opener in the back office that looks to be the weapon used, he’s lost a lot of blood but we’ve got him stable, strange though”

  “What is?” McCullum enquired

  “Well from the amount of blood on the floor and the time of the call from the housekeeper I would have expected him to have been long since expired by the time that we got here”, Durham’s sharp intake caused his young companion to look at him angrily, “Sorry Ian but you know what I mean” he offered.

  McCullum accompanied them back to the awaiting ambulance, he watched as they loaded the priest into the back, they were constantly monitoring Jacobs and from their ever relaxing manners they were becoming increasingly calm over his condition. Durham closed himself into the rear of the ambulance with the priest leaving McCullum with his partner, McCullum raised an eyebrow at the younger man inquisitively,

  “Ian’s a regular here, he doesn’t talk much about it but I know that he thinks the world of Father Jacobs, he nearly had a fit when we got here, I thought I was going to be loading him in the back with the priest” the paramedic walked around to the drivers door whilst McCullum filed this information away to be pondered whether or not this information was relevant.

  “Did he say anything, Father Jacobs I mean” he asked the departing paramedic through the driver’s window.

  “I think that he said something to Ian, but I couldn’t be 100% sure what it was, sounded like rain or dane or drain something like that”

  McCullum’s ears pricked at this “Could it have been Baine?”

  “Yeah, yeah that sounds about right, what does it mean?”

  “I have no idea” McCullum answered truthfully to himself as the ambulance pulled away leaving him standing alone with his somewhat confused thoughts. He stood outside just out of reach of the growing crowd, by now three other uniformed constables had arrived much to the relief of the younger man alone at the gates, the crowd had grown to around forty of fifty people all whom seemed terrified at the very thought of losing their pastor. McCullum had never been much into religion and failed to see the attraction in handing over so much control to an unproven unsubstantiated force, he had never felt the
need to lean so heavily on others for support or for confirmation. He saw the scared faces on those camped outside of the wrought iron gates, expressions of panic and alarm, the horde slowly parted as the forensic team led by DCI Jones fought their way through to the front, the DCI was not a morning person and McCullum was depressed to see him here at all. His fat superior barreled and shoved his through the people and their questions and greeted McCullum with his usual grace,

  “What the fuck hour do you call this Mac?” he barked sullenly

  “A little early Sir I’ll grant you” McCullum raised an internal eyebrow at the use of a nickname of any sort from Jones.

  “So what we got, some priest caught with his pecker stuck in a choirboy?” Jones’ attitude was a confusing mix of friendliness and aggression.

  “Too early to say at the minute, nothing at the scene, no witnesses as yet, jack shit really” McCullum hated doing it but he knew that it was necessary to resort to a more industrial language in order to ingratiate himself further in with his boss.

  The next couple of hours passed excruciatingly slowly as the forensic team took sample and photo’s whilst all the while McCullum had to summon up laughs and foul language as Jones spouted almost every bigoted and racist adjective and passed them off as humor. Finally, mercifully, they were done, the scene was documented and dusted, potential witnesses canvassed and questioned, the surrounding area checked for footprints, fibers and any other evidence. The priest had been attacked in the rear office, the weapon used was a small silver letter opener that the sturdy housekeeper had identified as belonging to Father Jacobs, so the assailant had not brought a weapon with him or her making the attack somewhat less premeditated an escalating argument perhaps, the blood trail led to a small service door that had been surprisingly destroyed, presumably the attacker had fled this way and the good father had followed chasing off his invader, McCullum felt an admiration for the guts of the older man. Eventually he had managed to extricate himself from the clutches of DCI Jones taking a rain check on the man’s offer of a booze sodden lunch with explanations of prior unbreakable commitment, he finally sat alone in his car attempting to separate in his mind the evidence of the scene from the inane prattle of his alleged superior. All he needed after his strange experience with the Priest was the chance to centre himself again, to breathe slowly and deeply. The housekeeper had provided him with a saintly picture of Andrew Jacobs, which whilst flattering the priest as the second coming, provided him with very little knowledge of the man. He had tried surreptitiously talking to some isolated members of the outside crowd, apparently the more questions that he had asked of the congregation the more he was told of the communities and the populations’ redemption and salvation at the sole hands of one white haired priest, his flock truly flocked around his reputation. He had been unable to find a single word against the man that could be construed as anything other than perfect, this sort of adulation made him a little uncomfortable. Jones was already convinced that Jacobs had tried to convert the wrong scumbag teenager and got left with a tasty reminder of keeping your nose out, either that or he stuck his hand up the wrong cassock. McCullum headed back into the city centre with only one lead rattling around his head, Baine, the name had cropped again and he did not believe in coincidences.