3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series)

by Ryan, Jonathan

  I opened my eyes to see florescent lighting above me, and I realized at that moment that I wasn’t in heaven.

  Father Neal peered over me. “Hello, lad, welcome back.”

  I tried to speak, but all that came out was a froggy croak.

  “Here, let me get you some water,” he said.

  He poked a plastic straw at my chapped lips, and I sipped like a hamster that had forgotten the location of its water bottle.

  “Thanks,” I groaned. “I feel like shit.”

  “I’m sure you do. A broken arm, a broken leg, and a broken collar bone. Not to mention two cracked ribs.” Father Neal sounded worried.

  “Did they have to do any surgery?”

  “No, thank Our Lord. But you have been under pretty heavy pain medication for the past day or so. This is the first time you have been coherent in the past twenty four hours.” He paused. “How do you feel?”

  I canvassed my body. I couldn’t really feel anything. “Light.”

  He laughed. “That would be the medication. It won’t always feel like that. They are already starting to wean you off a bit.”

  “Great.”

  “The doctor said you will make a full recovery. None of your bones splintered. You’ll just be a walking barometer for the rest of your life.”

  “Ah, come on, that is an old wives’ tale.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t make it any less true.” He chuckled.

  I laughed and pain shot through my body. “Don’t make me laugh, please.”

  His gnarled aged hands rested on his cane as he leaned in close to me. “You did a brave thing on the mound, boy.”

  “We Irish are known for our mad flights of bravery, you know.”

  “True, very true.” He smiled with satisfaction like I was his own son.

  “Father, can I ask you a question?”

  He glanced at the door. “The doctors might yell at me, but of course.”

  “You used magick, didn’t you?”

  He stopped smiling. “No, Aidan. Not in that situation. What do you remember?”

  “You reaching into a canvas bag and bright light shining out of it. You walking toward those assholes, and light shooting from your hand, or rather, what you had in your hand.”

  He nodded. “You remember well.”

  “So, what was it?”

  He sighed. “I’m sure you’ll grow tired of this answer from me, but I can’t tell you yet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There are some secrets you’re not ready for. What I had in my hand helped me fight the Bone Masters without using their own weapons against them. I had a weapon of my own, but it wasn’t mine.”

  I couldn’t tell if the medicine clogged my head or I just didn’t get his point. “Okay, but they used magick, right? Is all of it evil?”

  He rubbed his chin. “No, I suppose not. Not inherently. But it is dangerous like an atomic bomb.”

  “Isn’t that splitting hairs?” I said, struggling through Father Neal’s vague hints.

  “Not at all. There is some magick that is strictly prohibited by Scripture. Conjuring the dead. Seeking knowledge of the future. Any sort that treads on the ground of God is forbidden. In other areas of magick, well, there is more of a gray area.”

  “Like how much of a gray area?”

  “Well, no more or less than how we think of dealing with modern technology. All of it is good but can be used for hideous purposes.”

  “So, that is how you drove away the spirits? A magickal object? The object was magickal, but not you?”

  “Since you are ignorant of these things, I’ll pray that God will forgive your blasphemy.” The voice of the lion had returned. I didn’t know how he could go from a meek and humble priest to an authoritative prophet so quickly.

  “I didn’t mean to blaspheme, but seriously, I still don’t understand.”

  “Magick relies on formulas used in the right way, chanted in the right sequence.” He looked at me and took my hand. “What I said was a prayer to the Trinity, and the object I held responded to the evil around it.”

  “I still don’t see the difference.”

  “Every difference in the world. Magick, like a science experiment, is a manipulation of the natural environment. Prayer, however, is a direct contact with the One who made the world. You’re asking, not manipulating. You couldn’t if you tried, anyway. As for the object I held and how it works, you might say, holy reacts to the unholy.”

  I touched my free hand to my head. Nothing made sense, but it had to be the pain medication. I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

  “I need to thank you,” I said.

  “For saving your life? There’s no need. That was not me, and you know it from Jennifer’s story.”

  “I know, but that isn’t what I meant. You did save something of mine, though.”

  “Oh?” he asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

  “My faith.”

  Father Neal sat down and gripped the arms of his chair. “You know, you aren’t the only one who has struggled with doubt.”

  “I know.” I figured he would give me the whole speech of how many people had struggled with the same thing.

  “No, you don’t know,” he insisted. “I did as well. Still do at times, especially when I’m the loneliest for Judy or my daughters.”

  Something about the way he said that made me pause. “Everyone is gone, aren’t they? Not just Judy?”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “They all died in the same car crash five years ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  We sat in silence for some time. I thought about the people who appeared to him, the ones Jennifer said had touched him.

  “Your family came to you on the mound, didn’t they?”

  “They did. And I wanted to go with them. I must confess, my dear boy, for a moment, I didn’t care whether you died or not. Please forgive me.”

  I nodded. “I saw Amanda.”

  “I figured you might.”

  “Do we all look like that when we die?”

  Father Neal smiled. “Promising, isn’t it? I must say, I was a hunk when I was younger. It will be nice not to have liver spots or these wrinkles. I struggle with the sin of vanity as you can see.”

  I laughed again and regretted it as the pain meds began to wear off. “Stop it, priest.” I paused. “Where is Jennifer?”

  “She is being debriefed. She just went in about an hour ago.”

  “I hope she doesn’t get fired.”

  Father Neal roared with laughter. “My dear absurd Irish boy, there’s no way on God’s earth they will fire her. Can you imagine what would happen if the press got a hold of that one? Firing the woman detective who caught the men who committed these horrible crimes?”

  “But still, I mean, she was … is, I hope … in a relationship with a former suspect.”

  “Well, you never really were a suspect, were you?”

  “No, I guess not,” I said as I rubbed my head. “Where are Mike and Daniel?”

  The lines on Father Neal’s face tightened, and his brow lowered. “They’re in the county jail. Mike keeps asking to see us both.”

  “But couldn’t they, you know, magick themselves out?”

  He gave a thin smile but full of humor all the same. “As I told Jennifer, they are bound.”

  “By you?”

  “Yes, in a way.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Magick, as supernatural as it seems, is also very much a function of the body, a function none of us really uses.”

  “Like the fact that we don’t use all of our brain?”

  “That is exactly what it is, actually.”

  “How do you stop them then?”

  “There is a chemical which, if injected into the bloodstream, will alter that part of the brain.”

  “I’m sorry, but biology was my major in college. I’ve never heard of that.”

  Father Neal laughed. “As
if the Brotherhood would let the world know about that.”

  “The Brotherhood?”

  “Of magicians, Aidan, of magicians. Charles was one, you know, before he got out. Now, it seems as if all of them have taken the Dark Red.”

  “But he was a Christian.”

  “And so am I.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not a magician anymore, but I know all the tricks. The shot, as they call it, is a recent invention.”

  “Okay, so can you teach me to be a magician?” I said, half serious.

  “Not going to happen.” Father Neal gripped the cup-shaped top of his cane.

  “Why not, if some magick is not a sin?”

  He frowned. “It’s not ideal. Trust me; you are better off without it.”

  “Well, at least let me be your assistant at St. Patrick’s or something. I’m most likely without a job now.”

  “Now, now, you Irish are way too emotional and jump to conclusions.” He tapped me on the arm with his cane.

  “I’m not. Once they find out about my doubts and all that, they aren’t going to want me around.” I sat up a bit. “Besides, I don’t want to go back. Bunch of self-righteous, heads up their asses, know nothing…”

  “Careful, Aidan,” Father Neal scolded. “They are still the men God appointed over His church. Besides, they aren’t much different than us, sinners doing an impossible job.”

  “Yeah, well, they don’t need me.”

  “They are sheep without a shepherd right now. They need someone. Why not you?”

  “I can think of a lot of reasons.” I laid my head back on the pillow.

  “Well, I wouldn’t make any decisions while you are still high on pain medication.” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, I guess not.”

  We didn’t speak for a few minutes. Father Neal frowned as he stared silently at the wall opposite my bed. He seemed to be agonizing over something.

  “What’s wrong, Father?”

  He looked back at me. “Did they say anything that stuck out to you?”

  “Actually, I remember them saying something about the ritual not being about the Grinning Man. Something about drawing us out in the open.”

  Father Neal nodded. “Yes, I remember the same.”

  “What does that mean?” I slurred, my eyes drooping.

  “It’s nothing.” He smiled and patted my arm. “Go back to sleep.”

  As the pain medication took effect, I closed my eyes. Father Neal whispered, “Remember the painting in my office, dear boy. We’re protected.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  They released me from the hospital a few days later. I healed slowly, but it had its benefits as Jennifer came over every night and took care of me. Over the next several weeks, the pain went from being constant to occasional.

  The session at Knox worked hard during my time in the hospital, counseling the congregation after the shocking revelation that their pastor was a murderer. Of course, they had no idea Mike was also a real magician, a fact that probably would have blown their Presbyterian minds.

  The elders decided to call a special meeting to plan the next steps. I had healed enough to chair the meeting as the only remaining Teaching Elder.

  I got to the church and struggled out of the car. As I hobbled on my crutches, I realized that I could walk, more or less, on my own. Bethany, my physical therapist, said I was making good progress. After a particularly painful session the day before, I told her that she must moonlight at Guantanamo Bay, using her skills to obtain information to keep us all safe. She laughed and ordered me to do some more leg lifts.

  I walked into the church and nearly started crying. It was the first time I’d been in that building since the Serpent Mound. I headed for the conference room, but stopped when I reached Mike’s office. The nameplate on the door had been removed. I walked inside and saw the cops had left much of Mike’s stuff in the office. I wondered if Sheila was going to come and clean everything out. I couldn’t imagine what she and the kids were going through.

  Voices came from down the hall. They were all waiting for me.

  “Hey, guys, sorry I’m late,” I said, entering the room.

  The elders all stared at me. Each one of them had visited me in the hospital, but I hadn’t seen them since I was released. I stared back, not sure what to say. The silence grew uncomfortable until Jim raised his three hundred pound bulk from his chair and the rest of the elders followed. He walked over to me and stuck out his hand.

  “Aidan, on behalf of all the Fathers and Brothers, I thank you,” he said, shaking my hand.

  “Thank me? For what? I exposed our pastor, put him in jail, and brought pain to the church.” I sat down in Mike’s old chair at the head of the table.

  A moment of silence followed. It was coming. I knew it. They would ask me to leave and would begin the firing process.

  “As for our pastor, he showed himself for what he really was,” John said. “You stood up for what was right. You fought him and his despicable deeds. You are to be lauded.”

  I swear I will look in his office sometime for the dictionary of 19th century words. My head swirled at their praise.

  “As for your doubts,” he continued, “there isn’t a man in this room who hasn’t struggled or still doesn’t struggle with the same thing. That just makes you human.”

  I sat there, numb. These men, most of whom I had actually hated to some degree, were showing me mercy and grace. I didn’t understand it. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Try calling the Fathers and Brothers to order so we can start our meeting.” Jim winked.

  “Fathers and Brothers,” I said with a smile. “I call this meeting to order.”

  “Now, Aidan,” Jim said. “We are going to need to appoint a moderator for our first discussion.”

  “Sure.” I looked down the table. “John, would you mind?”

  “Of course not.” John cleared his throat. “Fathers and Brothers, the purpose of this discussion is that we need to elect a pastoral search committee.” He paused. “But before we do, we need to address the issue of interim pastor.”

  Uh oh, here it comes.

  “In light of everything that Aidan has done for this church and his service over the past three years, I would move that we ask Aidan to serve as interim pastor until such a time as the search committee finds a new head pastor. At that time, he will step back into his current role, which we will then promote to associate pastor.”

  I stared at John. I had fought with that guy on a consistent basis over every little thing I had tried to change in the church. A guy who I’d always thought was a total asshole. I couldn’t think of one subject on which we had ever agreed. Now, he wanted me to take over the church for what would probably amount to the next year, even after I had admitted doubting my faith.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Nothing yet,” John said, grinning. “The motion hasn’t been seconded.”

  Bill quickly raised his hand, and the floor was opened for discussion.

  “Well, Aidan, what do you say?” Bill asked.

  “I … I don’t … can you give me a few minutes?”

  I grabbed my crutches and walked outside to get some fresh air. I didn’t know what to do. My faith had been restored, but it was still shaky. There were still unresolved questions in my mind about a lot of things. I picked up my cell phone and called Father Neal.

  “Hello, my boy,” he bellowed.

  “I need your advice.”

  “To the point, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, sorry, the elders are waiting for me.”

  “And what are they waiting on?”

  “They want me to be interim pastor and then promote me to associate pastor.”

  “Well, why not? I can’t think of anyone better, and they probably can’t either.”

  “Not sure that is very comforting.” I leaned on my crutches.

  “Why are you hesitating? Is it still
your faith?” Worry crept into his voice.

  “Yes. Well, no, not really. I mean, I’m just not sure I want to be a Presbyterian anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “I just … I felt so unprepared for everything that happened.”

  Father Neal laughed. “As if I or anyone else was prepared?”

  “Better prepared than me.”

  “Maybe, but that is not a reason to leave your ordination behind.”

  I frowned. “No, I guess not.”

  “Listen, you need to take some time to think through these issues. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have them, but you are just realizing you have them. You shouldn’t make a decision based on that, not right now.” He paused. “And in the meantime, you have a chance to serve God’s people. You can make the final decision after they find a new head pastor. It would be a more appropriate time, you know, especially after everything Knox is going through right now. They need someone they know and trust. And that’s you.”

  “Okay, priest, you win.”

  “Good lad. Call me later this week, and we will talk. Cheers.”

  I walked back into the room, and the elders went silent. I looked each one of them in the eye. “Fathers and Brothers, I accept and will do the best I can for Knox.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The next week, the weather became unseasonably warm, so Jennifer and I took a trip to Shroom Mound. The mounds seemed to draw me. I’d made her take me to the Ohio Historical Society to learn more about them. Their history seemed shrouded in mystery.

  Shroom Mound had been a burial mound looking over a rock quarry in a small city park west of Columbus. Evening winter sunsets could be spectacular as the light mixed in red, yellow, white, and purple explosions of color.

  “The doctors did a good job with the stitches,” Jennifer said as she traced a soft finger over the scar lines that spelled half of God’s name in Hebrew on my forehead.

  “Yeah, I guess I’m marked for life,” I said. “Can’t really be an atheist now. It would be like having a tattoo of an ex-girlfriend on my ass.”

  She laughed. “One that I would make you get removed.”

  “So, have things pretty much calmed down at the station?”