Bad Blood

by Ren Hamilton

  For the second time, Carbone experienced a gust of air blasting by him. The strange breeze continued past Carbone and swept Juris’s hair up, and he screeched as a new mark appeared. Father Carbone could sense an energy in the dusty basement. Something was down there with them, and it was hell bent on hurting Juris. Luigi Carbone was more frightened than he’d ever been in his life.

  “Juris, tell me how help you!”

  Juris writhed and struggled against the steel ropes. “You can help by getting me out of this church as promised!”

  Moving to the bottom of the stairs, Carbone yelled up to Copie. “Did you get a hold of him yet?”

  “I’m trying!” Copie yelled back.

  Upstairs, a shaken Copie was frantically trying to get Agent Litner on the phone. A nasal-sounding woman answered his private line. “Steven Litner’s office.”

  “Yeah. This is Copeland Smith. I need to speak with Litner right away.”

  “He is unavailable,” the woman said politely. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Copie’s voice elevated to a frantic squeak. “This is an emergency! I need to speak with Litner now! There must be some way you can get a hold of him.”

  “All right, Mr. Smith, calm down. I will contact him for you, but I need to know the nature of the emergency.”

  “Just tell him it’s Copie and that there’s a problem with the house guest.”

  “The house guest?”

  “Yes! Damn it! Just get him on the phone!”

  “Please hold.”

  Copie listened to hold music while Juris continued to screech down below. It was a high-pitched, echoing cry, the likes of which Copie wished he’d never heard. He’d hear that sound in his nightmares. There was a clicking sound and Agent Litner was on the line. “Copie, it’s Litner. What’s going on?”

  “Agent Litner! You’ve got to come out here and move Juris, man! There’s some creepy shit going on and I for one am ready to bolt!”

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “It started about an hour ago. Father Carbone was over at the church giving mass, so I was all alone in the house when I heard Juris screaming. I ran down to the cellar and he was completely freaking out. He had two bleeding scratches on his face, and he kept saying that ‘they’ had found him.”

  “Scratches? Are his hands still cuffed?”

  “He’s still restrained. Then right before my eyes another scratch appeared. I felt the air move. I felt it, Litner. It was like something passed by me really fast, but there was nothing there! I’m scared! You have to come right now. Juris is losing his mind down there!”

  As if in support of this, Juris screamed loudly. “I can hear him,” Litner said calmly.

  “He’s been calling for you, and he’s begging to be moved!”

  “All right, stay calm. I’m about an hour away, but I’ll leave right now. I have the new location ready and we can move him as soon as I get there.”

  “An hour? A fucking hour? That’s not good enough! He’s got scratches all over his face. He’ll look like shredded beef by the time you get here!”

  “I’m sorry, Copie. That’s the best I can do. Try wrapping his face in gauze bandages. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  Copie forced himself to take another breath. “Okay. But if his head starts spinning around, I’m out of here. I don’t care how many people want me dead.” Copie hung up and ran down the stairs to join Father Carbone. “Litner will be here in an hour to move him.”

  “An hour?” the priest cried in disbelief.

  Copie relayed his conversation with Litner. Carbone found a first aid kit and the two of them wrapped Juris’s head with bandages, leaving only his eyes, mouth and nostrils exposed. He looked like something from an old mummy movie. Soon, tiny spots of blood began to seep through the bandages. Father Carbone looked at Copie. “Are you sure he said an hour?”

  “It’s the best he can do. How’s he doing?” Copie asked.

  “Whatever it was seems to have stopped for the time being,” Carbone said. “Maybe it’s gone.”

  “It’s still here, priest. Can’t you see it?” Juris hissed. “I told you it wasn’t safe! You should have listened to me!”

  Carbone approached him. “Juris, we see nothing. You must explain this to me so I can help you.”

  Juris chuckled through his bandages. “I had forgotten about your limited perception. My enemy hovers in that corner by the window.” Juris nodded his head toward the upper corner of the basement ceiling, where the tiny window met the wall.

  Copie pointed. In a shaky whisper, he said, “Up there?”

  “Yes. Do you see that the curtain moves though there is no source of breeze in this stagnant space?”

  Copie and the priest both looked up at the window. A dusty, floral-patterned valance hung above it, moving up and down as though a gentle breeze was blowing it. Copie gaped at the curtain but Father Carbone was skeptical. “I’m sorry Juris, I don’t see anything. You’ll just have to wait until Agent Litner gets here. I can’t move you without his authorization.”

  Juris writhed, gasping as though he was in the presence of a noxious gas. After several seconds of this he calmed and turned his bandaged head toward Father Carbone. His eyes shone out of the white cotton mask like reflective marbles. “I’ll make deal with you. If I can prove to you there is something in here, something you can see with your own eyes, will you move me outside? Will you take me off the property?”

  The priest frowned. “Just how exactly would you do that?”

  “I will tell you how, but you must promise to move me off of church property. I’m not asking you to untie me. You can put me in the graveyard next door until your lawman friend comes.”

  Carbone looked at the blowing curtain, then at Copie, whose eyes were big as saucers. “Father Carbone,” Copie said, “It wouldn’t hurt to move him next door. I know I’d like to get him out of here, and I suspect you feel the same.”

  The priest paced the room. “Okay Juris. Show me.”

  Juris breathed a quick sigh of relief, then began to give instructions. He told Carbone to get a spray bottle, the kind used to mist plants, and mix a multitude of ingredients together, including water, wine, clover leaves, sage, and salt. He told him that once he had these items together, to bring the spray bottle downstairs to him, and he would add one last ingredient.

  Father Carbone went upstairs and did what Juris asked. He had a moment of panic when he thought he was out of sage, but then he found an old container in the rear of his spice cabinet. He was able to find clover leaves outside, but he had no wine in the house. He walked over to the church and slid quietly through the side door. Jimmy the altar boy gave him an odd look as he poured some ceremonial wine into the yellow, plastic spray bottle. Father Carbone smiled and nodded at Jimmy as though this was perfectly normal.

  He hurried back across the lawn and into his house, taking the steps down to the basement two at a time. “I’ve got it,” he announced and accidentally bumped into Copie at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Bring it here,” Juris commanded. Father Carbone approached him. “The final ingredient is my blood,” Juris said. “You have to cut me.”

  Father Carbone stopped short. “I am not cutting you, Juris.”

  “You must. You need only make a small slice in my thumb. You can do it. Just don’t get any of my blood on your skin. You, young one, go and fetch the priest a knife.”

  Copie looked uncertain but he bounded up the stairs and returned with a steak knife. Reluctantly, Father Carbone took it. “Hold the bottle underneath my hand. Make a small cut in my thumb and squeeze at least five drops into the mixture,” Juris said.

  Father Carbone hesitated, grimacing.

  “Do it!” Juris snapped. Father Carbone walked around behind him and knelt down, holding the bottle just below Juris’s cuffed hands. He made a thin slice along the prisoner’s thumb and the blood seeped. He squeezed six drops into the bottle, then replace
d the lid pump.

  “Okay Juris. It’s done, but this is starting to feel like bullshit,” Carbone said.

  “Give it a mix,” Juris said. Father Carbone shook the bottle, then looked to Juris expectantly. “Good. Now go over to the corner and mist the air just under that window.”

  Father Carbone looked to Copie for reassurance. “Go ahead!” Copie urged. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Oh, very brave you are Copie,” the priest snapped. “Would you prefer to do the honors?”

  Copie backed away. “No sir. You’re the witch doctor. You do it.”

  “Stop bickering! Do it now!” Juris screamed.

  Father Carbone walked cautiously over to the corner near the window, and sprayed a pink mist into the air. Nothing happened. “Spray it again,” Juris ordered.

  He did. A pink mist came out, hung in the air, and dissipated. Carbone looked over his shoulder at Juris. “Nothing happened.”

  “Again!” Juris yelled. “Keep spraying! Don’t be shy with it!”

  Father Carbone sighed and began to saturate the air in front of him with repeated sprays of the strange concoction. A minty herbal scent filled the air, but otherwise, nothing happened. He turned around to yell at Juris, “I told you, there’s nothing—”

  “Look!” Copie screamed.

  Carbone turned around and stumbled back, tripping over a mop bucket as the translucent image took partial form. “What?” he said, gaping up from the floor. He struggled to his feet. “What is that?”

  There were three feet of what looked like a feathered wing, the translucent image of a body, and half a face. The form was not solid, but more like seeing a film projection.

  “Spray it again!” Juris yelled.

  Carbone stepped forward and pumped the bottle directly at the fading image, and the form became whole. “My God,” he whispered.

  The silky white wings moved rhythmically like waves on a calm sea. The body was now materialized enough to see detail. Its hair was like pure light, curling softly around a smooth, placid face. Only the huge gold eyes seemed to have life, and they were set in a concentrated stare on Juris. Father Carbone let out sigh of awe. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He sprayed another quick mist at the thing…then suddenly it turned on him and he dropped the bottle.

  Its lovely face distorted, lip curled up, bearing a menacing set of fangs. It made a guttural sound like a wild dog about to strike. Father Carbone stumbled back to where Copie stood. “Shit!” he squeaked. “It growled at me.”

  The creature tucked its glorious wings behind it and dove like a fighter jet across the room. Juris screamed as the thing circled over his head. The ghostly image ran a glowing hand across Juris’s face and clawed off one of the bandages.

  “Get me out of here!” Juris screamed.

  Copie bolted up the stairs and was gone. Carbone screamed up after him. “Copie! Damn you! Get back down here. I need your help!”

  Noises were coming out of the disembodied creature, a muffled sound, like the words were being transported into the room from some far away place. It sounded like the distant voices sometimes heard as background noise when between radio stations. The golden creature circled Juris, speaking choppy, vaguely syllabic sounds. Juris ducked and squirmed as it circled over his head.

  Father Carbone heard a metallic clank come from behind him, and saw Copie. He’d gone outside and was opening the bulkhead door. Carbone ran to the bulkhead and helped him push it open from the inside. A flood of warm air blasted his face. “I thought you’d run home to mommy.”

  “Tempting, but no. Drag Juris over here and I’ll help you get him outside.”

  “Got ya.”

  The priest walked cautiously back to where Juris sat. The creature’s image was beginning to fade. Suddenly, the thought of not being able to see the thing and knowing it was there was more frightening than actually seeing it. He grabbed the spray bottle off the floor, gave it a good shake, and pumped a couple of rounds of the mixture at the back of the circling enigma. He immediately regretted doing so.

  The translucent creature turned in a lightning-fast swoosh and came at Father Carbone. It stopped an inch from his face, large glowing eyes matched up directly with his. Then it bared fangs and roared like a tiger, setting the windows to rattle.

  To see something so beautiful instantly become so terrifying was almost unbearable. Father Carbone felt his bodily functions turn tail, and warmth spread over his legs as he wet his trousers. The thing quickly retreated and turned its attention back to Juris, leaving the priest to stand shaking and paralyzed with fear.

  “Do not fret,” Juris yelled. “It cannot hurt you. It thinks it is protecting this place from me. Now get me out of here!”

  Father Carbone still couldn’t move. Then Copie was there, shaking him. “Carbone! Carbone! I realize this is probably the highlight of your religious career and all, but can we please grab Juris and get the fuck out of here?”

  Father Carbone shook himself. “Right. Let’s do it.”

  They each took hold of one side of the chair, tipped it, and dragged Juris across the basement floor toward the waiting bulkhead. The translucent creature gazed at them for a moment, placid and beautiful once more, then faded completely.

  They were both sweating and panting by the time they got Juris and his chair out of the basement and over to the front gates of the cemetery. They were not far from the church, but they were off the property, and this was as far as Juris was going until Agent Litner got there. They sat down with their backs against the fence, breathing heavily and waiting for their nerves to calm. When Copie got his breath back he looked at the priest and wrinkled his nose. Looking down he said, “Did you…”

  “Yes, Copie, I wet myself. You can tease me about it at a later date. Right now, I just don’t care.”

  Copie nodded. “How’s our boy?” He stood and walked over to Juris, who gazed up at him through a half tattered, bloody bandage. Copie unraveled the bandage and examined Juris’s face. It was a map of red, razor-thin gashes. “Wow. Are you going to be all right?”

  “Such concern,” Juris said coldly. “I will heal.”

  Copie shivered and rubbed his arms. “Juris, I know we’re not friends, but please tell me. What the fuck was that thing? And what did you do to piss it off?”

  “Good question.” Father Carbone stood and joined Copie. “You must be damned indeed. I’ve never read about an angel growling and bearing fangs like that.”

  Juris rolled his eyes. “That was not an angel, you dumb man.”

  “It had wings!”

  “So do birds, bats, houseflies, and certain tropical fish. Not everything with wings is an angel. That was a Schlarr.”

  Carbone frowned. “A Schlarr?”

  “Or what your dumb religion calls a Principality. And incidentally, it is not unusual for an angel to hiss and growl.”

  “Well I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Cope nudged the priest. “You said you didn’t believe in angels anyway.”

  “Yeah, well a lot’s happened since then, hasn’t it?”

  Juris scoffed. “They are not what you read of in your dumb books, dumb man. Angels are despicable creatures. Not as deplorable as the Schlarr, but annoying. Angels are useless pests. Apt that you should worship them so. You are—”

  “I’m a dumb man,” Carbone said. “I got it, Juris, the first twenty times you called me dumb.” The priest cocked his head to the side. “So what are you then?”

  Juris’s grinned. “I am something else. Your lawman is here. I’ll be leaving you now.”

  Father Carbone and Copie gazed up the empty road. Thirty seconds later, Agent Litner’s black car rolled down the street and pulled up in front of the church. Copie called out, and waved him over.

  “Goodbye,” Juris said. “We shall meet again.”

  “Only in my nightmares,” Copie said.

  Agent Litner had brought Agent Rourke with him, and they loaded Juris in
to the car. Rourke seemed to take particular pleasure in roughly tossing Juris into the back seat. He’d clearly not forgotten being thrown across the parking lot at the nightclub.

  Father Carbone gave Litner a compact version of what had happened. Before he got into the car, Litner turned back to Father Carbone, his expression unsettled. “Didn’t you say you had a friend that was well versed in these matters?”

  “I called Father Bello yesterday, but I got his voicemail.”

  Litner’s eyes narrowed. “Call him again. I’ll be back.”

  “Be careful, Steven.”

  Agent Litner got in the car as Father Carbone pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. As the car pulled away he saw Juris’s head of curls in the back window. Juris gave him a sly wink. He looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone who was on his way to yet another prison. The priest furrowed his brow suspiciously.

  The phone in Father Carbone’s hand popped free and shattered, exploding in a shower of plastic and electronics all over the church lawn. The priest yelped and shook his hand as he stared in disbelief at what was left of his phone. He looked up and caught sight of Juris laughing as the car turned the corner out of sight.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It took Patrick several seconds of disorientation before he remembered why he was not in his own bed. He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling beams, watching the tree shadows dancing in the morning sunlight. Birds formed a chorus outside and somewhere a dog barked. All seemed peaceful. Normal. He sat up and glanced at the clock on the unfamiliar dresser. It was 6:00 a.m., and the enormous house was still and quiet. My God, I’m here. I’m actually here.

  He could feel Joey’s presence like an extra heartbeat in his chest, and knew that he was asleep in his bedroom down the hall. Patrick’s own room was a small, clean guestroom. Shep hadn’t questioned why Patrick was suddenly there. He’d simply shown him to his room. In fact, they’d said very little to each other after leaving the bar. Joey’s only comment had been, “Hey Obrien, I got shot, you know,” as though it was some sort of honor.