by Tonya Hurley
The platter was set down and the cover removed. It was a piece of meat, but raw and bloody. More like an organ than a shoulder cut. She recognized it. It was a heart.
“Sebastian!” she rasped through the ever-tightening grip around her neck.
Her hands were throbbing and began to spurt blood over the tablecloth and her pricey outfit.
“Dig in,” Less ordered, followed by the sound of knives and forks being lifted from the table.
The guests attacked the tray, hacking away at it. She could do nothing but sit and watch, nearly paralyzed, as they seemed to transform into wild animals right in front of her. Their teeth sharpening and lengthening. Their eyes turning bloodshot, then black and dead and rolling over white like hungry sharks as they devoured the feast.
Less howled with laughter at the carnivorous scene as the hands around Cecilia’s neck tightened like a noose, strangling her, stifling her screams. The hands grew thorns, cutting into her flesh.
She awoke screaming and ran from her bed into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Standing there, alone in her silk gray nightie, she turned on the cold-water faucet and ran it over her wrists to ease the panic and ground herself. A little trick she’d learned from her cocaine days.
Cecilia closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and began to relax.
She opened them and looked in the mirror again, and there he was.
Standing there. Behind her. Sebastian. Bullet holes bleeding out from his perfect chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes and nose. “I feel like I’m losing my way.”
“No,” he said reassuringly. “It was just a dream.”
Cecilia turned around, hoping she could grab him, hold him, that he would comfort her in her time of trouble, give her strength in her moment of weakness, protect her, save her, but he was gone.
She put her hand on the mirror, right where he was standing, and tried to feel for him in the glass to no avail. She lowered her head, letting it hang limply from her tightened shoulders.
“Not a dream. It was a warning.” She said reassuring herself. She noticed a reddish pink puddle collecting at the bottom of the sink and turned her palms upward.
They were bleeding.
3 Agnes looked in vain for a friendly face in the busy high school hallway. The few classmates she thought would have greeted her with a hug or a smile just looked away and walked past her. Lockers slammed. Heads turned. No welcome backs. No how are yous.
She sensed it was more than casual indifference, petty jealousy, or an attempt to save her any embarrassment by acknowledging that she’d been gone. There was resentment in their avoidance. Anger. Maybe it was the constant presence of her followers congregating just beyond the school grounds each day or the reporters from all over the world looking for sound bites from them or the silly questions from bored and curious hangers-on looking to be part of something. Looking for a miracle. Or maybe, she thought, they’d just gotten tired of St. Agnes and everything that came with it. She’d become a burden for them. A cross for them to involuntarily bear.
She felt herself entirely alone in the crowded walkway, crushed by the apartness, like claustrophobia in reverse, until an oasis of understanding, there at the end of the hall, finally revealed itself through the hater fog.
“Sister?” Agnes called out.
“Agnes!” the nun replied joyfully. “So very happy to see you!”
Agnes walked in and the nun stepped around her desk and took Agnes in a long and warm embrace.
“Glad to be seen, sort of,” Agnes said. “At least somebody’s happy to see me.”
“First day back would be difficult I’m sure.”
“You have no idea. I almost didn’t make it.”
“What happened?”
“Hazel and I were almost road kill,” Agnes quipped.
“They need more crossing guards on these streets. I’ve been complaining for years!”
“Well, I think they need more than crossing guards, Sister. The driver didn’t need traffic school, she needed an exorcist.”
“It was intentional?”
“No doubt. And it didn’t get any better once I got to school. I’m honestly not sure which worse. Out there or in here.”
“The threat is coming into the school, coming closer,” Sister Dorothea advised.
“All I can tell you for sure is that there is a definitely a hell,” Agnes replied wanly, pointing over her shoulder toward the high school hallway.
“It may not be safe for you here any longer, Agnes. Should you even come at this point?”
“What else would I do? Sit at home in a glass box like some piece of museum-quality jewelry awaiting visitors. That’s coming anyway. We both know it.”
“Oh, Agnes! Don’t say that. Only God knows.”
“Then He knows I’m really not like Lucy and Cecilia. They had their goals and a lot of stuff they wanted to do. Which is great. I just wanted to be a normal girl. To be loved. That was my dream.”
“Which might just be the most ambitious dream of all, Agnes,” Sister Dorothea commented. “And the most difficult to accomplish now.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not ready to give it up. I guess all this, the good and the bad, is just a part of that dream. It’s what I know. It’s how I feel. For me it’s about love even in the face of all the haters. If I’m going to be an example of anything, I want it to be that.”
Sister Dorothea smiled proudly.
“A noble and universal cause, Agnes. Befitting a brave and thoughtful young woman and the legacy of those that have come before you.”
“I just wish it wasn’t so hard.”
“Nobody said it would be easy. Love is a sacrifice.”
“And they were right,” Agnes concurred. “Especially when the person you love most in the world is gone.”
“We’re never gone, Agnes, as long as we are loved.”
The girl smiled. It wasn’t just Sister Dorothea’s words but her very presence that comforted Agnes.
“Enough about me. How’s Jude?”
“He’s doing fine now. He’s with us, at the convent.”
“Frey really let him go?”
“I’d like to think we forced his hand but I know better.”
“So we’re all out now,” Agnes pondered. “Easier to kill.”
Sister Dorothea was clearly disturbed by Agnes’s observation. “We should go to the police.”
“We tried that. Captain Murphy means well but Frey is so tied in to everything, it’s impossible to know who you are really speaking to. I don’t know how that record guy got Cecilia out.”
“Money talks.”
“I guess,” Agnes said.
“How is Lucy’s friend? The boy who was attacked?”
A look of concern washed over her face. “I don’t know. I saw him when he was leaving the hospital and he seemed so frail. I check his website every day but there’s nothing new.”
“After what he’s been through, maybe he just needs some time to process things.”
“That will take more than time,” Agnes admitted. “Well, I really need to get to class.”
“Take care of yourself, dear,” Sister Dorothea said.
Agnes heard the concern in the nun’s voice and took her words literally, more as a warning than just a farewell. “I’ll try, Sister. Kiss Jude for me. Tell him I’ll come by to see him soon.”
“He’d like that.”
Agnes smiled. “Ever since I met him in the hospital, I’ve felt very close to him. Like he’s my little guardian angel or something.”
“He’s a good boy. He understands many things.”
“I feel so bad for him. He’s been through so much for such a young kid, and now to be caught up in all this.”
“We don’t always get to choose our path, Agnes. Sometimes it is chosen for us.”
Agnes nodded and hugged the nun.
“I know,” Agnes conceded. “Pray for me, Sister?”
The nun smiled.
“Only if you pray for me.”
Jesse’s phone rang. The buzzy, repetitive tone seemed to him to bounce off the walls of his apartment, assaulting him. He reached for his ears in a vain and childish attempt to shut it out. It had been days since he’d picked up. Days since he’d spoken to anyone, in fact. There was too much and nothing at all to say, even to people who cared.
He checked the number and it was one he vaguely recognized. Not his parents, nor an old friend or acquaintance, but a professional connection. He thought about letting it go to voice mail, as he had hundreds of others, but this time he answered the call.
“Jesse?”
Jesse listened to the voice but did not respond.
“Jesse. It’s Tony. The bouncer.”
Once again he did not respond but exhaled loud enough to be heard.
“C’mon. It’s Tony. Lucy’s friend. You gonna talk or what?”
“You weren’t her friend.”
“Maybe not like you, but I was there for her.”
“Listen, Tony. I don’t know what you want from me, but if you’re looking for some cash to drop a dime on some crackhead socialite, you’re shit outta luck.”
“I’m not calling about money or anyone.”
“Then what?” Jesse said disinterestedly.
“I called to see how you’re doin’.”
“Now I’ve heard everything.”
“I mean it.”
If nothing else, Jesse knew that Tony was a straight shooter. “To be totally honest with you, I don’t know how I am.”
“We’re all shaken up, man. But you got to keep it together. For her sake.”
“What sake? She’s gone.”
“Not really. You know what I mean?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it is,” Tony replied.
Jesse admired Tony’s ability to see things simply. He envied his certainty and wished he had more of it.
“Okay, then I’ll rephrase. She’s not here. And it’s because of me,” Jesse sulked. “That’s what I know.”
“Have you been to the shrine?”
“You mean the chapel? Yeah.”
Tony’s voice started to break. Not from bad reception, but from pure emotion.
“Me too. I went. I don’t get down on my fuckin’ knees for anybody. Not even for Jesus. But I hit my knees for her. And I cried my heart out.”
Jesse believed him. He swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep his own raw feelings in check.
“She was special.”
“More than special,” Tony said, speaking for the throngs of followers who visited the chapel daily. “She was a saint.”
“I don’t know about all that.”
“Well, I do. I believe it. And so do a lot of other people. And I know deep down, you do too.”
“I’m struggling, man.”
“We all struggle with the truth. It doesn’t come wrapped up in a neat little package or a column item. But once you accept it, everything changes.”
“For a tough guy, you’re startin’ to sound a lot like a philosopher.”
Tony laughed and so did Jesse. For the first time he could remember.
“I grew up in this neighborhood. With all the superstitions and stories of the cults, the saints, the curses, the malocchio, from the old country. It’s not that hard to figure. It boils down to this: There is evil in this friggin world. And there is good. And they are at war. Every day.”
“And what are we supposed to do about it? What are Lucy, Cecilia, and Agnes supposed to do about it?”
“Again, simple. Fight it. Wake people up out of the fuckin’ coma they’re in so they can see how much power they really have over their own lives. It’s all mixed up now.”
Tony was coarse, but he was right. Jesse knew that. He felt the same way.
“I have this clip of what happened to Lucy. I’m thinking about posting it. For everyone to see what they did to her.”
“I heard rumors about that tape. If you do that, they’ll come for you. And it will be ugly. And permanent. You know that, right?”
“Good. I’m not holding my breath for a Viking funeral. I’m gonna go down swinging.”
“What, did you get brain damaged in the hospital? Lose a bunch of oxygen? You think you can do this alone? How’d that work out for you last time, Captain America?”
“They’re coming for me anyway, Tony.”
“True. I have a few friends who’ve been keeping an eye on that druggie house on the Gowanus where you almost got whacked. Lots of crime in the neighborhood, all traces back to them but nobody can prove a thing. Maybe the cops or whatever are protecting them. In cahoots. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“It goes higher than that. Much higher.”
“Yeah, I heard that too.”
“You know what I want? How you can really help me?”
“Just say the word.”
“I want revenge. Not just for me. But for Lucy.”
“I’m down but that’s gonna be dangerous, you understand?”
“It’s more dangerous this way. Especially for the other girls.”
“Time to crack a few heads then?”
“I don’t know about drafting you into my fight.”
“You’re not drafting me. I’m volunteering. I would have crawled over broken glass for Lucy.”
“You just might get a chance to prove that, Tony, if this goes down.”
“I’m ready. You gotta win the battles before you can raise the flag. Get me?”
“I’m gonna give it a little thought and I’ll hit you back.”
“Okay, you got my number. But don’t think too long. Sometimes the best defense is a good offense.”
13 The last notes of Cecilia’s completed audio opus faded into the ether. Into silence. Catherine remained still, with her eyes closed, processing what she’d just heard.
“What do you think?” Cecilia asked.
“That was friggin awesome!” Catherine said, shaking her head in disbelief as the final chord of Cecilia’s last song faded from the speakers.
“No, what you did in that crazy crowd was awesome. I saw the news clip on line,” CeCe said. “You’re brave, Cat.”
Cecilia brushed the hair away from Catherine’s brow and gently ran her finger along the outline of the adhesive strip covering her stitches.
“That was nothing. Now this album. That is something.”
“You really think so?” Cecilia asked modestly. “I tried to mix it up. Doesn’t sound too much like hold music does it?”
“You mean Muzak? Like the customer service representative will be with you shortly sort of background stuff?” Catherine said, shaking her head.
“Yeah,” CeCe answered earnestly.
“Seriously? I couldn’t do what you did if I had the best producers and writers in the world working with me.”
Cecilia smiled, both grateful and relieved that her friend had given her stamp of approval.
“You’ll do your own thing. That’s what matters.”
Catherine smiled at CeCe’s generosity. “Have you played it for anybody else?”
“Nope. Not the whole thing. You’re the only one that’s heard it. And Daniel.”
“Oh, it’s Daniel now, huh?”
CeCe smiled sheepishly.
“Don’t get any ideas, Cat!”
Catherine bounced up and ran her fingers along the edges of the expensive couch and coffee table that furnished Cecilia’s new apartment.
“Well, he did get you out of the hospital and got your case dropped. You can’t blame a girl for being curious.”
“Exactly. I’m an investment, not a girlfriend. He’s been really encouraging. Pushing me to get this stuff recorded as quickly as possible. While I’m still hot.”
“Ha, while you’re hot. Finally a little honesty!” Catherine laughed. “Listen, he’s rich and powerful. Dude’s got it all.”
Catherine had obviousl
y hit a nerve by the way Cecilia reacted. Like she’d been proverbially smacked across the face.
“Okay, enough sarcasm. It’s not like that.”
“I just thought you had a different goal in mind, something longer term?” Cat needled, not letting it go.
“He wants this music out while there’s still a lot of focus on me, that’s all.”
“Still,” Catherine said, wandering around the apartment and stopping in front of a beautiful floral terrarium near the window. “You did check for hidden cameras around here, right?”
“Of course,” CeCe said, bringing them both to tears with laughter.
“Well, just saying, he might have made the best bet of his career. That stuff is brilliant.”
“I’m happy with it. It’s what I want to say. What I want out there.”
“I hope I get there some day.”
“You will, Cat. Just be yourself. Be honest and the rest will take care of itself. You have a deal, so that stress is off.”
“Since we’re being honest, you know the whole Less thing?” Catherine asked. “To be totally honest with you, I considered it.”
“You mean being with him?”
“Yeah. I know that is so wrong of me,” Catherine admitted. “You were tempted too weren’t you?”
Cecilia exhaled.
“Tempted. Yes.”
“Then why not? Didn’t you have any doubts?”
Cecilia recalled her dream and considered Cat’s question carefully but didn’t answer it directly.
“There’s no going back for me, you know? Maybe a year ago I might have. Probably would have done anything for a shot. I did much worse for a lot less.”
“Is it because of Sebastian?”
“No, Cat, it’s because of me.”
Catherine accepted Cecilia’s answer without any further comment or clarification. Whatever qualities Sebastian had spotted in CeCe, changes their relationship may have inspired, Cecilia owned them now. She’d chosen them and they had become her. And she had become them.