by Alex Thomas
Catherine shook her head vigorously with a look of panic on her face.
"No, I won’t! Mr. Eliot is not innocent. I could see his thoughts."
Dr. Florena gave the schoolgirl a concerned look and waited a moment.
"Catherine, even if that were true, I mean, that you could truly read Mr. Eliot’s thoughts…all of us sometimes have dark thoughts. That doesn’t mean we do bad things. Right?"
The girl shook her head in resignation.
"No." Then added with conviction: "But Mr. Eliot did do something bad. He carries a kind of evil around with him all the time. A dark veil encircles him."
Dr. Florena stared at her in astonishment. "He is surrounded by a dark veil?"
Catherine nodded to which the teacher replied:
"Mr. Eliot is not only an excellent educator, but also a very distinguished individual. He has always protected this school"
Catherine considered Dr. Florena’s words for a moment.
"But if he has always protected this school, how come he didn’t protect the boy? Why did he hurt the boy with the scar on his back and all the other kids too?"
The teacher faltered and stared wide-eyed at Catherine. "The boy with the scar on his back?"
Catherine nodded. "The boy on the telly that the police are searching for."
"How do you know the boy has a scar on his back?"
"I saw the scar in Mr. Eliot’s thoughts. It’s the same scar that the other boys have. A cross."
Dr. Florena couldn’t stop staring at the girl. She reached for the phone and asked for a man named Father Darius. She seemed to know him well.
3
Present-Day, Upper Bavaria, Mountain above Abbey Rottach
Pater Darius looked out at the monastery that rested deep in the valley with its centuries-old spiritual tradition. The red tiled roofs and the white facades shone in the sun like fresh blood against the purest snow. He was meditating upon his life, the gruelling years at the Institute and the fact that his best student, Sister Catherine Bell, stood before the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith for an informal conversation when a male voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Father Darius?"
The priest turned slowly around and blinked. Whoever had interrupted his meditation on this mountain stood in the glistening sunlight. Darius could only make out a silhouette.
"Yes. That’s me. What can I do for you?"
"Apologies, Father. I didn’t want to disturb your prayer. But…"
The visitor hesitated briefly.
"His Eminence Cardinal Ciban has sent me. I am coming from Rome with an urgent matter."
"It must be if Cardinal Ciban has forced you to make such a long journey just to search me out."
Rome. Darius had retired several years prior, but Rome and the Order couldn’t quite let him go. Was the stranger here because of Catherine? Did the strict Grand Inquisitor Ciban need his council? Darius turned toward the man and attempted to get a look at his face. The sun stood directly behind the man and gave off a halo-like glow.
"Pardon me, but I didn’t catch your name."
"Monsignor Nicola deRossi."
"Then you are related to Cardinal deRossi?"
"He was my great-uncle, Father."
"I see."
Darius nodded thoughtfully.
"Show me your ring please."
DeRossi took off his ring and handed it to the priest so that he could survey its interior. The man did seem to work for Ciban. But just in case, he had to undergo one more test.
"Intellige, ut credas, verbum meum; crede, ut intelligas, verbum Dei." i
"Per fidem operationis Dei." ii
Darius’ lips curled into a tiny, ironic smile.
"You really are a member of Lux Domini. What a change in generations. As Grand Inquisitor the cardinal was a man of Opus Dei." The progressive Lux Domini under which the Institute had stood for several years was quite the opposite to the ultraconservative Opus Dei. The behind-the-scenes battles between both orders had increased massively since Pope Leo had introduced his reforms.
"My great-uncle was a learned and passionless man with a cold, ruthless character."
"And quite successful," Darius retorted in earnest. The air was filled with the scent of spring, but there was something else in the air that the priest couldn’t quite name. He ignored the feeling that accompanied that certain something.
"Why has Cardinal Ciban sent you to me?"
"It is about the Congregation of His Holiness. As a member of the council, your life is in serious danger, Father."
Darius grew irritated.
"Even if my life were in danger and even if you do belong to Lux, how could you possibly know whether I were a member of the Congregation of His Holiness, Monsignor? Cardinal Ciban certainly did not tell you."
DeRossi moved out of the blinding light. He was large and strong and had the devil’s good looks. Even the badly healed scar above his left eye did nothing to detract from his appearance. Quite the contrary.
"You speak like an Inquisitor. Unfortunately, I have little time. My job is to bring you to safety."
"No matter what your job may be, I won’t budge until I have spoken with Cardinal Ciban."
DeRossi’s eyes suddenly appeared amused as he added in Latin: "Qui credit in me, etiam si mortuus fuerit, vivet."iii
Darius took a step backward. Whoever this stranger was and wherever he had received his information, one thing was clear: Cardinal Ciban never would have sent him.
"What are you really here for?"
"As I said, I have a job to do."
Darius could feel a wave of nausea wash over his body. Up on this mountain he was trapped like an animal. In that very moment in which Darius realised what was happening, deRossi grabbed the priest with extreme speed and precision, lifted him high above his head and tossed him over the cliff like a rag doll.
As Darius hit against the rocks the first time and the air pressed out of his lungs, he could hear nothing other than the cracking of his bones as his entire life flashed before him. He finally returned to his childhood in which he discovered his gift one cold winter. Within milliseconds he relived all the pain that his gift had given him in his lifetime. All the hate. And finally, the study, the understanding and acceptance…the wisdom, the insights that he was able to pass on to his students.
He wouldn’t be able to stand by Catherine any more…The air smelled of springtime. Then, one second before Darius shattered to the ground, he finally knew what else the air smelled like.
It smelled like death.
4
June 17, 1984, Chicago, Catholic Primary School for the Gifted
In the following days, the entire school was abuzz with nothing other than Catherine’s accusation, Mr. Eliot’s arrest by the FBI and the rescue of his seventh victim from that church crypt. The schoolgirl heard from the older children that Mr. Eliot had been responsible for the disappearance of a total of seven boys in the Greater Chicago area. After a two-hour cross-examination, he finally revealed the location of the seventh child who was luckily still alive. Catherine had not only seen the boy in Mr. Eliot’s thoughts, but also in a sort of dream. She could feel his fear. Sometimes it felt as if he had called her for help via her own thoughts.
A week later the girl would then meet the man whom Dr. Florena had so quickly called on the phone after she disclosed what she knew.
"Catherine, allow me to introduce Father Darius. He belongs to an organisation that deals with cases of extrasensory perception."
With a slightly nervous smile, Dr. Beverly Florena pointed to the slender man standing next to her. The priest wore a simple black robe and had short grey hair and eyes that told her he was not a bad man. "Father, this is Catherine."
Father Darius bowed before the schoolgirl and she shook his hand to greet him. "You are an unusual priest."
"Yes, you are right, my child." He laughed a laugh that the girl liked and, most definitely, the teacher too. "I am just
a simple priest."
"No, you’re not." Catherine pointed to the ring on his left hand.
"I have seen a ring like that before on another Monsignor."
Father Darius looked rather awkward, exchanging a quick glance with Dr. Florena. "You know a lot for a nine-year-old."
"I’m almost ten." Catherine turned to the teacher. "How is the boy?"
A few seconds passed in silence as the teacher searched for the right words. "Ben is still very afraid. But Father Darius is taking good care of him. He will be better soon."
The girl nodded in relief.
"Catherine, have you always seen such things?" asked the priest softly. She shook her head in fear. It was the worst she had ever seen thus far.
"I mean have you always been able to perceive other people’s thoughts?" he corrected himself.
"I can make out colours and pictures."
"Colours and pictures?"
Catherine nodded hesitantly. She didn’t like these questions.
"What do these colours and pictures look like?"
"It depends. Red, blue, green, black or white…sometimes the pictures emerge from the colours. Sometimes it is the other way around."
"Do you always have these pictures in your mind’s eye? Or just every now and then?" asked Father Darius. The schoolgirl raised her eyebrows and thought about it for a moment. "Always every now and then."
The priest laughed, but then became serious again. "You saved Ben’s life with your gift, my child. Tell me more about it."
Catherine looked uncertainly over at Dr. Florena. "Your mum is waiting outside," said the teacher. "She can come in if you’d like."
"No. Please don’t." The girl shook her head vigorously. "She doesn’t like me to talk about it. Mum is…afraid."
"Afraid?" Father Darius squatted down so he was at eye level with Catherine.
"Afraid of me."
A few seconds passed. Then the father said: "Believe me. She will lose her fear with time." Catherine remained silent as he continued with an encouraging smile: "Look at me. I too have a gift. And look what has become of me…!" He pointed to himself.
The schoolgirl smiled. "A simple priest…" She pointed to the ring. "And you work for this organisation."
Father Darius nodded. "The people there are very nice and very smart. They’ve helped me live with my gift."
"I don’t understand," said Catherine pensively.
"You will when you meet these people. Would you like to accompany me there?"
"No," said Catherine spontaneously.
"Why not?" asked the priest. He wasn’t at all annoyed, but he seemed rather disappointed.
"You have light thoughts. And if all of the people there have light thoughts, I will seem dark."
5
Present-Day, Upper Bavaria, Abbey Rottach
The heavy rainfall started as Monsignor Benjamin Hawlett had nearly reached the Abbey. The grey-on-grey sky above the rocky mountainous landscape filled with evergreens and pine trees matched his mood precisely. The late autumnal atmosphere of this surreal place mirrored his state of mind. The Abbey was so far away from the rest of the world that he had to rent an SUV to get there. Upon further reflection it was no wonder his former mentor chose this place as his final refuge. Father Darius…Ben took a deep breath. He had known the priest for over a quarter of a century and had not seen him in over a decade. The first time he met Darius was as a child in the CIPG, the Catholic Institute for the Psychically Gifted in Chicago. From the very beginning he was fascinated by the man’s peculiar blue eyes that seemed to see the future along with his humorous and earnest way in which Darius dealt with other people. Later he met the priest every now and again in Rome, in the Vatican. Their meetings were always filled with warmth, as if no time had gone by in the interim. And now…Ben took another deep breath. He simply couldn’t believe that fate brought both of these two people back into his life who had once been like family to him. Now one of them was dead, most likely murdered, and the other suffered under the prejudice of the modern Inquisition.
You have to calm down, he warned himself as he navigated the SUV over the rocky uneven surface. He was here as an investigator and not a grieving family member, which is why he couldn’t afford to be sentimental. He had to keep a clear mind during the investigation so as not to overlook anything important.
As Ben reached the Abbey and stepped out of the SUV into the inner courtyard, a biting wind blew across his face. Not even the high walls and mountains surrounding Rottach could reduce the effects of the whipping, swirling wind. It was mid-morning, but judging by the dim light, it could have easily been late afternoon.
The abbot himself greeted Ben, accompanied by one of his brothers whose umbrella the wind was close to ripping apart. Ben knew that Abbot Dominikus had at least two questions running through his mind. How could Rome have learned so quickly about Father Darius’ accident? And what was so special about it that a Vatican investigator would be sent to such a remote abbey as Rottach?
"Apologies that we couldn’t offer you better weather upon your arrival," explained the abbot. "Yesterday we had the loveliest sunshine."
Ben agreed. "What would the loveliest sunshine be without such a contrast!" In truth he didn’t want to think about his departure.
Dominikus nodded gracefully, then said in a serious tone: "We have prepared everything for you. The corpse has been laid in the vestry."
"Thank you, Father. As I was told, the death certificate has already been issued?"
The abbot cleared his throat.
"The doctor was here yesterday evening and examined him."
"What was the diagnosis?"
"He fell to his death," explained Dominikus simply.
They entered the cloister, which protected them from the elements and bordered the abbey’s church. Ben was impressed by the simple atmosphere of the archway and columns. He followed Dominikus in silence and tried to absorb the peacefulness that the cloister exuded.
"We’re here," said the abbot, who opened the heavy door and switched on the light.
Ben approached the bier with both monks. How tiny and plain Darius seemed to look underneath the cloth. There were no traces of dirt and blood to be seen on it. Naturally, they had prepared and cleaned his body and had washed away any trace that the investigator could have used.
Ben wasn’t certain what to expect. Never in his life had he seen a tattered body before. He pulled back the cloth and feared that he would have to mobilise all his strength not to groan at the sight of him. But the lifeless body just lay there peacefully, not nearly as battered as Ben had imagined he would be. The monks had done an amazing job.
"What do you hope to find?" asked Dominikus directly.
"I’m not quite sure."
He turned toward the abbot.
"What about his clothing?"
"We burned them."
The investigator suppressed a sigh and said: "Would you please leave me alone with the body?"
Dominikus seemed disappointed, but he nodded, signalled to his brother and retreated.
When Ben heard the door click in the frame, he turned his attention back to the dead body. Upon a second look the body did not look as peaceful as by the first. Controlling all his personal thoughts and feelings, the investigator slowly began his examination.
The back of his head had been shattered by the collision against the rocks, but his weather-beaten face was astonishingly intact apart from two lacerations. His arms and legs looked like wooden pieces of an incredibly limber marionette.
"You will most likely not find a single usable trace on the corpse," his superior Cardinal Ciban had predicted as he told Ben of the death of his mentor, thereby assigning him the task of travelling to Rottach.
"But we must be certain as to whether Father Darius’ death was an accident – or murder."
Murder? Ben couldn’t believe his ears. Who would want to murder Darius? The priest most certainly had no enemies who wished him dead.
But then again…something wasn’t right here.
"Is there anything else that might help me with my investigation, Eminence?" he had asked. Ciban had looked up from his desk and neither nodded nor shook his head. Ben’s superior was a tall and very slender man with ice-grey eyes and short silver-grey hair. His classic well-formed face with its high brow and sharp nose reminded the investigator much more of the image of an ancient military commander than that of a contemporary church dignitary. Every word he spoke and every gesture he made was accompanied by something menacing. It had taken Ben years to learn how to deal with the cardinal’s ominous aura.
"Not at the moment. Be careful, Ben."
"I’ll leave right away then," he had answered in the hopes that Ciban wouldn’t notice how much his mentor’s death had rattled him. But the prefect knew very well the heavy burden he had laid on Ben with this journey because he had then nodded and in his otherwise distant cold eyes, Ben could see a transient flicker of compassion.
Ben continued his examination of the corpse in the quiet of the former vestry. The body was so full of bruises, contusions and hematomas that he had zero chance of finding traces of violence anywhere. Ciban had been right.
Upon completion of his examination, he returned the corpse to its peaceful position, took a deep breath and covered Darius back up. He still found it hard to accept that here in this remote abbey church lay the dead body of the man who had given his life direction, a goal and a purpose. Ben would have never recovered from the incident in that church without the help of Darius’ and Catherine’s friendship. He had barely escaped death and not even his gift that he had had as a child could have warned him against Mr. Eliot’s insanity.
Ben’s gaze rested on the corpse. Outside a storm raged, but he didn't care. He would ask Abbot Dominikus for an experienced local guide. He would seek out the alleged crime scene and the place where they found the body. Then he would not only find out if Darius had been murdered, if it was a murder at all. He would also find out who the murderer was!
