by Graham Marks
Or maybe it just hadn’t happened yet.
A couple of metres away Gabe saw Father Simon with his back to him; he was stock-still, hands held up and out to the side, his white hair a startled, frizzy crown on his head.
In contrast, some four or five metres further back, a red-eyed figure strode left and right, reminding Gabe of a caged animal obsessively pacing in a zoo. Behind him there was what could have been a low table with something on it, but Gabe couldn’t make out what. Dusty sunlight reflected dully off the man’s dark, slicked-back hair. The red baseball cap might have gone, but it was the same person he’d last seen at Janna’s.
Rafael looked so different Gabe’s heart almost stopped there and then. He was much wilder than before and his barely contained anger seemed to give the man a rippling aura, as if he was sending out intense waves of heat, and every time he randomly punched the air there was a sharp burst of light. Then the man pointed straight at him.
“You came! My disciple, you came!”
This time the voice didn’t echo in Gabe’s head. He could hear it for real. See the man’s eyes flare as he spoke.
“Yeah, I did!” The words, a dry croak, stuck in his throat and any moment he expected the attack to begin. “I came to help stop you!”
The man laughed, a harsh crow-like caw, and Father Simon swung round.
“Gabriel? What are you…? Where’s…?”
“Not here, Father…” Gabe moved closer. “She’s not here.”
“Ha, Gabriel – you have returned, like me!” Rafael pointed at himself. “And this time you are angel-named, as am I!” He sounded triumphant, as if by being there Gabe had given him some kind of advantage.
The whole atmosphere inside the chapel changed. The power had shifted, and it hit Gabe like a gut punch that his arrival had been the catalyst, that he had allowed a switch to be thrown. He saw it now, with an awful clarity. Somehow Father Simon had managed to trap Rafael within the chapel walls, and his own unscheduled, unwanted appearance had royally messed it all up.
“No one sent me!” Gabe shouted, moving towards Father Simon, who looked drained and exhausted, like he had the heaviest of weights on his back. Dead weight, said the voice in his head.
“I found him, Gabriel…” said Father Simon, gasping for breath. He reached out for Gabe’s arm and held on to him. “I finally found him, after much searching … and I discovered, as I thought – as I feared – that he had been thrown out of the Church for the disgrace of his many, terrible heretic sins. The evil things he did, Gabriel, I can’t begin to tell you!”
“You don’t have to, Father,” Gabe said. He’d seen plenty and didn’t have to be told anything about what Rafael could do. “Can I help?”
Father Simon didn’t appear to have heard anything Gabe had said, his eyes round, staring at Rafael. “This man sacrificed the living, bathed in the blood of children, sold his eternal soul for forbidden knowledge. This man sinned like no other and for that was consigned to Hell. They tried to remove you from this Earth, Rafael! They failed, but where they failed I shall succeed! I shall succeed, Rafael!”
The dark, shadowy figure spun round in a circle, and as he came to a halt he held one hand up high. “I am Rafael Delacruz!” he yelled. “And your church, anyone’s church, means nothing to me… I am here to do nothing less than serve the Bringer of Light on Earth!”
Fireballs exploded in the air around Rafael. In the blasts of light Gabe saw he was holding what at first looked like a dripping piece of meat, and then he knew it wasn’t just a piece of meat, it was a heart. And the table behind Rafael was an altar, with the body of a large dog on it.
“I am back here to open the eyes of a slumbering world and continue His work!” Rafael let the heart drizzle blood on to his face, then flung it behind him.
“His, and all the other heathen idols you worship!” Father Simon coughed and pulled himself back up to his full height, pointing at the sneering, gloating man in front of him. “As Isaiah says: ‘How art thou fallen from heaven, Oh day-star, son of the morning!’ – Lucifer by any other name! Satan the Great Adversary!”
“Your kind, you have your resurrection myths, and I have my reality…” Rafael, smiling as another burst of light shot up towards the roof beams. He thumped his chest with his other hand as he spoke. “I am His servant! And. I. Am. Risen!”
Gabe stared at Rafael in disbelief, the truth hitting him that, right there in front of him, was some kind of Dark Angel. He couldn’t believe he’d just thought that.
It was insane, completely unthinkable. Or would be, if he hadn’t totally lost his grip on reality. And right now he could feel the rope connecting him to the world outside this ancient chapel running through his fingers as if it had been greased. The world where he was just a kid at school, whose biggest problem until a few days ago had been how to deal with a fixated, bonehead of a dope dealer, not Satan’s Resurrected Servant on Earth. He had got to get his act together. He had to remember that he did not believe in any of this!
Then the doors to the chapel slammed shut behind him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Overhead the owl flew up to the small window set into the back wall, near the roof. It landed and sat, head on one side, observing. Gabe glanced over his shoulder and saw the coyotes, inside now and on the prowl, eyes fixed on him, their prey.
There was something almost human about the way these animals acted. He hadn’t noticed before, but they appeared to have no fear at all. Instead there was a feeling of recognition, like they were saying, ‘We know who you are, we know all about you.’ Animals didn’t do that, tame or wild. It was the stuff of bad dreams. Like the ones he’d been having ever since he’d found the gold. But this – here, now – this was not anything he was going to wake up from.
Gabe tried and failed to swallow. He wiped away the sweat that ran down from his forehead and looked at Father Simon. It was all down to him that the man had come here to deal with Rafael, exorcise him or whatever it was good priests did to evil priests. The Father was grimacing, like he was in a great deal of pain, and that had to be his fault too.
Cecil LeBarron and his client had died because of him. Stella was… He didn’t want to think where Stella might be, but she was there because of him.
He, Gabe Mason, had to answer for all of it.
If he had never found the gold, none of this would have occurred, no one would have had their throats ripped out, the world wouldn’t be going crazy and he and the Father would not be about to die.
“You, boy!”
Gabe turned his attention back to Rafael, astonished at the number of different thoughts a brain could process in such a short space of time, wondering when the torture would begin.
“Where is it – where is what belongs to me? What was taken from me should be returned!” Rafael, his head at a strange angle like he had a really bad crick in his neck, stared at Gabe, anger stoking the mad fire in his eyes. “You are my chosen one. I recognized you, that is why I spared you, boy! You were sent, you came to find me again … and you wished and prayed so hard. I knew you would come. You were born for these majestic days. Through you I have been reborn – you who will be anointed again, you who will now walk in my shadow forever, drink the blood of life with me and feel the last beat of a thousand thousand hearts! Why have you let me down?”
“I don’t know you!” Gabe couldn’t make any sense of what Rafael was saying – why was he making it sound like they’d met before? “I never wanted to be chosen, I never did!”
“Be very careful what you wish for, boy. A question cannot be unasked. A wish, once granted, can never be revoked.” Rafael smiled. “And now I have you back, you are mine.”
Rafael’s mood seemed to change in the blink of an eye, one moment fired up with uncontained anger, the next placid and calm. It occurred to Gabe that maybe being brought back to life did that to a person.
“I told you!” Gabe screamed. “I told you I don’t believe in you!”
“Did you not listen? Are you an imbecile – so stupid you cannot understand?” Rafael reared back. “I warned you, boy. I showed you what would happen if you do not do what I say… If I do not have what is mine returned to me. Yet still you came here empty-handed. Where is what is mine, boy? Where is it?”
Rafael was now shouting at Gabe; it felt like his words were physically hitting his face and chest, as if they were stones that Rafael was pelting him with. The pain in his head was beginning to grow, but it did more than just hurt. This time it made Gabe angry.
He had been angry at Janna’s, but he’d also been frightened; fear had shut down all higher brain activity and allowed a primal instinct to take over. The anger Gabe could feel building in him now was different.
Call me ‘boy’ again, Rafael, and see what happens, Gabe thought.
Push me, Rafael, and I’ll push back.
Threaten me, Rafael, and I will fight back.
This was a cool anger. Considered. Practical. And Gabe had no clue where it came from, but he knew it’d all be over if he didn’t keep the man talking, keep him at a distance. Give himself space to think.
As plans went, that was all he had.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Fighting the urge to make a run for the doors, Gabe started moving himself in front of Father Simon. “Really, you don’t know where your stuff is? I thought you said you were so powerful… Didn’t you say that?”
All he had were his bare hands and whatever wits were left after everything he’d been through over the previous couple of days. He needed some way to level the playing field, give himself a fighting chance. Surely there had to be something here he could use? Had to be. Would Father Simon have come to the chapel to fight this evil jerk and not have brought with him the wherewithal to do the job? No, he wouldn’t, that was just wrong.
“And if you don’t know –” Gabe hoped he sounded a lot more confident than he felt – “then I can’t help you…”
“You will help me, acolyte, you always have!” Rafael brought his hands together, cupping the brilliant sphere of light that flared between them. He appeared amazed at his own power, staring at the blazing globe with a kind of hypnotized expression. The dazzle uplit his face, bleaching it bone-white, and cast a huge, dancing shadow on the wall behind him.
“You were my channel back to life, where I belong, and you are now here to serve unquestioningly. And, whatever you might like to think, that, boy, will never change.” Rafael’s eyes flared. “The Fates brought us together… The energy and passion of your youth reaching out and touching the wisdom and mastery of my ageless mind. It was our destiny to meet again, to carry on my work like we did before. Only this time there will be no mistakes!”
“Don’t listen to his poisonous lies, Gabriel…” Father Simon hissed behind him. “Leave while you can, boy, this is my battle! I can defeat him, I can stop this from going any further, and it is far better that I do it on my own. Believe me, far better…”
The urge to do exactly as the Father told him, to bail right there and then, give way to his panic and run, was so, so tempting. But Gabe couldn’t give up. He had to try to find even the smallest chink in Rafael’s armour.
Or die trying.
As he edged further in front of Father Simon he saw what was in the priest’s left hand, which was hanging limply by his side. A large, ornate crucifix. And then on the floor he noticed a distinctive, square plastic bottle, its cap off next to it; the decorative blue label proudly declared it was FIJI WATER.
Shouldn’t a priest be drinking holy water? Gabe thought, finding it hard to believe he’d still had an operational sense of the absurd.
The split second after having that thought, he realized what must be in the bottle. The next moment, Gabe was flinging himself sideways, awkwardly pivoting on the ball of his foot. As he crouched and spun he grabbed the cross from Father Simon’s hand, then picked up the bottle and landed back on two feet. Turning, he faced Rafael and held the cross up high in front of him.
“You don’t believe, boy!”
“No!” Gabe swung the bottle, watching as all the water left in it arced out across the chapel, molten silver in the air, and hit Rafael in the face. “But you do!”
The effect was instantaneous. Now the screeching started, a desperate razor-blade wail. But it wasn’t in Gabe’s head. It was echoing off the chapel walls and Gabe could hardly believe it when he saw Rafael clawing manically at his face.
The shock of seeing what he’d done stalled him for a moment, then he shook himself out of it, knowing that this might be his only chance to get out, get Father Simon away. Survive.
“Come on!” Gabe started backing towards the doors. “We gotta go, like now…”
“You go, Gabe, I can’t, I haven’t finished here.” Father Simon reached into his trouser pocket and brought out a small book. “I must do this, I must send him back where he belongs, stop this terrible thing before it goes any further.”
Gabe could feel what little control he’d managed to grab fading away fast as Rafael’s shrieking began to ebb. As he wondered what it was the Father was trying to stop Rafael from doing, he saw the owl spread its wings and launch itself off from its perch. And behind him he heard a low growling from the coyotes. The enemy was on the move, time was running out and any minute now the game would be lost.
“Look, Father…”
But Father Simon had turned away and was holding a small book in his hand. He’d started to read out loud, his voice shaky but strong, his eyes wide. At first Gabe thought the priest had lost the plot and was babbling, then realized he must be speaking in Latin…
Chapter Thirty-Three
With every strange and incomprehensible word Father Simon spoke, Rafael jerked and quivered like he was a marionette being controlled by the world’s twitchiest puppeteer. He was spitting too – dark green stuff – and his feet were rising off the ground. Horribly fascinated, Gabe couldn’t take his eyes off the unfolding scene in front of him.
A rasping, chainsaw snarl jerked him back to reality, and he saw a coyote, jaws wide and slavering, sink his teeth into Father Simon just above the knee, taking him down like an old, lame stag. A moment later the other coyote was at his throat, the prayer book flying out of the Father’s hand.
Stunned, Gabe nearly missed the owl diving straight at him from the rafters. Ducking for cover as the bird flew over, centimetres from his head, he dived towards Father Simon. Taking a wild kick, he felt his sneaker connect with one of the coyotes as the owl came back, claws out, for another go at him. This time he wasn’t quick enough. His cheek and forehead got slashed, blood running into his eye and down his chin as the coyote he’d booted turned on him.
The owl wheeled in the air, readying to attack him again. Gabe knew he couldn’t fend off both creatures. This had to be it. His final scene.
He heard the rush of air through feathers as the owl came in for a third strike.
He saw one of the coyotes, teeth bared, staring balefully at him.
He heard Father Simon’s screaming stop, mid agonized wail, as the priest rolled on to his back; gouts of blood sprayed from his throat.
The Father was dead. Had to be. Bile rose in Gabe’s throat, the acid stinging as he swallowed. The Father was dead. And he would be next.
He was aware of Rafael, his face blistered and scarred where the holy water had hit him. Aware that the man was beginning to take back control of his body as whatever effect Father Simon had had on him wore off.
In the outer edge of his vision he could see the owl. Sensing the fight had gone out of its quarry, it was zeroing in for the kill, wings outstretched, talons aimed straight for Gabe’s eyes.
Sometimes a body will react so fast that no one is more surprised by an action than the person doing it. Gabe had all but forgotten he was still holding the Father’s crucifix, and was completely taken aback when his arm whipped upwards and the air filled with a silent explosion of feathers.
In the two,
maybe three moments of silence that followed the Ninja move he didn’t know he had in him, all Gabe could think was, if this had been a movie, it wouldn’t be long before the end credits rolled.
“No kidding…” Gabe whispered to himself, letting the bloody crucifix drop to the ground.
Facing him, one to his left the other to his right, were the coyotes. Both were quivering with anger, hackles raised, spring-loaded for action. And between them stood Rafael, feet firmly back on the ground, totally in charge. His lips were curled, but he wasn’t smiling.
“You, boy, will die … and it will be so exquisitely painful that your flesh will sing with the glorious agony of it … and it will take such a long, long time. Oh, believe me, yes it will…” Now Rafael smiled, lips twisting upwards. “This I promise. Treachery such as yours cannot go unpunished, and this will happen, of that you should have no doubt. But not today. Not today. I have much work to do and you are to be spared until this work is done. After that, after you die, I shall spit on your shattered corpse and leave you for carrion.”
There was nothing Gabe could say to that. What kind of response could there be to hearing, in such graphic detail, how he was going to die? He wasn’t even sure what carrion actually was, but considering everything else Rafael had said, he figured it wasn’t anything good.
He felt numb, unable to think straight no matter how hard he tried. This was Los Angeles. Outside this old building there was a whole world, a real world, where he belonged. Burger joints, movie houses, pizza parlours, shopping malls, all that good stuff. And he had a family, he had friends, there was school. People would miss him – heck, even Benny would miss him – he would be looked for. There was no way this maniac and his weird animal sidekicks could get away with killing Father Simon, and then killing him. Outside there were police, FBI, the CIA, whoever, people who upheld the law. Got the bad guys…
“We must go, and swiftly!”
