by A. L. Mengel
“I have quite a bit of information on this man,” she said, looking back at the council. “And he was not an immortal. He was an ordinary man. He’s dead. Buried in Ascension Cemetery in Miami. We can’t hold him accountable, in any way, for this eradication. He was a supernatural pawn. That’s it. Literally a pawn. The one who is responsible is a Claret Atarah. She was tried for crimes against the immortals and crucified.”
“Yes, yes, thank you Ms. Arnette.” The Cardinal gestured for Delia to return to her seat. “We will be examining Ms. Atarah’s case in detail.” He looked up and directly at Monsignor Harrison. “You have to understand that we investigate all instances of immortal death and sentencing. Regardless of who carried out the proceedings or alleged trial. It’s standard operating procedure for The Inspiriti, and it’s been in place since the existence of the Immortal kind.”
He nodded.
“And so your trial of Ms. Atarah may have seemed fair and just at the time, Monsignor, however we are the third party who is now charged with examining the case
Delia look at the Cardinal, and watched the way he carried himself mysteriously. His hair was stark white, receded to a large, shiny forehead. The lines on his cheeks indicated his advanced age. This Cardinal – this mysterious man. Could he be immortal? Certainly he was not affiliated with the Catholic Church. But how was this man tied to their organization?
The Monsignor, Monsignor Harrison, headed The Inspiriti – which was not affiliated with the Church at all. Could this elder have slipped through the cracks? Could he have been hiding in the Church all along and be the eldest immortal?
Sister Ignacious looked up from her computer and looked at Monsignor Harrison. “How old are you, Monsignor?”
“I lived many years before Christ,” he said. “I’m alone. I have had that question in my mind as I would stand in the center of the hilltop and look upwards towards the sky. But now, as I sit before you, I ask myself the same question.”
“So you do not know your age? How far back your ancestry reaches?” Ignacious stopped typing and leaned back in her chair. She folded her arms and adjusted her glasses. “You don’t know when you were given the gift? Or how about who gave it to you?”
The Monsignor paused for a moment, and looked onward toward the group of questioners. Ignacious sat towards the left, and the group, the High Council, sat at the table opposite of him, to the right of Ignacious, and looked at him, some leaning forward, raising their eyebrows, and patiently waiting for him to answer the question.
“Very well,” Sister Ignacious said. She rose from her chair and walked over to him. She stood directly in front of Monsignor Harrison as the Cardinals sat at the opposite table and looked on. “We are going to have to hypnotize you,” she said. “Explore your mind for a bit. So we can see into your past.”
Monsignor Harrison scoffed, leaned back in his chair and looked up at Sister Ignacious. “What is the purpose of this? Am I on some sort of trial?!”
“You have led the immortals for centuries now,” Klemmson said. “That is why it is necessary for us to explore your history. During your tenure, the hooded man attacked us. Some salvation imposter he was.”
But the Monsignor did not see those questioners who sat in front of him. For his mind was painting a different picture, and, even as he stared forward, the scene before him changed. Those who were in the conference room did not notice that Monsignor Harrison was leaving them; they saw the questioning proceeding as normal.
Except for one.
Delia.
And when she looking over at the Monsignor, who sat staunch, and still, with suddenly short, one word answers, she knew. His bilocation was something that only he possessed, and it proved handy in situations like the inquiry, for he could return to an event and remember minute details that others could only commit to memory.
Monsignor Harrison was not looking at Delia, however. As his eyelids grew heavy, the voices of the questioners seemed farther away each time they spoke. For a time, he could still make out their faces – he still recognized Ignacious and her silver-white hair; but it grew increasingly out of focus, as if he were looking through a camera and someone had been toggling with the focus.
And as his vision clouded, there was a rip in the fabric of time, a tear in the center of his field of sight, which stood out in clarity and opened to darkness: the black vision increased in size, as the rips were bright, white and glowing; and they increased in size, as the Monsignor felt like he was floating towards the mysterious rip.
When he looked down, he saw that he was still sitting in his chair, and when he looked back up at the rip, it had increased to such an immense size that it surpassed him, and he was sitting inside the darkness. As he looked behind him, he could see the stark walls of the conference room, and the vision decreased in size, as he felt like he was entering further into the oblivion; and then, within a moment, or even less, he saw nothing, for the rip closed, and he was alone in the silence.
WHILE WAITING FOR NED THE MORTICIAN to retrieve and load Darius’ body, Antoine sat on the overstuffed side chair that Darius used to always sit in and read his National Geographic magazines. “I think I can still feel his imprint on the fabric,” Antoine told Ramiel, who was helping Giovanni cover the remaining furniture with white dust cloths. Ramiel looked up at Antoine but said nothing. Antoine returned his gaze out the window, and watched the body being loaded into the hearse. Ned was quite strong.
He was lifting and hoisting the body by himself.
Antoine turned back to face Ramiel again. “He doesn’t need help?”
The coffin had been prepared by Ned McCracken, along with the body.
Antoine had looked through Darius’ file cabinet, and found Ned’s contact info. Antoine learned that Darius had a close relationship with Ned. Antoine didn’t understand the relationship in the least, but after reading the document that Giovanni had presented him the other day, Antoine opted to ask Ned to fly to Europe to personally handle the preparation and burial of Darius’ body. Later as Darius was cleaned and wrapped, Antoine rocked in the same rocking chair that he held vigil in during Darius’ final days.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Antoine said, as Ramiel and Ned wrapped Darius in a white sheet. Ramiel looked up and over at Antoine.
Antoine made eye contact with Ramiel. Ned continued wrapping the sheet around Darius’ body, attaching safety pins in several locations where the corner of the sheet met the seam. Ned looked up. “Come again?”
Antoine took a breath and sighed. “I’m saying I no longer want him embalmed. I want him buried naturally. Don’t embalm him.” Antoine looked over at Ned but Ramiel was the one who made eye contact.
Ramiel knew.
Antoine could see it in his eyes.
There was a pleading as Ramiel shook his head. Ramiel bit his lip but did not protest.
“Yes,” Antoine said, as he stood. “No embalming. And let me know when you are finished with him. I need to get him buried at once.”
While they were waiting for the body to be bagged and loaded, Ramiel took Antoine’s hand and led him through the chateau. “You aren’t planning to do what I think you are, are you, Antoine?”
Antoine let out a short breath. “That’s none of your business, Ramiel.”
He reached up and grasped Antoine’s shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes. “But yes it is, Antoine. Do you remember the mess from last time you tried to resurrect him?”
Antoine took a breath and released it. He looked down and then back up at Ramiel. “Yes,” he finally said. “I remember.”
“And Asmodai still searches for you. We’ve been in charge of your protection for years. Don’t you think it’s a terrible waste of resources to try this again?”
Antoine shook his head and pushed Ramiel away. He hugged him tighter.
“And Darius died a mortal, Antoine. He died a mortal. Do you even think the resurrection could work?”
Antoine sighed. “I just don’t know.�
�
Ramiel stood back and looked around the foyer. The dustcloths had been placed on the furniture and the drapes had been closed. Ned appeared in the doorway informing them that the body was loaded and he was ready to go.
Ramiel lifted Antoine’s chin so their eyes met. “Do you need to check anything? The windows and doors? It’s best you leave for a while.”
Antoine shook his head. “No. Everything is secure.”
“Delia is meeting us in Frankfurt?”
Antoine nodded. “That’s how we left it when she was here. As far as I know, things haven’t changed.”
Ramiel grabbed Antoine’s arm as Darius was loaded into the hearse. “Do you know what you are trying to do?”
Antoine scoffed and pulled Ramiel’s hand off his arm. “I know perfectly well. Either you will help me with it or you won’t.”
Ramiel stood back as Ned closed the hearse rear door. He looked at Antoine, directly in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to attempt this?”
“I’ve done it before.”
Ramiel nodded. “True. But then, Darius was immortal. His heart still beat in the coffin. He was sentenced to a punishment.”
Antoine’s mouth dropped open. “A punishment? I never knew that.”
Ramiel nodded and placed his arm around Antoine’s shoulder as they descended the steps together. “Yes,” Ramiel said, quietly, close to Antoine’s ear. “Back when you drove the dagger into his chest, that, my friend, was all planned.”
“Well, I figured that may have been, at least to a degree.”
Ramiel nodded. “Yes. But the extent of it, you do not know. Until now. Now that I am telling you.”
They stood outside the passenger door as Ned slid into the driver’s seat.
Ramiel turned around to face Antoine. He looked into his eyes. “Antoine. Things were different back then.”
Antoine nodded. “Yes. The early days. Back when Darius had just taken me here.”
“Yes,” Ramiel said. “And there are still things which you do not understand. But Darius was instructed to spend some time in the coffin. That’s where you came in.”
Shed your skin.
“I must admit I found myself when he was gone then,” Antoine admitted. “But it didn’t take long before I needed him again. That’s why I resurrected him.”
“And you paid a steep price for it. For his sentence had not ended. So you took it on. That’s why you were pursued, burned at the altar, and had to finish the coffin sentence.”
Antoine sighed.
“Yes, Ramiel. It’s common knowledge, isn’t it?”
Ramiel shrugged his shoulders and looked off to the side. “Well…yes…to a degree, Antoine. We have been monitoring you with your situation not only with Asmodai but also with Claret.”
Antoine shook his head and groaned. “Of course you have. Who’s been doing this? Harrison?”
Ramiel placed his hand on Antoine’s arm. “Come now, Antoine. You know how everything works. All with The Inspiriti. When they hear of immortals being conquered, being removed from the planet, they listen. They investigate. They’re here to protect, Antoine.”
Antoine stood and faced Ramiel. “So what are you saying then? They don’t like that Asmodai is after me? Or Claret is following me? Come on, Ramiel. They’ve been after me for generations!”
*****
Giovanni waited in front of the chateau holding the rear door open to a large silver Mercedes sedan. He handed the keys over to Ramiel. “If you don’t mind, sir. I don’t get my operation for another couple of weeks.”
Ramiel nodded and headed to the driver’s side as Giovanni helped Antoine into the back seat. As the car engine roared to life, Antoine felt the cool air blowing from the vents. “Hot this time of year,” he said, his eyes transfixed on the large wooded front doors of the chateau. He felt so small, looking up the cement walk-up steps, and looking at the large, expansive windows that soared up towards the second floor.
The car pulled away, and he craned his neck to keep his eyes on the chateau. When will I see you again?
The ride through the French countryside towards Germany took several hours. Ramiel remained focused on the road, as Giovanni could be heard lightly snoring in the back seat. Antoine sat, watching the patchwork of farmland and bright, lush green fields flash by, his chin resting on his open palm, and as he felt the warmth of the sun through the windows, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He looked over at Ramiel, noticing his salt and pepper hair on the back of his head as he remained focused on the road. And not before long, as his mind drifted off, he was with Ramiel again…
…Antoine stood in the clearing near the large angel headstone and watched Ramiel approach. He was smoking a cigarette, and walked through the grave makers, back and forth, in a zig zag fashion, smoking and smiling. His hair hung just below his forehead, slightly covering his eyes on one side of his face. Antoine thought that he looked like he just stepped off of the magazine pages of Milan.
“So you finally made it,” Antoine said as he heard Ramiel’s footsteps through the gravel. “Are you ready for what I am about to show you?”
Ramiel nodded and took a drag on his cigarette. He blew out a cloud of smoke, as Antoine stood motionless before him. “Yes,” Ramiel said.
Antoine nodded and turned around. “Well thank you for joining me.”
Ramiel followed Antoine across the cemetery. Antoine turned around and looked back. “Where we are going is beyond the main burial area. On the other side of these trees.”
“Okay,” Ramiel said.
Antoine could scarcely remember the first days when he met Ramiel. But in his mind, when he saw the moonlight reflect on the river water across the road from his house, he remembered the nights – after he had met Darius – but before he had been transformed, walking along the river bank, in the cool, blue moonlight, heading towards his haven. He remembered looking up and seeing the warmth of the lights from the Café, like an oasis in a dark, blue desert.
The door opened without him having to touch the handle. He had recognized the bartender’s salt and pepper hair, how it wisped out from around his ears like pulled cotton and how his head was shiny and bald on the top.
“We were waiting for you!” He boomed in his usual deep, baritone voice.
And there he was.
Standing on the other side of the sea of cocktail tables and small wooden chairs. It was the man he saw; the olive-skinned young man, watching. His eyes. Intense.
Beckoning.
Antoine took a few steps inside the Café and looked back at the bartender. He still stood holding the door open, watching Antoine. “He insisted upon you,” he said. “And only you.”
Antoine looked back over at the man. He held his hand up, extended his index finger, and beckoned him over. Antoine looked back at the bartender again who simply shrugged his shoulders, closed the door, and walked back over to the bar, slinging a small, white towel on his shoulder.
Antoine returned his gaze to the mysterious young olive-skinned man, and felt his feet start to move. He didn’t feel that he had much control over the situation whatsoever, because part of him felt that something about the man was like heading into the unknown.
When Antoine finally was in front of the man, they met eyes and both nodded and smiled. Antoine saw he had been drinking a glass of red wine. The man gestured to the small, wooden table and leaned against the wall. The man picked up his glass and took a sip, again holding out his arm to gesture Antoine to sit.
“Please sit,” he said. “I must discuss something with you.”
Antoine pulled the chair out slowly, never taking his eyes off the man.
He smiled as Antoine looked at him. He raised his eyebrows.
“We’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he said as he leaned back in the chair. He grasped the stem of his wine glass with his index finger and thumb, drew it to his mouth slowly, and never took his eyes off of Antoine.
Antoine stammered.
“What do you mean you have been watching me? For what purpose? Who are you?”
The man chuckled, set down his wine glass, and leaned forward. He extended his hand. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Ramiel. I represent a group of immortals in an organization called The Inspiriti.”
Antoine smiled and nodded. “You…are so beautiful…” he ran the back of his hand along Ramiel’s cheek. “Oh your skin…it’s so soft! I’ve never experienced a man’s skin so supple.”
Ramiel smiled. “I’m quite flattered, Mr. Antoine. And I know what you have been up to here in Badulla. We have been watching you and would like to recruit you.”
Antoine stopped and looked up at Ramiel. He smiled and leaned back, placing his hands over his crossed legs. Antoine leaned forward, placing his chin in his hands. Antoine turned around, glancing up the stairs, to the doors above. He then looked back at Ramiel.
“I will not accompany you to one of those rooms,” he said. “I come here with a proposal. There will be a young suitor who will show interest in you. A certain Darius Sauvage from France. He will offer you a gift – a dark gift, rather. One of immortality. If you accept it, you will never die.”
Antoine thought of his father. And the day he found him dead, lying in the barn next to the coffee fields. And then of his mother, sitting inside their small cottage, sitting on the chair in the kitchen, crying, waiting for Antoine. “Never die?” Antoine asked. He leaned in closer. “How is that possible?”
Ramiel took Antoine’s hands. “It’s possible. But you will live in darkness, my friend. You will live isolated in darkness, but you will have others. There are others like us. We’re spread across the world. I have been watching you. And have seen how you interact with the patrons here. Everyone loves you. They look up to you. I see those natural leadership qualities. The immortal kind needs more like you.”
“And what if I do accept this gift? What is entailed?”
“In the beginning,” Ramiel said, “it will seem similar to vampirism. In the beginning, you will crave blood and flesh. But you will quickly evolve, and that’s where the similarity ends. Your human form will die, as with vampirism. But again, that’s where the similarity ends. You will be a much higher form, of an order we call the Baal, and a member of our enlightened organization The Inspiriti.”
