by A. L. Mengel
“I can dig. I am getting my strength back.”
“Good. So is he Tramos?”
“Yes, I believe so. I can sense Claret is here. I can feel her presence. I think I may even have seen her today.” Delia clutched her chest. “You did? We are getting closer, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“She is getting stronger, Darius. I can feel it. Where did you see her?”
“I believe that she is hiding in the church posing as a nun.”
Delia shook her head. “Oh no…”
The car stopped in a parking space at the Cathedral of The Gardens. Darius parked in an inconspicuous spot at the edge of the parking lot by the edge of a thick, wooded area, shrouded in darkness.
“And you?”
Delia opened her door and exited the car much more freely that when she had gotten in. “Oh, I am feeling it,” she said. “I can feel that we are close to her.”
They closed and secured the car and walked side by side towards the back of the Cathedral. When they arrived at the back door, Delia peered inside a nearby window. “Where did you leave them?”
“Back in the cemetery. There’s an open grave near the woods. They’re in the hole.”
“Then let’s go. I don’t see anything inside right now.”
*~*~*
Darius stared into the cemetery.
It was certainly a very different place at night.
No longer were the gravestones grey against the sunlit sky; they now had a blue hue in the moonlight, as the clouds parted above them. He remembered this cemetery all too well. Many times he sat among the markers, feeling raindrops touching his face, as he would sit in a small, plastic folding chair next to a freshly filled grave, waiting for some sign that he was meant to live.
But usually, the sign would never come.
He would sit with his eyes closed, and he would stay right there even if the rain started to fall harder, soaking his face and his hair, and he would listen to the raindrops falling, until Father Bauman would stand over him with a large, black umbrella.
Something sounded like rain. Or maybe leaves crunching.
Darius stopped, and held his arm out, stopping Delia as well. “Do you hear that?” he asked.
“Yes. But we must go on.”
And go on they did.
Through the expansive gardens with rising Crosses and ornate Statues, through hyacinths and magnolia trees and Royal palms – to the far corner, several city blocks away, so far that the Cathedral was shrouded in foliage, making the darkness seem heavier, despite that their path was lit by small lights below at the edge of the walkway.
And then a branch snapped in the forest closer to the edge of the cemetery.
Delia stopped walking.
“Darius. You know who that is.”
“Yes.”
“So you know who we are about to face?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ready and willing to press on given your condition?” She looked over at him. He nodded.
“Okay then, we shall proceed. How far are we from the equipment?”
“Another fifty yards or so.”
Delia scanned the area. Blackness started at the edge of the forest, visible through a vast sea of gravestones rising from a bluish field of grass.
And then there was a snap again. Like the falling of branches against a silent night. And Darius and Delia stopped, both listening.
And then Darius felt like he couldn’t move forward. Closer to the snapping branches.
Because you remember me.
I knew you would remember me.
For I, I am the one that you should always remember. I am the one on the other side of the table, I am the one that you couldn’t look at, the face that always remained nameless; the one who gave you life.
I am coming for you Darius.
I am coming through the trees and the stones. And looking for you, waiting for you, looking for me.
Darius looked over at Delia. “I…”
She moved closer to him, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, wiping the side of his cheek. Blotting it like a mother would. “Don’t go, then.” She stepped back for a minute, looking at him. “You look pained, Darius. Are you sure you can do this?”
Darius hung his head down, and shook his head. “I have to…”
And then there was a thud in the forest. Both snapped their heads in the direction of the noise. “I am fine,” Delia said. “But you will not be…”
I am coming for you, Darius. I am seeking your dark lover.
“I hear him, Delia. He is speaking to me.”
She grabbed his arm. “You need to make a choice! Do we go on with this or not? If you don’t make it through, I cannot bring you back, Darius!”
“We go.”
“Then let’s press on.”
They continued on the path to find the tools. The forest became angry; the deep thuds continued, like giant footsteps were getting closer and closer.
Branches snapped and moved closer.
You’re running again, aren’t you? You’re running again like you did so many years ago.
And then Darius remembered the sunny mornings.
He was in his bed. He was staring at the door. And the pounding started, shaking the doorframe.
“Who is that?!” he called out, holding the covers up close towards his neck.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
He pulled the covers up over his head. “NO!”
And then the door splintered through the frame, and broken wood fell to the floor. And then Darius felt a heavy weight on top of him, smothering his face into the pillow.
Look at me and remember me. Remember the mornings.
And then Darius stopped short in his tracks. “It’s Tramos. I can hear him speaking to me! Delia, we have to leave!”
Delia looked over at Darius. Her face was twisted in confusion. “Darius…are you sure? It’s not Asmodai?”
Darius grabbed Delia’s arm, dragging her back to whence they came. “Let’s go!” His eyes were wide as plates. He started breathing heavy. “Let’s go now! Tramos is here!”
Delia broke free. “No. Stop. This isn’t Tramos. This is just your human mind spinning out of control. Let’s continue and finish the job, Darius. You are mortal. You are not going to see things like I do.”
“And you can’t see that Tramos is coming?”
I am here.
Tramos is here.
Just like every morning when I would come with thundering footsteps and smash through the door. I am coming.
And I will always find you.
I see you.
I see you each and every day. I see you walking through the sands, I saw you running from the crumbling mountain in Luxor, but I have always seen you. I know you. And I have always seen you, each day, from when I saw you in the mornings in the bright sunlight.
Do you see me remembering you? Do you know how much I cherish you?
And Darius knew who it was.
“Let’s go, Delia. Nothing good will come from us staying here. I know who it is. And it’s not who you think it is.”
And then she knew.
All of a sudden, the fog lifted, her vision cleared. It was time to face up. Time to pay the piper.
Oh Delia, you don’t even know how long I have waited for you.
Delia stopped and looked all around. “What the!? He is speaking to me?!”
And then she just couldn’t understand what was happening.
There were some days that everyone recognized her. She was the most cherished woman in the bar. The staff even waited for her to come each day, because she would throw money at them. But in actuality, her dollars were really just paying them to pretend that they cared. For there were other days, that the bar was busier, and the bartenders said hello but were too busy to really talk to her. And it was those days.
It was the days that she had forgotten about.
The days that the bartender forgot about her and left her
drink empty; because she was the forgotten one. No matter how much she tried to pay her way out of it, there was always a time that she was the forgotten one, because no matter much large her tips were, they were never big enough.
And Delia still would remember.
“We need to exhume him now, Darius. He is getting into both our heads now!”
Darius stopped at the edge of the parking lot and hung his head low. “It’s so dark there, Delia. You listen to that?”
Delia craned her neck. “To what?”
“To that. Nothing. It’s silence.”
Delia took her cane and opened the gate with a creak. “We need to do this at some point,” she said, moving into the cemetery. She looked back, and then over at Darius. “You have to face death at some point, and we need to exhume George because I have a sinking feeling about him.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
Darius followed Delia amidst the sea of stones, and sped up to catch up with her. Even though the woman was old, had grey hair and was wrinkled, she moved quickly.
And Darius chose to follow closely.
“You were never this timid when I knew you before.”
Darius nodded, but Delia did not look back. Darius spoke to her as they walked deeper into the cemetery. “Yes, I remember Paris. And Lyon. But those were different days.”
Delia looked up at the sky, at the stars, as if musing. “Yes…they were.”
And then she turned around.
“So we are going to dig up George, and make sure that Claret hasn’t gotten her grips on him, but I think she did.”
*~*~*
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Cathedral of the Gardens was closed up for the evening, but the door was not locked.
It was never locked.
The sun went down on the horizon, the winds caught the palm tree fronds, and it was a cool night in Miami.
Darius stood on the steps and drew on a cigarette every few minutes. The sweet smell of the smoke flew through the gusts of wind. He checked his watch as the heavy wooden door to the church opened with a creak. His head snapped to the doorway, and he saw a silhouette that could only be Father Bauman. “Would you like to come in?”
Darius shook his head. “I am waiting for her. I would prefer to wait outside.”
Father Bauman leaned against the doorframe and started at the passing traffic. It was a chilly day in Miami, the shoppers were still out and about despite the cool weather, and the shops across the street still operated and doors still opened and closed with the chime of a bell. “I’ll wait with you,” he said. “Do you have another one of those?”
Darius turned around. He cocked a half-smile, raised his eyebrows and fished an unfiltered out of a small, soft pack. “Smoking?”
“Oh, you know, how things have been going lately. Claire and all. And just everything that has been going on lately. Is she bringing Stephen?”
Darius looked back out at the passing cars and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I don’t know if he’s coming or not. He wasn’t exactly receptive when I met him last night.”
Father Bauman lit his cigarette with the pop of a match. He turned away from the wind and cupped his hands and tried again.
Darius turned to face the priest again. “Father…I have to admit…I am scared.”
Father Bauman stopped and looked directly at Darius. “What is it my son?”
Darius shook his head and looked down at the pavement. “In fact, I’m terrified.”
“What are you terrified of, my son?”
Darius leaned against the cool cement wall.
He looked towards the sky and closed his eyes. He remembered the early mornings and the late nights. He remembered taking the sheets from his bed and hauling them to the trash, for the bloodstains wouldn’t come out in the wash. He remembered the day that he was born into darkness, and he remembered seeing Tramos for the first time.
A tear streamed down his cheek as he opened his eyes. “I know what will happen. It’s just a matter of time before I die. That is the reality of it. And Tramos will be waiting for me. He came to me when I was young. He is why I was transformed. And now…he is right on the other side waiting for me.”
“Then we need to start a quest for living, my son. We need to keep you alive. Even if you have to be born into darkness again to do it.”
Darius looked at the small, tired priest.
Father Bauman leaned against the doorframe and smiled, his salt and pepper hair blew in the wind, and his tired looking eyes just seemed like he could be trusted.
“So you are standing there, meeting with me again like we have so many times now, and not judge me for who I am and what I have done?”
“No.” His voice was warm and reassuring. “I am here to help you, my son.”
“So why would you help me become immortal again?”
“Let’s go inside. Delia can just come in. I want to show you something.”
Darius followed Father Bauman into the expansive worshiping area. It was dark, but Darius could still see the warm wooden pews, the dark blue carpeting, the soaring rafters which depicted stone carvings of the Stations of the Cross reaching towards an ornate, marble Altar standing in front of a sea of stained glassed Biblical art and windows.
“Come with me to the research room, it’s just past the rectory.”
Darius followed, past the kneelers and pulpit.
The door to the vestment room was closed; it was a small, light brown wooden arched door, with a small window in the center protected by a wrought iron cross. Father Bauman opened the door with a slight creak, and the two men stepped into the vestment room. Darius saw the white door to the left, against the white brick and stone leading into the rectory. And then he saw the vestment closet.
And Father Bauman started parting the vestments. “There is a door here,” he said, turning to face Darius. He grabbed a large, thick candle and searched for a match. “Where we are going not many know about, but we will need some light. The Light of the Lord.”
Darius knew where they were going.
He had been there many times before. He remembered the walls crumbing, the earth turning to stone, the sun turning black. He remembered the red sky painted with black clouds. He remembered Tramos.
And Asmodai. And now, he was about to return, now just a mortal, like a sheep going to the slaughter.
“Father Bauman, wait.”
The Light of the Lord.
Darius grabbed Father Bauman’s shoulder. “I don’t think a candle is going to help us. I know where we are going, I have been there before.”
“You don’t think that I haven’t been there before? But the only way that we can fully understand what is happening to you – what is happening to Stephen – and how to overcome it is by going there.” Father Bauman stood straight and looked Darius directly in the eyes. “And if you don’t feel this candle will help you, then it won’t.”
Father Bauman opened the panel behind the vestments, revealing total darkness. “There is a set of stairs here. The steps will be soft, so proceed with caution.”
*~*~*
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Let me tell you the story of The Dark Ones,” Delia said, as she set her cup of tea down on the coffee table. Darius sat back in his chair.
The Dark Ones…oh, Antoine, how I miss you. I need you. I need you to protect me from The Dark Ones.
And then he wasn’t sitting in his chair anymore.
He was lying in a coffin. He saw the satin, the creamy white pillow, the must and the mildew and the mold.
But the lid would open – and a crack of light would shine through – and a then he would see the black fabric…his legs before him. The legs that he could not move.
The dead legs.
Dead legs. Someone take these dead legs from me! I want to walk again.
But he could not move. And when the coffin lid opened, all he could see was a bright light. A bright blinding light, spilling its way closer to his f
ace, until he had no choice but to close his eyes.
“The Dark Ones will come and haul you to hades.”
Darius snapped out of his trance. “So they do, what?”
“They are the banishers of the sinful.”
But the sinful never sleep. And they never walk alone in the darkness, for they are great in number and stand together against the righteous.
Darius got up and walked over to the shelves of books on the other side of the room. There were too many books written on his greatest fears, on the shadows of his existence. Darius turned around and looked at Delia. “I met someone last night,” he said.
“And?”
“He is suffering. I can tell. He is going to die soon.”
Delia took another sip of her tea and gently placed the cup back on the saucer with a sight clank. “He is dying?”
But death is just a state of existence. Slowly our reality slips away, as the lightness turns to dark, and the eyes shut. And then we wait.
And then we wake. Into the new world. Into a world with a red sky painted with black clouds, the ground dry with stones. And there are fires. So many fires…
“Darius…Darius!”
He opened his eyes. The room was bathed in a bright sunlight. He reached his arms up to cover his face and then stopped. Delia set her cup of tea down on the table. “Did it work?”
“I saw a red sky…”
Delia leaned forward. “And was there more?”
Darius rest his arm over his face, the crook of his elbow covering his eyes. “Close the drapes, please.”
“What else did you see?”
Darius slouched further down into his chair. “It was eternal darkness. I saw despair. Sadness and isolation.”
And then Darius raised his head and looked out the window. “I saw…”
“Let’s try again,” Delia said. She got up and walked around the coffee table, the jingle of the small silver amulet she wore around her neck pierced the silence. She knelt down next to him, and when Darius looked back to her, he saw her tired eyes. Her warm smile. “It’s time to try again, Darius.”
He closed his eyes and a tear streamed down his cheek. “I cannot find her…”
