by A. L. Mengel
Darius nodded and took a sip of his wine.
I feel like my wrists are in cuffs. Tied to a bed. Waiting for you. Waiting for whomever. I just sit back, lie under the covers, wait for the door to open. Leave me alone, Tramos. Leave me alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
You are searching for me, Douglas. You are seeking where I lay. I can still see you. I can still hear the leaves crunching under your feet.
Because I am still alive.
I am lying in a grave, in a coffin, in the dark and the cold. But I exist. I still feel. I still hear. And I still long.
Doug stopped walking.
He reached a clearing in the middle of the woods. The trees surrounded him, and the night was at its darkest. There was no moon. He looked upwards to the sky, and then scanned the area.
There was the same swirling, early morning mist layered in the graveyard when Doug reached the edge as when Antoine had years earlier.
And in the sky, a star shined directly above a tree in the middle of a clearing. And then Doug knew where to start.
*~*~*
Darius reached George Stanley’s casket. His shovel clanked on the grave liner as Delia looked on from above. Darius looked up at her. “Here we are.”
“Good,” Delia said. “Now we have to pry open the liner and burn his body. It’s the only way.”
And then a tree fell. Both Delia and Darius stopped and listened. After a few moments of silence, Delia whispered down to him. “I think she knows we are here.”
Darius shook his head, and crouched down on top of the grave liner. He hung his head down and closed his eyes. “I remember this when I was burying Antoine.” He spoke softly, and kept his eyes closed. “Delia, this cannot end well. You need to come down here in the grave with me.”
And then there was a moment that they both stopped. There was silence. Delia closed her eyes. “I can sense her, Darius.”
Footsteps approached the grave, through the grass, and stopped. “It’s too late, my daughter. Too, too late.”
And then Darius climbed out of the grave.
Claret stood in a long, flowing white robe. She appeared translucent. “He is already out. And Darius, Antoine has already been located. You do know that a man has traveled to Lyon, correct?”
Darius paused for a moment, and sat on the edge of the grave. “And what of Stephen? We have not heard from him in quite some time.”
Oh Antoine, I have failed you.
Claret smiled.
“The only way that you can avoid a certain death is to join me.”
“I will never join you, Claret.”
Delia looked at Darius and smiled.
Oh Antoine, I could not protect you like I thought that I could.
*~*~*
As Darius and Delia sat and spoke with Claret, at the small cemetery in Miami, under the shroud of darkness, thousands of miles away in Lyon, where the daylight was already shining, Doug sat under the tree that marked Antoine’s grave.
With his head hung between his knees, he sat in the morning sun, feeling the warmth of the rays, against the cool, damp earth, and the wetness of the morning dew.
But he only sat for a few moments.
And shortly thereafter started digging. He hoisted each shovel full of earth off to the side, until there was a large pile, and his shovel was hitting the hard coffin. He scraped a layer of dirt off, and saw the cross etched in the center, and in one swoop, plunged the shovel into the coffin, splintering the wood. The satin interior came into view, covered by a layer of ashes.
The heart. You must destroy the heart. Antoine must be stopped.
The sky darkened and the winds picked up.
Doug looked up, and around, and saw the swirling grey clouds. What had started as a brilliant and sunny morning was now grey and angry. There was a crash of thunder, followed by a bright flash of lightning.
And then Doug paused.
The winds continued, but there was a strange quietness now. There was something distinctly different.
The sky reddened and the clouds blackened further. It had darkened so much that Doug had difficulty seeing; he fished a lantern from his bag and lit it.
And then he paused and looked towards the sky.
You have found me.
You have read your letter, you have completed your tasks, and given your honor and your time to Sheldon.
But Sheldon did not know the entire story.
He did not know that what he seeks – my destruction – is not possible. For I will always be alive.
Antoine crashed through the coffin lid, raising upwards towards the sky; he reached upwards and flew to the sky, as Doug fell backwards.
Doug looked up at Antoine, who was hovering above the grave. Doug recognized him from the description; his mulatto skin, dark, flowing hair. He appeared bodiless; just a dark, flowing figure.
“You must come with me,” Antoine said, reaching out for Doug, who floated upwards. Doug looked back down and saw that they were much higher in the sky than he had thought Antoine initially was. The black clouds, which appeared cotton-like when up close, were full of faces.
Faces staring out with wide eyes, open in horror, crying out with un-heard words and unseen torment.
“You are here in Hades, Douglas. You have dreamed of this. I will protect you. For the hooded man who visited you was evil and mal intentioned.”
Antoine wrapped his arms around Doug, enveloping him in a dark embrace. He felt suffocated by the translucence, but still had no difficulty breathing. But he felt Antoine’s embrace, which tightened as they moved across the terrain, floating and levitating above the trees. “Listen to me,” Antoine whispered. “Close your eyes and cherish the exquisiteness of the pain you are about to experience.”
And the sharp points against his neck teemed and pulsated and his pulse quickened and he felt the beat of his heart in his neck. He could feel the blood pumping out of his body, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered were the black clouds passing by, racing across a red sky.
But there was more.
“Because Douglas,” Antoine said. “And I shall call you Douglas because that is your true, given name. Don’t you see why you have been chosen for this? For this life of immortality? You have been given a gift, a life that will never end, and never die.”
Doug remembered the same Saturday morning that he had learned of Sheldon’s death, when he had been sitting in his office in Boston College, wondering if he should even make the trip to Miami.
And then later, he saw himself again, sitting in the offices underneath The Astral underneath the city, with Ramiel, and questioning the validity of his trip to Germany.
But now, in Antoine’s embrace, it all made sense.
He was chosen by Sheldon, not because they were friends, or studied the same subjects, or that they disagreed on certain topics. He was chosen by a different entity; another power located in a different realm of existence, because that is what was meant to be.
And then, he knew. He knew that he was chosen. And he knew that the hooded man was never supposed to be part of the picture.
When the city dies, I will find you.
“That was me speaking to you,” Antoine said. “That was never the hooded man. You have to understand, Douglas, there are many different planes of existence. You exist solely in one of them. Now, with this gift that I give you, you will exist in many different realms.”
“And I know that you cannot respond. I know that. But realize this. George Stanley was a chosen one as well. But he was chosen by darkness. And his sole purpose was to create The Four Hoodsmen. And that is what he did. And there is nothing that Darius or Delia can do to stop it, no matter what they may think. The damage has already been done, because that is what was meant to be. You cannot have the presence of good without the presence of evil. It will always be there.”
*~*~*
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Antoine hovered in the sky above
the cemetery in Miami.
Douglas was barely conscious, but looked downwards. It was like looking through a portal. He saw them, and recognized Darius and Delia from their photos. They were sitting on the edge of an open grave, and appeared to be talking.
“Get ready for a bit of a jolt,” Antoine said, as they descended. There was a brilliant flash and it felt like he was being pulled from Antoine’s grip, but he felt the arms get increasingly muscular. He felt Antoine’s chest form, legs, and the remainder of his body. When they reached the ground, Antoine was in full form, tall, dark, muscular and wearing his signature long, black coat.
Almost instantly, Darius looked up at Antoine. “Antoine!” But he continued to sit at the edge of the grave, hunched over.
Antoine looked over at Delia and nodded. “He is very weak,” she said. “She was just here, and she robbed him of even more of his life force. I don’t think he has much time left.”
Antoine looked over at Darius, who looked up at him, and smiled softly.
Delia got up, and walked over to Antoine. “You need to take him, Antoine. He is about to go. Do you know where the cup is? If he can drink from it, he might have hope.”
Antoine’s face fell.
“The cup is lost. I have not seen it since I was abducted in Sacrafice by Nesmaron. At this point, I don’t know where it is. All we can do is search.”
Delia touched Antoine’s arm. “Is there any hope for his survival?”
“Possibly. Let me take him back to Lyon. Perhaps he can rest there, and I will make sure to share my blood with him. That is what we can hope for.”
Delia sighed. “And I know Claret is just playing a game with us. I know she knows where the cup is.”
“Or it would be the blood decanter. Don’t forget about that.”
“Yes, that.” Delia shook her head, and then looked over at Douglas, who was lying on the ground, unconscious. “What about him?”
“He is chosen and needs to rest. Get rid of Stanley’s body. I don’t care what Claret thinks about it, just get rid of it. And let Douglas rest there. He is needed.”
*~*~*
Antoine kneeled down next to Darius.
Darius at that point had fallen back and was lying flat on the grass next to the grave. He had closed his eyes. Antoine put his hand on the side of his cheek and gently caressed it.
Darius opened his eyes slightly, and smiled again. “Antoine. Am I dead now?”
Antoine shook his head. “No, you’re not dead.”
Darius closed his eyes again.
Antoine picked up Darius and held him close to his body. “I am taking him back to Lyon. Delia, you know what to do.”
*~*~*
CHAPTER THIRTY
Antoine gently glided back into the cemetery in Lyon.
Darius looked up at him. “Oh, Antoine, how much I have missed you…”
He lay Darius on the grass next to the tree that he had been buried next to. . Antoine stood next to him and smiled. A light breeze caught his long, dark hair. “You did what you needed to do,” Antoine said, kneeling down. Darius looked up at him with sad, tired eyes.
“When do I drink from the cup?”
Antoine looked down at the ground. He sat on the grass, crossed his legs, and then looked up at Darius. “You don’t know?”
Darius cocked his head to the side.
“Claret has never let her vengeance go. I lost all control when I was gone. Look at all that has happened.”
“I am sorry, Antoine. I have failed you.”
Antoine reached out and caressed Darius on the side of his head. “You didn’t fail me. You never have. I brought you here so you could see that everything is the same, and we are going to move on just like we have for so many years. Now, let me take you inside.”
*~*~*
It was the next morning.
The sun was peeking from the eastern sky as Antoine carried Darius through the woods towards the Chateau.
Neither of them paid any concern to the rising sun; for Antoine now could once again relish the warmth of the rays, he no longer had to hide from or fear the light. It was time to usher in a new period, a period of warmth, of growth, and forgiveness.
The sun was finally shining again.
The heavy, wooden door to the Chateau opened with a creak. The sunlight spilled into the foyer, as the rooms beyond remained dark. Antoine walked inside and started opening curtains, as sunlight flooded each dusty room. “It’s time to let some light here. It’s time for some warmth.”
Darius trudged inside, his frail body hovered over. Antoine stopped and grabbed a walking cane from the coat stand. Darius looked up at Antoine, who bounced through the house, an image of youth and virility. He was still just as alluring as he had been the first night they met in the Café; his skin was just as unblemished at it had been under the Badulla moonlight, and his lips…his sensuous lips.
And then Darius stopped.
Antoine had retreated to the back room, and Darius heard the clank of a teapot and running water. “Let’s get you relaxed,” he said, appearing once again in the doorway, holding a small, steel pot. “I am making you some tea. Let’s lay you down so you can rest.”
Darius closed his eyes as Antoine headed back to the kitchen. Darius struggled to move, as Antoine returned and picked him up once again, in his strong, muscular arms. He sat Darius at the table, and Antoine hurried around and opened the kitchen curtains. He pushed several windows open and let in some warmth and fresh air.
“I don’t want to be burned. I want to be buried.”
Antoine smiled. “Don’t be silly. We will find the cup. We aren’t going to lose you.”
But Antoine knew better.
He looked down at Darius, and saw the shriveled, wasted human that he had become. Time was running very short, in fact, he knew that Darius could pass any day now. But Claret, as shrewd as she was, was laughing.
He could sense it.
Darius sat at the table dying, his bones visible through a thin layer of skin covered in knots and lesions.
Antoine served a steaming cup of tea and took a seat opposite Darius at the table. The two men sat in silence for quite some time.
“I was speaking with a priest when you were gone. I told him all of my secrets.”
Antoine raised his eyebrows, stopped stirring his tea, and looked up at Darius. “Everything?”
Darius looked out the window.
Dirty little secrets…
“Yes. All of them.”
Dirty I will be, Dirty I will stay…
Darius remembered that day very clearly. Just like any other day that he had waited for Father Bauman to appear on the Cathedral steps, it had been raining. But there was something that he remembered now, sitting at the table, sipping on steaming tea an ocean away.
He remembered that like it was yesterday.
Not before long, the mist will come. It will clean you up. Rid you of your misdeeds…
“All before dawn,” Darius said, blowing on his steaming tea before taking a sip. “The sun came out that day…that much I can remember. I don’t remember much else. I think I am going senile. But I remember that much. The sun did come out.”
Antoine stirred some sugar in his tea. “Once I have gotten you settled, I will return to Miami to get Douglas. And I will follow up with Delia on the whereabouts of Claret. I won’t be gone long, that I promise.”
For I never want, I never need, I never stray…
Antoine helped Darius to bed.
His frail friend needed to rest the day away, and hopefully, by nightfall, he would have some energy to be awake and carry a conversation.
But Antoine knew all too much.
As he carried Darius to bed, he could feel each bone, for most of Darius’ muscle had already wasted away.
He looked down at his friend, who was looking up at him with wide, open eyes. The eyes that beckoned him so many years ago, that stood by him and defended him and looked upon him with love,
and sometimes with anger.
But those eyes always gazed upon him, they always showed love, and they always forgave.
Soon you’ll be dirty too.
He lay Darius down on the bed and drew up the sheets. Darius closed his eyes and fell into a slumber.
Antoine stood in the doorway and looked at Darius sleeping on the bed. He decided to open the drapes and let some sunlight in to warm the room. He pushed the window open for some fresh air, which flowed through the room. The room no longer seemed dark and grey. It was warm, it felt yellow, and there was a feeling of cleansing as the fresh air flowed inside.
Antoine closed the door, but kept it open a crack so he could monitor Darius throughout the day as he slept.
And sleep Darius did.
*~*~*
And there you have it.
That is how the body that came through the morgue changed me. When Sheldon rolled on through, I became involved with Darius and Antoine.
I had known who Antoine was before, but when Sheldon rolled on through, Antoine was dead.
And then Darius was dying.
And when I first saw Stephen…that is when I knew that things would be changing. For I remember my interview with Heavenly Slumber, when I made the promise to demystify death.
And now, looking back on the last ten years or so, I wonder if I had delivered on that promise.
But Sheldon sealed the deal.
I just had to get out of the funeral business. No longer wanted to be the Mortician’s Mortician.
A shame about Darius. I liked the fellow. But then, he can come through my chamber as well. For even though he was across the pond, I know Antoine will be bringing him back here.
To see me.
I demystify death. For no matter what I may sometimes think, whether I have bad days or off days, I know that is my calling.
A calling of compassion.
