I rolled my eyes, fighting back a choking cough. Granted, while the thought hadn't crossed my mind, it would have been one hell of an awesome display of the rule of unintended consequences. Still, there was nothing I could say that could make her believe me, that much was obvious. She had made up her mind. Her faith in The Three –now Two- trumped anything I could say.
“Where are we going?” I asked finally.
“The church.”
That was interesting considering what had happened there. It would more than likely be considered a murder scene by now. Granted, given the pull the Ordo had displayed, I suppose they could have had it opened or just quashed the issue altogether. More than that though, is what the church had become. It wasn't holy ground anymore. Maggie could bless small bits of ground fast, but she couldn’t do something that covered as much acreage as the church without a lot of time and work. At least I was hoping that was the case, for my sake.
“Maggie, this isn’t going to go the way you want it to,” I said, trying once more to talk sense into her.
“'Asn’t since the beginning, Jack.”
“Well, this isn’t going to make it any better.”
“Well, it can’t make it any worse,” she said, quietly.
“Yeah. Not at all,” I said.
Chapter 30
The church came into view, looming like some sort of monolithic castle out of a Gothic novel. It seemed that the whole aura of the entire block had changed since we had found the janitor's body, morphing into something dark and sinister. A heavy sense of foreboding hung thick in the air. The streetlights, as far as I could see, were all dead or flickering, casting weird patches of light and darkness over the asphalt. Shadows bathed windows that on any other night would have offered the warm glow of sanctuary. The doors had been repaired and the lack of crime scene tape didn’t really surprise me.
Must be nice to have connections.
Maggie pulled the car to the sidewalk, slipping out the door with no preamble. My door opened a second later. She reached in, grabbed the stone cuffs, and practically dragged me out onto the street. I relied on her to keep standing. I fought back a choked scream as my body twisted, tearing at the wounds in my side. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small swatch of white silk. She wiped it over my side, staining it with my blood.
“Oy, c’mon. Let’s finish this,” she said, her voice resigned and weary.
I stumbled, working to keep my footing on the snow and ice. I managed to get upright enough to walk, though every step sent fresh jolts of fire across my nerves. My head throbbed, a piercing pressure just behind the temples. A crawling, pins and needles sensation had set into my skin around my restraints and every tug on the stone made it feel like hundreds of tiny insects working their way under my muscles.
I pulled back against Maggie in a last ditch effort at escape. The cuffs tightened around my wrists until it felt like the bones in my arm were grinding against each other. I let out a small whimper that sounded like it was somewhere between a gasp and gag. Maggie gave the cuffs a quirk jerk, sending me stumbling forward and kept walking, half dragging me behind her. She didn't bother with so much as a glance over her shoulder. She led me up the steps, throwing the door to the church open and leading me inside.
The first thing that hit me was the cold. The interior of the church had to be somewhere in the negatives. It was a biting, knife-like cold. It was the type of cold that snaked its way into your lungs, threatening to freeze you from the inside out. The second thing that stood out was that the pews had been moved, leaving the church’s interior all but empty. They now lined the walls, stacked neatly on top of each other. Three massive circles had been drawn in the middle of the floor with chalk, forming a triangle. Candles sat on the outside of each, each one positioned in the center of some sort of hand-drawn symbol. They had been arranged so that each one would correspond to a point on a five-pointed star.
Maggie pushed me into the circle at the back right corner of the triangle. I landed on my side and lay there for a minute, eyes closed, trying to think. I had to figure something, someway out of this and I should probably be getting around to that pretty quick. She kept her eyes on me, pacing backwards as she put herself in the circle at point.
Maggie’s power, from what I understood of how magic worked, would focus itself into the circle I was in – which, once closed, would serve as both a conduit between her and me and a form of restraint for Alice. My soul was technically demonic, being bonded to Alice as it was. A circle like this, which I was assuming was some sort of ward or binding, would hold me within its confines same as a physical cage.
Maggie lit the lighter and with a motion of her hand. It sparked to life, spewing a small ball of flame in the air. It hit the ground, no larger than a marble, and bounced once before settling around the wick of the candle closest to her. For a second it lingered there, before bouncing to the next, once more hitting the floor first. It did that over and over again, lighting all the candles around each circle, in a counterclockwise fashion. I could feel more of the power rising around me, strengthening the cage.
There was a whispered word and a gesture from Maggie, and the cuffs became gravel once more, falling to the floor. The circle, while a conduit, must have cut off the stones from Maggie somehow. I wasn't sure, this sort of magic wasn't something I was exactly versed in. Hell, even my assumptions were, at best, uneducated guesses. I felt myself revitalized. Energy, adrenaline, and Alice’s essence all flooded back into me. I stood up, turning to face my executioner.
Alice appeared next to me, her eyes straight ahead, locked on Maggie as well.
“I told you so,” she said.
“What?”
“I told you I didn’t like her. I really don’t now.”
“Hardly the time for 'I told you so', Alice,” I said, eyes narrowed, searching the church.
She turned her eyes down, looking toward the circle.
“This isn’t good, Jack,” she said.
“I’d gathered that.”
Maggie watched the interchange in silence, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed mildly amused watching me, as it would appear to her, talking to myself.
“We have to get out of here,” she said, a new emphasis in her voice.
“Are you planning on telling me anything useful, or just underlining a shit situation?” I asked, putting my hand out towards the edge of the circle, trying to extend my fingers out past it. They stopped against what amounted to an invisible wall. The air itself felt like it was vibrating. A humming, like the feeling of touching an electric fence wire, jolted through my arm. I ignored it and tried to push harder against the circle. There was no give, it was like trying to push against a steel wall.
“This… It’s not going to be pretty. She's using a witch's exorcism,” she said simply.
“That’s surprising? I mean she is a witch after all.”
“No, it's not surprising, but what happens if she separates us will be. That's what a witch's exorcism does, Jack. It's not like, say a Catholic rite. A witch's exorcism will literally tear me out of your soul and force me to fully materialize here.”
“Okay?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jack,” she said.
“Such as?”
“Not important,” she stated and started to pace slowly around the circle. Despite the predicament we found ourselves in, her facial expression hadn't changed. Instead she simply watched it all with a detached clinical eye, taking note of glyphs, of the candles, observing everything as if it had no bearing on her whatsoever.
Fucking demon. She was right. I didn’t get her at all. I was about to crap myself and she was treating this like another day at the office.
“Say your goodbyes, Jack,” Maggie said, her tone was surprisingly gentle.
“Do it now, Maggie,” I heard Yavetta’s voice resonate through the church’s interior. The church's acoustics causing thunderous echoes in the confined space.
&n
bsp; I turned, looking up to see him watching from the balcony, his face shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat he wore. Hernandez stood beside him, face drawn in a tight mask - the face of a man who was involved in an act that he believed in, but didn’t particularly care for. I searched both of them, trying to spot a tell that Legion was here, actively watching and wearing one of them, for all intents and purposes, as a suit.
She nodded once, and settled down onto her knees. She opened her bag and laid her knife, a small chalice, her lighter, and a bell out on the floor in front of her. Next, she set the swatch of cloth painted with my blood in the bowl of the chalice. She closed her eyes, hand passing over each, a whisper sliding from her lips. I couldn’t hear the words. I turned my attention back to Yavetta and the smile playing at his lips.
“Jack...” Alice said, looking up towards the Rabbi as well. He seemed younger since I had met him. His frame seemed thicker, the lines on his face smoother.
“I’ve got nothing,” I said finally.
“We have to break the circle,” she said.
“How?”
“We can’t.”
“Well, you’re just full of useful suggestions aren’t you?”
Alice turned towards me, her hands finding mine. She looked up into my face, eyes blank. For a moment she didn’t say anything, but I could feel the power radiating off her. It was the same power that was merged with my own soul, my own essence. Her lips moved, for a moment, as if stumbling over unsaid words before she finally spoke.
“What comes next. You have to...” she let her voice trail off.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let it kill you,” she said finally.
“Maggie. Do it,” Yavetta growled, the echo of his voice louder now, more pronounced.
Hernandez lowered his head and began praying. His fingers danced over his rosary. Despite Yavetta and Maggie's conversation, I could hear the tiny beads clicking as they slid through his fingers.
I turned back to Maggie when I heard the prayer. She was standing, knife in her hand. She paced around the outside of the circle containing me, trailing the blade behind her in the air. The words rolled off her tongue, a prayer to her own personal God and Goddess alike. Her eyes were intent and if I had been outside of this damned circle I’d be able to feel the power gathering. A heavy stillness was rising in the air laced with the scent of ozone and her wildflower perfume.
Alice lowered her head, almost in reverence. I looked back towards Yavetta, and his smile widened even more, stretching out into a toothy grin. The joy was damn near painted on his face in neons.
“Maggie... Please, don’t do this.” I pleaded with her. She didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
She returned to her items and settled the knife down back in its place and picked up the bell. She held it between her clasped hands, her prayers coming faster now. When she rang it, it went out as a clarion call, brilliant and bright in the gloom of the church. It was about a thousand times louder than a bell that size should be, and the tone seemed to hang in the air, humming and vibrating with unseen power. Here and there dust fell, shaken loose from windowpanes and ledges. A slight wind stirred, lifting her hair ever so slightly from her shoulders, wreathing her face in a halo of spun copper tresses.
She exchanged the bell for the lighter, and flipped the top open. More prayers came and she and lit it, setting it on the floor. Heat seemed to pulse from it in waves, the tiny flame giving the entire church a warm, hearth-like glow. Shadows rolled and wavered, twisting and moving with the dance of the little fire’s light. She poured water from a bottle into the chalice. In the distance, like some underlying echo, I could hear the rolling sea and the crashing of waves.
I had a feeling whatever she was about to throw at me was going to be on a whole new level of the bad ass scale. Call it a hunch.
There was a long pause, total silence settling over the building. Alice sighed, our eyes meeting again.
“Hold on, Jack,” she said quietly, something like sorrow in her voice. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”
Maggie stood, power swirling around her. Her hair whipped around her face. She glowed, a halo of pure, white light surrounding her. She continued her prayers, speaking in rapid, clipped words and phrases. She held the knife in one hand, the chalice in the other. Water, small crystalline drops stained with my blood rose in a mist from its bowl, swirling slowly around itself like tendrils of liquid smoke.
She lifted her head, eyes settling on me. In that moment, I saw everything behind them. I saw resignation, determination, despair, rage and unspoken apologies. She slashed the knife through the rising mist of the cup.
Chapter 31
It started slowly. Every one of the sigils carved into my body, the scarred demonic runes which defined my contract with Alice, which bound me to her, began to itch. It felt like a thousand fleas had burrowed through the scars, bypassed the blood altogether and opted to start gnawing and biting at the exposed nerves underneath. Itching gave way to burning, a warm flash of pain that started just below my stomach, racing up my chest, outwards along my arms, and over my throat and face. Pure, raw power slammed up into my body through the floor. My back arched hard enough to leave me staring up towards the ceiling.
I could feel Alice fading. This was something wholly different than when I stepped blessed ground. It was like a slow recession, driving away from her and watching her shrink as the distance between us grew. I looked over to see her still standing beside me, slightly transparent now. She met my eyes, her face drawn, eyes weary.
Maggie cut through the mist rising from the cup again, her voice rising through the thickening air of the church. Just its volume alone rang out like an air raid siren. It hit me like a physical blow. The air in my lungs cut out, and the pain of all my wounds started screaming again in unison. Fire lit up along the scars -literal fire- splitting the runes open. The flames consisted of flickers of bluish-white flame, each shaped identical to the runic lettering it ignited. The fire itself didn’t hurt, but there was a pain radiating from each of the glyphs that was pushing inward, burning into my core. It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out.
Maggie’s voice, once strong, now wavered. Her eyes locked on me, wide with shock. I guess immolating me wasn't something she'd been expecting. Alice, now nearly faded from sight, stood in two places at once. One of her in the circle to my left, the third corner of the triangle. Another, a perfect mirror image was standing beside me. Both of them were nearly transparent. She didn’t move, didn’t even twitch, she just stood perfectly still. She was almost solemn, her eyes locked on Maggie.
“Finish it!” Yavetta yelled, his voice different now, reverberating over itself. It was like a hundred voices all at once, the latter ninety-nine subtle and far away.
Figures, now I got to find out where Legion was.
Maggie shot her glance up towards him, indecision painted on her face. She looked between the two of us, eyes darting towards Hernandez.
I fell to my side, curling up in a fetal position. The hoodie had burnt away, consumed by the flames wreathing my body though they'd still yet to actually burn my flesh. Blood poured fresh from the wound in my side, my breath hitching. I coughed, more blood, thick and coppery, escaping my lips.
I tried to scream, to thrash, to find some way to vent the agony racing through my body. I couldn’t. My muscles had seized. My throat snapped closed over the screams. I lay there, only able to move my eyes, looking up towards the priests standing on the balcony.
Maggie stopped her chanting, saying nothing. Everything was painted on her face. This wasn’t what she had expected, what she had signed up for. I didn’t think it was a matter of me, or concern for my well-being. I think it was the fact that the man ordering her to do it looked half insane and quite possibly rabid as he ordered my death.
Even Hernandez looked between Yavetta and me, concern crinkling his features with fine lines.
“Kill him!” Yavetta screamed, practically fr
othing at the mouth.
“Kill him?” Hernandez asked, taking a step back from Yavetta, concern and confusion riddling his face. I watched the Rabbi slam his fist for emphasis against the railing of the balcony. Shards of wood rained down to the floor below.
“Josef, what's gotten into you? We aren't murderers, at least not of someone who still hasn't lost his chances. His redemption is in his works for us, why kill him? Maggie stop this,” Hernandez said.
She looked up, towards Hernandez, and said nothing. I could see the trembling in her hand, the blade of the knife wavering. She tensed, unsure.
“FINISH IT!” Yavetta screamed, the green glow pouring out of his eyes now. Legion took over, his voice becoming a warbling feedback howl of layered voice-over-voice, thousands of them, all at the same time.
Hernandez tried to back away, prayers already bubbling from his lips. Yavetta’s hand shot out, grabbing the old priest by the collar. Hernandez fought, struggling against his former friend's grip. It was futile, like watching a toddler try and move a body builder. Yavetta tossed him absently, sending him over the railing. Hernandez let out a yelp, shock visible on his face a moment before he hit the floor. There was a resounding thud when his body met the hardwood. He lay there, one of his legs bending outwards at mid-thigh.
Yavetta leaped over the balcony, landing with a gymnast's natural grace. Closer now, I could see the writhing under his coat, the way his skin seemed fit to burst with twisting, pulsating force. He stalked towards Maggie, a low growl emanating from his throat.
“Kill. This. Monster,” he said, a finger pointed towards me. “Or we will suffer not the witch to live.” A slow smile creased his lips, vicious and maniacal.
Maggie cut her eyes between Yavetta and me, then towards Hernandez’s heaped frame. Indecision was once more painted on her face.
“It was you, wasn’t it? Jack was right,” she said quietly.
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