by Lincoln Cole
When he walked over toward the rocking chair where she sat, she glanced up, but her gaze shifted away once more. She looked broken and world-weary, and he felt horrible for her.
He felt unsure what, exactly, had prompted his ultimatum earlier that Arthur teach her to fire the guns as well. Part of it was simply because he’d grown frustrated that Arthur had manipulated him. Tired of letting Arthur control the situation, he wanted to demand something out of what unfolded.
However, the more he thought of it, the happier he became with his decision. It made him feel more in control of what happened, and it served the same purpose for Desiree. People had dealt with her horribly —particularly men—her entire life. It started with the bishop, but now Arthur had kidnapped her. Training her to shoot gave her a tool to protect herself against something like this in the future.
At least, that became his hope.
If nothing else, it got her out of the cell and into the fresh mountain air, and he hoped she at least got something from the activity of firing the guns.
He enjoyed it and found something pleasant about firing the tranquilizer darts. It gave no satisfying concussion like shooting a real weapon—they sounded more like opening a fizzy beverage than a gunshot—but it brought a nice feeling to see himself progress and accomplish something.
Niccolo glanced around for somewhere he could sit. A couple more rocking chairs sat nearby, off to the left, and he dragged one over to the door so that it rested close to hers.
“Do you mind?”
Desiree looked over at him but didn’t say anything. He took her silence as assent and sat on the chair, folding his hands in his lap. Then, he just waited, having no idea what to say to the woman to get her to open up and talk to him
She didn’t like him and definitely didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t have trusted himself either if he found himself in her position. Whether or not she believed this was some trick orchestrated by the bishop, she remained in a terrible situation.
Part of him still thought it the wrong decision to keep her here. He could give her the keys to his rental vehicle, he realized, and with a little bit of guidance, she would find her way back to civilization. The keys lay in his pocket right then, and he could hand them over and let her go. Arthur wouldn’t like that decision, but he didn’t much care.
He didn’t, though. Too many things could go wrong. She could bring the cops back, or she might make it home and find someone waiting for her to punish her. Either case would end badly for them, but they would also end badly for her.
But, it still struck him as wrong. Niccolo had to reconcile himself with that fact and had begun to understand that everything in life was just a slippery slope. Once he made a poor decision, then he could make more poor decisions too easily to rationalize and justify that first decision.
He would do everything in his power to make amends for all of this once it was over, including finding the priests who had worked to cover up Bishop Glasser’s actions and seeing to it that they got punished, but right now, he couldn’t let Desiree go.
Even if it felt like the wrong thing, he couldn’t let her leave.
He had crossed a line, he realized, and this would prove the first of many if he were to keep working with Arthur.
“A lovely day,” he said.
“Is it?” she asked with a hint of bitterness. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“I understand. How ... how are you handling all of this?”
At first, Niccolo didn’t think she would answer. It felt like a hollow question, and one he didn’t have any right to ask. She sat in the chair, rocking gently and staring forward.
Finally, she spoke, “Not that well. I thought Leopold had left my life forever when he stopped sending me those letters. I believed I could move on. He would call me sometimes, too. He would ask how I was doing and make me promise I missed him. Usually, I couldn’t sleep for a week after those calls. And yet, finally, I thought it was over. I should have known better. I suppose this is just more of the same.”
“This isn’t more of the same. I promise you that. We’re here to stop him and stop what he’s doing to you.”
“I’ve heard that so many times before,” she said. “All I got for my troubles was mockery and disdain. My family won’t even speak to me anymore because of the things I said against the Church when I thought people were here to help. They don’t even believe me and call me a liar and worse. After a while, I just gave up and did whatever Leopold asked of me. It seemed ... easier.”
“The things he did to you ...” Niccolo shook his head, finding out that he couldn’t continue the thought aloud.
He had meant to call them unspeakable acts that no person should ever do to another, let alone a priest, but the words stuck in his throat. Just imagining the way Desiree had been tortured and mistreated horrified him.
This didn’t resemble anything he had faced in Everett when the possessed townspeople tried to kill him. It wasn’t like the demon living inside of Rose like a parasite. Those had all been good people unable to control themselves in a terrible situation. That came down to evil, but evil he could understand and do battle against.
In this case, everything Leopold had done to Desiree, he had done intentionally and personally. He had done it with the blessing and at the behest of the Church simply by their unwillingness to stop him. What he did had nothing to do with some demonic force rising up to harm someone. What he did lay in his true nature as a human being.
This seemed much, much worse.
“I need to stop him,” Niccolo said.
“Why?”
The question caught him off-guard, and he fumbled for an answer. He hadn’t even thought up a good reason for why he needed to bring the bishop to justice but had just accepted as self-explanatory.
“Because what he is doing is wrong and terrible.”
“Why now? What about what he did before? Why has the Church just now become interested in bringing him to justice? What has he done now that warrants your attention?”
Niccolo thought over his response carefully. “He deals with forces outside his control. Things he doesn’t understand.”
“So, now you want to stop him?”
“We need to stop him. What he has embarked upon is terrible and evil.”
“What he did to me was terrible and evil,” Desiree said, with that hint of bitterness creeping back into her tone. “What made that any different?”
Niccolo didn’t have a good answer. He had entered dangerous territory in the conversation. If he admitted that his reason for stopping the bishop came purely because of what had happened in Everett, then he risked cheapening everything she had experienced. But, in many ways, that showed the exact truth of things.
It felt dirty even to him that the only time someone came wanting to stop the bishop happened when he dabbled in the paranormal, and not when he mistreated children.
“I’m sorry.”
“So, when he only abused me and the others like me, then everything was fine and dandy, but now that other people are at risk, you want to get involved.”
“I didn’t know—”
“No one ever knows,” Desiree said sarcastically. She sighed. “Even when I had overwhelming evidence against him, they always just sounded shocked that I could even raise the accusation. They would whittle down my proof with lies and innuendo and then blame me for even suggesting it. No one ever listens.”
“I’m listening.”
“Because you want something from me. I can’t help you. I wish I could, but not for you or me. I want to help because of all of the other people he hasn’t yet hurt. I don’t want him to harm anyone else, but I don’t know anything.”
“Maybe you know something but don’t know you know it.”
“You sound like a therapist. And a bad one at that.”
Niccolo ignored the jab. “A name, maybe. Can you think of anyone the bishop mentioned in passing? There has to be someone he might have mentioned that had im
portance to him. A friend, maybe.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know anything at all.”
Niccolo watched her for a second, and then nodded. “All right. I am sorry to pry, but it is imperative that we find him. I know you don’t believe me, but I do intend to stop him, and I feel dejected for what happened to you.”
“I know,” Desiree said, looking back out at the woods. Her expression changed slightly. “I’ve been around liars enough to know one when I see one, and you don’t seem like one to me.”
Niccolo hesitated, surprised by the compliment. “Thank you.”
“It seems quite peaceful out here.”
“I agree. When I first arrived, all I could think was how terrible it was to be so far from civilization, but now ... it’s amazing how fast we adapt.”
“Your friend isn’t exactly the friendliest person I’ve ever met, but he hasn’t mistreated me.”
“He is ... complicated,” Niccolo said. That seemed the most polite word he could think of to describe Arthur.
“Most people are.”
“When we get this over with, I will help you find closure for what happened to you. If you want to go after the Church for what they did to you, I will stand by you one hundred percent, even if it costs me my collar.”
This time, she didn’t answer at all. He realized that he had, probably, gone too far with the bold proclamation, but he stood by it. Though he might have increased his willingness to do bad things in this venture, that didn’t mean he would stop doing the right thing, no matter what it cost.
Desiree turned away from him, signaling that the conversation had ended. Niccolo waited a moment longer, wondering if he should apologize, and instead, he headed back toward the door of the cabin.
“I will find Leopold,” he said just before going inside. “And I will stop him. You have my word.”
She didn’t even acknowledge the words, and simply kept staring at the woods. Niccolo watched her for a moment, and then went into the cabin to find Arthur.
INSIDE, HE COULDN’T locate Arthur, and when Niccolo went searching for him, he found him out near the practice range once more with his tranquilizer guns. Arthur had one of the weapons in each hand and stood sighting down at a target.
This target, Niccolo noticed, lay about three times farther away than when Niccolo and Desiree had practiced. Niccolo watched while Arthur fired off six darts in rapid succession, each hitting near or on the bulls-eye.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Niccolo said as he walked up to the table where Arthur stood. The Hunter glanced over at him, reloading the weapon quickly with darts piled on the table. He moved with deft ease and had all six darts back into the gun in only seconds.
“I know,” Arthur said. “Worth a try, though.”
He sighted down the gun once more, aiming at the targets. However, he hesitated before pulling the trigger and glanced back at Niccolo.
“Do you think that if I told her she could leave but then asked her to stay that she would?”
“What?”
“I’d rather not keep her here as a prisoner. You had it right, and I would prefer to keep her as a guest than lock her in a cell. But, if I offer for her to leave and she says yes, then I won’t have any choice except to keep her here.”
“If you offer for her to leave but only accept one answer, then it isn’t a real offer.”
Arthur shrugged. “Fair enough. It’s a six-hour drive to get her back home, and even if she were safe, we couldn’t afford the lost time.”
“Why the sudden guilt?”
“No reason,” Arthur said. “I just feel bad because we kidnapped her.”
“You mean you kidnapped her,” Niccolo said.
Arthur nodded, conceding the point. “Sure. In any case, she’s been missing for a few days, so Leopold has, no doubt, concluded that we’re grilling her for information. Best case, he assumes she didn’t tell us anything. He’ll still want to talk to her to be sure, which puts her at risk. Worst case, he assumes she sold him out and will want to kill or punish her. Either way, things don’t end well for her.”
“So, basically, you’ve put her in danger by bringing her here?”
“Yes. Leopold’s goons are watching her house as we speak.”
“A guess?”
“I know. Frieda drove by her house this morning and saw a few men go through her house. They were checking it out and looking for her, and not to buy her lunch.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
Arthur shrugged. “It wasn’t important.”
“Of course it was. It means the risk isn’t hypothetical anymore. If we tell her that, she might feel more willing to help us.”
“Or she’ll think we’re lying.”
“Hasn’t she gone through enough already that we don’t need to assume she’s a liar?”
“Of course,” Arthur said, picking up the other tranquilizer gun and handing it to Niccolo. “You’re right, but all of this comes down to semantics and inconsequential details. Right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you get ready so that when the time comes to help her, you don’t end up dead.”
Niccolo stared at the offered gun but didn’t take it immediately. “I don’t think I’m in the mood just now.”
“I don’t care,” Arthur said. “We’ve had this discussion already. If you wanted out, you missed that opportunity.”
Again, he held one of the guns out to Niccolo. Hesitantly, Niccolo took it and held it at arm’s length. His conscience got the best of him, as well as his guilt for what Leopold Glasser and the Church had done to Desiree. Though not his fault, he had a hard time reconciling that against what had happened to this woman her entire life.
“Fine.”
“I have a few rifles as well that launch darts, but these are easier to keep with us without them being obvious.”
“Where do you buy the actual tranquilizer? Isn’t it regulated?”
“For use on humans, yes. I obtain it from Thoroughbred Supply Company. I just tell them that I’m a veterinarian, and they let me buy as much as I want.”
“That works?”
“You would be surprised.”
“How fast does it knock people out?”
“It administers instantly and takes effect in only seconds.”
“You know that?”
“Personally,” Arthur said. “The first thing I did was inject myself to see how well the darts worked.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I needed to be sure they would prove effective.”
“What about demons?”
Arthur shrugged. “It will work on the human biology, but I have no clue if it will affect the demon. I haven’t exactly had one to test it on yet.”
“So, this is our plan to keep from killing people?”
“It’s worth a shot. The fact that it only carries three shots is difficult to work around, but they do have fair accuracy. Plus, it’s lighter than my colt and doesn’t have any kick.”
“Okay,” Niccolo said. “So, how much more do I need to train with this before you’ll consider me ready to go?”
“When you can hit the bull’s-eye with every shot.”
Niccolo laughed. Arthur didn’t. “You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You never look like you’re joking.”
“I’m not asking you to shoot people. I just need to feel sure that you can defend yourself in case something goes wrong.”
“What will go wrong?”
Arthur hesitated. “In my experience,” he said. “Everything.”
ARTHUR KEPT HIM OUT for the next three hours, firing shots at the target dummy. Twice, Niccolo offered to go in search of Desiree to join them as well, but both times, Arthur refused. In the end, they opted to leave it up to her whether or not she wanted to join them.
After a while, she wandered out to the shooting range on her own. Whether from boredom or actual inte
rest in learning how to shoot, they didn’t know. Nor did they ask.
Arthur continued teaching them how to use and care for the guns, and Niccolo and Desiree learned how to reload the darts quickly as well as how to replace the cartridges in under fifteen seconds. It proved difficult the first couple of times—the cartridges grew extremely cold after extended use and fit awkwardly into the grip—but after he got the hang of it, it only took a few tries to lock a new one into place.
Accuracy, though, remained a weak point for him. Niccolo shot all over the place. Sometimes he would fire off three shots and hit the bull’s-eye with each one, and the next reload, all three darts would miss the target completely.
He had never done anything like this before, and he found that the timing of his breathing mattered quite a bit as to where the darts ended up. As time went on, he got better but missed the target too consistently. More than once, they found themselves out in the woods tromping around and searching for missing darts. Arthur had a large box of them, but it hadn’t turned out enough, considering how bad Niccolo was.
Arthur grew more and more frustrated by Niccolo’s lack of progress. By the end of the session, they had given up on recovering two of them.
However, by the end of the day, Niccolo felt quite pleased with how much better he had gotten with the dart guns.
Arthur made a half-decent meal of venison and potatoes, and Desiree ate with them in the living room. Everyone had grown exhausted, and no one spoke, but it seemed comfortable. She remained wary, especially around Arthur, but seemed more relaxed now. Niccolo couldn’t help but wonder, though, if Stockholm syndrome had won her over.
Afterwards, Niccolo headed off to bed, considerably sorer than in a long while, but feeling rather good. Desiree had said it true: it was peaceful out here in the forest, tranquil and relaxing in ways he’d never experienced in Italy or the Vatican. It felt as much like he was on vacation as anything else.
Of course, with the looming specter of the bishop ever on his mind, it proved difficult to get his mind to relax.
THE NEXT THREE DAYS brought more of the same, and after a while, it became a steady routine. Arthur awakened Niccolo early, and then they spent a few hours doing exercises—hiking, pushups, and stretches—before spending the rest of the day at the shooting range.
