by M. R. Forbes
When I had gone to Sarah's source, and fought her alter ego, I had promised both halves that I would help them become whole. There was only one way to do that, and that was to get them both to forgive themselves for what they were, and to come to some kind of agreement on who they wanted to be going forward. My bright idea to facilitate that had been to bring her to Father Tom so that she could confess to him, to earn forgiveness in the eyes of God. Maybe she really would be forgiven, or maybe it would all just be wind, but either way I hoped she could find some kind of comfort or closure in the act itself. She had hoped so too, expressing a strong desire to go ahead with the plan.
The problem now was that I hadn't planned on her being such a wreck when I brought her in. I didn't know if she would even be able to confess, her body currently home to a war that was raging between the split halves of her, her voice showing that the wrong side was winning.
"Sarah," I said, leaning in and whispering in her ear. "I know you can hear me. Father Tom is here. He came to hear your confession."
"Confession," she said. "Confess to what?"
"St. Patrick's," I said. "The Beast."
"The Beast," she repeated. "Yes. I remember. Kill the Beast. Take the world."
"Help the world," I said.
She laughed. "Help? There is no help for this world." She turned her head towards Father Tom. "Are you building an ark?" she asked, laughing.
Father Tom looked at me. "This is why they weren't allowed to survive," he said to me. "It isn't because of the evil. He forgives the evil. It's the madness. It always takes them in the end, makes them too unstable. You can't be split like this. You just can't. Doing them a service, He is."
It wasn't the time or the place to discuss motives. I moved up and put my face to his. "Do you know about the Beast, Father?"
"Revelations," he said. "Of course."
"Not that Beast. The real one. The one that Lucifer and another archangel imprisoned thousands of years ago, before Lucifer fell. You seem to know everything else, I thought maybe you'd know about that one."
He rubbed his chin. "The Bible isn't meant to be taken literally, is it?" he replied. "It's good to know what that bit is about. What of it?"
"He's coming," Sarah said. "He's coming to kill you, to kill me, to kill us all. But I'll get him first. It's my world. Mine."
"We set him free," I said. "If we don't stop him, the world is going to end, and not well."
"I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you," Father Tom said. "What does that have to do with her?"
I put my hand on Sarah's forehead, wiping away some of the sweat that was forming there. "The prison doesn't hold the Beast, but it still holds most of his power. With her, he can let it all out. Without her, we can't trap him again."
He looked from me, to Sarah, and back. "So the fate of the world rests on a mad diuscrucis?" he asked, furrowing his heavy brows. "Why did you have to pick my church?"
"Just help her," I said. "That's all I need you to do."
He took a deep breath, let out a huge sigh, and got up. He walked over to the back of his office, where his ornate copy of the bible rested. He was reverent in removing it, lifting it like a newborn, kissing it on the spine. He brought it back to the couch and kneeled down over Sarah. I noticed by the way he gazed on her, despite what she was, he felt the compassion that had already been my saving grace more than once. I had picked his church because it was the first one I had found, the one that had been closest to the Belmont. Was it coincidence, or luck? Was there even such a thing as either? With each passing hour, I was less sure.
"What is your name, child?" he asked, his voice tender.
"Name? You want to know my name? I'll kill you first, and bathe in your blood." She squirmed on the leather, and then settled. "Sarah," she squeaked.
"Lord, I kneel before You a humble servant. I beseech You to hear the confession of your child, Sarah, and forgive her sins. I ask that You guide her as a shepherd guides his flock, to the Light that is Your Light. Fill her with the Strength that is Your Strength, and the Hope that is the Hope You bring to all."
He opened the book to the center, where there was a fine velvet mark. He took his finger and ran it down the page, along a dense printing of words. He then placed his finger on Sarah's forehead, drawing the sign of the cross with the smudge of ink he had gathered.
"I would hear your confession, my child," he said.
I didn't See any power in the ink, or any power in his hand. Still, the action quieted Sarah completely. Her entire expression softened, and her breathing evened out.
"Forgive me, Father," she said at barely more than a whisper. "For I have sinned."
She took a deep breath, and her hand came up, seeking. I reached out and took it, and she gripped it as though she might fall away from the world at any moment.
"I am torn, Father," she said. "I have killed innocent people, defiled a holy place, and had impure thoughts. I have betrayed those who care for me, lied and stolen, and wished harm on others. I am split in half, for I love and hate in equal parts, and I cannot love more without hating more."
"Do you love Your Lord?" he asked. "Your Lord loves you, and He will forgive you. All you have to do is ask."
"How?" she said. Her empty eyes began welling with tears. "How can He forgive me?"
Father Tom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It is not for me to understand how," he said. "Only to know that he does. All those who seek forgiveness are forgiven."
A small smile expanded on her face. "Please. Please forgive me." Her hand gripped mine so tightly, I thought it might break.
The Father raised his hand, making the sign of the cross. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I absolve you of your sins."
Sarah's body fell limp as she let out an exhausted moan, reacting as if the weight of all existence had suddenly been lifted from her. In that moment, she looked as peaceful as I could ever remember. I felt the sudden pull of her hand in mine, and I lowered it, crossing it over her lightly undulating stomach. She was asleep.
Father Tom looked over at me. "We need to talk, laddie," he said. He got to his feet and returned his Bible to its pedestal, and then motioned me from the room. Once we were outside, he closed the door.
"I don't like that look," I said to him, seeing the pain in his eyes.
"God forgive me for what I just did," he said. "It will quiet her for a time, because she believes, but that belief will only take her so far. You can't confess away the madness."
"You're saying she can still turn evil?" I asked.
He shook his head. "She is evil, laddie. As evil as they come, when she's in that state of mind. She's also good. It's the curse of what she is, to be both sides of the same coin. She can be either at any moment, though most times she'll be equal parts of each, like you are. It isn't a disease you can cure, or a sin that can be forgiven. It just is. She'll find comfort in His forgiveness for a time, but if you think that it will hold out, I've got directions to a pot o' gold to sell you. Like I told you, sending her from this world to the next would be a kindness. It would be even better to do it now, when her path to Heaven is clear."
I had been holding out hope that allowing her to confess would settle that side of her, and give her the strength to fight against it. If Father Tom was right, I had been holding onto false hope, at least in the long term. No wonder he felt guilty. He had given Sarah the same false hope to hold onto; a rowboat in a maelstrom.
"Josette, where are you?" I said, calling out in my mind, wishing for her guidance. The priest was suggesting I kill Sarah, and I was starting to believe that it might really be the best thing I could do for her. Not that it mattered. She had to be alive. She had to help us fight the Beast. Somehow, regardless of anything else, I had to keep her sane until she did.
"You know I can't kill her," I said.
"Maybe not right now, while the Beast it out there. If you get him trapped, and I pray you do; you may only ge
t one chance."
Trap the Beast, and then kill Sarah. I had sworn to protect her. Would that be breaking the promise, or keeping it? Or would she kill Charis and I first? That was the future she had seen, the one that I told her wouldn't happen. Would her murder be the only way to stop it?
CHAPTER TWELVE
I left Sarah with Father Tom, and made my way back down to the basement. The Father had promised he would look after her for the time being, feeling confident she wouldn't wake up an angry mess. My mind was flipping through an endless stream of possibilities, switching channels until I ran the carousel back around and repeated the circle again. In the end, it all came down to one simple truth. We had the Box, and we had Sarah. What to do about her prophesied future, or my potential future, could wait until we could be sure any of us had one to begin with.
When I reached the basement, I found Charis on her knees by the rift, helping Izak by smoothing out the stone floor he had scratched the runes into. The demon was looking tense, his eyes squinted almost closed, his mouth a straight line. When he saw me, he got to his feet.
He came right up to me and leaned in close, looking into my eyes. For Josette, I was sure, and I knew he was disappointed when he didn't find her.
"She's okay," I said. "We just got separated."
He scowled and raised his hands, mimicking Ulnyx, wondering how the Were was present but the angel wasn't.
"It's a long story," I replied.
He shrugged, and tilted to look over my shoulder.
"She'll be okay too," I said. "She's sleeping."
He seemed satisfied with that.
"She called you, in your mind?" I asked.
He nodded.
"You knew where she was, just from that?"
He nodded again.
"How did you know the runes to connect the rifts?"
He stared at me.
I remembered who he was. "There's a master rune, isn't there?" I asked.
He nodded, his smile sly. If anyone would know it, he was the one.
"Does Gervais know it?"
He hesitated, but he nodded, and pointed to where the archfiend's brand used to mar his skin.
"It's not your fault," I said. "What was with Gervais anyway? He took a blessed sword in the gut, and didn't even seem to feel it." The archfiend had always been powerful, but not bleeding had never been in his bag of tricks. Neither was collapsing skyscrapers.
Izak tapped on his temple, and then his form changed as he shifted into a Gervais doppelganger. He made a motion like he was stabbing himself, and then flopped onto the floor, his eyes open. He got up and leaned in on where he had been laying, miming his hand on Gervais' shoulder, emitting a stream of hellfire towards the floor for effect.
"You think the Beast revived him?" I asked.
He held out his hand and shifted it back and forth. Not exactly. He made his body stiff, and shambled around the room.
"A zombie?" Charis asked. She had finished smoothing out the floor, and was watching his charades.
Izak nodded and pointed at her.
"Not revived," I said. "Re-animated."
"Malize said the Beast used the defeated angels as his army, piecing them back together to make his soldiers," Charis said. "He must have put Gervais back together again."
Like a twisted Humpty Dumpty. "And given him a bit of his mojo," I said. "The tower, and the building. He decayed them until they fell apart."
"How do you kill something that isn't alive?" Charis asked.
"Cut off his head, I guess," I said. "Even if it doesn't shut him down, it'll make things difficult."
"Or burn him to ash," she suggested. "Let's see him reanimate dust."
Two thoughts, but only one I was going to voice. "If any of us fall, someone needs to make sure he can't use us," I said. "Either with fire, or decapitation."
Izak gave me the thumbs up. My attention turned to the other thought. Had the Beast done the same to Rebecca? Was he just waiting for the right moment to spring her on me? She had been almost whole the last time I had seen her, so it had to be possible, and I had to be ready for it.
"Where are Thomas and Obi?" I asked. I focused on my Sight, noting that neither were within range.
"I don't know," Charis said. "They must have left without saying anything."
I laughed. "Obi doesn't do anything without saying anything."
"Maybe I just didn't hear him. Anyway, they can both take care of themselves."
I wasn't so sure. They had said the Beast was laying siege to the city, and only Izak had been able to keep them safe. Why would they just go off on their own?
"How bad is it out there?" I asked the demon.
He shrugged again, and put his hand out flat. Whatever they were doing, they were being careful not to shift the balance. It was the quietest war I had never heard.
"Can I talk to you?" I asked Charis. We had some unfinished business, and my heart was telling me not to let it sit too long.
"Sure," she said with a smile.
I motioned for the door, glancing at Izak. He had stopped paying attention, settling down with his back against the wall, staring straight ahead.
"Izak," I said, getting his attention. "When we get back, can you teach Charis the rune?"
He looked at her, searching for something. He must have found it, because he nodded.
Charis and I started for the door. We had almost reached it when a shadow fell from the steps and spilled into the room. There were no footfalls to be heard, but someone was definitely coming. I focused my Sight, and took a few steps back.
"Signore," Dante said as he entered the basement. He was wearing his red velvet robes, his slight frame lost in their volume. "I have news."
The entrance had been uncharacteristically straightforward. It had to be important. "Good or bad?" I asked.
"Ah. That depends on who you ask." He pulled the hem of his robe wide, reaching under it with his other hand. "After I left you at the farmhouse, I made my way to the Library of Alexandria. Not the mortal one, of course, that one burned centuries ago. There is another in Purgatory, one that still contains vast troves of information, written down by those sent to my realm to earn their way. That's where I found it."
He located the target of his search, and slipped it from the robes. It was a small piece of torn parchment, not more than the size of a fist, the edges frayed and worn. He held it out in the palm of his right hand.
We gathered around him to look at it, Izak getting to his feet to join us. Burned into the papyrus was a pictogram of a pyramid.
"I don't get it," I said. "A pyramid?"
Dante laughed, excited. "Yes," he replied. "Do you know what this means?"
"Uh, no," I said.
"Dante," Charis said. "I don't want to question you, but how do you know this has anything to do with the Beast?"
He raised the index finger of his left hand, and then reached down and flipped it over. "This is why I am excited, signore," he said. "It is good news for us. Not so good news for the Beast."
The single bit of scripture burned into the corner of the small rag was familiar, even if I couldn't read it.
"How?" Charis asked, the word coming out as more of a gasp. The writing was Templar.
"It was more simple than you would think, and in this one case I believe Mr. Ross' betrayal served a more beneficial purpose. You see, as Lord of Purgatory, I have an innate knowledge of every bit of text stored in the Library. I'm like the Google of the Middle-Ages." He laughed at his joke. We didn't. "Anyway, Mr. Ross knew this, and so at some point prior to being released, he went to the library and destroyed anything there having to do with him. There wasn't much, I know, because I had taken a personal interest in the Beast before. Still, he made sure there was nothing."
"What about Avriel, and his Box?" I asked, interrupting.
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, signore. I am limited to knowledge that has been passed on by those sent to Purgatory. The Box is an angelic device, one
that had been missing for thousands of years, though I am sure Mr. Ross knew where it was the entire time. In any case, the neutral have no experience with it."
It was disappointing, but not unexpected.
"Do not be too disappointed," Dante said, reading my body language. "I remembered when I saw you last, you mentioned the name Malize. It is one that I had never heard before, and one that I have been having difficulty remembering since. Still, after coming up with nothing on the Beast, I sought out anything that might refer to him. In all of the Library, there was one single piece of parchment with his name on it. When I found this, it was pressed between the pages of an illuminated copy of the Bible."
"Let me guess," I said. "Revelations?"
Dante nodded. "The facing page was an illustration of the artist's concept of the Beast, in this case a dragon. There is no other writing on the parchment, so I assume the script says 'Malize'. That I found it where I did could not be an accident."
I looked over at Charis, who looked as shocked as I felt. "If he can't leave the cave, how would this have gotten to Purgatory?" I asked her.
"Someone must have brought it from the cave," she replied. "Just don't ask me who."
"How many people know about it?" I asked.
"Not many," she said, "and none of them could enter. Only the Divine can go in."
"I believe we have enough mysteries to handle right now," Dante said. "How it got there is not so important. What is important is what it means. It is clearly a suggestion to seek answers in a pyramid."
I felt Izak tap me on the shoulder. When I turned towards him, he brought his hands together in a pyramid shape and brought them down, over and over again. Then he held his hands out to his sides.
"Izak's right," I said. "There are over a hundred pyramids in Egypt, and that's assuming he's referring to an Egyptian one. Oh, and that's only the ones that have been discovered. Don't get me wrong, it's great to get a hint, but time is one thing that isn't on our side."
Dante pursed his lips, but didn't say anything. Nobody said anything, until a few uncomfortable moments of silence had passed.
