The Gateway Through Which They Came

by Heather Marie

  “I’ll help,” Evan’s bleak voice cuts in.

  I turn to him. “I don’t expect you to do anything. Just forget this whole thing happened.” Pushing myself to my feet, I test the strength of my legs to ensure I have my equilibrium back. “Go home, Evan. This isn’t your problem.”

  He shoots up from the floor, annoyed. “It’s not my problem, but you’re gonna throw Trevor in the middle of it? With no backup? That’s bullshit.”

  Trevor looks as taken aback as I do.

  “Listen, I don’t know what the hell is going on. I’m not even sure I understand, but if you guys are in this, then I’m in,” Evan says.

  I don’t have the time for this buddy-buddy bullshit. “All right. You’re in. I have to go.”

  Evan looks blindsided, as if he was expecting a fight. “Okay then,” he says.

  He smiles like he just got accepted into some secret club. Why is it that Evan can make everything into some kind of game?

  “There’s something I don’t get,” Trevor says.

  I chuckle. “What? Besides the fact that dead things are being summoned from the depths of Hell?”

  “Well, that and the fact that Evan and I can see the shadows. Why now? Why can’t we see Bleeders?”

  I hadn’t thought of that.

  “That’s just another piece of the puzzle,” I say.

  I decide to scope out the mausoleum before heading home. Koren’s known from the beginning what’s happening to me—she said so herself. There’s no denying any longer that her presence in my life has more of an impact than I wanted to believe. Julie Martin was right. Sometimes when someone leaves, you’re better off. But the ache in my chest when I consider letting go is too great. I have to believe there’s still some good in her.

  The sky is a blend of orange and the purple hue of night when I arrive. I park along the path, same as before. Out of caution, I search the graveyard before exiting. Everything looks clear until a black hearse pulls up beside me. An older gentleman in a black suit signals for me to roll down my window. Out of curiosity, I do.

  “Yes?”

  The man leans across to the passenger seat. “We’re closing soon. I’d hate for you to get locked in.”

  “Can I have five minutes? It’s um, it’s the anniversary of my father’s death,” I lie.

  A look of sympathy sets in his eyes. “All right, kid. Don’t be long, yeah? Got my wife waiting for me at home.”

  “Yes, sir.” I give him an appreciative nod.

  He does the same and rounds the corner back toward the entrance. Quickly, I slip out of my car and jog toward the mausoleum. With a peek over my shoulder, I make sure all is safe. Then I duck into the crypt.

  Inside, all of Koren’s belongings are thrown about as if she’d left in a hurry. Her tattered blanket lies in a heap on the floor, tossed like someone who fled unexpectedly. Is it possible she’d been found out? Did the Dark Priest take her? He can’t come in here, she’d said yesterday. Maybe she isn’t safe here anymore.

  I contemplate where else she could be. If she’s in danger. Searching the darkened tomb, I hope she left me something, a hint of where she could have gone. There’s no evidence of an intruder. No note stating her plans. All that is left is the thought that she lost. That she officially became a Dark One. There’s no knowing if she’ll remember me. By the time I find her, she could be mad with hallucinations. But I have to try. If there’s even the slightest chance that she could still be Koren, I have to take it.

  I give up scouring and turn to leave, but the sight of a tracing snaps my attention back to the slab of stone. Through the dirt and dust collecting along the surface, a circle that looks to have been made with someone’s finger surrounds the engraving. Within the circle are the initials: J.H.R.

  With this last hint left by Koren, it becomes clear. She hasn’t gone Dark Side, at least not yet. But it’s only a matter of time before the Dark Priest will see to that.

  t’s becoming more difficult to think of excuses for my late nights. Mom is getting suspicious of my whereabouts, and I’m certain Father Martin will run out of ways to avoid her constant concerns. He couldn’t lie. I’d never expect him to. He makes that clear the next morning.

  “What you do on your own time is your business, Aiden, but you cannot expect me to cover your tracks. You mustn’t keep running off doing Lord knows what. It’s too dangerous out there for you. Do you understand?”

  His scolding is what I imagine my father would say if he were here. Well, what I’d imagine he’d sound like.

  “I’m sorry, Father, but what else am I supposed to do? I can’t stand around while the world is crumbling around me.” Especially if I’m partly at fault.

  Father Martin opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “What happens if they find out about me? The Shadows. You said they can’t know what I am. Why?”

  “I’ve told you, Aiden. You’re not the same as the Gateways before you.” He paces the length of his chamber, hands folded behind his back.

  “But how am I different? What does being a Mortal Gateway mean to them?” I’m in my usual chair at the foot of his desk, my arms resting against my legs.

  I need to know what it is that leaves me vulnerable. If being a Mortal Gateway is what made the Dark Priest choose me to summon the Order, it only makes sense that I know why.

  Father Martin pauses at the mention of what I am, as if asking himself how I’ve come to know such a thing. Would I tell him about Koren if he asked? Could I?

  He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he says, “True Men of Light, the Originals, they cannot be swayed by evil. They’re too pure for that. But you, and others like you, can be used against them. Their own flesh and blood can be the one thing that destroys them. You must understand why I’ve tried to keep you safe. If they get a hold on you, the consequences could be catastrophic.”

  This confession rocks me. I hide my face in my shaking hands, attempting my best to hide the guilt blaring from my face. Catastrophic? What’s happening to me could be worse? I can’t let him see how badly his words have hit me. Like a sucker punch to the gut. I fight the urge to rock back and forth. To soothe myself of the shame.

  They already have their claws in me, Father. I’ve let you down.

  But what I really say is, “The Dark Priest is out there somewhere, Father. You must know that.”

  “Yes,” he says, his voice softened by the sad truth: that I know much more than he’d like. “Which is why I beg you to stay safe. I can’t worry about you every time I’m away. Let us handle this, son. You’re not ready for what’s to come.”

  “I’ll never be if you don’t let me.”

  I lift my face from my hands, meeting his gaze.

  “Believe me, Aiden,” he says, stressing each word. “This will not be the last time evil shows its face in your lifetime. We’ll need you then. And you’ll be ready.”

  Not long after this, I find myself mopping the hall outside his door. Father Martin has left me here yet again. It’s infuriating that he refuses to see me for what I am. A Gateway. Not a child. I’m in it deeper than he realizes, and without all the answers, how am I supposed to face this?

  The secret door calls out to me with silent cries. Temptation is a hard thing to ignore when the answers I seek could be hidden under my feet. The Dark Priest could be below us now, waiting for our next move. The only thing stopping me is Father Martin, who was sure to lock the chamber door before he left.

  “I don’t know how this door got unlocked,” he’d said before handing me a mop. My cue to get back to work. To ignore the fact that he’s out fighting something that involves my life. My gift.

  If he only knew. Not even a locked door could keep the voices out of my head. They are far deeper—more manipulative—than he could ever imagine. It’s exactly what I imagine Koren’s parents must have experienced when they were swayed to believe their world wasn’t real. That everything they’d come to know had turned against them.

&nbs
p; I’m not in the mood for much of anything. How does anyone expect me to focus on cleaning the church when there’s so much going on?

  The Church of Saint Christopher feels ten times bigger when I’m alone. It’s a good thing Father Martin trusts me to keep an eye on things while he’s gone, considering how often I’m left here. Though, technically I’m not the only one in charge.

  I polish the last row of pews as the clock strikes three. School will be getting out now and Trevor should be calling me any moment.

  “You’ve gotten quite a bit done around here. It’s a shame Father Martin hasn’t been around to notice.”

  “You’re telling me.” I set the dirty rag on the bench and push myself up to greet Father Raimi. “I don’t see how any of this will get me back in school.”

  “Ah.” He agrees with a polite nod. “I’d imagine it’s their way of proving you are capable of charity work. That you’re asking for forgiveness by being here.”

  “I guess.”

  “Seems to me that you should be grateful to Father Martin for standing up for you.”

  Guiltily, I back-pedal. “I am! Believe me. It’s just… everything is a little crazy right now.”

  Father Raimi sits in the pew in front of me, facing the large crucifix standing over the altar. “I’m guessing you haven’t told Father Martin about the voices.”

  I’ve tried so hard to forget what I heard down in the tunnels. A shudder rips through me at the memory.

  “I take your silence as a no.”

  “I don’t want to put him in any danger.” I sit in the pew behind him, lowering my head. Looking into the eyes casting down from the cross makes me uncomfortable.

  “What do you know about the voices, Father?”

  I hear him shuffle in his seat. When I look up, he’s staring back at me.

  “They say men who find themselves between good and evil tend to battle themselves. Two sides to one person, if you will. Sometimes it’s the voices in their head leading them in the direction they’re meant to go. Do you find yourself in such a battle, Aiden?”

  Unfortunately.

  “How do I make it stop?” I ask, avoiding the question.

  He stands to leave, but says, “Are you so sure you want them to?”

  I’m too stumped by his question to respond. Luckily, I don’t have to. The door of the church swings open, allowing a rush of wind to plow through, causing the flames along the altar to flicker.

  Vincent Chase walks swiftly down the aisle, brushing his hand mindlessly against his black coat as if wiping away invisible dirt.

  “Ah, Brother Chase. Here to make that donation we discussed?” I can practically hear the smile in Father Raimi’s greeting.

  I force my eyes away from Vincent’s cold stare and turn to Father Raimi. “I should be going,” I say.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Aiden,” Father Raimi replies, his smile still wide as ever. How could anyone smile with someone like Vincent around?

  I nod once and coax myself down the aisle, toward the man I want nothing to do with. It’s strange to be in the same room with someone as genuine as Father Raimi, and someone as threatening as Vincent Chase. The two things didn’t mix.

  Walking along the edge, I force my feet to keep moving as I make my way past Vincent’s large frame. His height makes his already uncomfortable presence even more disturbing as he towers over me. He stops in the middle of the aisle, forcing me to do the same.

  Nothing leaves his lip. The unnatural silence makes my palms sweat. The visible muscles of his jaw clench and I know whatever he wants to say, he refuses to unleash in front of Father Raimi. It’s not surprising at this point how much he loathes me. I did, after all, nearly kill his son.

  I hold my breath and wait for the inevitable, but to my surprise, he looks away, continuing his path toward the altar. I know an out when I see one. So I take it.

  I can’t believe I ever thought his son could be a Gateway. What a joke.

  With no word from Trevor about Koren’s whereabouts, I spend the rest of the evening in my room with the Brethren of Shadows. Busying myself is the only way to get my mind off her, at least for a moment. I have a stand-off with the book, watching it as it lies beside me on the bed. After what happened the last time I read its pages, I’m not exactly anxious to experience that again.

  I dig a ruler out from my backpack and convince myself that as long as I don’t physically touch it, everything should work out fine. It’s not like it’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever come up with. At least this time I won’t be suctioned to the book if things get crazy again. Something tells me that Father Martin didn’t expect for me to have this sort of connection with the book, and I wonder if the voices in my head are related. That or I’m most definitely losing my mind. At this point, that isn’t too far off.

  With the book at arm’s length, I place the tip of the ruler into the pages and flip the cover open. Nothing seems amiss this time as I wait for a flicker of lights or the bang of tree branches against my window. If this works, then I am officially a genius. Ruler still in hand, I leaf through the pages until I decide to just pick one. When I do, I step forward little by little, attempting to read the words. Everything seems well and safe, so I sit beside the book and read:

  “His words will seek out those who believe in Him. They won’t need to search, for He will be there. The Dark Priest shall take his Brethren into his home and lay upon them the gift. A power so great they will hold our very lives within themselves and share upon the world the gift to bring our worlds together as one.”

  I digest these words. A gift. A plague of sickness that wipes out non-believers, it means.

  The Dark Priest has to be collecting his followers. Where else would he be? He needs their faith in order to survive, because without them, he’s nothing. A power like his couldn’t exist without the weakness of others.

  If I wait any longer, he’ll become stronger. The only thing I can think to do is slow him down, which means denying my gift. Without me opening the Gateway, he no longer has access to the Order, at least until he finds another Mortal Gateway. And if the one I sensed at school is the only other one, for now that is, maybe I can find them before he does.

  oday I have to find Koren. If there’s any chance she could be locked within the underground tunnel, I have to go. The Dark Priest wants me to believe she betrayed me. It’s the only way he can have more control over me. Turning me against the people I care about. If there’s any indication of how he recruits his followers, it has to have something to do with separating them from others. Isn’t that how most cults work?

  With Christmas only a week away, I find it difficult to accept that everyone else in this city is out preparing themselves for the festivities. I’m left fighting a war of good versus evil. When did my life become a comic book?

  The rain pelts against the windshield, turning to sleet as a biting cold fuses with the droplets of moisture in its path. Izzie chugs along against the wind coming at her from all sides. I tap the steering wheel, coaxing her to make it through.

  When I arrive at the church, I throw the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and make a break for the entrance. The knob resists at first, forbidding my entry. I twist once more in hopes I’d been wrong the first time, and to my relief, the handle gives in. The church is dark, except for the one candle that remains lit at the altar.

  With the door closed gently behind me, I glance from one end of the room to the other. As I step forward, a gust of air rushes past me from my right. Is there a window open, or is there something eager to keep me out? I turn toward it, my whole body tense, ready for an ambush. Nothing appears. I creep down the aisle, expecting a presence to make itself known any minute. Disembodied voices float faintly from the direction of Father Martin’s chambers. Someone must have opened the door. I can’t afford to hesitate. If someone is down there, I have to go now.

  A shadow in the hall near Father’s chambers flashes in front of me, blinking out of sight. I ca
n’t help but think they’re leading me somewhere, expecting that I follow. As much as I hate myself for this, I do. The voices get louder as I approach the door to the office. Preparing myself for whatever creature lies behind it, I ready myself to pounce. Fist balled tight, I shift my weight to my right foot in case I need to swing. My self-defense mechanism goes beyond these simple precautions: The monster inside me shifting from its slumber. Awakened by the threat that awaits. It rumbles within my veins like the lava of a volcano. Forcing its hot rage to the surface.

  Adrenaline surges through my body to the center of my heart. Before I consider what I’m doing, my mind opens up to the thirst that begs to take control. Father Martin said I’m not ready for battle, but he doesn’t know that the beast barricaded inside of me is more capable than I’ll ever be.

  There is no sense of right or wrong anymore. It’s only me. It—the monster. The power consuming me is too much to deny, and right now, it’s every part of me.

  I barge through the door ready to fight. A scream explodes before I can do anything else. Julie Martin’s horrified expression crushes everything inside me, my pride collapsing into a heap on the floor.

  “What is wrong with you?” she whispers with what little breath she has left. Her chest rises and falls, her hands hovering over her mouth. She presses herself against the bookcase, frozen with fear. But it’s her eyes that tell me that something is very wrong.

  I stumble back against the door, pushing it closed. It’s not just what she sees, but what I feel. A darkness surrounds me, stronger than before. My skin aches, as if it’s tightening with the temperature of my body. My vision is strange, much more perfect than anything I’ve ever known.

  As if she reads it on my face, Julie points a trembling finger. “Your eyes…”

  It’s not until I get a glimpse of my reflection in the silver-framed mirror, that I see it. The blackest of eyes staring back at me. My eyes. No white exists, hidden under the opaque darkness of the monster living inside of me.

  I want to look away, but I can’t. There’s no unseeing this.