Lucian recalled the familiarity with which Rachael and Caleb had touched. He took a shuddering breath. Long years in his sister’s house had taught him to strangle his emotions. Lies; half-truths and lies are what they tell. He had to be careful he didn’t allow the constable to manipulate him into a rage. The Wyrm fed on hate.
Caleb closed the distance between them and leaned down to grab the front of Lucian’s shirt, jerking him forward. “The Wyrm will know me for her groom.”
Lucian crossed himself. “Lord Jesus, I hope so.”
A hint of doubt shaded the constable’s eyes and he relaxed his grip. “What do you mean?”
“When it’s born, the Wyrm will have to feed. And if you’ve vowed to become the groom, you are its first meal.” It was a lie, but it was the only lie he had. Lucian prayed it would work.
Rachael inhaled sharply and arched her back, her body rose several inches off the floor.
Caleb glanced at her uneasily.
Lucian said, “The Wyrm devours the host’s mind to take the body, but it requires sustenance upon its birth. The demon consummates the marriage by eating you alive, prolonging your terror. Your consciousness does not die. You become part of the demon, residing within her. Forever.”
Sweat beaded across the constable’s forehead; his sword hand trembled, but he kept the weapon out of Lucian’s reach. “You’re a liar.”
Lucian whispered, “I’m an exorcist.”
Thunder roared through the night and when the blast faded, Lucian saw Caleb’s eyes widen. The constable’s head rocked forward, then back. He released Lucian and whirled, but Lindsay was already cocking Lucian’s cane back for another strike. As Caleb straightened, she brought the stick forward to hit him in the face.
“Leave him alone!” she screamed.
Caleb’s nose broke, and he grunted in shock and pain.
“You’re one of them!” Tears poured down the girl’s face as she pulled back for another blow.
Lucian snatched the cane from her grasp and jabbed the tip into Caleb’s temple. The constable’s eyes rolled back in his head and as he fell sideways. Lindsay moved nimbly out of his path. Lucian struggled to his feet. He picked up Caleb’s sword.
Lindsay kicked Caleb’s leg. “They killed my brother.” A sob hitched her shoulders. “I’m not going to let them get you too.”
Lucian pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “It’s all right. I understand.” He kissed her cheek. “You did wonderful.” Lucian hefted the constable’s blade and turned to Caleb’s prone form. He couldn’t leave the man there. If Caleb returned to consciousness during the exorcism, Lindsay would be helpless against him. One strike would suffice. The death would be quick, almost painless.
Lindsay grabbed his arm. “We said no more killing. We said that. You promised, Lucian.”
He looked from the girl’s horrified eyes back to Caleb, and he knew he couldn’t murder the man in front of her.
“They’re the killers, not us,” Lindsay said, her fingers digging into his forearm.
With a sigh, Lucian flung Caleb’s sword into a far corner of the church. “All right.” He would have to trust God to watch over them.
Rachael’s breath rattled horribly as she struggled against the demon. Lucian guided Lindsay away from the prone man to the inverted cross. Lindsay held his cane while he forced the cross back into place then retrieved Matthew’s sword.
He unsheathed the weapon and Lindsay cringed at a burst of thunder from the storm. “Hush now.” He soothed her.
Rachael’s prayers had stopped, and Lucian knew from experience the cessation of prayers indicated the demon was close to victory. He had no time to waste.
Lucian positioned the blade in front of Lindsay with the point down. The cross of the hand-guard was before her eyes and though she was frightened, she had not panicked. He placed her trembling fingers on the hilt, wrapping his large hands around hers. The inscription flickered to life, and her eyes went wide with wonder.
Lucian couldn’t recall his last confession, and he had no idea if Lindsay had been confirmed in any religion, but there was no time to debate spiritual purity. For an exorcism of this magnitude, there should have been at least three other experienced Katharoi present. Instead, he had a frightened child.
“I can’t do this alone, Lindsay. I need your help.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I can do this.”
He took heart from her courage and continued. “I need you to help me fight the demon with prayer like you fought the haunting in the Barren.”
“You want me to say my Psalm out loud.” Her voice was stronger.
“Exactly, and you can’t stop until I tell you. Can you do that?”
“I remember. Say the Psalm and use the magic inside me,” she said, locking gazes with him.
“First we’re going to pray. Bow your head.” When she complied, he tried to shut out Rachael’s groans. “Bless this child, Lindsay Richardson, and to send thy grace upon her, that she may execute her service to you as a true and faithful Katharos.” He paused and was surprised when Lindsay gave a response.
“Lord, hear our prayer,” she whispered.
It wasn’t the proper response, but he didn’t correct her.
“I hear thunder.” Rachael’s whisper broke his concentration only for a moment.
“Hearken unto our voice, O Lord, when we cry unto thee.”
“Lord, hear our prayer.” Natural as breathing, the girl slipped into her trance. The blade of the sword shimmered with white light that spread upward into Lindsay’s arms.
“And let our cry come unto thee!” He released the sword and traced the sign of the cross between Lindsay’s pale eyebrows. The child’s soul-light surrounded her small body.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Lucian whispered.
Without being told, she began to pray.
When he turned, he found Rachael on her knees beside the altar. She extended her burned hand to him. He snatched her wrist. Another seizure rattled her body and she dragged him to the floor beside her. Lucian released his cane and forced her to face the cross and Lindsay, then he pinned Rachael’s arms with his right arm. She didn’t resist when he placed his left palm over her forehead.
A foul wind blew through the chapel, dousing the candles, but the light emanating from Lindsay and the sword illuminated the entire area around the altar. Rachael stiffened against him. A screech vibrated through the church. The doors slammed open and closed.
Lucian ignored the distractions and focused his gaze on the sword Lindsay held. “‘God hear my prayer; hearken to the words of my mouth.’” The words of the Psalm came back to him as if he had never left the Citadel.
The musty church faded as he sought to join his consciousness with Rachael’s. With the strength of his voice and the power of God’s name, he bound his soul to hers until he saw her thoughts as clearly as his own.
†
Lost within a memory, Rachael crawled through a cave. The walls around her throbbed with scarlet veins. A hot wind swirled ash from Hell’s landscape into the cavern’s depths. She choked on her prayer as she had when Mastema had first left her here. The tunnel narrowed and she scraped her raw back against the low ceiling. Her scream strangled the last of her prayer.
Doubt threaded through her mind. God had abandoned her and left her to the Fallen. A dry sob rattled through her heat-seared lungs. Someone called her name. She froze, holding her breath. Her blood trickled to the cavern floor. How could she lose so much and still live?
Again she heard her name carried on the wind. The walls constricted around her. A low whine burned the back of her throat.
The Wyrm clawed through her brain, pushing her deeper into her memories. Helpless before the demon’s onslaught, fear seized her heart. She closed her eye and concentrated on being still. Perfectly still.
“Rachael.” A voice like thunder rolled through her thoughts. She flinched from the sound and drew the
walls more firmly around her.
It was Lucian. He sought her soul so he could heal her, but she couldn’t let him find her. Soul to soul could not lie, and if he saw her, he’d know her secrets as she’d know his. Better she bleed alone than let him see her black heart. She pulled herself into the crevice and tried to stop the panic racing through her veins.
“Rachael.” His voice was close. “You’re not evil.”
She wanted to risk a peek at the cavern entrance where light flickered at the rim. She kept her eye shut. A long time ago, the Wyrm had made her look. The demon had burrowed through her eyeball and into her brain. She’d not fall into that trap again. I can’t see you; you can’t see me. Blood poured through her lips when she failed to restrain her giggle.
Her chuckle turned into a wheeze. I’m dying. The thought was weak, an echo in the night. Oh, God, I’m dying and I don’t care. The Wyrm trembled through her body; Rachael couldn’t summon the will to fight. Not anymore.
Breath tickled her ear, and Lucian whispered her name. She opened her eye and saw his arms around her. Somehow he had penetrated her mind and found her soul’s hiding place. He took her hand and lifted her bloodied fingers to his lips. Her pain fell away at his cool touch.
“I’m here.” His love enveloped her and he drew her into the light of his soul.
She tried to pull away from him but couldn’t. There was nowhere left to go.
“Be still,” he said. “You called my name. Let me help.”
She despised needing him. “I hate you.”
“Hate me then,” he said. He didn’t turn away from her pain. Instead, he surrounded her with love. The scars on her arms began to heal beneath his fingers. He drove her darkness down, back to the Wyrm.
The demon shrieked with rage. Rachael cringed. She couldn’t hide from the truth in her heart. No matter what she told herself over the years, her love for Lucian had never died. The hurt from his betrayal followed her days and nights, an open wound that bled forever and ever, Woerld without end. All because her love for him never died.
“Rachael.” He gently turned her head until she had no choice but to look at him. Of all his features, it was the compassion in his eyes she adored the most.
“I refused Mastema,” she whispered. “Because of you. I refused him because I didn’t want to lose our love. And you left me anyway.”
He didn’t flinch from her accusation. “I didn’t want to go.”
“You left me alone.”
“You were never alone, Rachael Boucher.” He smiled. “God was always with you.”
“I wanted you.”
His great booming laugh encircled her soul. “And I wanted you,” he said, and she knew it was true. “Our love is but a pale reflection of the divine.” He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I am here with you. God is with us. And I will not leave you. So help me God.”
The Wyrm felt Lucian’s presence and surged forward. Rachael’s body jerked in Lucian’s arms. The demon slithered through her veins, into her memories to fire a montage of images into her brain. She was helpless against the onslaught.
…remember…
Her father stood in her bedroom door, a swath of moonlight illuminated his naked body; she burrowed beneath her covers and feigned sleep, but his hand found her breast and; Tanith came close, her breath whispered of traitors and monsters in the night; do not fear them, they are not here, are not here but; Mastema’s eyes are full of poison, don’t look in his eyes, never look in his eyes; where cracked mirrors fell from the walls, shattered and broken like her faith; and John stood over the Eucharist, stained-glass light bathed his robes in shades of azure-gold-crimson; he spoke of God, of God, God, God, God…
Lucian said, “I command you, unclean spirit, by all the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you give me your name.”
Agony soared through Rachael’s body until she thought her head would explode. She couldn’t escape the visions assaulting her mind…
Her mother opened her arms and smiled; blood poured through her lips and; her father’s ax rose and fell when; the Crimson Veil opened, but her father’s voice followed her through and she wasn’t safe, never safe, even here where; shadows and deceit broke the night with eyes as dark as a storm, and; eyes, she should never look in his eyes…
The Wyrm snarled and tried to withdraw, but Lucian seized the demon’s spirit with his words.
“I command you, moreover, to obey me, I who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness; give me your name.”
Her heart seized and for a moment she was afraid it stopped beating, then she was afraid she would never die, and her memories would surge forever…
Lucian’s arms around her; the moon blessed their passion and she raised her head; but Catarina promised misery upon misery; what was hers was hers alone and whosoever did not love her, she drank their blood while; John held her; Tanith’s cool hands soothed her and; Tanith whispered of; poison and traitors; their eyes…
The Wyrm struggled. Lucian refused to release the demon’s spirit.
“Give me your name!”
Anguish shot across her face. Rachael’s scream blistered her throat and blood poured into her mouth. She gagged and vomited, but she wasn’t alone. The power of God thundered through Lucian and into Rachael’s body. She thought her bones would dissolve in the wake of his strength.
The Wyrm thrashed and wailed its name. Vúmis. It was called Vúmis, and with the Wyrm’s name, Lucian’s power over the demon became complete.
Rachael gasped for air and felt a thread of hope wind through her soul. Maybe the fight wasn’t over yet.
Lucian began the Litany of the Saints. The visions receded, back to the depths where her ghosts would sleep uneasy until resurrected in dreams. All that remained was the sound of Lucian’s voice, a memory of his hands in her hair as he lulled her to sleep and deprived the specters of their power.
“Lord have mercy,” Lucian prayed.
He would tell her to believe in God’s pure love.
“Christ have mercy.”
And if she couldn’t believe, then she need only believe that he believed.
“Lord have mercy.”
Midway through the Litany of Saints, she found her voice.
Lucian said, “Saint Mary Magdalene.”
“Pray for us,” Rachael whispered.
†
The air pressure shifted, and Lindsay’s ears popped. From far away, she heard Lucian and Rachael’s voices rise in prayer. She had no idea how long she’d been standing still, holding the sword; it felt like hours.
Without ceasing her prayer, she opened her eyes to slits. Lucian knelt with his head bent close to Rachael’s, and each time her body twisted, he moved with her. Rachael’s face was almost invisible in the twilight, covered in blood. Every so often, Lucian would make the sign of the cross on Rachael’s brow or over her heart as he chanted. They blazed with pure, white light.
The same light poured over Lindsay’s arms and infused her body. She wasn’t tired and knew she could hold on to the sword for as long as Lucian needed. God’s love surged through her small frame to hold the darkness at bay. Her grief for Peter was washed away by the knowledge that he was with the god who made this light.
Lucian’s invocation rose over the sound of the wind outside. “I call on the pure name Schemhamphoras, a reflection of the perfect essence of God Almighty to aide me in summoning and adjuring the demon Vúmis that afflicts this woman, Rachael Boucher.” Rachael stiffened in his arms, but he held her tight. “In the name of Iehova, also called Tetagrammaton—Iod, Hè, Vau, Hè—the manifestation of the trinity and unity of the divine essence, I summon you.”
As Lucian spoke the strange sounds, Lindsay heard a groan. She glanced over to see Caleb reach up to touch his face, which was a mess. Lindsay didn’t care; he deserved it. Her rage and grief returned, causing her to lose her rhythm. He made Pete’s death possible by working
with the angels who murdered her brother.
Lucian’s hand moved, and she looked at Lucian and Rachael again. Lucian needed her help, and if that would take out Caleb, then she wouldn’t screw up. Lindsay regained the cadence of her prayer. She prayed faster, though, hoping Lucian would take her cue that something was wrong, but he seemed unaware of the threat.
Lucian said, “I adjure you, Vúmis, by the judge of the living and the dead, by the Creator of the whole universe, Him who has the power to consign you to Hell.” He made the sign of the cross on Rachael’s brow.
Outside, the rain hammered the roof. A howl of rage from the Wyrm vibrated through the air. The bitter taste of fear flooded Lindsay’s mouth and she hated the feeling. She wanted to be like Lucian; he wasn’t afraid of anything.
Rachael pitched forward; instead of letting her go, Lucian moved with her. He pushed the patch covering her blind eye out of the way. Rachael heaved and a thick reddish substance poured through her mouth.
Oh, God, please don’t let that be blood. Lindsay shoved her own sick down.
The storm raged overhead. The wind widened a hole in the roof over the confessionals.
“God the Father commands you; God the Son commands you; God the Holy Spirit commands you. The mystery of the cross commands you.”
Rachael struggled against Lucian and lifted her head. Where Rachael’s right eye should have been was a black hole without even an eyelid to cover the cavity. Lindsay’s stomach lurched; she pushed her bile down.
The tip of a horn emerged from Rachael’s empty socket. The Wyrm was coming out and Lucian hadn’t told her what to do. Lindsay faltered in her prayer, her fear rising up to darken her light.
“Stand firm, Lindsay Richardson!” Lucian’s shout snapped her attention back to her task. His face was shiny with sweat, and tendrils of black hair clung to his forehead. His dark eyes burned with fever, and over his head, a light like a flame seared the cold air.
Lindsay gripped the sword tighter, leveled her gaze at the monster, and resumed her prayer, relieved that Lucian knew what was going on. He’d tell her what to do when the time was right. He hadn’t let her down yet.
Miserere: An Autumn Tale Page 21
