saint Sebastian the Rose

by Glover, Michael W.

  Jessica looked to one more familiar thing—the other door. This door she would forever be intrigued with, and she was drawn to it. She stood there as she had done on several occasions, memorizing those epic scenes that played out before her. No movie had ever told a story like this door had. This was as far as she could go. She would not violate the sanctity of his room, not his privacy and not on this day.

  ***

  Sebastian stood over the body of his friend, Father Matthew. He heard the knock on his door and came out of his trance. Knowing no one ever knocked on his door, this must be important. Sebastian made himself get up and venture out, even though he needed rest to recover. The room he came into was empty; there was no one there at the door. The source of the knocking was not to be seen. In his investigations he saw something of an old familiar sight, an old friend lying on his couch. Father Matthew loved to visit Sebastian’s room and take advantage of the peace and quiet it offered and with the multitude of interesting books there was always a reason to come. On many occasions he’d fallen asleep there in his studies, and Sebastian never complained.

  Sebastian wondered if he had been transported through time, and things were as they had been before. He had thought the last time he saw Father Matthew he was in very bad shape; they both had been. Father Matthew appeared at peace lying there, but Sebastian felt otherwise. He could feel the effects of what had happened over the last several days, and he knew he hadn’t dreamt them. He moved over to the couch and knelt down to Father Matthew and put his hand on his arm; the skin was not as warm as it should be and the pulse was almost nonexistent.

  Sebastian looked his brother in the face, a face too young to have suffered all of this. How had this come about? His head fell and rested on Father Matthew’s chest like the night before, but there was no comfort there for Sebastian. The heart inside was beating like a slow metronome keeping time with the slowest, saddest song.

  With the strength he had left in him, which was still significant, he picked up Father Matthew and carried him through the other door—his door. Sebastian laid Father Matthew down, then turned to close the door. The normally quiet chamber echoed with the sound of the closing door and he would spend these last remaining moments with his friend, alone.

  Sebastian looked around his room like there was something he needed but was unsure of what it could be. He soon saw the one thing he was trying to avoid—the body of Father Matthew. Standing next to him, he laid his hands on his chest and searched for any sign. The only thing he found were the devils in his own head, the ones that were mocking him and saying all of the things he didn’t want to hear. He was responsible for the death of his friend; if he hadn’t been here none of this would have happened. He was responsible for his condition, if he had not taken any blood from him he would be able to recover.

  He knew his own life had been saved by his friend and not precisely, but in part by his Companion. But his Companion had tricked him, making Sebastian believe in his weakened state his friend was okay, just unconscious, and he’d fallen for it. Why would he have done such a thing? Sometimes the reasoning of vampires is very hard to see. There was only one fact that Sebastian knew was unequivocal: without Father Matthew he would have died. Now Father Matthew was dying, and he was to blame.

  The inner turmoil was driving Sebastian mad. How had his life been turned upside down in such a short time, and how was he going to set things right? He looked to the body, the thoughts came and went, and his pain grew. Most decisions that you face in life are easy, black and white; then there are those few that come along every once in a while and they beat you down. Would he even consider such an option? He blocked it from his mind, but it came back to batter down any barrier Sebastian put up to keep it out, haunting him and finding new ways to seem proper, logical and right. Sebastian spoke to his friend like he was listening.

  “I am responsible, my friend … and I’m sorry. What should I do to make it right?”

  Sebastian had never in his whole life considered what he was currently considering. Should he do what was needed to keep his friend alive? Would that be a blessing or a curse? What would that do to his soul? To make another one like him—a cursed soul—would that be better than death? He had seen many people die, including many friends, friends he had never thought of saving. Would he wish his existence on anyone, especially someone he cared for? Sebastian felt himself crumbling under the torture, and he sat down on the floor beside the bed.

  He sat there for what seemed infinity until his mind was clear. He got back up and hesitated briefly; he put his head back to the chest of Father Matthew. The beat was only a whisper, the space between those beats seemed like the distance between stars. Sebastian understood the time was near; he looked around frantically for what he needed. There on the table he saw a small knife; he grabbed it and sliced down at his wrist in one quick motion. He’d located the veins easy enough and the blood ran out, red as roses. He looked back to the still Father Matthew, to the serene expression and wondered what peace he enjoyed that none there could understand.

  Sebastian looked up to the ceiling of his room and he let go. He let go of everything that had so built up and let go of everything he couldn’t control or understand. He screamed at the top of his lungs—a cry of pain and anger and futility, one that had been there, just beneath the surface for almost two hundred years. He fell to his knees and grasped the arm of Father Matthew, and he kissed his hand and let it rest there against his face. He sat there and felt his friend fade away till he was no more, no more.

  ***

  The Grand Staircase Hall was rattled out of its doldrums by something it could not explain; something had happened, and the alert had gone up. The only one who really understood, of course, was Father Donovan. He understood the sound that had come from the depths of this place, a sound that is hard to duplicate or describe, the sound of a soul crying out. Everyone looked to him for an explanation; they only remained calm and in place because of his peaceful demeanor.

  But they could not see all by the expression on his face; he knew more than he would ever tell. He knew his friend, Sebastian, had made a choice, a hard one, and he would never tell anyone. The twins rallied around him, and he welcomed the comfort that comes with the support of loved ones. Their days ahead would still be hard, but the path would be there. They would just have to look for it.

  The hours passed, and the night moved by with hardly any movement; that stillness was broken as every head turned when they caught some movement on the other side of the room. They were all relieved to see it was Sebastian; he’d emerged from his room. He walked into their midst and stood. Everyone looked around expecting a horde of vampires to follow him, but nothing was there. Sebastian looked around and then continued to walk till he came upon a stretcher with several brothers around it. Father Lemoine lay on it, bandaged and stuck with IVs.

  Sebastian hesitantly reached out his hand to find Father Lemoine’s hand, and he held it in silence. He searched for the beat that would tell him everything. He felt that beat; it came over and over in a slow rhythmic rate. He grasped the hand tighter; he felt that if he let go that beat would fade away like before, but this beat was strong, he could tell. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Father Donovan by his side. Jacob and Jessica joined, flanking him on each side, and soon everyone in the room had gathered. Everyone who was left in this small family now formed a circle in the grand hall.

  There was little joy in those moments; even in the darkness of the hour friends can find hope in the future and they relished it. They all felt it was over, and they could actually see something beyond tomorrow. The future once again gave its small hints and quick glimpses as to what it would hold. Sebastian knew very well what the future was for him: this night was not over. He had final goodbyes to say to his friend. He had come to terms with that for the moment. He knew he was in a better place, and he was thankful for the choice he had made. Sebastian only hoped Father Matthew agreed with h
im; he was quite sure he would.

  Sebastian left his friends in their small gathering. No one questioned his leaving; they never did. His life was one most of them would never fully understand, and so they did not judge him. They knew he would be around whenever he could to do whatever he could. The day had been won to some extent. They had lost several battles, but the tower remained, and they had enough people to still call a family. The war was theirs, and they felt it.

  The cozy room that was Sebastian’s library seemed new; everything from this day on would seem new. They had passed that moment in time when everything changes. Now they would adapt to their new world and make it as good as they could; that’s all one can do. He smiled at the thought of a new world and one with friends he still had. Of course, there was still his other room where the past still resided. His courage was undeniable—anyone would testify to this—but his next chore seemed insurmountable. The only thing that gave him strength then was the memory of his friend and his responsibility.

  Sebastian walked to the door and opened it in one motion. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. He immediately looked to his bed, not wanting to have to force himself to look at Matthew’s body. He was not there. Sebastian gasped; the bed was empty. Sebastian stormed into the room and frantically searched, as if Matthew’s body might be stuffed under a table like a lost shoe. He was not there. The bed was untouched, and the room was in order except for what Sebastian had just done to it. Everything was just how he left it—the bed, his desk, and everything else. He went to his only bookcase, and he searched the case for anything; it was as he had left it.

  Sebastian ran from his room, heading back to the hall. He charged like a lion into the arena, and everyone’s attention was drawn once again to him; surely he was being chased by a horde of vampires this time, they thought. Father Donovan and Sebastian met. He whispered into the old monk’s’ ear; Father Donovan’s face grew paler than it had been all day. Sebastian set out without any other notice. He ran with abandon down the halls. Jacob and Jessica tried as they could to keep up with him; they never wanted to let him out of their sight again.

  Into several rooms he barged, every entrance a grand one. Sebastian didn’t take much notice of the twins except to avoid knocking them over. They were off again trying to keep up with him and soon found themselves back at the small chapel. Jacob rushed in with Jessica behind. Sebastian was in the front. Next to him was the votive candle stand, and in the nearly complete darkness there was a small light. One candle was lit, and that small candle appeared to have complete power over Sebastian. The candle flickered and with it Sebastian moved with his wits regained and blew past the twins; once again they were off.

  The castle had once again been transformed into a hive of busy bees that seemed to move with no specific purpose; this was far from the truth. The twins felt they had canvassed most of the castle and were completely out of breath from keeping up with Sebastian. With him barely in sight they saw him heading for the Grand Staircase Hall. They looked at each other. The silent twin communication was working overtime. They both felt the warnings of once again entering the hall that was a dangerous place when things were in motion, but they didn’t hesitate.

  Sebastian had already reached the tower’s top; his speed was beyond anyone’s here. He came out into the night air in his typical dramatic way and noticed quickly how the seasons were changing. The air was warmer, and in that air he could smell the pollen that excited his senses. But this was not why he came up here, and he moved to the edge of the tower looking for something. He searched back and forth for some sign. He had not brought any weapons with him, and he would only have his wits and his strength, whatever he had left in him, to protect him and defend others. Somehow he felt he didn’t need those weapons; this was different.

  With a sinking desperation he scanned back and forth from one side of the Lonely Tower to the other. Then he noticed something, something moving along one side of the monastery, then passing over the moat. The figure was hard to see in the darkness at this distance, even for him, but he held it in his sight, tracking its direction. He looked for others around but only saw the one figure. As it came to the edge of the woods, the figure looked back.

  The figure looked back exactly at where Sebastian stood and stared at him. There was no mistake what was looking at him; the eyes told the story he was familiar with—the bright dots that marked this figure as something unnatural and something dangerous. They contrasted in the darkness like two small halogen flashlights so bright that if you stared at them too long you would go blind. Two white lights in a world of darkness.

  The two held each other’s gaze in mutual curiosity. The moment was one of profound dread for Sebastian but also one that made his mind begin to hope in some odd way. He knew he was really not in danger, but it was a moment of sadness for him: sadness for a future he thought he had seen earlier but which now had dramatically been altered. He knew this figure, of course, even over the long distance in the night. He knew he had a new brother this night. Father Matthew, his personal friend, now knew the night; he was a child of the moon and another lost soul. He blinked and turned into the woods and was gone.

  ***

  By the time they entered the hall there was no one there. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. They knew instinctively where he had gone, so they ran up the stairs, traversing as many as they could in one bound. Jacob made the top first, beating his sister in the footrace. He too bounded through the door, taking after Sebastian in his flair for entrances; he saw Sebastian standing at the edge. Jessica soon came out into the night air also and saw her brother slowly approaching the very still Sebastian.

  The twins flanked Sebastian in their usual way and looked out into the darkness as Sebastian was, trying to see what he saw. There was nothing. They looked at him, and he was motionless. The only thing that said anything was his face. Conflicted and sad, there was something there they didn’t understand. What had happened?

  Sebastian turned around and leaned against the wall. His eyes showed his mind at work. His hair was blowing in the wind that was ushering out the storm that had come their way. They saw his body relax, and he looked at each of them. How was he going to tell them? Was he going to tell them?

  chapter FORTY-ONE

  THE DAYS OF CALAMITOUS EVENTS passed. Nights were uneventful, and the days returned to normalcy. The wounded were recovering, and damage was being repaired. The future arrived much as many had seen it.

  In the armory Father Lemoine was back at work doing what he could to keep his place in the castle in order. He was limited somewhat by the wound that was still healing, but he was aided greatly by the apprentice that never left his side when needed, Jacob. The two spent great hours together, learning from each other.

  Father Dagrun had the kitchens up and running just as they had before; he had many starving monks clamoring for something besides cold sandwiches. Even his helpers didn’t complain too much at their time with the surly cook who was never satisfied with their work. Most knew the façade of the large man, and all knew the true inner workings of the individual.

  With the days returning to what they had been before, the library was unlocked. Father Jacques and Father Andrew had been there to help everyone else first in all the areas of the monastery, trying to get things back into shape. The library would wait until everything was ready.

  They worked first in the index room making sure things were just right. The twins joined them to help, considering that most areas had been worked over in the weeks that passed. They never worked so hard in their lives, but it was a labor of love. When finally the time came to reopen the library, the twins waited in strange expectation. The two usually warring monks had been in a state of truce for some time, with one purpose in mind.

  They worked on the double doors for a while; they had been completely sealed up. Large metal coverings had been placed over the entrance doors and fastened in position; an army—or at least a couple of det
ermined priests—would be needed to get through them. The twins helped with the work until the doors were uncovered and other boards were removed. They opened the doors and before them, laid out in its great expanse, was the Library. The monks and the twins were in awe of the gem of the monastery; the place looked as though it had not seen anything more disastrous than the settling of dust.

  Jacob and Jessica made their way into the heart of the library searching for something they didn’t even know. Jacob came upon the desk first; he had been here before. Jessica found it next and wondered why the interest? She located what they were looking for easily—their father’s coffee mug, with coffee still in it, cold but otherwise unchanged. The monks understood this place now held great significance to others besides themselves, and they left them to their moment.

  One of the other places in the castle that had been in need of repair was the small chapel. Everyone helped, but Sebastian alone worked on repairing the statues or carving new ones to replace those beyond repair. Father Donovan came in to check on him one evening and there sat Sebastian, working away. They hadn’t talked much about those nights of mayhem, just about the future.

  Sebastian heard him approach and turned to see him enter. The two would once again get to spend some time together; the future did have hope and this was proof. Father Donovan sat next to Sebastian as he continued to carve.

  “You are coming along quite nicely.”

  Sebastian looked up from his work and smiled. He understood he was on the couch again; his psychologist was on the job once more. Father Donovan enjoyed these silent conversations they had; how wonderful it is to be so close to someone that so much is heard, even when nothing is said.

  “You know you have not told me what happened that night. I had hoped that you would share with me,” Father Donovan said.