by Ren Hamilton
She rested her head on his chest. He never imagined there would be any heat between him and Robin, but he felt his heart flutter with the movement. He forced the thoughts out of his mind. Things were complicated enough. Robin unwrapped herself from him. He was relieved, and a little disappointed. “We both got left out in the cold, Obrien. That means they don’t trust either of us. Isn’t that reason enough to bring me into the fold? I mean, who else have you got?”
Patrick laughed. “Nobody, I suppose.”
“So can I go?”
He looked into her blue eyes and felt something tug at his heart. Maybe it was the eyes. He could never say no to those eyes while Joey was wearing them, and being heterosexual, he found Robin far more appealing. “Okay, you can go. But I’m warning you, you have to stay calm. I don’t know this priest very well and he kind of intimidates me.”
Robin raised her eyebrows. “The priest intimidates you.”
He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go. You can judge for yourself.”
Chapter Twenty
Father Carbone came to the door in pajamas, haphazardly pulling on a bathrobe. He squinted through the screen at Patrick and Robin.
“Hello Father Carbone. Do you remember me?”
To his surprise, the priest offered him a warm smile. “Mr. Obrien. You’re a little hard to forget. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I need to speak with you. This is my friend Robin Duvaine. May we come in?”
He opened the door and waved them inside, then shuffled into his living room, indicating that they follow. He was far less intimidating in his blue and green checkered bathrobe. His black hair was pushed up on one side.
“Were you sleeping?” Patrick asked, checking his watch. It was only eight in the evening.
“Yes, I decided to skip the usual wild clergy parties tonight. Are you going to help Agent Litner?” he called back. “Because he’ll tell you everything if you are. You really shouldn’t be coming to me first.”
“I’m here to speak with you right now, not him. Regarding what you said to me as I was leaving yesterday. About…” Patrick glanced at Robin. He hadn’t told her about the blood pact. “You asked me about a ritual.”
Father Carbone stopped, turned around and stared at Patrick, then turned his sleepy gaze to Robin. “Duvaine, huh? Any relation?”
“Yes. Joey is my cousin.”
Carbone raised an eyebrow at Patrick. “I really can’t tell you anything without Litner’s authority, and even if I could, I’m not sure this young lady should be here for this,” he said. “You’ve probably put the investigation in jeopardy by even speaking to her.”
Robin walked over to Father Carbone. “I thought you said this priest could help. It looks to me like he’s pretty useless. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Patrick sighed. “Damn it, Robin. What did we talk about?”
“He doesn’t trust me, what’s the point?”
“You didn’t give him a chance to!”
Carbone held his hands up. “All right, just calm down a minute, people. Take a seat on the couch, would you?” Robin and Patrick remained standing. Carbone widened his eyes. “I said take a seat on the couch.” They both sat. Father Carbone’s thug demeanor was back. “I can fill you in a bit regarding the questions that were thrown into my lap, but you’re going to have to talk to Litner if you want the other facts. That’s my final offer, so don’t bother asking me anything I can’t answer, because my lips are sealed. Got it?” Patrick nodded, happy to be getting any information at all.
The priest looked at Patrick. “Do you want her to hear what I’m going to say, regardless of the consequences?”
“What consequences?”
“It makes no difference if you trust her or not.” Carbone looked solemn. “If you involve her in this, then she too will be under the watchful eye of Agent Litner. This isn’t a game. You’re both basically signing a nondisclosure agreement by even being here.”
“I still want in,” Robin said. “I need the truth. I don’t care what it entails.”
Patrick looked at Robin, and wondered if he should be involving her. She met his eyes, and her thoughts were clear. She didn’t give a shit about being monitored. She only wanted to help Joey. “Me too,” he said. “We’re on the same side of the fence.”
Father Carbone ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t feel right about this.”
“What if I said I was going to help Litner?” Patrick said. “I made my decision. I’ll do it. I’ll go out to Forest Bluffs and get the plants or whatever they’re growing.”
Carbone looked at Patrick and his expression changed. “If you can swear to that, I would be more willing to share what I know.”
“On the level, Father Carbone. I intend to cooperate, but I still haven’t got a clue what’s going on here. I’m the one going out on a limb, so cut me some slack! After all, I’m agreeing to help without any solid information.”
Carbone nodded. “Okay Patrick. We’ll talk, but under certain conditions.”
“Name them.”
“I call Litner first thing in the morning and set up a meeting.”
Patrick stiffened. The spooky white-haired agent made him uneasy. “Fine. We talk to Litner tomorrow. What else?”
Father Carbone pointed a finger at Patrick and Robin. “I want no hostile interruptions from either of you until I’m finished talking.” He looked directly at Robin. “I mean it. I don’t care how much bullshit you decide this all sounds like. You’re not the only ones feeling a little volatile lately if you catch my drift. Now do we have a deal?”
“Agreed,” Patrick said.
Carbone shifted his gaze to Robin. “How about you, Sassy Girl?”
“Agreed. I will keep my sass in check.”
“Good. Now keep in mind, I can only show you the small aspect of this investigation that concerns me. What Litner has, well, you’ll have to wait and hear that from him. Fair enough?”
Patrick nodded. “At this point, I’ll settle for any information you can give.”
“Good then. Stay here. I’ll go get the stuff. Does anyone want tea?”
“Sure,” Robin said. Carbone left the room and Robin leaned into Patrick. “What stuff?” she whispered. Patrick shrugged.
Ten minutes later, the priest returned with the tea set. He set it down and left the room again. He returned right away with a cardboard box, which he placed on the coffee table. “Gather round kiddies, it’s show and tell time.” Carbone pulled out a leather notebook and two envelopes, placing them on the table. They were clasped tight, something bulky inside.
“What’s this?” Patrick asked.
The priest sat. “The contents of these envelopes belong to Melvin Shepherd. Or at least they did before Litner got his hands on them.”
“The feds stole from Shep?” Patrick asked before he could stop himself. “That doesn’t sound legal.”
“Litner had been looking into a potential related crime prior to this. There was cause, I’m told.”
“What crime?” Robin asked. The priest remained silent, and her brow lowered to a scowl. “Not Uncle Charles and the others. They think Shep had something to do with Joey’s family dying?”
Carbone shrugged. “Not my place to discuss.”
“That’s stupid!” she said. “Those were all ruled accidents.”
“Yes, they were. But there was suspicion among law enforcement. Either way, Litner has these items now. You gonna file a complaint?”
Robin sighed, then waved a hand at him. “No. Just talk.”
“Okay, I’m involved for several reasons. One is that the apparition appeared on my church. Lucky me. The second reason has to do with my having a PHD in theology. I’m an expert on religious texts. And thirdly, I went to high school with Agent Litner. He’s a friend of mine, although I hadn’t seen him for some time before this happened.”
Patrick and Robin stayed silent.
“Agent Litner came to me
with this box of goodies to see what I could make of it all. The notebook is handwritten and reads a bit like a bible testament, but a lot weirder.”
“Who wrote it?” Robin asked.
Father Carbone pulled open the leather notebook. “We believe this is done in the handwriting of your friend Shepherd.”
“Let me see that!” Robin demanded. Father Carbone gave her a warning look. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I know Shep’s writing. I’m only trying to help.” Reluctantly, Father Carbone handed her the leather book. “What the hell is this? It’s not even in English.”
“Indeed. Some of it, if you look further in, is in English, but the language shifts in and out. At certain points it becomes German, then Spanish, and see here? This is Latin. Some of the language I don’t recognize at all, so I’m assuming it’s written in code. But the parts that are written in recognizable languages are what boggled my mind the most. It’s as though the author had such a fluent use of all the languages, that he just flowed in and out of them haphazardly.”
“It has pictures,” Patrick noted. “I do think that’s Shep’s handwriting, though.” He glanced at Robin, who nodded.
“All right, good to have confirmation of that,” Carbone said. “The pictures were helpful in interpreting the pages that had indecipherable language. This book is referred to in several places as a “testament”. See here at the top of each page? It’s called ‘The Book of Zirub’. I did some research to find references to that name because it sounded vaguely familiar to me, but I came up with nothing.”
“I can’t believe Shep did any of this,” Patrick said. “I’ve never known him to write stories. Never known him to even read a book since we graduated college.”
Robin snorted. “No shit. Only stories I’ve witnessed Shep consume are the ones in porn movies.”
Patrick chuckled. “To be fair, he does find some creative porn.”
“Okay, moving on.” Father Carbone grabbed the notebook and flipped to the first page. “Fading genius that I am, I had to get some help from former colleagues. We stayed up and studied this book, trying to come up with some semblance of the story it told so we could let Litner know what it meant. Like I said before, the drawings really helped, but bear in mind that this is only one interpretation, and we took liberties in filling in the blanks.” Father Carbone showed them he had a 3" by 5" card inserted between some of the pages.
“Each card describes what’s written or translated, as well as what we think is illustrated.” Carbone looked at Patrick and Robin, his eyes serious. “Are you kids sure you’re ready to hear this?”
“Please,” Patrick said.
The priest turned to the first page, where an amateur drawing showed a man in shadowed silhouette, stepping out of a red circle. “I love a picture book,” Carbone said, “This clearly shows a figure coming through some sort of tunnel. Or portal maybe? I don’t know. It speaks of beings coming through or crossing over from another place. The closest translation we came up with for the caption beneath is, “The trapped ones.”
“Who are they?” Patrick asked.
“I have no idea,” the priest said. “We’re not even sure those are the right words. You’ll have to bear with me. Even the modern language is very vague.”
Father Carbone turned the page, where another card was wedged between the pages, a tiny cheat sheet. The illustration was of a boy, standing in front of a sunset. “This talks about a child being chosen,” Carbone said. “And the trapped ones finding that child.”
Patrick stared at the drawing of the little boy and a shiver went down his spine. Father Carbone looked at Patrick, seeming to sense his unease. “Things get weirder from here. Should I go on?”
Patrick shrugged, trying to look nonchalant for Robin’s sake. “It’s just a bunch of crazy crap Shep wrote. He was probably stoned.”
Carbone nodded. “Next page. There’s no picture here, but we found this one rather interesting. It speaks of removing the child from his earthbound family. This along with the calming of the soul will allow the child to begin to follow his true path.”
“The calming of the soul? What’s that?” Robin asked.
“This one I know.” Carbone looked pleased with himself. “The calming of the soul. It’s been used by various tribes over the years, even by Native Americans as a sort of focusing tool. Some think it’s simply a meditation technique. But others believe that if the soul was put to sleep, or calmed, that the mind could focus without hindrance, without distraction.”
“Without feelings?” Patrick said suddenly. “Without a conscience?”
Robin shook her head. “Patrick…”
“I know you’ve thought it too, Robin. Did Joey cry even once when his family died? And what about that? Being removed from his earthbound family?”
“Stop it!” Robin said. “Joey’s not like that. You’re just looking for things now. We can’t help Joey if you get as crazy as Shep.”
Father Carbone closed the book. “I’ve clearly said too much.”
Patrick and Robin both turned. “No,” Robin said. “I’m sorry for the outburst. I want to see the rest of the book. Please. I’m calm.”
“I don’t believe you can stay objective. Or calm.”
“We will. We promise. Don’t we Patrick?”
Father Carbone eyed them suspiciously, but finally he opened the book again and turned to the next page. He held it up, open for them to see. It was another illustration. This one depicted the boy, now drawn as a teenager, kneeling before the shadow man, who was pouring blood from a wound in his arm into the boy’s open mouth. Patrick recalled his conversation with Aunt Betsy. “Ah, shit,” he said. “Not liking this.”
“Gross!” Robin said. “What are they doing?”
Carbone picked up the index card. “This page speaks of a gift of power transferred from the trapped one—singular here—to the chosen boy. Now see here on the next page…” Father Carbone turned the page to show a more elaborate illustration of the boy, standing before a crowd of people with light shooting out of him. The people in the crowd smiled at the boy with adoration. “It claims the boy will now have the power to enchant. At least we think that word means to enchant. It’s either enchant or hypnotize.”
Patrick and Robin had both grown quiet.
“There are only a few more pages, but I think they are most interesting. As you can see here, the boy is shown carrying a sword. As I turn the page here, it shows the boy standing with a new figure, someone different than the previously seen shadowed figure. See?”
The new picture showed the boy standing next to a tall, shirtless muscular man. He had broad shoulders and a strong square chin. He was holding a large shield. A caption was printed beneath the picture in a language Patrick didn’t know.
“What does that say?” Patrick pointed to the words.
“It says ‘The Sword and The Shield’. Patrick, do you remember when I asked you if you ever did a blood ritual?”
“Yes, I certainly remember that.”
“Well, this is why.” He flipped the page. Patrick inhaled sharply.
Three figures: the shadow man, the boy, and the new muscular figure stood in a circle. The chosen boy had his arm joined at a wound on the wrist with the muscular man. Little droplets of blood were drawn leaking from the two men’s wrists. The shadow figure stood by watching, a bloody dagger in his hand.
“Holy shit!” Patrick said. “Holy fuck!”
Carbone’s brows pinched. “This looks familiar to you?”
“Yes, but not just the picture. Those words right there. What do those words mean?” The caption underneath the picture had printed, ‘Esk ul kalde ich hlada ich dar’. Shep spoke those same words that night on Joey’s balcony when they performed the childish blood pact.
Father Carbone picked up the index card. “I don’t know what those mean, but there’s a caption just beneath it in Spanish, so I’m assuming it means the same thing.”
Patrick swallowed hard. “That d
oesn’t say ‘unity and brotherhood’ does it?”
Father Carbone’s brown eyes looked sharply over the card. “I’m afraid not. It says, ‘The Shield Protects the Sword.’”
Robin looked at Patrick. “I don’t understand.”
Patrick reluctantly explained the blood pact that the three of them performed the night of Joey’s madness at Monty’s bar, after Charles Duvaine’s funeral. “Shep said it would be good for Joey’s morale. Joey was acting super depressed.”
“Did you stand in a circle?” Father Carbone asked.
Patrick pointed to the picture. “That’s how we stood, out on Joey’s balcony. Exactly like that. This is nuts. That would mean they staged the whole thing. The argument, the fight, everything. Why? How long? How long had they been planning this? It’s crazy!”
“Perfect,” Robin said softly. “I’ve been sleeping with a lunatic.”
Patrick held up a hand. “Wait a minute here. Father Carbone, as sick as this all sounds, does it really make Shep dangerous? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not pleased to discover that my friends could win an academy award for their acting, but nobody’s been hurt or threatened by this. Right?”
Carbone sighed. “This isn’t the document that disturbed Agent Litner. He has that one.”
“What does it say?”
“I can’t tell you that. You’ll have to ask him to show it to you tomorrow.”
Patrick rubbed his forehead. “Great. Can’t wait.”
Carbone eyed him seriously. “The journal goes on for a couple more pages about the Shield being bound by blood to protect the chosen child, or ‘The Sword’, at all costs. Then the text just stops.”
Patrick looked down at his arm and rubbed the tiny scar made from Shep’s blade. He noticed the priest watching his movements. “What did they do to me, Father Carbone?”
The priest took his hand and examined the scar, then looked into Patrick’s eyes. “Nothing. They didn’t do a damn thing to you. Joey and Shep are quite simply deranged. As far as this so-called blood pact is concerned, I’d get a tetanus shot if I were you, then I’d stop worrying about it.”
