The Devil's Labyrinth Page 14

  But she was smiling.

  Ryan closed his eyes, too, but there was now no way he could concentrate on the blessing. Instead, he returned the little squeeze Melody had given him, and when the chorus of students said “Amen,” he opened his eyes and turned to look at her.

  She was blushing.

  And he was grinning.

  And everybody else was staring at both of them.

  Ryan decided he didn’t care.

  Things at St. Isaac’s were, indeed, looking better and better.

  CHAPTER 24

  FALLING!

  Sofia Capelli was falling through a darkness so black it was almost palpable. She could see nothing, feel only the sensation of the aching cold, and the dizzying effect of the endless fall.

  Cold.

  Dizzy.

  Then an acrid stench scorched her nostrils and she jerked awake.

  She wasn’t falling, but she was still cold.

  Her back was freezing; her bones still ached.

  She lay silent, searching for the memory of what had happened to her, but all she found was an overwhelming feeling of dread.

  Dread, and the awful sensation of falling.

  Once again the sharp smell of smoke choked her and now she opened her eyes, looking up to see Father Sebastian, Father Laughlin and Sister Mary David, all gazing down on her.

  And looking worried.

  She must have fainted.

  Sister Mary David swung a censer filled with burning incense over her, and Sofia flinched away from the curling spiral of smoke that drifted toward her nose.

  She tried to sit up, but her arms and legs didn’t work. She was too weak. What was happening?

  “She is with us again,” Father Sebastian said so softly that Sofia could barely hear him.

  She opened her mouth to speak, formed the words in her mind, but nothing emerged from her lips. Nothing, anyway, but an unintelligible sound that was little more than a faint moan. She wanted to rub her eyes, to rub away the dizziness from her mind, erase the fog from her vision. But something was holding her back.

  Something on her wrists.

  A rope!

  She twisted her head around and caught a glimpse of the thick, black velvet cord that ran through iron rings and held each wrist and each ankle firmly to—

  A table! A cold, hard table made of solid stone!

  Why?

  What had she done that they had to tie her down?

  Once again she struggled to speak; once again only a garbled, rasping sound emerged from her lips.

  “Do not speak,” Father Sebastian said. “Do not give voice to the demon.”

  Demon?

  Sofia looked around frantically. What was he talking about? Where was she? What had happened to her?

  Again she struggled against her bonds, but they felt more like they were made of steel than of velvet.

  She tried once more to speak, focusing her eyes on Father Laughlin’s kind old face and concentrating on forming the first syllable of his name, but when she finally opened her mouth, only a stammering “F-F-F…” sound came out.

  And Father Laughlin turned his face away.

  Her chest heaving with fear, her eyes blurred with unshed tears, Sofia stopped struggling and lay still on the table. She tried to think, tried to cut through the fog that muddled her mind, tried to remember.

  Then she saw it.

  A giant cross suspended upside down, just above her.

  The top of the cross had been sharpened to a point—a glittering point of gold—and it seemed to be directly above her heart.

  What were they going to do to her?

  Sofia’s eyes found Sister Mary David, but this time when she tried to speak all that came out of her mouth was a sibilant hiss.

  A dream!

  It had to be some kind of terrible dream.

  It couldn’t be real.

  Sister Mary David recoiled from Sofia’s strange hiss, crossed herself, and continued to swing the censer.

  “Let us now confront the evil in this child’s soul,” Father Sebastian intoned, “that we may then drive it from her forever.”

  As the priest’s right arm came up and he extended his fingers toward her, Sofia felt a terrible nausea rising in her belly. She howled again, terrified that he was about to touch her, and whipped her head back and forth.

  What was happening?

  Why was she terrified of him?

  Why did she feel so sick?

  And if it was a dream, why wasn’t she waking up?

  “Silence, demon.” Father Sebastian was looming over her now, and suddenly she could see something in his eyes she’d never seen before.

  Hatred.

  Pure, furious, hatred.

  Sofia cringed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

  Father Sebastian began speaking in Latin, but again they were words Sofia had never heard before, in an unfamiliar rhythm.

  Then he was making signs with his hands, and moving around her as the cadence of his chant increased.

  The room began to spin as Father Sebastian circled her, and now her nausea threatened to overwhelm her. Her stomach lurched, and she struggled hard not to throw up.

  Is this really happening?

  “The blood of the goat,” Father Sebastian demanded, and Father Laughlin quickly handed him a small, dark bottle.

  Sofia shrank from Father Sebastian as if he held an asp in his grip.

  Forcing the fingers of her left hand open, the priest tipped the vial so the blood ran onto her palm, then did the same with the other hand.

  A terrible stench began to rise from Sofia’s hands and the blood oozed across her palms and began to drizzle between her fingers.

  Father Sebastian circled around her, his deep voice chanting, his hands etching patterns in the air above her.

  Sofia’s palms began to burn.

  She craned her neck to look at her hands, which now had smoke curling up from what looked like charred flesh. “Burning!” she screamed, finding her voice at last.

  “Silence the demon!” Father Sebastian commanded.

  Sister Mary David instantly forced a washcloth into Sofia’s mouth, binding it in place by wrapping some kind of scarf tightly around her head, completely covering her mouth and barely leaving any room for her to suck air in through her nostrils.

  Panic began to rise in Sofia—she couldn’t get enough air through her nose, and her hands were on fire!

  She squeezed her eyes shut as if blinding herself might make it stop happening.

  What kind of nightmare is this?

  Then she felt fingers beginning to unbutton her blouse.

  Her eyes flicked open and she found herself gazing into Father Sebastian’s eyes.

  She wanted to fight him, but her hands were burning and all her energy was being drained by the struggle merely to keep breathing.

  Father Sebastian spread her blouse wide, then unhooked her bra, exposing her naked breasts.

  As her terror rose, Sofia’s breath threatened to fail completely. Father Sebastian turned his back to her, and she felt a brief instant of hope, but then he turned back, holding a bloody mass of pulp in his hands. Gently—reverently—he laid the thing on her chest, and a terrible chill ran through her body as if the bloody thing itself were sucking the warmth out of her.

  Father Sebastian began chanting again, and Father Laughlin lowered the crucifix hanging above her until its glittering point touched the thing on her chest.

  The mass of pulp suddenly began to throb, and Sofia instantly knew what it was: the bleeding heart of whatever creature it was whose blood had burned the palms of her hands.

  Now she felt something growing inside her, as if some terrible presence was awakening, crowding her out, pushing her aside with every beat of the evil heart that lay over her own.

  Sister Mary David helped Father Sebastian off with his stole, then his surplice, and finally he pulled his cassock over his head.

  He stood above Sofia, cl
ad only in a gray hair shirt, which hung to his knees.

  Sister Mary David untied the string that held it closed at the back of his neck and opened it wide.

  Father Laughlin handed Father Sebastian a short whip that ended in a profusion of metal-barbed leather thongs. As Sofia watched in horror, Father Sebastian held the whip to his lips, murmured some unintelligible words, then raised the lash high.

  Sofia shrank against the stone, trying to steel herself against the agony to come, and watched helplessly as the whip began its arc.

  But instead of slashing down on her, it whipped across Father Sebastian’s head and shoulders, cutting not into Sofia’s flesh, but that of his own back.

  Yet even as Sofia watched each stroke of the flagellum as it slashed into the priest’s flesh, she felt exactly as if each lash were biting into her own body.

  Felt it as surely as if he were whipping her rather than himself.

  She thrashed against her bonds now, trying to scream, feeling the flesh stripping off her back every time Father Sebastian took the whip to his own skin.

  And the presence that had awakened within her began to grow angry. She felt it, hot and vibrant inside her chest.

  Inside her mind.

  She felt it trampling her own thoughts and emotions, shoving them aside to make more room for its own fury.

  Blood spattered her face as Father Sebastian slashed his back over and over again. Sofia’s tongue tried to work its way past the wad of cloth that filled her mouth to taste the priest’s blood.

  At last Father Sebastian stopped his flagellation, reached back, and gathered a handful of ruined flesh and skin from his back. He looked down on Sofia, so close she could feel the heat of his heaving breath on her face.

  He drew something on her forehead with a bloody forefinger. The heart on her chest gave one more mighty heave, then exploded in a fountain of gore as the cross above her burst into flames.

  The beast within her roared, erupting with rage.

  Sofia sat up, breaking the velvet ropes as if they were nothing but threads, and hurled the flaming cross aside.

  Father Laughlin and Sister Mary David backed away, their eyes wide with terror, but Father Sebastian stood his ground and met Sofia’s furious gaze with no sign of any fear at all.

  He raised his right hand, and suddenly his voice filled the chamber. “It is through my blood that you exist and you are bound to my bidding,” he declared. “I command you to submit!”

  Sofia felt the presence inside her gathering to lash out at the priest, but suddenly Father Sebastian placed his broad right hand over her face.

  He squeezed.

  “Submit!”

  As the single word echoed off the chamber’s stone walls, all the strength drained out of Sofia, and she sagged back on the pallet.

  Father Laughlin doused the burning cross with holy water, then righted it and replaced it on the wall as Sister Mary David removed Sofia’s gag, refastened her bloody bra and buttoned her ruined blouse.

  Sofia lay limp while she was being ministered to. She had no energy, but no more fear either.

  It was over.

  Yet the presence inside her still remained. It had been calmed, but not banished.

  Sofia curled up on the cold stone, wrapping her arms around her knees as Sister Mary David cleansed Father Sebastian’s wounds, then helped him on with his vestments.

  When he was once again fully dressed, Father Sebastian leaned against the table, his chest still heaving from his exertions. “Give me a few moments,” he said softly. “Then we shall finish it.”

  CHAPTER 25

  RYAN FINISHED THE last of the algebra problems, closed his math book, and stretched his cramped muscles. If he were still at home, he’d go out and run a few blocks before he went to bed, but a glance at the clock told him it was only twenty minutes until lights out. But even if there was enough time, he didn’t really want to run up and down Beacon Hill, at least not just before going to bed. Sighing, he picked up the Catholic History text and flipped to the first of the pages that Melody had flagged for him after dinner.

  He could feel his eyes getting heavy with just the first paragraph but steeled himself to keep going. You don’t get into Princeton with anything less than A’s, he reminded himself. But in Catholic History? What was that about? Wasn’t it the same as real history? Not that it made any difference—in this case, at least, it was only the grade that counted. Besides, there wasn’t anything else to do until Clay came out of the bathroom and he’d have his turn to shower.

  Taking a deep breath he finished the first of the highlighted paragraphs—which seemed to be trying to defend the Spanish Inquisition the same way Father Sebastian had this morning—and turned to the next section, which looked like it was going to have something to do with satanism. When his cell phone vibrated and he saw Melody Hunt’s name on the caller ID, he happily pushed the book aside.

  “Well, speak of the devil,” he said.

  If Melody got his attempt at humor, she ignored it. “Ryan, Sofia’s not back in our room yet,” she said, and even over the bad cellular connection, Ryan could hear the worry in her voice. “I went looking for Sister Mary David but couldn’t find her. And the nun in the admin office said that Sofia was in the infirmary.”

  “The infirmary?” Ryan echoed.

  “Yes! But when I asked what was wrong with her, the nun told me it was none of my concern, and when I called the infirmary, nobody even answered!”

  “What do you mean, they didn’t answer?”

  “Just that! There wasn’t anybody there!”

  “Maybe they were taking care of Sofia,” Ryan suggested. “If she’s sick, or cut herself or something, they might just be too busy to answer the phone.”

  “But I’m worried!” Melody insisted, her voice trembling.

  “Can’t you just go to the infirmary and ask to see her?”

  “No,” Melody wailed. “They have rules about visitors, and even if they didn’t, it’s almost lights out.”

  Ryan thought for a moment, fingering the edges of the textbook he didn’t really want to read. “How about if I go? Even if I don’t make it back in time and get caught, I can pretend I was coming back from the library, and got lost.”

  “Would you really do that?” Melody asked.

  “Why not?” Ryan countered, putting more bravado into his voice than he was really feeling. “I mean, what are they going to do, kick me out?” Melody’s silence was enough to tell him that she thought that might very well be exactly what they’d do. “Besides,” he went on. “I’m not going to get caught.” Before Melody could try to talk him out of it, Ryan snapped his phone closed, stuck his head in the bathroom to tell Clay he’d be back before lights out, and stuffed his map of the school into his pocket.

  Less than two minutes later he was at the door to the infirmary, which occupied half of the second floor of a building that looked like it might once have been a private home, but had been absorbed by the school so long ago that most of its original rooms had long since vanished. And all Ryan found at the top of the main staircase was a door.

  A locked door, with a frosted glass panel.

  And no light behind the panel.

  Black-edged gold letters informed him that the infirmary was open daily from 7AM to 3PM. There was also an emergency phone number, which Ryan wasn’t about to dial.

  Instead he called Melody back.

  “There’s nobody here,” he said as soon as she answered. “The door’s locked and all the lights are off.”

  “There has to be somebody there. If Sofia’s there, somebody has to be there,” Melody protested. “If Sofia’s sick, or got hurt or something, they wouldn’t just turn the lights out and leave her by herself!”

  “Well, unless there’s some other way in besides the front door—”

  “There is another way in!” Melody broke in. “Oh, God, why didn’t I think of it before? The back way!”

  “Back way?” Ryan repeated. �
��What are you talking about? There aren’t any other doors here, and there aren’t any on the main floor, either.”

  “You have to go though the basements,” Melody told him. “Can you make it to the dining hall without getting caught?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then meet me there,” Melody told him. “Right across the hall from the big dining room there’s a door that leads to the stairs to the basements. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  This time it was Melody who broke the connection, and for an instant Ryan was tempted to call her back and tell her it was too dangerous—she was sure to get caught. But even as the thought came to him, he rejected it, certain that Melody was already on her way and that no matter what he said, she was going to finish what he’d begun. Putting the phone back in his pocket, he started toward the dining hall. If he hurried, he’d barely make it before lights out.

  After that, they’d just have to take their chances.

  Melody was already waiting when Ryan got to the dining hall, holding the door ajar. As he slipped through and she pulled the door closed behind him, he checked the faintly glowing hands of his watch. They were now officially breaking the rules, and if they got caught, he might be able to plead ignorance, but Melody would be in serious trouble. “Maybe we ought to just go back to the dorms,” Ryan said. “What if the nun didn’t know what she was talking about?”

  Melody shook her head. “She knew. And if they’d taken Sofia to the hospital, why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  “Maybe she just got it wrong,” Ryan suggested.

  Melody shook her head again. “Not Sister Frances. She never gets anything wrong—she’s the only reason Father Laughlin can keep his job. She keeps track of everything for him.” She started down the stairs. “Have you been down in the tunnels yet?” Now it was Ryan who shook his head. “There’s hardly any light, so watch your step. But once you get to know them, the tunnels are the fastest way to get around the school, especially if you’re going somewhere you’re not supposed to.

  “C’mon,” Melody told him, glancing back over her shoulder. “It’s not far. Down these steps, under the administration building and then the infirmary. All we have to do is go up the old back stairs that nobody ever uses anymore. I don’t think anyone but the kids even knows they’re there.” She headed on down the stairs, and after only a second or two of hesitation, Ryan gripped the handrail and followed.