Death of the Body (Crossing Death) (14 page)

“What did I say?”

“Not you! Them.”

My fear started to spread to the kind eyes of the Sister and she quickly scanned the area around us for signs of anyone who could have startled me. “Who?”

The deep breathing was calming my nerves and I was able to answer her a bit more steadily. “The trees.”

Sister Mary Chantale had already heard my story about my experience with the Mother Tree on my way home to Orenda, so her expression quickly changed from confusion to understanding. “You can hear them now?”

I nodded my head. “They told me about…” I hesitated, “… Simon.”

Now her look was worried. “What about him?”

“How he died.”

“But we know how he died,” the pitch of her voice slid upward. “He drowned.”

I could see the swift moving water of the river behind her. I made a quick decision that believing her son drowned would be for the best. Drowning would be a much better fate, less painful, and more
final
than what I saw.

I shivered.

“Come, Edmund,” Sister Mary Chantale said, saying my name carefully. She placed her hand on my shoulder with a bit of pressure. “Let’s go back inside. Just the fact that you knew Simon was my son is enough for me to believe you. Something must have told you that. Only Father Michaels and I know about my transgression. I am certain you didn’t hear anything from either one of us on the subject.”

I started walking with her. Before we had managed to take more than a few steps, I took her hand in my own. “Sister Mary Chantale, I am sorry for your loss. It must have been very painful.”

“Thank you, Edmund. Your condolences are greatly appreciated.”

I didn’t see anyone else that evening before I fell asleep. Sister Mary Chantale and I made our way back to the infirmary as quickly as we could. By the time we entered the cathedral, the sun had set and the lights in the infirmary were low. There was now only one other child in the beds—that poor girl who had not been able to eat. Her skin was pale in the dim light and I could see her shivering under heavy blankets.

Sister Mary Chantale took a seat in the chair near the entrance of the room. It wasn’t long before her eyes closed and her breathing was heavy. I tried to read some more of the Bible in the nightstand next to my bed but the lack of light made the words difficult to read. My eyes quickly grew tired.

I was having the best dreamless sleep of my life, swimming through the swirling waters of oblivion, when an overwhelming heat caused my subconscious mind to push off my blanket. The fact that my body did not respond caused my eyes to flutter as my conscious mind attempted to regain control. At first I balked at the awakening, trying to force myself back into sleep. The fact that I couldn’t move nagged at my brain until I opened my eyes.

The room was hot and heavy, blackness swirling around me with such completeness that I wasn’t even sure I had opened my eyes. I tried again to push my blanket off my body but my arms were pinned to the bed.

My breathing increased as I struggled to move, but the harder I struggled, the harder something tried to keep me held down.

I screamed as two bright yellow eyes appeared above me.

“Alexander!” I heard a voice cry out in the darkness, though it sounded distant.

I started chanting the spell I learned as a boy, the one that was used on the energumen in the snake, and willed the world to cast away this being.

As the room around me turned a stunning white in response to my spell, I saw the full creature pinning me down. He was literally kneeling on my body, but not in a body of his own. This creature was reminiscent of the horrible monster that killed Simon, just a human-shaped black mass with penetrating yellow eyes.

I willed my spell to completion. Like a bolt of lightning, the creature was gone.

For a moment, everything was absolutely silent. Then, slowly, I heard a whimper from the girl in the bed a few paces away from me.

I bolted upright and turned toward her. I could see her pale skin in the dim light, but my eyes were still adjusting to the room. I was dizzy from sitting up so quickly. It took me a few seconds to see her clearly. Her face was turned upright, her back arched, and she looked like she was in pain as her eyes glared at the picture of the angel in the painting above her bed.

I followed her eyes to see another black figure standing in the frame.

I gasped audibly enough for the creature to hear me. His eyes turned toward me.

I began my spell again, but before I could get out the first few words I felt a tingling sensation in my throat. I reached up and felt nothing, only to have the sensation tighten violently.

The creature looked at me with defiance and victory in his yellow eyes. With a burning intensity, I was thrown back onto the bed.

I choked against the pressure on my throat and gasped for breath as I clawed at the invisible hand closing off my airway.

I flinched at the screams of agony that came from the ill girl. I turned my face toward her and kicked my legs as furiously as I could in an attempt to free myself from my unknown assailant. The energumen ran his dark hands over the girl’s pale skin, causing deep scratch marks that filled instantly with blood.

He was taunting her.

I felt anger overpower my fear as I reached out toward her but I couldn’t get myself out of bed.

The eyes are the window to the soul
, I heard him say menacingly, and I knew the words were meant for me. He liked the fact that I was watching him maim this poor girl. He was
explaining
his actions to me!

“No,” I managed to choke out. I had seen this already once today. The trees had shown me the horror.

The air around me charged with pure evil. I tried to look away or close my eyes, but the energumen liked having an audience. His mystic power somehow forced me to watch as his fingers dug into the eye sockets of the girl.

The screaming grew unbearable and every muscle in my body hardened in horror. The girl was in such pain that her back arched almost to the point of bending in half. I could see the creature, his hands now buried in her skull, manipulating her body like a puppet. Her back arched harder and harder. Finally, with his other hand, the energumen pushed on the lower half of her body and she completely bent in two.

There was a sickening snap. Her screams trailed to silence.

But the snap was not the worst sound of the experience. I watched helplessly as the energumen ripped the soul of the girl from her body. The trees had not been able to adequately describe that sound.

I suddenly had three pairs of hands on me and was sprayed with water.

“God, whose nature is ever merciful and forgiving, accept our prayer that this servant of yours, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness,” Father Michaels was chanting, while drawing a wet cross on my forehead.

“Strike terror, Lord, into the beast now lying waste in your vineyard. Fill your servants with courage to fight manfully against that reprobate dragon, lest he despise those who put their trust in you, and say with Pharaoh of old: ‘I know not God, nor will I set Israel free.’ Let your mighty hand cast him out of your servant, Alexander, so he may no longer hold captive this person whom it pleased you to make in your image, and to redeem through your Son; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever.”

The energumen was about to leave with his hard-earned soul, but at the words of the Father, turned toward us.

“No, no!” I cried. Father Michaels was getting the attention of the beast. He needed to stop but must have misinterpreted my protests as a sign that his words were having some affect on
me
, because he continued even louder.

I found my hands and legs were now free and the sensation of the hand around my neck had subsided. I sat up and sputtered out a warning to the Father, only to have Sister Mary Rafaela and Sister Mary Chantale push my back down against the bed.

“Stop!” I pleaded. “You don’t understand!”

“I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell me by some sign your name, and the day and hour of your departure. I command you, moreover, to obey me to the letter, I who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness; nor shall you be emboldened to harm in any way this creature of God, or the bystanders, or any of their possessions.”

The energumen, to my surprise, responded. “We are legion, for we are many.”

“It mocks us!” Sister Mary Rafaela cried.

“Let us pray.”

Then all three chanted together, “
Almighty Lord, Word of God the Father, Jesus Christ, God and Lord of all creation; who gave to your holy apostles the power to tramp underfoot serpents and scorpions; who along with the other mandates to work miracles was pleased to grant them the authority to say: ‘Depart, you devils!’ and by whose might Satan was made to fall from heaven like lightning; I humbly call on your holy name in fear and trembling, asking that you grant me, your unworthy servant, pardon for all my sins, steadfast faith, and the power—supported by your mighty arm—to confront with confidence and resolution this cruel demon. I ask this through you, Jesus Christ, our Lord and God, who are coming to judge both the living and the dead and the world by fire.”

The energumen was behind them now as I cowered on the bed.

“This is wrong,” I warned. “You aren’t doing it right. It isn’t
inside
of me!”

The Father continued his chanting after putting his right hand on my head.

“Maybe he’s right. We should listen to the boy,” Sister Chantale said, frantic over the look on my face.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the pair of yellow eyes that weaved unseen through the three physical bodies.

“God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, I appeal to your holy name, humbly begging your kindness, that you graciously grant me help against this and every unclean spirit now tormenting this creature of yours; through Christ our Lord.”

I cast my own exorcism, but the blinding white light seemed to only aggravate Father Michaels more, and to my dismay, did not dismiss the bright yellow eyes.

The energumen was playing with us now. I could see his eyes smiling darkly at me when my spell failed. “I’m not in a body,” I heard him whisper. “You don’t know the ways to send me back to Hell, and neither does he!”

His laughter was so loud that even the nuns heard it echo off the walls of the room. Sister Mary Chantale took a step backwards and crossed herself.

I locked my eyes on hers and pleaded with her to run.

“I adjure you, ancient serpent, by the judge of the living and the dead, by your Creator, by the Creator of the whole universe, by Him who has the power to consign you to…”

Mid-sentence, Father Michaels fell silent. His hand was authoritatively raised above his head, his face red from the strain of shouting. His eyes bulged and he drew in a staggered breath.

“God almighty!” he exclaimed, falling limp to the floor.

Sister Mary Rafaela shrieked as the air around me charged again.

I looked into the worried eyes of Sister Mary Chantale. “Run,” I groaned. “For the love of God, run.”

But it was too late. The two nuns didn’t even have time to draw in another breath before the energumen sprayed me with their blood.

Ten

I found the sound of the rain pelting the windowpane to be rather relaxing. The overcast day was a nice change to the usual sunny weather that prevailed year round in San Diego, California.

Nicholas was nonchalantly playing with the plastic cap at the end of the cord that adjusted the blinds, bouncing it off of the glass as he stared out at the rain. I paid no attention, although the sound of the cap pelting the windowpane was not as soothing as the sounds of the storm.

I heard his mouth drop open before he said anything. “You’re doing it again.”