The Forsaken (33 page)

“Rachel, it wasn’t me. I swear to you, it wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it? I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. For the duration of this case, business is business, and that’s it. I am not your friend. I am not your…toy. I’m a stranger. And that’s exactly how we should’ve kept it from the beginning.”

Jude took the weight of those words, and the blood in his neck began to boil. Azrael’s blood. He contained the rage, the frustration, the hurt. In all honesty, he never believed he’d be capable of feeling for someone like her. Never believed he’d ever get close enough to allow anyone to cut him out again. But the levies were breaking, and the grander question was whether he could still keep his head above water.

“Just talk to me. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, sometimes we get what we want, don’t we?”

It stung to swallow.

“I don’t think I want to talk to you, Jude, to tell you the truth. I guess I thought there was still something beneath that cold, black thing you call a heart that would let me know you’re not dead on the inside. But what do you know, Rachel? You were wrong again.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Oh geez. I thought I could do this.” She fumed. “I can’t.”

As she walked away, he watched her as if she were something created under a microscope, something to be studied and adored, able to be seen through and exposed. With a grunt, he wanted to follow. His broad shoulders slacked from side to side, and he could feel fingers stabbing into his spine, shifting his bones. In a fit of desperation, Jude reached for her arm.

“Wait. Please, just let me try to explain.”

She’s not ready for the truth. Don’t spoil the ending, sonny.

“Rachel, I have to tell you something.” Jude rubbed her arm, stroked her cheek. She violently shoved his hand away. “Something I should’ve told you when I returned.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“All right. But will you listen to me for five seconds? I know I don’t deserve it, but please.”

Careful, sonny.

“I just…” Jude rubbed his temple and grinded his teeth. “Can’t get my thoughts straight.”

She turned around and continued walking.

She’s got a pretty body. Wonder what it looks like from the inside.

“Shut up!”

She turned around. “I didn’t say anything. You see, this—this is what has me so confused. One second you’re rational, and then the next, you’re this lunatic. I refuse to play these juvenile games. I’m done with that part of my life.”

“Rachel, something happened to me. I can’t fully explain it because I don’t fully understand it. But it changes. I get…urges. Yesterday, it’s like something took over.”

“Yeah, they’re called hormones. Every walking dick has ’em.” She edged nearer. “Oh wait. I’ll do you one better. Maybe I do know what happened. You were infected…by the same crude, twisted,
spineless
disease that I had to deal with when I was teenager. Faces change. The demons underneath don’t. Geez, I can’t believe I let myself become so susceptible to it.”

Jude stood painfully stunned. He was dead wrong. She wasn’t ready to listen, not here, and definitely not now. “Rachel, this isn’t me. What happened before wasn’t me. I swear—” He grabbed his head and tried to ease the swelling vibrations. He knew he must sound like a record on repeat. “It’s happening so quickly.”

Don’t tell her. You really shouldn’t tell. Be a good boy, and don’t ruin it.

Spying eyes invaded their conversation. A secretary rushed over for a signature. The tension thickened by the second. He wanted to rip all of their hearts out. He wanted to blot out their eyes, suck them dry, like he’d done before. When he passed some of them, he was invited in. Azrael was invited in, but they were not part of the plan. The demon didn’t want
them
. He didn’t crave their penny souls.

“I’m not like the others. I’m not like…” His voice trailed off, muffled within the sound of a hundred buzzing demands, rants, and cuffed criminals brought in kicking and screaming.

“So what are you saying? That it wasn’t you yesterday? Do you understand how ridiculous you sound? Who was that man? Who are
you
?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m sorry.” Jude could hear the faint sound of his dying heart beating in his chest. Somehow he was still breathing, hard enough to say, “
I think I love you
.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said I love you.” Jude could feel himself for real. It was him—not the thing within—talking, and it felt good to feel like he was alive again, in control. “I’m naked here. I’m exposed before you. Don’t walk away.”

“I have work to do. You have work to do. I want to get outta this town as soon as possible.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t know what you want.” With her fingers, she rubbed her eyes. “Look, just drop it. People are staring, and I’m not in a rush to create gossip.”

“Let everyone in here look. I don’t care. You hate me, and you should, but this is
me
talking. I screwed up. But I’ll make it right. Did you what I said? I think I’m in love with you, Rachel.”

“You
think
you’re in love,” she repeated, choking back a sarcastic laugh.

Jude nodded.

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“I can fix this, if you’ll give me a chance. It’s been a rough year, and this…has been the most bizarre week of my life. I care what you think, more than you know.” He reached for her hand. It was stiff.

“It’s too late, Jude,” she seethed behind clenched teeth. “I’m walking away now. Don’t follow me.”

44

“SO YOU ARE STILL
alive?” came the half-sarcastic, half-relieved question. Eliam welcomed Jude with a warm embrace. “Was it the guilt, a big kick in the pants, or something else that dragged you in this time?”

“Not sure,” Jude returned with a shrug. Both their voices carried distinct echoes. It was one of the elements of this grand cathedral that put in him a sense of wonder and unease.

“Well, don’t be a statue. Got enough of those creeping about. Have a seat and talk to an old priest, won’t you?”

Jude sat down in one of the adjacent pews. He wasn’t able to be close to Father Eliam for long. Azrael didn’t like it.

He studied the priest from a slight distance. The man behind the collar appeared unwell. In no time, Eliam began to cough. He seemed to gargle blood with each breath. He pushed Jude away and reached for a handkerchief, apprehensive of exposing the distinct red stains soaking into the cloth.

Father Eliam issued a mild curse, his harsh words seeming to shake the stone walls. Jude sometimes wondered if the stained-glass windows could sympathize with members of the clergy. If ever the statues saluted these weathered men for the lives they’d been forced to endure for what was sacred. But as he looked, their faces seemed like dreams left unreached.

“I am the dream,” Jude muttered as Eliam reeled from the attack on his lungs.

“What’s that you say, son?”

The haze suddenly left Jude’s eyes. “Nothing. It’s-It’s nothing.”

“Not so sure it’s nothing that brought you. Speak up.”

“I wanted to see you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Eliam’s mouth made a subtle twitch, his nose flaring just so. “Well, I’m glad. These big rooms can get awfully quiet sometimes.”

Reclining a bit, Jude asked, “You think the boss still shows up?”

“There are nights when I take a look out there and wonder where he’s been. But it is not every night. Perhaps it is my human side coming out of the coffin to disturb what little faith remains.”

Jude looked away, lost in thought. “What if he’s not here? I mean, what if you find out, in the end, that you were wrong, and he was never here?”

“What’s the matter, Jude? You look like you’ve seen a legion of ghosts and don’t know which one to believe. Would’ve thought you, above all of the members of this congregation, might have a reason to believe a little stronger than most.”

“Me too.”

After a short pause, the priest asked, “What have you been up to? I know you’ve been working on the case, but you look...changed. Different.”

“It’s nothing,” Jude denied emphatically.“Why do you ask?”

For the first time in a long time, Jude felt the eyes of the priest stare into him, like they were piercing his soul, looking for hope behind a worn-out mask.
What can you see, Father?
he wondered.

“You left home like a man on a mission from God. I too had that kind of passion, that kind of fervor once. A man who flies from home without even looking back to see those he might be leaving behind knows his purpose and what he’s called to do. And he goes for it.”

“I guess it’s too late for an apology.”

“Never too late, son. It’s never too late. But my words were not meant to convict you. Well, maybe a little.”

“Then I’m sorry. It feels like I’ve been saying that a lot lately. My mind’s been in a million different places. Everywhere and nowhere, it seems.”

“Perhaps you’re closer to divinity than you thought,” Eliam said.

Jude was mute.

“It was just a joke, you know. Do you still think this sanctuary’s too holy for you, kiddo?”

Jude slowly shook his head.

“We’re all his children, like it or not.” Eliam glanced around at altar boys setting up for the morning mass, and one of the sisters lighting the candles, muttering prayers along the way.

“You know, you missed our Ash Wednesday service. What, you’re out there saving the world but don’t have time for your own soul?”

Jude eventually broke his brick wall stare.

“You know, if you promise not to, uh, disturb the peace with the head of the diocese, I might be inclined to offer you a blessing,” Eliam whispered like they were a part of an elite spy echelon and there was a dangerous mission about to go down. Jude waited for a Ludlum-style punch line.

“Lips are sealed. But I’m not sure what good it’ll do.”

“Don’t be so downtrodden. The season of Lent is about more than death and ashes. It’s more than loss. Yes, it is. It’s about grace. It’s about being born for a second time, becoming a new creation.” Eliam struggled to rise out of the pew, his feeble knees nearly buckling. “But it’s important to remember that these rituals mean nothing if they are not attached to a contrite heart.”

“Hmm,” Jude solemnly replied.

“Some men are just going through the motions,” Eliam said, as if speaking to himself. His eyes turned sort of misty all of a sudden, but he wiped them with his sleeve. “Let me bless you, son, start Lent off proper. It’ll give an old soul peace, make me feel all…I don’t know, tingly inside.”

He’s a weak soul. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel our brothers pulling him under?

Jude’s neck quivered slightly.

He thinks he’s better than us. But he’s just a broken temple. Flee from here. Don’t let him defile you with his ashes.

“You’re a good man, Father Eliam,” Jude said.

“Only our Savior is truly good, but I know what you meant.” Eliam ruffled Jude’s hair as if he were a doting grandfather. “Let me get the elements.”

Jude rolled his eyes, but he was inwardly grateful to find welcome here. Rachel’s rejection was still a sliver turning in his mind, but for the very brief moment, he fought it with the calmness of this sanctuary.

Jude waited for the blessing he knew he didn’t deserve, the redemption he believed might never come.

You’re a bad, bad boy, sonny. Don’t let him touch you with his…tainted medicine. You know the truth.

His chest sank. His throat constricted. Sweat pooled beneath his eyelids. As he dabbed his fingers into the sweat, he realized it wasn’t sweat at all but blood starting to drip.

He wiped his eyes and waited for Eliam to return with the elements. In seconds, Jude was helping a frail man up off the floor. Some of the ashes had spilled when Eliam lost his step.

“Guess I’ve got two left feet tonight, kiddo. I feel so pathetic. God bless you, dear boy.” With a strained wrist, the priest stepped onto the altar with the items and cleared his lungs, preparing for the private ceremony.

“You sure we should still do this?” Jude asked.

“It’ll be all right. Come a little closer, and receive.”

After a brief homily, Jude tasted the body of a broken Savior on his tongue. He knew it was supposed to make him stronger, give him new peace. But it didn’t remove the rogue spirit lurking in his veins.

After, Eliam dipped his finger into a bowl and made the sign of the cross on Jude’s forehead. “Heaven smiles on you. And so do I.”

With the mark on his forehead, Jude hugged the old priest and left the sanctuary.

45

WELCOME HOME, SADIST. WE
missed you.

They were more than idle whispers scratching at the walls of Jude’s ear canals. Their will was furious and long lasting.