Chapter 15 (End)
Quiet as a church mouse, I sneak up beside the arched door for a peek. Beyond is an entry hall. One of the great wooden doors lay flat on the stone floor, covered in a thick layer of dust. The other door seems to have grown legs. There are scuffed and confused tracks in the dust, as though someone recently passed through here, possibly dragging someone else along by force. It's nice to know I'm in the right place, at least. With her hands clasped in prayer and her eyes turned up to heaven, an effigy of the Holy Mother faces the open arch. On either side of Mary are alters that once held prayer candles; however, cobwebs have now taken their place. Two doors lead away from the antechamber, one to a set of stairs and the other, I assume, to the nave.
The entry hall seems safe enough. I step inside, careful not to tread on the fallen door and divulge my position. When my foot crosses the threshold, I hear a low scraping, like heavy stones grinding together.
I turn in time to see the gargoyle land in a crouch on the front steps. One of the risers buckles under his weight. His stone tongue wags back and forth, and his claws dig furrows in the stairs. When the gargoyle moves, it sounds like gravel through an industrial grinder.
"Ah," I say. "Lovely."
-
The gargoyle crawls on all fours to the top step, tongue wagging, and starts across the porch, no doubt intent on tearing my head from my shoulders.
I sprint to the spiral stairs and take the steps two at a time. The gargoyle follows me, his claws tearing ruts in the steps and his shoulders leaving furrows in the walls. Up and up I go, the muscles in my thighs burning with exhaustion. I reach the top, panting for breath.
I am in the bell tower. A family of pigeons take to their wings at my sudden entrance, leaving behind a mess of feathers and excrement—the rusted iron bell hangs at the centre of the tower. The rope has rotted away, and the support structure holding the bell looks about ready to collapse. Four windows open out of the tower, one of which looks out over what remains of the cathedral's decaying roof.
-
The gargoyle is just around the bend in the stairs, making a hell of a racket as he ascends. He sounds like an avalanche, only travelling upwards instead of down. I throw one leg over the window ledge and then the other. It must be a fifteen-foot drop to the cathedral roof, but it looks as though it's far more from up here. The roof section directly below me looks ready to crumble, but there is no time for anything else.
The gargoyle reaches the top of the stairs, filling the door frame. His stone head swivels in my direction—that grinding noise sending a shiver traipsing up my spine.
I push off from the window ledge. The air rushes in my ears and drags at my coat as the roof comes up to meet me. I land on my feet with a jarring thud and roll. The support timbers make groaning, popping sounds, but they hold. I scramble up the incline to the cathedral's peak.
The stone demon climbs into the window frame and pauses. I fear he won't take the bait and jump down to the rotten roof.
-
I make lewd gestures at the gargoyle, uncertain as to whether or not he understands them.
I presume he understood the gist. He leaps, and his clawed feet hit the roof with a mighty crack. I feel the boards quiver beneath my feet. The gargoyle takes a single step in my direction before the roof opens up beneath him. The demon disappears, and there is a tremendous boom as he hits the bottom.
I smirk. "Watch your step."
I consider going to the hole to inspect the gargoyle until more of the roof starts collapsing in. I jump down onto a lower outbuilding and then back to the blessed ground.
It's five minutes to midnight—no time to lose. I rush back into the cathedral, praying not to be greeted by my dusty and angry gargoyle friend.
-
The nave is long, with lofty ceilings, fluted columns and effigies of the saints along the walls. Several of those statues have been defaced with dirty words and crude drawings. Cobwebs drape the corners, and only a handful of water-damaged pews remain—rain issues in through gaps in the roof and forms stagnant puddles on the floor. There is a pair of candelabras on the altar—the candle flames flicker and dance, throwing grotesque shadows on the walls.
Upon the chancel, where a priest would typically read from the Bible, Blanche performs a sacred rite of a different sort. Marie is tied naked to a high-backed chair. The candlelight on her bare skin reveals arcane symbols drawn on in preparation for the sacrifice. She has a rope gag in her mouth and dark mascara running down her cheeks. Her eyes are wide with terror.
Blanche is also naked, with matching symbols inked on her body. She stands behind Marie, a jewelled dagger in hand, chanting incantations in a language I don't understand. Her eyes are closed, and she seems encapsulated in the rapture of the moment. Her body convulses with each muttered syllable. Marie pulls ineffectually at the ropes as the gag muffles her sobs.
I march toward the lectern. "Blanche, don't do this!"
-
Blanche's eyes snap open. She waves a hand in my direction, and a ring of crimson flame leaps up around me. I am hemmed in with only a few feet to move around. The intense and sudden heat turns rainwater into steam. Sweat breaks out all over my body.
I retreat to the centre of the ring, keeping as much distance between myself and the witch fire as possible.
Blanche could have easily killed me with that spell, but she didn't. Maybe there is still some good left in her.
-
"Blanche!" I need to yell to be heard over the crackling flames. "Put down the knife. Now!" I raise my revolver to solidify my threat.
Startled, Blanche jerks her attention away from Marie. "Dammit, Claude, don't you ever give up?" She runs a hand through her blonde locks.
"No," I say.
She steps to the edge of the podium. There is a desperate tone to her voice. "Claude, let me do this, and we can be together. I'll be young and beautiful for you. We can go away. Disappear. Leave here and start over. Just you and me."
"Is this your way of telling me that you care for me?" I ask.
"I do," she says as she stretches her hands towards me, one still clutching the dagger. "I really do, Claude."
"If you do care for me, put the knife down."
"This is the last one, Claude," she says. She circles back behind Marie, grabs a handful of her hair, and wrenches her head back. Marie wails through her gag. Blanche puts the blade to her throat. "One more, and I'll be young again. And I'll be yours. All you have to do is look the other way."
-
"You don't need to be young," I tell her. "You are beautiful, just the way you are."
Blanche lets out a bitter laugh. "You say that now." She shakes her head. "In another year or two, the crow's feet will deepen. Everything starts to droop. Then you'll leave, just like all the rest. You'll cash in for a younger model."
"I'm sorry you feel that way." I thumb back the hammer. "But I will not let you kill anyone else."
She looks into my eyes, smiles and shakes her head. "You won't do it." I see the muscles in Blanche's shoulder flex beneath her skin as her hand begins to draw the dagger across Marie's skin.
I squeeze the trigger at the same time.
-
The shot carries the undeniable ring of finality, much like the period at the end of the sentence. The bullet punches a hole through the centre of Blanche's chest, and the dagger slips from her fingers. She staggers back a step, looks down at the bloody aperture in her sternum and collapses.
The flames wink out.
Marie has a superficial cut on her neck, but she's okay. I rush past her and kneel next to Blanche, her eyes wide. One hand comes up, searching for mine, her fingers trembling. I take her hand. A tear wells up in one eye and leaks down over her cheek. She opens her mouth, her lips move, but her words never make it. The light escapes her eyes as her hand relaxes.
When Matt arrives with the police, I have Marie untied and wrapped up in my coat. Exhaustion is setting in. She's finished crying; now she's just in shock. The rain has subsided. I inform Matt of the whole grisly affair, including the supernatural occurrences. He doesn't believe most of it, but that's his problem. I walk Marie down to Marcus' carriage, one arm around her for support. We both climb into the carriage, and Marcus pulls away from the curb.
-
Three days later, I am leaning back in my office chair with my feet on the desk; my novel open in one hand. I've been trying to read the same page for ten minutes and still have no clue what it says. My mind keeps going back to Blanche, wondering what may have been.
There is a knock at the door as Marie and Gabriel enter. I drop my feet, stand, and shake their hands. I offer them a chair, but they don't accept. Gabriel has two suitcases in hand. Gabriel sets them down as Marie strips off her gloves. "I just wanted to say thank you. And goodbye."
"You're leaving?"
She nods. "This town is no good for us."
"This town is no good for many people," I tell her.
"We were thinking of going someplace warm," she says. "Maybe take night classes."
"That's a good idea."
The three of us stand there in awkward silence for a moment.
-
"Well, there's a carriage waiting," Gabriel says, flashing a nervous smile. I shake their hands again. Gabriel picks their suitcases back up, and I walk them both to the door. Marie pauses with her hand on the knob. "I'm sorry, Claude."
"For what?"
She shrugs. "For getting you involved in all this. For nearly getting you killed."
"That's my job," I tell her.
"Not a very good job," Gabriel interrupts.
I stare at him for a moment. "Maybe I'll become a club owner."
He laughs. "I hope you do a better job than I did."
"I'm sure that won't be too hard," I respond.
-
One side of Marie's mouth twitches up in a smile. It fades just a quickly. "I guess you kind of liked her, huh?"
I find something on the floor to stare at. "Maybe, but that's the story of my life, darling. Just when I start thinking I can trust someone..."
I don't bother to finish the thought.
Marie nods in understanding and glances at Gabriel. "Sorry about that, too."
"Yeah. Me, too."
"Goodbye, Claude."
"Goodbye, darling."
-
They turn and leave, closing the door behind them.
I go to the window and watch Marie and Gabriel climb into a carriage. I stand there a long time after the carriage pulls away, staring blankly at the empty street, wondering what could have been. I don't bother returning to my novel but rather lay down on the couch, my arm draped over my eyes. My newest friend, Thomas, jumps up onto my stomach and falls asleep. I take after the cat and close my eyes.