Bad Bones (15 page)

Overhead the owl flew up to the small window set into the back wall, near the roof. It landed and sat, head on one side, observing. Gabe glanced over his shoulder and saw the coyotes, inside now and on the prowl, eyes fixed on him, their prey.

There was something almost human about the way these animals acted. He hadn’t noticed before, but they appeared to have no fear at all. Instead there was a feeling of recognition, like they were saying, ‘We know who you are, we know all about you.’ Animals didn’t do that, tame or wild. It was the stuff of bad dreams. Like the ones he’d been having ever since he’d found the gold. But this – here, now – this was not anything he was going to wake up from.

Gabe tried and failed to swallow. He wiped away the sweat that ran down from his forehead and looked at Father Simon. It was all down to him that the man had come here to deal with Rafael,
exorcise him or whatever it was good priests did to evil priests. The Father was grimacing, like he was in a great deal of pain, and that had to be his fault too.

Cecil LeBarron and his client had died because of him. Stella was… He didn’t want to think where Stella might be, but she was there because of him.

He, Gabe Mason, had to answer for all of it.

If he had never found the gold, none of this would have occurred, no one would have had their throats ripped out, the world wouldn’t be going crazy and he and the Father would not be about to die.

“You, boy!”

Gabe turned his attention back to Rafael, astonished at the number of different thoughts a brain could process in such a short space of time, wondering when the torture would begin.

“Where is it – where is what belongs to me? What was taken from me should be returned!” Rafael, his head at a strange angle like he had a really bad crick in his neck, stared at Gabe, anger stoking the mad fire in his eyes. “You are my chosen one. I recognized you, that is why I
spared
you, boy! You were sent, you came to find me again … and you wished and prayed so hard. I knew you would come. You were
born for these majestic days. Through you I have been reborn – you who will be anointed again, you who will now walk in my shadow forever, drink the blood of life with me and feel the last beat of a thousand
thousand
hearts! Why have you let me down?”

“I don’t know you!” Gabe couldn’t make any sense of what Rafael was saying – why was he making it sound like they’d met before? “I never wanted to be chosen, I never did!”

“Be
very
careful what you wish for, boy. A question cannot be
unas
ked. A wish, once granted, can never be revoked.” Rafael smiled. “And now I have you back, you are mine.”

Rafael’s mood seemed to change in the blink of an eye, one moment fired up with uncontained anger, the next placid and calm. It occurred to Gabe that maybe being brought back to life did that to a person.

“I told you!” Gabe screamed. “I
told
you I don’t believe in you!”

“Did you not listen? Are you an
imbecile
– so stupid you cannot understand?” Rafael reared back. “I warned you, boy. I
showed
you what would happen if you do not do what I say… If I do
not have what is mine returned to me. Yet still you came here empty-handed. Where
is
what is mine, boy? Where is it?”

Rafael was now shouting at Gabe; it felt like his words were physically hitting his face and chest, as if they were stones that Rafael was pelting him with. The pain in his head was beginning to grow, but it did more than just hurt. This time it made Gabe angry.

He had been angry at Janna’s, but he’d also been frightened; fear had shut down all higher brain activity and allowed a primal instinct to take over. The anger Gabe could feel building in him now was different.

Call me ‘boy’ again, Rafael, and see what happens,
Gabe thought.

Push me, Rafael, and I’ll push back.

Threaten me, Rafael, and I
will
fight back.

This was a cool anger. Considered. Practical. And Gabe had no clue where it came from, but he knew it’d all be over if he didn’t keep the man talking, keep him at a distance. Give himself space to think.

As plans went, that was all he had.

Fighting the urge to make a run for the doors, Gabe started moving himself in front of Father Simon. “Really, you don’t know where your stuff is? I thought you said you were so powerful… Didn’t you say that?”

All he had were his bare hands and whatever wits were left after everything he’d been through over the previous couple of days. He needed some way to level the playing field, give himself a fighting chance. Surely there
had
to be something here he could use? Had to be. Would Father Simon have come to the chapel to fight this evil jerk and
not
have brought with him the wherewithal to do the job? No, he wouldn’t, that was just wrong.

“And if
you
don’t know –” Gabe hoped he sounded a lot more confident than he felt – “then
I
can’t help you…”

“You
will
help me, acolyte, you always have!”
Rafael brought his hands together, cupping the brilliant sphere of light that flared between them. He appeared amazed at his own power, staring at the blazing globe with a kind of hypnotized expression. The dazzle uplit his face, bleaching it bone-white, and cast a huge, dancing shadow on the wall behind him.

“You were my channel back to life, where I belong, and you are now here to serve unquestioningly. And, whatever you might like to think, that, boy, will
never
change.” Rafael’s eyes flared. “The Fates brought us together… The energy and passion of your youth reaching out and touching the wisdom and mastery of my ageless mind. It was our destiny to meet again, to carry on my work like we did before. Only this time there will be no mistakes!”

“Don’t listen to his poisonous lies, Gabriel…” Father Simon hissed behind him. “Leave while you can, boy, this is my battle! I can defeat him, I can stop this from going any further, and it is far better that I do it on my own. Believe me,
far
better…”

The urge to do exactly as the Father told him, to bail right there and then, give way to his panic and run, was so, so tempting. But Gabe couldn’t give up.
He had to try to find even the smallest chink in Rafael’s armour.

Or die trying.

As he edged further in front of Father Simon he saw what was in the priest’s left hand, which was hanging limply by his side. A large, ornate crucifix. And then on the floor he noticed a distinctive, square plastic bottle, its cap off next to it; the decorative blue label proudly declared it was FIJI WATER.

Shouldn’t a priest be drinking holy water?
Gabe thought, finding it hard to believe he’d still had an operational sense of the absurd.

The split second after having that thought, he realized what must be in the bottle. The next moment, Gabe was flinging himself sideways, awkwardly pivoting on the ball of his foot. As he crouched and spun he grabbed the cross from Father Simon’s hand, then picked up the bottle and landed back on two feet. Turning, he faced Rafael and held the cross up high in front of him.

“You don’t believe, boy!”

“No!” Gabe swung the bottle, watching as all the water left in it arced out across the chapel, molten silver in the air, and hit Rafael in the face. “But
you
do!”

The effect was instantaneous. Now the screeching started, a desperate razor-blade wail. But it wasn’t in Gabe’s head. It was echoing off the chapel walls and Gabe could hardly believe it when he saw Rafael clawing manically at his face.

The shock of seeing what he’d done stalled him for a moment, then he shook himself out of it, knowing that this might be his only chance to get out, get Father Simon away. Survive.

“Come on!” Gabe started backing towards the doors. “We gotta go, like
now
…”

“You go, Gabe, I can’t, I haven’t finished here.” Father Simon reached into his trouser pocket and brought out a small book. “I
must
do this, I must send him back where he belongs, stop this terrible thing before it goes any further.”

Gabe could feel what little control he’d managed to grab fading away fast as Rafael’s shrieking began to ebb. As he wondered what it was the Father was trying to stop Rafael from doing, he saw the owl spread its wings and launch itself off from its perch. And behind him he heard a low growling from the coyotes. The enemy was on the move, time was running out and any minute now the game would be lost.

“Look, Father…”

But Father Simon had turned away and was holding a small book in his hand. He’d started to read out loud, his voice shaky but strong, his eyes wide. At first Gabe thought the priest had lost the plot and was babbling, then realized he must be speaking in Latin…

With every strange and incomprehensible word Father Simon spoke, Rafael jerked and quivered like he was a marionette being controlled by the world’s twitchiest puppeteer. He was spitting too – dark green stuff – and his feet were rising off the ground. Horribly fascinated, Gabe couldn’t take his eyes off the unfolding scene in front of him.

A rasping, chainsaw snarl jerked him back to reality, and he saw a coyote, jaws wide and slavering, sink his teeth into Father Simon just above the knee, taking him down like an old, lame stag. A moment later the other coyote was at his throat, the prayer book flying out of the Father’s hand.

Stunned, Gabe nearly missed the owl diving straight at him from the rafters. Ducking for cover as the bird flew over, centimetres from his head, he dived towards Father Simon. Taking a wild kick, he felt his sneaker connect with one of the coyotes
as the owl came back, claws out, for another go at him. This time he wasn’t quick enough. His cheek and forehead got slashed, blood running into his eye and down his chin as the coyote he’d booted turned on him.

The owl wheeled in the air, readying to attack him again. Gabe knew he couldn’t fend off both creatures. This had to be it. His final scene.

He heard the rush of air through feathers as the owl came in for a third strike.

He saw one of the coyotes, teeth bared, staring balefully at him.

He heard Father Simon’s screaming stop, mid agonized wail, as the priest rolled on to his back; gouts of blood sprayed from his throat.

The Father was dead. Had to be. Bile rose in Gabe’s throat, the acid stinging as he swallowed. The Father was dead. And he would be next.

He was aware of Rafael, his face blistered and scarred where the holy water had hit him. Aware that the man was beginning to take back control of his body as whatever effect Father Simon had had on him wore off.

In the outer edge of his vision he could see the owl.
Sensing the fight had gone out of its quarry, it was zeroing in for the kill, wings outstretched, talons aimed straight for Gabe’s eyes.

Sometimes a body will react so fast that no one is more surprised by an action than the person doing it. Gabe had all but forgotten he was still holding the Father’s crucifix, and was completely taken aback when his arm whipped upwards and the air filled with a silent explosion of feathers.

In the two, maybe three moments of silence that followed the Ninja move he didn’t know he had in him, all Gabe could think was, if this had been a movie, it wouldn’t be long before the end credits rolled.

“No kidding…” Gabe whispered to himself, letting the bloody crucifix drop to the ground.

Facing him, one to his left the other to his right, were the coyotes. Both were quivering with anger, hackles raised, spring-loaded for action. And between them stood Rafael, feet firmly back on the ground, totally in charge. His lips were curled, but he wasn’t smiling.

“You, boy,
will
die … and it will be so
exquisitely
painful that your flesh will sing with the glorious
agony of it … and it
will
take such a long, long time. Oh, believe me, yes it will…” Now Rafael smiled, lips twisting upwards. “This I promise. Treachery such as yours cannot go unpunished, and this
will
happen, of that you should have no doubt. But not today. Not today. I have much work to do and you are to be spared until this work is done. After that, after you die, I shall spit on your shattered corpse and leave you for carrion.”

There was nothing Gabe could say to that. What kind of response could there be to hearing, in such graphic detail, how he was going to die? He wasn’t even sure what carrion actually was, but considering everything else Rafael had said, he figured it wasn’t anything good.

He felt numb, unable to think straight no matter how hard he tried. This was Los Angeles. Outside this old building there was a whole world, a
real
world, where he belonged. Burger joints, movie houses, pizza parlours, shopping malls, all that good stuff. And he had a family, he had friends, there was school. People would miss him – heck, even Benny would miss him – he would be looked for. There was no way this maniac and his weird animal sidekicks
could get away with killing Father Simon, and then killing him. Outside there were police, FBI, the CIA, whoever, people who upheld the law. Got the bad guys…

“We must go, and swiftly!”

Gabe blinked, Rafael’s interruption stopping his train of thought. Go? He looked around the chapel at the carcass of the owl he’d killed and the coyotes who wanted to kill him, at Father Simon’s mutilated body, lying in an expanding pool of blood. Yeah, he wanted to go too, but the only place he wanted to go was home.

Rafael strode over and took hold of Gabe’s arm, his fingers tight as steel bands, and dragged Gabe across the shifting carpet of blood-spattered white feathers on the floor.

He was not going home.

“Where are you taking me?”

Rafael ignored the question and continued to march along the wide pathway through the graveyard. Gabe stumbled to keep up with him, the sentinel coyotes pacing either side of them, radiating hatred. Their message might have been silent, but it came loud and clear:
You killed our friend, and we will not forget.

There wasn’t even a hint of chill in the air, but Gabe was shivering like it was ten below zero. He’d completely lost control of his life – of what was left of his life – and was now slave to the lunatic dragging him off to who knew where. He did not want to die – slowly, or quickly – but it didn’t look like it was going to be his choice.

Ahead were the wide, decorative iron gates of the cemetery entranceway. Cars were passing by, cars with drivers and passengers. When they got out on
to the street, surely someone would see them? He could call for help, make it clear to anyone looking their way that he was being held against his will.

Out on the sidewalk it took a moment for Gabe to realize how very quiet it was, even for a Sunday morning. Up ahead he saw an SUV come round the corner, and as it got nearer Gabe could see it was full of people. He tried to scream, but nothing happened. Nothing happened because his mouth refused to open, like his lips had been super-glued together. He waved frantically, but no one gave him a first glance, let alone a second, didn’t notice a man dragging some hysterical young guy along with him. Accompanied by coyotes? How could you
not
see that? It was like they were invisible.

“This is not your world now,” Rafael said, seeming to read Gabe’s mind. “You will never be a part of it again, boy. You … you are mine until I have done with you.”

Rafael’s grip on Gabe’s arm tightened and he could feel the sensation of pins and needles in his fingers as the bloodstream became even more constricted.

“I have been touched by angels, I have talked
with gods, walked with immortals. Nothing here can touch me, or what is mine.
I
will not be bound by the flimsy,
pathetic
rules of this time and place. I will follow other, more powerful and unchanging, dictates and decrees.”

Gabe hadn’t a clue what Rafael was rambling on about, but he could see they were making straight for the road, and it was clear Rafael was just going to walk straight into the traffic. And he had no option but to go with him.

Off the sidewalk now. Into the traffic lanes. Cars, trucks, vans, you name it, they were coming from both directions, but the drivers simply kept on driving. No honking horns, no screeching brakes, no squeal of rubber on tarmac. No dull thud as flesh and bone met a ton or more of pressed steel, plastic, toughened glass and aluminium engine block. Nothing.

And as they continued walking Gabe found the world around him fading away, dissolving like a watercolour painting in the rain.

Blurring.

Disintegrating.

Fading, light to dark.

Gabe looked down and could see though his hands,
through his pale, waning body. Had he become a ghost, died without realizing it? No such luck, not if Rafael’s threats were to be taken seriously, and he kind of thought they had to be.

He didn’t know where he was going but he didn’t care, instead finding himself wondering if this was what being on drugs was like. He felt totally spaced and out of his head. Gone, and never coming back home. But strangest of all, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t hurt or feel scared, he wasn’t tired or angry. He felt calm and so completely and extraordinarily like himself. He was just Gabriel Mason, the person no one else really knew or ever would know. It was cool, so cool he never wanted it to stop.

But then the unwritten rule that life taught you, right from your very earliest days, kicked in. The one which stated: all good things, all of them, must come to an end.

Gabe felt himself shudder and wobble, like he was made out of jelly; light streamed in and reality poured over him, sucking itself back into his veins and bringing with it all the bad things it had felt so good to lose. He breathed in, gasping for air and
his chest heaving, a drowning man who had just fought his way to the surface.

Standing on the sidewalk, next to Rafael, who still had him in his killer grip, Gabe saw they were outside Father Simon’s place. Which was impossible. It was miles away from the Mission San Sebastian. He had to be hallucinating, or else … he was at a complete loss as to what else might have happened.

“Inside!”

Gabe staggered forward as Rafael roughly shoved him towards the rectory’s front door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Go in.” Rafael pointed. “Go in and get me what he left there, minion.”

“But—” An electric shock arced across Gabe’s brain, a blizzard of tiny bright lights flashing in front of him.

“Do as you have been told!”

“I don’t…” Gabe staggered slightly, dizzy and confused. “Who d’you mean, what do you want?”

“I want the things you stole, cretin! I want the things you gave to your feeble priest.”

“I’ve got no idea where they are.”

“Seek and ye shall find, boy.” Rafael leant forward, eyes glowing. “
Seek!
”