Bad Bones (19 page)

As he trudged along the wide path that led to the old chapel, Gabe realized something was missing. Fear. He wasn’t scared. At least not in the kind of pant-wetting way he’d assumed you would be when you were staring the moment of your own death in the face. He didn’t feel particularly heroic or fearless, either, but maybe you just weren’t that frightened when something was inevitable. Turned out it simply made you realistic.

Rafael had been graphically clear that he was going to die, and Gabe was pretty sure, barring a miracle, that that’s what was going to happen. Because he did not believe in miracles. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to live, but it just wasn’t going to go that way. Rafael had trapped him inside himself. He could see, hear, smell, but he couldn’t
do
. He was nothing more than Rafael’s puppet.

The sky was getting darker now; a razor-edged sliver of moon was hanging like a sharp warning in the deep blue border between night and day. A fevered excitement seemed to radiate off Rafael and Gabe could feel it, an almost physical force pushing him forward.

And then he was aware of shadows moving, off to the left and right. People? It looked like there were men and women coming through the cemetery, walking in the same direction they were… An overpowering sense of dread filled Gabe at the thought that Rafael might be responsible for making the long-dead residents of this place come back to life – was
that
his plan?

“They are not dead. I have gathered them to come and bear witness to the beginning of the Next Time,” Rafael answered Gabe’s unspoken question. “You found me, boy, but
I
found
them
. They answered my calls and they have come.”

Gabe could feel a not so subtle change in the air, as if every living thing was nervously waiting for something extraordinary to happen, like the tense calm before a big storm broke, but much edgier. The indigo curtain that joined the sky to the horizon had grown; it was turning an oily black, and a
sickly warm breeze feathered in carrying with it the strangest brew of smells, none of which Gabe could immediately identify. Then, up ahead, darker against the charcoal-night backdrop, he saw the silhouette of the chapel.

The shadowy people were much closer to them now – moonlit, pale figures, animated statues walking quietly through the grey memorial stones. They all had the same blank expression he’d seen on the face of the cop at Father Simon’s place. Gabe had no idea how Rafael had managed to control all these people, how he’d got them to leave wherever they’d been and join him here, but the man’s powers seemed to have grown by the moment since he’d come back. And now he had the gold. Now he had the gold, and Gabe didn’t even want to think what he might be able to do.

Then, like a green shoot in a desert, an idea, a vain hope, occurred to him. How much of what he was seeing and feeling was actually real, and how much was it Rafael messing with him? The hope promptly died.

This was happening, and there was no way out for him.

No one was here to help.

As they approached the chapel, random images of the last time he’d been there barged their way into his head. Rafael with something that looked like a bloody heart in his fist… Father Simon’s torn and savaged body… The delicate snowfall of feathers after he had killed the owl… The holy water arcing like lightning through the air and striking Rafael’s face… The coyotes…

Gabe realized he hadn’t seen the remaining coyote since Rafael had killed Benny. If he could have stopped and looked around for it he would have, but it wasn’t up to him; all he could do was put one foot in front of the other, his remaining lifespan shortening with each step. It was hot for this late in the day, and Gabe was aware of his own rank sweat and the tension knots in his shoulders. Everything ached. He wasn’t going to die young and leave a beautiful corpse; he was going to die and leave a tired, worn-out and stinking one.

He was thinking how stupid it was to waste precious time fretting about his personal hygiene when with no warning Rafael made him come to an abrupt halt; standing rock-rigid about twenty
metres from the chapel doors, Gabe watched Rafael walk in front of him and motion silently to the group of followers. In the gloom Gabe couldn’t see exactly how many of them there were, but they obeyed, coming closer and gathering round. It was like watching a weird prayer meeting where the priest, dressed in a cheap grey suit and scuffed black leather shoes, looked like a cop. Except for the eyes. With Rafael it was all about the eyes.

Rafael’s audience, his congregation, didn’t seem to care what he looked like, their faces rapt as they stared at him. Gabe knew what was happening, that every one of them was listening to his silent instructions. Instructions he wasn’t being allowed to hear. Then Rafael pointed at the chapel and, like soldiers on parade, everyone turned in unison and did as they’d been told. Whatever that had been.

Rafael spun round and faced Gabe, holding out the shovel. “Here, boy,” he said. “Dig.”

Rafael had been extremely precise about where Gabe should start digging and exactly how large the area should be. It wasn’t very big, and as he heaved
earth out of the two metre by one metre wide hole it was clear that this was not to be his final resting place. He hoped what had been buried here wasn’t down too deep as the ground was hard and he could already feel a couple of blisters coming up on his hands.

“Keep going, boy,” Rafael hissed, bending down to whisper in his ear. “You have an eternity of rest awaiting you.”

At about the one-metre level there was a dull thud as the shovel hit something hollow; a few minutes later Gabe cleared the earth away to reveal the flat wooden lid of a metal-bound chest. It was about forty-five centimetres long and some twenty-five centimetres wide, the wood and the metal blackened with age.

“At last…”

Gabe looked up and saw the expression on Rafael’s face. He was ecstatic, almost close to tears. Which most likely meant, he thought, that they had to be on the final stretch. This was the end of the road, for him anyway, and he had a real bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that whatever was in this box was only going to make Rafael even more powerful.

“Get it out, set it free!”

Gabe dug round the edges of the chest until he found the handles at either end. Reaching down he tried to pull on them, but the metal had corroded so badly over the centuries they both broke off in his hand.

“Clear more earth, boy. Use the shovel as a lever!”

Gabe wanted to yell at the man to damn well use it as a lever himself, but the words never made it out of his mouth and all he could do was silently curse as he slid the shovel blade down the gap at one end of the chest and pulled back on the handle. There was a tiny shift, then a small bit more and finally the ancient strongbox was free. Rafael hurriedly knelt down opposite Gabe and between the two of them they heaved the chest up and out on to the ground.

“So long… It has been so long.” Rafael gently brushed away soil caked on to the rusted metal decoration surrounding the keyhole. “But we are together once again…”

Gabe watched Rafael use a small stick to clean earth out of the lock, then stand up and look over his shoulder at the chapel. “Pick it up,” he said, pointing at the chest. “They are ready, take it in.”

Inside the chapel candles and incense had been lit, the air heavy with anticipation. The place was packed tight, with the men and women crowded together into a heaving mass leaving only a narrow gap just wide enough for Gabe to make his way through them to the back, straining under the weight of the old strongbox. The box smelled dank and musty, its surface clammy with the heavy odours soaked up by the wood during the ages it had spent underground since Rafael had originally buried it.

And now he had it back.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Gabe stepped into the makeshift aisle the congregation had created, and all eyes were on him, glinting in the wavering candlelight. Almost as one, the crowd started to whisper and shuffle, the noise rising and falling in soft, chittering waves of sound that echoed dully off the chapel walls.

Gabe wondered what had happened to Father Simon’s body, and the owl’s feathers and carcass, as there was no sign of them. At the back of the chapel, against the rear wall, he could now see the altar,
surrounded by candles; there was no sign of the dog Rafael had killed and ripped the heart out of, either.

The dream image of the ritual slaughters he’d witnessed flashed in his head again and Gabe tried to step back, but Rafael shoved him and he stumbled forward. The people on either side caught him, holding him upright, and pushed him on. Multitudes of fingers feeding him towards the altar like he was in the gut of a beast. Like he was being digested.

“Put it on the ground, boy.”

Gabe’s body obeyed the instruction, then stood back up. There was a swell of voices around him, murmurs rustling like cold, dead leaves, as Rafael knelt down in front of the chest. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a key, which he carefully inserted in the lock.

The noise in the old chapel started to build.

Rafael slowly turned the key, and Gabe saw that he was now wearing the gold rings and bracelets.

The people were becoming agitated, moaning now and crowding forward.

Rafael lifted the lid and yellow candlelight reflected off what was inside, making it glow like embers.

Rafael reached into the chest, picked up the object and held it above his head.

A cry went up, a mixture of joy and pain that turned to a roar when Rafael stood to face the crowd and placed the gold skull mask topped with snakes and feathers on his head. Gabe was stunned. Right here in front of him, his terrible dreams were being made real.

Two of the congregation stepped forward, bent down and together brought something else out of the chest. They pulled it up, centuries of dust billowing out from the still-colourful fabric as it unfolded, floating lazily in the air. Reverently they placed the floor-length cloak over Rafael’s shoulders.

The crowd bellowed and Rafael raised his head to look at the roof.

“It is the time!”

Gabe saw the skull had a hinged jaw that moved when the wearer spoke, which somehow made this scene even eerier. Dead man speaking.

“Get him!”

Get him? Gabe braced himself, thinking he was about to be grabbed and dragged to the altar. He tried not to let the pictures flash in front of him,
wanted more than anything not to remember the other boys he’d witnessed being sacrificed. Tried and failed to forget what he knew was going to happen next.

But nothing happened.

He stayed where Rafael had left him, unable to move or even turn his head a little to see what was causing the disturbance he could hear. Those of the crowd that he could see were expectantly peering behind them towards the entrance to the chapel, and he could hear the scuffling and muffled grunting noises getting nearer. And then four men appeared, carrying between them a desperate boy, writhing, thrashing and kicking. It was the same as in his dreams, each man was holding a limb, so their unfortunate victim looked like he’d been caught, twisting, mid star jump. This was the person who was going to be sacrificed to whatever depraved gods Rafael worshipped, not him. Not yet, anyway.

Gabe forced himself to look at the boy’s face; the only thing which stopped him collapsing to the ground when he did was that he couldn’t move.

It was Anton.

Gabe felt tears well up in his eyes and fall unchecked down his cheeks. The shock of seeing his best friend here, being taken like an animal to the slaughter, took the breath out of him. He was going to have to stand, helpless and pathetic, and watch Anton die in the worst possible way.

“You will not watch, boy.” Rafael appeared right in front of Gabe, blocking his view of the altar.

Gabe stared at him, unable to think straight, not really hearing a word he was saying. All he could think about was Ant… What was he doing here? How had these crazed people caught him? Was it somehow
his
fault? Had Rafael chosen Ant because he was Gabe’s friend?