Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (43 page)

“Now, now. There is no need to be uncivilized, Mr. Price. Of course, I speak only the truth. The Prices are nothing more than predictable, my dear Elizabeth. Without Mr. Price, our little meeting tonight would not have been possible. You know he is ever the chivalrous hero.” Brennigan oozed superiority and condescension.

“I know everything!” I shouted, playing flawlessly into my role.

“You do, now? What is it that you know, child?”

“I know all of it. I know that you killed Zack. That you poison your congregation with some moral chemistry experiment. I know you’re responsible for everything!”

“Well, child. It appears that you have been busy. Now that you know, what am I going to do with you?” A creepy grin spread across Monsignor’s face, like the whole affair amused him.

“I don’t care what you do to me. You have already destroyed everything I held dear!” I shrieked. “Just tell me one thing. I know what you did, giving everyone artificially induced morality. I even think I understand why you did it. But I don’t know how you did it. How did you get so many people to take your poison?”

“It’s all about respect, my child,” Brennigan announced as he twisted his ring back and forth on his finger.

My eyes flashed to the ring. The big gold, ostentatious ring with its delicately carved lamb and cross. It all made sense now.

“You see, my child? Everyone just needs a poke in the right direction.” Brennigan chuckled as he held his hand up to the light and depressed the carved red stone atop the ring. There, illuminated by the firelight, was a small needle protruding from the stone.

“Oh my God. Every time we’d kiss your ring, you’d inject us?” I was stunned, appalled, but mostly disgusted by our—my—blind loyalty. Everything had been so easy for him. Tradition made Brennigan’s plan nearly impervious to detection.

“No need to take the Lord’s name in vain, Elizabeth.”

“You damned us with our own faith! Our own veneration!”

“Damned? That is the opposite of what I was doing. I was offering salvation. I was giving our parishioners an innate conscience, one they would never have to question. Never again would anyone need to repent, because they would never sin. Their morality and virtue would be hardwired into
their very being. Their souls would be untarnished. The gates of heaven would open before them. I provided a life of perfect purity.”

“You created a congregation of mindless drones, stripped of their will and freedom,” I said.

“Maybe you do not understand. I gave a gift. My work will be admired for generations. The face of society and the state of the world will change thanks to my purity serum. The golden rule and love thy neighbor will be implicit. There will be no more violence, war, or decaying moral values. I am the new moral authority, the next religious master.”

“Monsignor, there are some truly great spiritual leaders around the world who influence and inspire their followers,” I said. “You just poison people. You don’t even give them the benefit of the doubt that they will make the right choice. You strip them of their ability to choose, of their free will. You’re not a leader, you’re a tyrant.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, child. I am providing salvation, not taking it,” Brennigan insisted.

“Do you think God will share your view of people who cheat their way into heaven? Because that’s all it is, cheating. What good are morality and virtue when you don’t struggle with the choice?”

Anger consumed me. I could feel the rage rise up from the depths of my toes and boil over into my head. Pictures flashed in my mind, all of Monsignor’s “gifts.” I saw Zack’s death, Caleb’s arguing family, the sick kids at the orphanage, Kelly’s bruised and swollen face. I saw all of it, all of his sins. Sin in the quest of purity. The dark irony hit me like a brick. The blow to my psyche was too much. I snapped.

“Burn for your sins, Father!” I screamed as I thrust my arm out, knocking over the vast, flaming row of candles. They clanged to the floor like dominoes.

Flames rose up behind Father Brennigan. My cloaked stalkers once again became my attackers. They rushed us all at once with their robes waving violently under their movements. First it was five, then six, then more. I felt their hands all over me, poking, jabbing, grabbing. I was being pushed and shoved. I fought to break free, but there were so many of them. For a moment my gaze broke loose from the vengeful horde and I saw Caleb. He was fighting as valiantly as I was, but there were just too many. The flames I had unleashed were climbing the walls and enveloping the altar. The heat was becoming unbearable, as was the rising smoke.

Suddenly I felt someone rip at my hair and tug my clothes. I spun around quickly, realizing my arms were free. There was Caleb fighting to free me. He swung his fists and threw his body, attempting to pulverize his opponents. One by one he yanked the hooded menaces off me.

“Run, Liz, run!” Caleb screamed.

“What about you?” I cried.

“Don’t worry about me, just go!”

I turned to run as Caleb instructed. Tears streamed from my burning, smoke-filled eyes. When I spun around, I saw him there.

“My child,” Brennigan called from the flames, his hand outstretched.

I blinked rapidly, trying to focus through the smoke and tears. There he was, my personal demon. I remembered back to my childhood dinners with him, when I’d imagined the candlelight dancing across his bald head, glowing like a halo. He’d looked so saintly to me back then. Now I saw him standing amid the ravenous flames. He was no saint. He appeared now like the devil himself, peering out from the fiery depths of hell.

“Don’t you call me that!” I hissed. “I am
not
your child. I am just a toy you’ve played with and manipulated as you liked.” In my rage I grasped the last remaining candlestick and heaved it toward him. My aim was true as the flaming candle sought out his robes, engulfing my adversary in a fiery retribution.

“Run, Liz!” I heard Caleb scream again.

In an instant I fled, knocking over two robed figures in my flight. I was almost to the other side of the great hall, ready to turn down one of the tunnels to my liberation, when I was propelled to the ground with one violent shove from behind. I landed on the rocky floor with a thud. Pain surged through my body as I fought to regain my breath. I was only on the ground for a split second when the assault began. Fists pummeled my back and sides. Fingers yanked and pulled at my hair in the darkness. I forced myself over to face my attacker. I began flailing my arms and legs about, kicking and screaming with all my might. The dark figure hunched over in pain, giving me a moment to jump to my feet. I kicked and punched wildly, taking advantage of his weakened state. The robed man collapsed to his knees on the floor. Panicked and enraged, I continued my unrelenting onslaught of blows and bashes. In my emotional frenzy I cried and wailed hysterically as I beat the robed mass to a pulp. Within a second of clear thought, I ripped back the hood to reveal the face of my nemesis.

“You!” I screamed in astonishment. Bishop McCallahan’s bloody face stared back at me blankly. “How far does this reach?”

“There are many influential supporters of Monsignor Brennigan’s work,” the bishop rasped. “His purity serum has infinite possibilities.” He blotted the blood from the corners of his mouth.

Momentarily stunned, I halted my attack. Standing in front the bishop’s huddled body, my mind escaped me. Only the excruciating blow to the stomach that hurled me into the stone wall behind me brought me back to my senses. Pulsating with pain and out of breath, I scanned the path behind me. There was Caleb’s brilliant blue hair, drowning in a sea of black vultures. At least ten malicious attackers were feeding on his very life force. Overcome by weakness and crippling pain, I sank down into the dark crevice between the rock wall and cobblestone floor. Flames consumed the round room almost entirely. What wasn’t devoured by the fire was enveloped by billowing black smoke, rich with the soot of ancient wood and wax. All hope was lost. I had nothing left, nothing to go on fighting for. I gave up, embracing my defeat.

Free Will

My thoughts became murkier, my breathing shallower the more the thick, deadly smoke filled my lungs. Feverish from the heat of the fire, I fell over, pressing my face against the cool, moist floor. My consciousness wavered as the end neared. There in the peacefulness of my feeble mind, I was reunited with Zack. Images of our time together, the feel of his embrace and his lips upon mine, warmed my heart.

“I’m ready now. Take me now,” I prayed.

Then, as if receiving an answer from the heavens, my mind was flooded with the most hideous, graphic images. Zack’s bloodied lifeless body. Caleb burning under oppressive black-robed hands. Bishop McCallahan’s blood-spattered face as he beat me. Brennigan’s outstretched, blistered hand. It was all there in Technicolor horror.

“I will not let Zack and Caleb’s sacrifices be in vain!” I cried, pulling myself to my feet.

The pain was nearly insurmountable. My body quivered under the strain. At first I could barely drag myself along the tunnel wall. I limped in agony, grasping my stomach to slow the intense throbbing. A paranoid feeling swept over me as I remembered Bishop McCallahan. I glanced back over my shoulder in time to witness him absconding down another corridor, slithering away.

Seeing the flames rapidly closing in, I picked up my pace, limping and hopping, clutching and moaning down the long, unyielding passageway. This was not the tunnel Caleb and I had come down. I had no idea how long this one was or where it let out—if it had an exit at all. I could hear screams emanating from the crackling inferno of the catacombs behind me. I kept trudging onward, yearning for an exit. Periodically I would stop to catch my breath. The spasms from my injuries and the limited air made my extended journey exhausting.

Finally the tunnel ended abruptly. The smoke had become so dense that I’d walked right into the wall at the end before realizing that I needed to climb to reach the exit. In my blindness I felt around, desperately searching for finger holds. My weakened state made scaling the stone wall nearly impossible. The stones were moist and slippery, my fingers weak and trembling. When I reached the top at last, I struck my head on the exit hatch, almost falling back to the ground. I clung on with one hand as I scrambled to regain my foothold. I fought to shove the trap door open above my head. It wouldn’t budge. Fearing that this was not a viable escape route, my hope began to wane, taking the last remnants of my adrenaline and strength with it. In my head, visions of Zack’s bloodied face and Caleb’s beaten body replayed in a merciless, tormenting loop, forcing me to keep fighting to free myself. I tried and tried, leaning and shoving until I wedged my body against the sides of the tiny tunnel and pushed with my whole body. My wounded leg buckled under the pressure as the door broke free. Water came cascading in on top of me. Like a cat struggling to avoid the bathtub, I hung onto all the sides of the opening, bracing myself until the rush of water stopped. I emerged from my ill-fated excursion into the trough of the main quad’s fountain. Dripping wet and still bleeding, I gasped for air, clearing my lungs of the murderous black soot.

Terror-stricken, I looked around, securing my surroundings. It was still the dead of night. Under the cloak of darkness my escape went undetected. I could run now. They’d never know. But I knew it would be wrong to flee
selfishly into the night. The school was on fire, people were dead—and then there was Caleb. I couldn’t leave him. He’d been so good to me, always there for me, always understanding. He and his family were victims just like Zack and me. I had to call the police.

I knew there was a pay phone at the far corner of the quad between the dormitories. Pumped with adrenaline and fresh oxygen, I raced across the dewy grass, unafraid under the nocturnal protection. Reaching the phone, I picked up the receiver and hurriedly dialed for help.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a poised female voice asked.

“There is a fire at St. Paul’s College. It’s on the south side next to the seminary,” I told her.

“I am dispatching rescue units now. Please hold the line.”

“There are people inside. Please hurry!” I begged, thinking of my brave Caleb.

“Yes, ma’am. Fire units are three to five minutes out. Please hold the line.”

I dropped the receiver.
Hold the line.
I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t be there when they arrived. I knew Brennigan was dead. But there were so many others I hadn’t recognized, ones I knew nothing about. I was certain Bishop McCallahan had made it out, and he knew me. With everything that had happened, all the secrets I now knew, would I ever be safe again? If there was to be any chance, I had to get far away from here.

I ran across the campus, keeping to the shadows, fleet of foot in my urgency. But the farther my feet carried me, the more my heart held me back. I finally relented and hid in a hedge some distance from the blaze. I watched as flames destroyed the seminary and a swelling black smoke funnel reached far into the sky. Police, fire crews, and paramedics flooded the scene. I watched, muted, like a ghost daring to observe but never to interact.