The Gateway Through Which They Came (26 page)

hen she begins to calm, I ask, “Where’s the Dark Priest now?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “He could be anywhere, anyone. With him, you never know what shape he’ll take. But I do know that whatever exists underneath that church, it isn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

She lifts her head from my shoulder to explain, the skin around her eyes puffy and red from her tears. “There’s at least one church in every city built over Brethren ritual grounds. It’s the only way to keep the evil within from infecting the outside world. The church is like a barrier it can’t break. Sealing the tunnels was insisted upon by every faction.”

“Everywhere?” I ask.

“Everywhere,” she says back. “It’s not just one religion threatened by the Brethren. It’s everyone. Man, woman, child. It doesn’t matter. If the Dark Priest has his way, there would be one religion. His.”

“Yeah, that’s what we need.”

She ignores me, and adds, “The church itself protects the ground, but there’s nothing that protects the church. Do you know what I mean?”

“So anyone can infiltrate the church? Even him?”

“Without a doubt,” she says.

It’s not what I want to hear.

Night has finally settled in and I’m forced to part ways with her before my mom loses it again.

When I leave Koren, I promise to find a way to bring her parents back. It’s the only thing I can do considering what she’s giving up for me. I don’t know how, or if they’ll ever be the same, but I can at least try. There’s a newfound hope building inside of me. If I can get Koren’s parents back, maybe I can bring her back to life, too.

Until then, I have to keep the Dark Priest from resurrecting the Order, and keep her safe in case he goes searching. Leaving her there doesn’t feel right, but nothing is right about a girl who should be dead. I can’t get my mind past the whole thing. A Bleeder that can be seen, and some powerful being resurrecting an Order of Shadows. My life has turned into some sort of a movie. The scariest part is that there’s no predictable ending.

If that shadow I’ve been seeing is part of the Order, someone must have brought it into this world. And from what Koren tells me, it’s another Mortal Gateway. It has to be, because I know for damn sure it wasn’t me.

I have to contact Trevor when I get home. I need to know anything he can tell me about that day in the theater. Anything he could have missed, like where the laughter came from. Something was there with us. Something that knows where to find the Dark Priest.

“Father Martin kept you late,” Mom says when I walk through the door.

The book under the flap of my jacket sags an inch. My arms clench, catching it before it slides out onto the floor. What a fiasco that would be. All my mom needs to see me with is a book from the eighteenth century that resembles some sort of how-to guide for witchcraft. She’d never believe Father Martin gave it to me, not that I would tell her. It certainly wouldn’t help the strain in our relationship that I’ve caused by keeping this from her.

“What are you doing?” She eyes my side where the book is hidden.

I scramble for an explanation. “Oh. I… hurt my side washing the floors. It really took it out of me.”

She frowns. “He’s working you hard, huh?”

Before I can answer, she reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. I take this chance to spring to my room and gently close the door behind me. It’s only a matter of time before she calls me out for dinner.

I dig into my jacket for the book and place myself on the bed. Just looking at it gives me the creeps. My room feels uncomfortable with this book in my hands, like the thing emanates a strange energy, calling for someone to release the wisdom it holds. Tree branches scrape across the side of the house with a heavy wind that picks up, causing the glass to vibrate with the pressure. If I let my mind wander, I’d think even the elements seem to respond to this thing.

As if all this isn’t a big enough warning not to open it, I think back to Father Raimi as he held it, and how nothing came of it. I’m over-thinking the situation. I remind myself that it’s only a book, nothing more.

With a deep breath, I thumb to a random page and flip the book open. The pounding of the tree outside gets more vicious as the wind howls past my window. My lamp flickers spasmodically, blinking me in and out of darkness. I can’t tell if this affects the lights throughout the house, but I don’t have time to check.

My hands seize against the pages, the book coming to life by my touch. An icy chill fills me from my fingertips to my limbs, expanding through every layer of my skin. The book practically feeds off me, draining me, absorbing every ounce of my energy. In return, it feeds me with its power. My contact is a conduit for whatever life force it contains. I feel drugged by its strength. The sensation is too much like the rage that surfaces every time that
thing
takes over. I despise it and long for it all at once, but the wrongness of this brings back the familiar warmth of what I am. The Light.

I tell myself to get rid of it, to let go, but not before the curled letters in front of me stare boldly from its pages.

In perfect penmanship, the passage reads:

Through the Gateway we shall overcome and seek out those who dare to deny thy greatness. He shall rise and call upon our brothers, The Order of Shadows. It is then that we will take back what is rightfully ours, the sacred ground where our Dark Priest will lead us to power once again.

As I read these words, malevolent voices whisper in my ears, hissing and growling like tortured souls fighting their way out. Their words are unrecognizable, nipping at me like a beast taunting its prey. The words are that of a different language, spoken with hatred and rage that shakes me to the core. Pushing from deep down, calling upon the Light to take control, I struggle to separate myself from the book’s power.

“AIDEN!” Mom calls from somewhere that seems far away from where I am—lost somewhere within myself. Again, my name is called, but this time the voices are singing it mockingly into the empty space of my mind.

“Aiden?” A knock on the door sounds behind me, and I fight with every inch of my being. She can’t see me like this.

With the last of my strength, the Light within me glares stronger than ever. In those mere seconds that it comes to life, I strain to hold on. Seconds is all I need. The book’s hold begins to weaken, unhinging from my skin. Now is my chance to act. I pull back and throw it as far away from me as I can. The door opens. Mom’s wide eyes blink back at me.

“Why are you just sitting there ignoring me?”

“I didn’t hear you.” I can barely spit out the words. “I’m sorry.”

Her brows pinch together as she looks about curiously. “Well… dinner’s ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be right down.”

I push myself off the bed, trying to steady my shaking legs. When she accepts that I’m following, she heads back to the kitchen.

The impact of the passage begins to sink in. If the Dark Priest plans to use a Mortal Gateway to overthrow the church, I have to get to them before he does.

And I’m pretty sure I know where to find him.

espite Koren’s pleas to stay away from the church, going means finding everything I need to know about the Order of Shadows. Father Martin must know what exists beneath the building. And if he doesn’t, I think it’s time he did.

A text from Trevor chimes by the time I reach the church. In response to my frantic message this morning, it reads:
Meet at my house after school.

I have to love that about Trevor. No questions. No explanation needed. Not even when the message is:
Shit’s getting real. Need to talk.

Doing things alone is my usual protocol. But when I’m stuck at home and there’s a possible end-of-the-world situation going on, that’s about the time a person needs to suck down their pride and confess it’s time to seek help. I need another pair of eyes watching the school and anywhere else I can’t be. If Justin is the other Mortal Gateway releasing the Order, then I have to make him see reason.

An old woman and what looks like her grandson are sitting in the front row when I enter the church. A singular candle is lit at the altar and I try not to startle them as I pass. The small boy’s eyes are round and solemn when he peers up at me. His nose and cheeks are flushed with emotions and his grandmother’s bottom lip quakes as she holds back the tears fighting to erupt. A wave of grief hits me for their loss. Their story could go so many ways, but all I can think is that whatever parental figure the child had left has been lost. I wonder when I’ll see them, walking blindly in search for the Gateway, for me, to send them home.

On light feet, I tread toward the hall in search for Father Martin. His chamber door is left open a crack, which is strange since he’s always careful to close it behind him. I knock once and wait for a response that never comes. Again, I tap harder with my knuckle. Still nothing.

“Father Martin?” With a soft push, the door opens little by little, exposing an unoccupied room. A handwritten note rests along the desk with my name at the top.

Aiden,

Will be back shortly.

F.M.

I slump into my usual seat in hopes it won’t be long. It isn’t like I have a dozen other things I could be doing with my time. What exactly am I supposed to learn from my time here? If knowing what I’m up against is all he plans to teach me, then I think our work here is done.

The tapping of my foot gets faster and louder, the longer I stare at the clock on the wall. I swear to myself I’ll leave if he doesn’t show.

The creak of a door pierces through the silent air, snapping my attention back to my surroundings. Over my shoulder, I find the door closed just how I left it. I’m sure I heard a door squeak open somewhere. Shrugging it off, I reach in my back pocket for my phone.

Another creak shrills into my ears, and I’m positive this time of what I heard. With slow movement, I search the room for the sound. It couldn’t have come from the main entrance. This was too loud and too close. My skin prickles with a cold breeze that wraps itself against me, slithering down my arms like a snake. I shake the feeling and get to my feet, walking the perimeter of the room in search for the draft kicking through.