The Twins of Noremway Parish (7 page)

“
The Waterman farm is burning!” Rita interrupted, attempting to take command from the friar. The crowd began to panic as they noticed for the first time the orange glow in the distance. Plague was already off the carriage, pushing his way into the cathedral with the child in his arms. “Where is he going?”

The chancellor tugged on his long beard, but didn’t say anything. That was the work of his attack dog, the sheriff.

“
You’ll have to step back, Rita,” Franz said, grabbing the stocky woman by the arm.

“
Let go of me.”

“
Step back and I will.”

She hesitated.

“
Do it,” the sheriff said. “Now everybody else, there is nothing to see. The friar wants you all to go home. So
do it!
” Then a small smile crept over his face as he seemed to forget Rita’s insolence. Ever the schemer, he was likely thinking that the longer Rita hung around the cathedral, the higher her chances of being attacked by a wolf on her way home—a trip of at least two miles.

As the small crowd in front of the cathedral dispersed, Decon, spotting Teret, ordered, “Get the holy water ready—quickly!” She entered the cathedral without question. She grabbed the lantern and continued past the statue of Ragas and toward the fountain with the little angel children carved into it. She felt around the bottom of the stoup to find the switch to activate the pump (the water had already been drained to the underground reservoir for the night). It hummed as water rushed in through the angels’ mouths. The stoup filled quickly.

Plague and Decon were ready and waiting.

Taking the child from Plague, Decon said a short prayer and plunged him into the water. He said another short prayer for the safety of the child’s soul.

***

“
It’s a miracle,” Brother Decon said, because that was all he could say. Depth of thought was as impeded as his tongue was tied. Anything else, insubstantial or not, would not come, would not dare the breath required to give it life. Just as he was lowering the barely breathing, profusely bleeding boy (
it’s a boy!
he thought) it happened. The water glowed with a blinding, golden light. The glow travelled through the water and carried its way into the two children wrapped in angel wings. The wings quickly unfurled, revealing two little boys who appeared to be joined together. It was more than the connection of the stone. These children, it seemed—under the wings—were of one and the same body. When the wings stretched to their full expanse, they stretched ten feet wide and began to glow with the golden light from the water. The fountain shook. Decon saw an eye from one of the heads open…for just a brief second. It was closed again so quickly that he was scarcely sure it had actually happened. Then the wings folded back in, covering the two-headed child in its golden embrace.

But what was initially golden soon was blood red as the water was stained with the child’s blood. Decon removed his hands from the stoup; they were empty except for the bloody water that stained them. He thrust his hand into the deep redness again, splashing about, feeling around for the child, and after several long seconds he brought out his hands, palms up, and watched as the red liquid drained between his fingers. His eyes met Teret’s and he shook his head.

“
What is it, Decon?”

He didn’t answer. He looked to Plague, who came over and thrust his own hands into the red liquid.

“
He’s gone,” they said together. Decon raised his hands to his face and tasted the liquid. “It’s blood–solid, pure blood. In all my years as friar, I have never seen or heard about anything like this.” He stepped away from the fountain and glanced at the attached statue, replaying the image of the opening eye in his mind. Did he really see that? That seemed more important to him somehow than discovering why or how the boy had dissolved when placed in the holy water. There was a way to know if the eye had opened though. “Sister Teret, Bart, did you see—”

But then Rita Morgan came rushing up the aisle, presumably having broken away from both the sheriff and chancellor. “You have defiled this cathedral and damned all of us to a certain death! You have forgotten the teachings of Ragas!” Teret moved to catch Rita before she could come any closer to the friar. “Get your hands off me,
heathen!
” She spit in Teret’s face, turned around, and stomped toward the exit where her husband waited for her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and the remaining people spread to make a wide berth for their exit.

“
Get them the
hell
out of here!” Decon roared.

***

As the crowd outside the cathedral finally went home, leaving the friar, physician, parochial vicar, sheriff, and chancellor, it was time to reflect on the events they had just experienced. Both Decon and Teret were looking to Plague, who was looking at the chancellor. The sheriff was the first to speak. “Don’t look at me. It’s your water.”

“
It’s
my
water?” Decon asked at the same time that Teret said, “That’s a curious thing to say.”

“
What I mean is, I’ve never seen anything like this,” Franz stammered—an unusual occurrence for the intimidating sheriff.

“
Neither have we,” Decon and Teret said together.

“
Well, I don’t know. Children usually don’t
dissolve
when you put them in water,” Plague said. “And the children—or that
child
, the fountain, whatever—who knew it could do that?”

“
Not I,” Decon said. “It’s been in the cathedral for 2,000 years–since Ragas. There are likely many more mysteries hidden away in this cathedral, secrets of which none has ever heard; the beautiful two-headed angel.”

“
So lovely,” Teret agreed.

Franz scoffed. “More like a two-headed monster! You’re a bunch of sickos if you ask me.” Then he laughed. Of course he was the only one, but he laughed as if what he had just said was the funniest thing in the world. The chancellor tugged his beard and looked sternly down at the sheriff, who quickly realized he was the only one to find his comment humorous.

“
Get out,” Decon said.

“
No, let him stay,” said Teret. “You’ve important business to discuss.”

“
James and Rita are probably already making their rounds, or holding their own sermon explaining that devils are engaged in witchcraft in Noremway Parish,” Plague said.

“
First, the fire at the Waterman farm,” the chancellor said.

“
Chancellor…aye…Your Honor,” Plague stammered.

“
No worries, the fire is almost out. The blaze was localized. Waterman kept his grass partitioned into sections, separated by wide trails, as I’m sure you know. What you probably didn’t know is that the purpose of those partitions is to prevent the entire crop from going afire.”

“
Well, that’s a relief.”

“
So it is,” Urey said, “so it is, aye. But what of Tomias and Lynn? Did you not go out there to retrieve them, dead or alive?”

Decon swallowed hard. The gulp was clearly audible to the others. Plague started to speak but could not find the words. Teret spoke, “Look, they brought the child with them. Tomias and Lynn likely burned in the fire. Isn’t that right, Decon?”

“
Aye, mayhap they did. No matter. Flames cleanse wounds as well as the soul. Proper burial or no, salvation for Tomias and Lynn is secured. But there is something far more pressing than fire that we need to discuss. Tomias and Lynn were attacked by wolves. Aye, and so were we, but those were not the only creatures of the dark that we encountered.”

“
No, indeed not,” Plague said with a shudder. He stared at Decon intently as he spoke. Decon was cool, confident, telling the story with ease, as if he were telling about a regular day at the market. The images of those three demons, with the long fangs dripping with blood, yellow eyes, and large, menacing arms filled him with a terror that seized his throat. He would not have been able to tell this story with the ease and eloquence that the friar brought to it.

Acting with an air of satisfaction, Franz turned away from the other three, walked halfway up the aisle toward the exit, and sat in a pew, making sure he had room to rest his feet on the one in front of him, closed his eyes, and promptly fell asleep.

Decon continued, ignoring the sheriff’s apparent lack of interest, “We were confronted by three beings that have never before been described with words–no words I have encountered at any rate. They blocked our path, but left as soon as I ordered them to in the name of Ragas and the man Jesus.”

“
Did they have a choice, since the order was given by the friar of Noremway Parish, a devout follower of Ragas Moliere?” Teret asked. She looked frightened at the knowledge that there seemed to be other creatures somehow entering the parish in the night. There had been rumors for generations that Ragas’s protection would soon wear off, assuming it hadn’t already.

“
They hesitated,” Decon said. “They may have had a choice. I honestly don’t know. Either way, they left our path and disappeared into the dark. The encounter seemed almost to be for the sole purpose of letting us know they were there–no other reason.”

Plague nodded in agreement. “Or to scare us away.”

“
No, I don’t think so, Bart. If they were there to scare us away they wouldn’t have left. They wanted us to get a good look at them before carrying on with our business. I think they were working with the wolves in some way, as if the wolves were forcing us toward the demons.”

Teret offered, “Maybe they were a sort of watchmen that were there to keep an eye on you.”

“
This doesn’t make any sense,” Plague said, but offered no alternative explanation of his own. He simply said he didn’t agree—or more accurately didn’t
understand
—and left it at that.

The chancellor spoke up, “Franz and I are going to take a trip out there when we are done here. We need to make sure the parish is safe; see these demons for ourselves.”

Looking at the sleeping sheriff, Decon said, “Sister Teret, there’s nothing more you can do here. Just get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day. I’m still looking at an even longer night.”

“
Alright, Decon. Bart, Chancellor.” She strode up the aisle toward the exit, passing Franz, who opened his eyes and looked back at her as she passed, observing the shape of her body as seen through her form-fitting silk robe. Decon couldn’t believe that Franz thought no one would notice. More likely, he just didn’t care.

“
Well I think it’s high time we got a move on. Franz, I need you,” the chancellor said, and gave his beard a solid tug. He bowed to the friar. Phoenix, meanwhile, hopped up from the pew. “Be seeing you, Brother Decon.” Then the chancellor turned. The large medals and silver ornaments adorning his heavy cloak clanged as he did. The gold and crimson crescents glowed in the flickering candle light. “Off to ensure the safety of the parish. The political backlash of tonight is going to be messy. There’s no telling what Rita is going to say. Safe bet its some half-crazed rant about demonic possessions and Satanism.”

“
Aye, I know it. Tomorrow, you will officially receive the authority of the mayor,” Decon said. “Although you can exercise an executive order before that time if need be.”

“
Banishment?”

“
I’m not suggesting anything, although it might be worth threatening her with.”

“
As fun as that would be…you know…I’ll talk to her. She’ll calm down,” Urey said.

“
Not before she starts a witch hunt,” said Plague.

“
She’s a known entity, that Rita Morgan. It’s a wonder that so many people hang on her every word.” Urey sighed.

***

Rita walked home several steps ahead of her husband; several long steps. James tried to keep up with her brisk pace, but he had his heart to think about. He was older now. He wasn’t the young athlete he once was, but Rita seemed to still have some youth within her.
She must really be mad
, he thought.
Normally she’d be yelling at me by now
. And no sooner did that thought conclude than she turned around and did just that. “Can you pick up the pace, James? My God you’re slow.” The crowd that had dispersed from the front of the cathedral kept a slower pace than James himself did, but he acquiesced to his wife’s commands without question; par for the course, as he was fond of saying.

“
Come on, you git. Hurry up,” she ordered. Sweat beaded heavily on his brow and began the long trek down his forehead and past his eyes. Soon the beads were streams running down his face. His labored breathing didn’t help his speed any. Rita, the dutiful citizen and wife that she was, ignored her husband’s discomforts. She was far too angry to take notice of anything but her own thoughts.

Even though great changes were occurring throughout the parish, James knew his loveless marriage to Rita Morgan would forever be etched in pain and sorrow.

***

Teret Finley went straight home that night, but she didn’t sleep. How could she? Tossing and turning, images of blood running through Decon’s fingers flashed across her mind. What was she going to say to the students the next day? As parochial vicar, she had a responsibility to keep the students informed of the goings on in the parish, but not this…no way. Her lessons would go as planned. If Brother Decon wanted to make a personal classroom appearance to explain the events of the evening before, then that was his prerogative.