Roxanne St. Claire
Prologue
A NTHONY SENSED FATHER PHILIP before he saw him on the overgrown garden path that connected the ancient monastery to Anthonys private retreat.
Gently he laid his book on his deska four-inch-thick, thousand-year-old Latin tomeand stood to greet his mentor on the porch.
Good evening, Father, Anthony said. He used the word out of both respect and affection. Since Anthony had been abandoned as an infant thirty-five years ago, Father Philip had guided both his spiritual and personal growth. There was nothing he wouldnt do for the man.
Raphael is on the phone, Father Philip said.
Anthony shut the door of his small bungalow and walked with the old priest toward the main house.
Make any headway?
Anthony rubbed his temples; hed spent two days doing intensive research. If there is a demon at work in Santa Louisa, I dont know how it is managing not to leave a tangible trail, something to track. I hope Rafe has more information for me.
When Rafe e-mailed him last week, his comments were vague and Anthony couldnt get much more from him during their subsequent e-mail exchange. The twelve semiretired priests in Rafes charge were acting strange. Or, rather, stranger than usual. Rafe described them as forgetful, melancholy, and angry.
Perhaps you should go out there yourself, Father Philip suggested.
I am not a demon hunter, Anthony replied. Im doing what I do best, and thats identifying the problem. Then I can send the right person to fix it. Though he certainly wasnt making headway on Rafes situation. Maybe this isnt a supernatural problem, but a mental one.
Four weeks ago, Rafe had been called to minister to the reclusive priests at Santa Louisa de Los Padres Mission, who had each been sent there to recover from supernatural and human evil. Most would never be able to serve in full capacity again. But even Rafes arrival at the mission was odd; since when did a seminarian get called into such a sensitive service?
When Father Philip didnt say anything, Anthony tensed. You disagree?
I dont think either of us can make that determination without going to the mission.
Seven years ago Anthony had failed in the worst way and someone died. He wouldnt jeopardize another life, preferring to work with inanimate buildings. If it is a demon, Rico and John are the two best hunters out there.
Rafe needs you, Anthony.
Father Philip didnt need to say more. Anthony had been the one who had sanctified the ground the mission stood on. Hed renovated the facilities five years ago, declared the mission safe for the troubled souls sent there. That was his jobhistorical architect and demonologist. If a demon was thereif it could break through all Anthonys precautionsAnthony must have missed something.
The library housed the only phone in the monastery. Father Philip left Anthony in privacy. Rafe?
Eight minutes it takes you to get to the phone? I tried your cell phone first.
I had it turned off. Ive been trying to research your problem, but I cant find anything in the ancient texts that addresses your specific observations. Do you have anything else for me?
I need you to come here.
To America?
Its a feeling. I cant describe it. Its like Im looking at these men and someone else is inside them.
What about
There are no cold or hot spots, Rafe interrupted. No sulfuric scent. No superhuman strength or unexplainable events. I know what to look for, Anthony. Weve been through the same training. Its liketheyre here, but theyre not here. They rarely sleep and when they do they succumb to violent nightmares.
What about Dr. Wicker? Psychiatrist Charles Wicker lived a few hours from the mission and made monthly visits.
He thinks one of my men is communicating with a spirit. But he doesnt know who. Weve used every test we can think of and they all pass.
The tabernacle is still secure?
Tabernacle? Yes, of course, its right behind the altar. Rafe sounded confused.
Then youre okay, Anthony explained. The tabernacle is embedded with the cross of Saint Peter and blessed with water from the river Jordan. There were also other protections, but Anthony didnt need to go into details now.
Youre one of the few people I trust. I need you. I dont want to lose any of them.
Suicide among those who have faced evil was unfortunately common. Like Anthony, Rafe had once failed in his mission.
The fear in Rafes usually calm voice set Anthony on edge. Theyd known each other for twenty-nine years, since the day Rafe had been left on the doorstep of the same monastery Anthony grew up in. Rafe was as close to a brother as Anthony had ever had. How could he refuse him?
Rafe said quietly, Anthony, I think something evil has slithered inside. And I dont know how to get rid of it.
Ill leave within the hour.
B LOOD ISNT RED .
Blood goes beyond color. Rich and textured, dark and fathomless, blood was life and death. Burgundy didnt do it justice. If blood were wine, it would be a full-bodied cabernet, perhaps a zinfandel, certainly not something as boring, mundane, two-dimensional as red.
Especially spilled blood, filling the crevices of the nearly two-hundred-fifty-year-old limestone floor of a forgotten California mission. Every hole, every nook, every imperfection in the aged floor filled with blood, corner to corner, the porous stone absorbing death so dark red it was almost black, as black as the heart of the evil man who had murdered the twelve priests in this oppressive chapel.