Evil Unearthed: Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-seven

When Stephen felt the hand on his shoulder, he expected it to be Vangie who stood beside him. He had been dreaming of her again, even amid all his worry and grief for Barrett, and he thought that the touch he now felt was still a part of that dream. However, as soon as he opened his eyes, he remembered where he was, and though Vangie was now here, standing at the other side of the bed across from him, he knew that her first duty was to her priest who now lay dying. He looked at her as she appraised the situation and took Barrett's limp hand, and though Kathleen was beside him and asking him questions, it was to Vangie he was speaking when he answered them. He wanted to assure her that he had tried to stop Barrett from doing this, but he found himself overcome with self-reproach. Somehow, he thought, he was responsible for all of this. If he hadn't come down here, if he hadn't answered Barrett's summons, he decided, then none of this would have happened. He began sobbing in spite of himself, but Kathleen was there, steady and strong as ever, and he let her console him and then asked her to get him a drink. What he really wanted now was something steadying, and he knew that if she touched him, he would be beyond the ability to support Vangie and to fulfill Barrett's dying wish that they both attend him. He had managed The Last Rites, but now, without the familiarity of form and ritual to comfort him, he was only a man watching another man die, and the fear of the cave was on him again. Death was the last mystery in life, and it was instinctive, he knew, for humans to fear it, but he needed to rise above that fear, and the only way he could think of to accomplish this goal was with the help of some liquid courage.

As Kathleen left, he looked again at Vangie, herself enveloped in the armour of her office, and yet he knew that inside, her heart was breaking. She must know, he thought, why Barrett had done this, and as he saw her begin to recite a whispered invocation or blessing of some kind, he felt bitter resentment that she would not be able to speak with him before his death. Although, he realized, perhaps she was able to speak with the dying man on some other level. Still, he knew that he would have to explain the sequence of events to her, and he found this a very daunting task. He suddenly wondered if she had found it just as daunting to tell her own story to him, even going so far as to admit that she had made mistakes. Well, he decided, if she could do it, then so could he, and with that, his sobbing ceased and he became a little more peaceful, so that by the time Kathleen returned with the glass of brandy, he was able to take it from her and to thank her sincerely for her help.

The drink went down smoothly and he felt his strength returning to him. Finally, he felt equal to the task of sitting a death vigil, or as equal to it as anyone could ever feel, he thought, and he turned his eyes to the Conjure Woman again. He watched her for some time, and he was about to turn to Kathleen to ask her how things had gone in the library, but when he looked to where she had been standing, he realized that she was gone.

"She left a little while ago," Vangie said in a dead tone. "I'm sure she just needed some sleep."

"Are you--are you finished, then?" He was unsure of what to say or whether he should even speak at a time like this. He could still see Barrett's chest moving and hear his breathing now coming in laboured gasps, so he knew that the end would not be long.

"There's nothing more to do," said Vangie, now coming to stand where Kathleen had been, "until all is finished."

"Here," said Stephen, getting to his feet, "take the chair. I've been sitting for long enough." He took her hand and guided her to the chair, but she pulled her hand away as soon as she was seated.

"Please, Stephen," she said. "If you touch me now, I'll go to pieces. Please let me maintain what little composure I have left. This moment is very important, and I have to be--available to Robert if he requires my guidance."

"What? Guidance?"

"A part of my office is to act as what you would no doubt refer to as a psychopomp, a guider of souls across the barrier between life and death. Usually I only observe, because souls generally know what to do, but there are times when I must be available to meet them and to show them the way beyond this life."

"Oh God! It's all so--so different! How can he have--have--" His voice trailed off into silence, and then he remembered the serpent pendant in his pocket.

"He gave me this, though God alone knows why," he finally said, withdrawing it and placing it in her hand. "I can't be his successor! I just performed a ritual designed to reconcile his soul to God, and now you're performing your own ritual and preparing to guide his soul across some barrier? Are you talking about long dark tunnels and bright lights?"

"I promise that I'll tell you about all this at another time, but for now, take back the pendant. He gave it to you; it was his right to do so. Let's just be silent for now and wait till the end. Alright?"

Stephen realized that she was correct, and when he saw her take Barrett's hand, he decided to go around to his other side and to do likewise. She gave him a strained but approving smile when he did this, and he knelt where he was and began to pray again, saying only three words to himself over and over: "Dona nobis pacem! Grant us peace!" Then, after about five minutes, there was a deep rasping in Barrett's throat, and suddenly, everything was still.

"Go well, Robert," said Vangie quietly.

"Rest in peace, Professor," said Stephen at the same time. "You're free now. No one can touch you!"

"We'll make sure of that," said Vangie, meeting his gaze with her tired but determined eyes. "First, we must wash his body. Please bring the pitcher from your room, Stephen. I'll use the one here to begin with."

Stephen returned soon with the water and found Vangie already hard at work, and he marveled when he saw Barrett's body unclothed, for it was marked from head to toe by tattoos and other tribal art.

"He really was well-traveled," he said, "and this is the proof!"

"He told me many stories," said Vangie. "Please take the pitcher over there and do as I'm doing."

Stephen went to where she indicated and followed her movements. He watched her dip her cloth and wring it out, and he did the same, but he had to fight a knot in his stomach in order to touch the body, even with the wet cloth between his hand and the dead flesh. He hated himself for this, and it was this hatred which hardened his resolve. He was here to do a job and to fulfill his mentor's dying wish, and he was going to do it, no matter what primal fears took hold of him.

"Well," he said when every inch of Barrett's body had been washed, "what do we do now?"

"Bring me a sheet," said Vangie, "and Stephen went to the closet where some extra sheets and blankets were kept.

"We'll bury him at dawn," said Vangie. "It's too dark to risk it now, but we'll wrap him in this sheet and leave him here till then."

"Leave him here? Just--well--leave him? Shouldn't we get him back to the main island?"

"I think you know that the journey would be impossible. We won't be permitted to leave until we finish our task, and besides, there is an ancient burial ground of our people here. It is where Quito was taking me when I pretended to be dead. For now, I need some air, and so does this room. Shall we go?"

"Alright," said Stephen, "if that's what you want," and Vangie, having rapped the sheet expertly around Barrett's body, opened the French windows and allowed the night-scented breeze to flow in.

Barrett's balcony overlooked the garden and the overgrown interior of the island. The night had turned clear, and though it was still balmy, the air was no longer oppressive. Vangie and Stephen found two wicker chairs and collapsed into them, sitting silently for a long time and just staring at the star-dappled sky.

"So," said Vangie at length, "can you tell me what exactly happened? Why did he do it?"

"He thought he had betrayed you," said Stephen. "He said that he had felt that presence trying to get to him for a long time, but he hadn't told you in order to protect you. He had thought he was doing the right thing, but he realized now that he had betrayed you by not telling you, and he was afraid of hurting you or killing you if he were attacked again. He said he felt weak and then he gave me the pendant and told me--he told me that he wanted me to take his place as your--as your priest! It was only after he took the herbs that he told me what they were. I would have stopped him if I could, Vangie!"

"I know," she said, taking his hand in hers. "I know. He engineered this situation so you couldn't stop him. I don't blame you, Stephen, but I do need your help. I will need you to take his place, but only you can choose what is right for you to do."

"But I know nothing about your beliefs except a few drum-beats! I'm trying to be a priest in my own right, but I seem to be failing miserably so far. How could I be of any help to you?"

"You haven't truly been tried yet," said Vangie. "You are strong, Stephen, and your vocation is to be a priest. I have to tell you something about Robert. He was a sincere man, and he learned a lot from all the societies he lived with, but he never truly believed in the rituals, or not as their true practitioners believed in them. He may have gone farther than many anthropologists did, but he never really stopped being one, not even here, though I think that here, he came as close as he ever would to believing."

"But he was initiated into so many faiths! Surely he had to have some belief in what he was doing!"

"He tried, Stephen. He really tried, but he found it hard to see beyond the reasons he found for the rituals he experienced. He never told this to me, you understand. I simply knew it after I had been with him for some time."

"Do you regret initiating him?"

"No. He was of great help to me. It was just that whenever he came up against a bit of true spiritual reality, he tended to hide from it rather than confronting it. He was an anthropologist first, Stephen, but you, I think, were a priest before you became an anthropologist."

"I always had a sense for evil, I suppose," he said, "but I was ordained a priest after I had got my bachelor's degree in Anthropology."

"A true priest or priestess needs ordination or initiation only to give him or her the authority to practice, but he or she is born for it. It took me a very long time to discover that my father was right when he felt that I had been born for it, and I can now see what he must have seen in me, because it is in you."

"Well," said Stephen after a pause, "I suppose you're right, and I suppose that I have to do this in honour of Barrett, so, alright," and without another word, he slipped the pendant on its thong over his head and tucked it beneath his cassock and shirt.

"Good," said Vangie, "and now I think we should both try and sleep for a few hours."

"Alright," said Stephen, "but will you come to my room?"

"I will," said Vangie, and together they walked through Barrett's room and shut the door, and as soon as they came to Stephen's room, he pulled her inside, shut the door, and began to remove his clothes. She stood silently while he did this, and then, when he was naked, she came to him and kissed him long and deeply.

"I know what you want," she said, "and I'm ready to give it. Indeed, it is the appropriate way for us to pledge our union as priest and priestess. However, I have to know that you won't regret this later."

"I was raped last night, Vangie," he said, anger momentarily blurring his vision. "I was raped both physically and spiritually. I want to forget that. I want to forget the darkness for a while! Barrett's dead but I'm not, and I'm sick of keeping a meaningless vow which simply doesn't make sense down here, and also, and most importantly, I love you and want you!"

"You know how I feel already," she said. "I just do not want to take advantage of you!"

"You won't, Vangie. You can't! now please!"

Vangie didn't reply but let her clothes fall to the floor around her and suddenly, he was looking at what he had longed to see for what felt like an age and more, and now they were together, moving toward the bed and locked in each other's arms, and soon, he had what he wanted. He had her and was inside of her, and strangely, she was also inside of him. While he was spending his sexual energy on her, he felt her mind touching his in an intimacy that he never would have guessed was possible, and while he was forging a physical bond between them, he knew that she was working to strengthen the spiritual union that he already knew to exist. He couldn't believe that he had once accused her of murdering his uncle. He now regretted every harsh word he had ever said to her, but soon, all his regrets were swallowed up in a rush of pure release, and he felt his body give way and hers respond in kind, and then they lay, spent and breathless, still entwined in body and in soul.

"This was meant for us, Stephen. Never forget it, whatever happens!"

"I won't, Evangeline," he said, whispering her full name for the first time and savouring its sound. "I won't!" and almost immediately, he fell asleep as her hands caressed him with a tenderness he had never known in his life.