inthewildwood | Fic: Hagiolatry (Chapter Eight)

“-can’t take her-”

“-don’t know what you’re doing-”

“-not appropriate-”

“-what’s appropriate is-”

Frankie cracked an eye open, looking from Andrew on the bed beside her to the bedroom door. He wasn’t lying down any more, but sitting on the bed next to her, one hand still on her shoulder. His arm was thrumming with tension, clenched around her in a way that was just shy of painful. He was arguing in quiet, furious tones, with someone she couldn’t quite see.

She shifted her head and craned her neck to see the door. Andrew didn’t notice- he was too intent on the argument. Neither did the group of dark-clad men standing in her doorway. In her bedroom door. She blinked. What the fuck was going on?

“-don’t think you have this under control,” one was saying. He was the oldest of the three, grew-haired and with a red belt (sash?) tied around his waist. “Father Derning told us on the phone that she appeared to be getting worse by the day, and you’re simply not trained or qualified to deal with this sort of situation. If you give her into our custody, we can help-”

“You don’t know what her situation is,” Andrew said, low and urgent. “You’ve no idea- I didn’t even believe it myself, but the evidence-”

“You can fill us in on the evidence once she’s with us,” the older man said smoothly, as if Andrew hadn’t interrupted at all. “But for the moment, her most urgent need is to be cared for by people who are trained to deal with situations like hers’, who aren’t compromised by-”

“You have no idea-”

“Hey,” Frankie said, struggling into a sitting position. Both Andrew and the men in the doorway started guiltily. “I don’t need to be in anyone’s custody. I’m not a child.”

The older man smiled beatifically at her. She stared stone-faced back at him. “I’m afraid Father Kiernan hasn’t explained the details of his position very well at all. As an investigator for the Vatican, his job is to gather data and report back to us. A case that puts the subject in imminent physical or spiritual danger is something he’s simply not equipped to handle. That’s where we come in.”

“I wasn’t talking about Andrew,” she said stubbornly. “I was talking about me. I don’t want to go with you. And you can’t force me to. That’s kidnapping.”

He sighed, still smiling like he was dealing with a recalcitrant child. While he was gathering his next argument, Frankie let her eyes sweep over the two men with him. One was a bald, glasses-sporting man she’d never seen before, clutching a notebook like Andrew’s in his hands The other was Father Derning, who couldn’t meet her eyes when she looked at him.

“We would like to help you,” the older man said with another smile. His smiles were starting to creep her out. “But we can’t do that while you remain here. If you come with us back to our Pittsburgh headquarters, we can explain everything-”

“I’m not going with you,” Frankie said, voice growing louder. “I don’t know who you are, or why I should trust you. You broke into my house and I woke up to find you in my bedroom. I don’t even know your name-"

“Ah,” he said, extending a hand, though how he intended for her to shake it from the bed was a mystery. “My name is Cardinal Daniel Houseman. This-” he indicated the glasses-wearing man behind him, “-is Pietro Cavallo, my secretary. And of course you’ve already met Father Derning.”

“Good for you,” she said. Beside her, Andrew made a noise that sounded like it might have been a laugh. “But that doesn’t mean I know you, or trust you, or want anything to do with you. I’m not getting into a car with you, or going to your headquarters.” Who even said headquarters these days, unless they were some kind of weird Masonic cult? “You’re not taking me out of this room.”

Cardinal Houseman sighed heavily. “Well I’m afraid we cannot, in good conscience, leave you here. It would be in violation of our duties to the Church.”

“Duties?” Andrew said, his voice coloured with disbelief. “Daniel, you’re not- you can’t lie to get her to go with you.”

“I have absolutely no intention of lying,” Houseman said. He met Andrew’s eyes, and the look in them made Frankie shiver. “But I also have no intention of leaving without her, so we appear to be at something of an impasse.”

Frankie held up a hand. “Um, can the she under discussion suggest something? Or were you planning to keep on arguing like I wasn’t in the room?”

Houseman looked back at her, and this time he wasn’t quite able to suppress the annoyance in his eyes. “Did you have something to suggest?”

“That’s what I said,” she gritted out. “Look, you want me to visit your- headquarters or whatever, right? So what if I didn’t do it right this second?”

Houseman’s mouth thinned. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Frankie sat upright, and shoved the blankets down to her waist. Houseman winced, though she was still wearing a camisole. It wasn’t like she’d ripped her shirt off or anything. “I’m not coming with you now, but I could come to your headquarters later. After I, you know, get dressed-” She glanced sideways, “-and talk to Andrew about it.”

Houseman’s jaw worked, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. If he walked out, there was every chance she’d take off as soon as the door was closed. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t planning on it. But staying wasn’t going to get him anything either, except a kidnapping charge if he tried to drag her out by force. Her hand was already hovering on the bedside table, over the telephone receiver, and his eyes were tracking it as it moved. She lowered her fingers, and he drew himself up.

“Very well,” Houseman said, sickly sweet smile back in place. “But it shouldn’t be put off any longer than it must. I’m not sure you quite realize the danger-”

“I realize,” she said coolly. He shut his mouth abruptly, face reddening. “I’ll be there tomorrow.” She calculated quickly in her head. She’d fallen asleep In mid-afternoon, and there was no light coming in from the windows. So either it was early on Tuesday, or late on Monday. Either way, she’d be at their church before the final mark appeared. And if she did get pierced by a spear, at least she’d probably bleed out all over their carpets.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. “At one in the afternoon.”

Houseman nodded to his secretary, who wrote something- the date, presumably- down in his notebook. Frankie watched him with narrowed eyes. When he was done, Houseman looked back towards her, still smiling tightly. “Well, I suppose we’ll see each other then.”

Frankie watched them go. So did Andrew, who didn’t relax his grip on her shoulder until they heard the front door snap safely shut. Once it did, Frankie dropped her blankets and looked over at Andrew. “I think you’d better tell me who they were.”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Daniel- Father Houseman- was my mentor when I first arrived at the Vatican,” Andrew began. They were sitting in the living room. Frankie drew her knees up to her chest and nodded at him to continue. He did. “At the time, the branch I work in was only just starting out, and he was looking to recruit young priests who were more amenable to his goals than those who were more . . . stuck in their ways.” His mouth quirked. “I suppose I qualified.”

She frowned. “Why would investigating stigmatics be controversial?”

Andrew rubbed a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “It wasn’t the investigation so much as it was the . . . approach. Ironically enough, his goals were far more in line with traditional Catholic theology than many might have suspected; the Church has never embraced every supposed miracle presented to it, though the public might view it differently. What he wanted most from us was a discrediting of the fakes and to bring the true ones into the fold of the Church, where they could be safely folded into our doctrine. As a scientist, it made perfect sense to me. It’s like cryptozoology-”

“Crypto-whatology?”

“The study of aberrant scientific findings, usually animal in nature,” he explained, “like the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot. Anyway, these claims frequently frustrate serious scientists, because they catch the public imagination and spread misinformation about what is and isn’t provable. Of course the Church would face similar difficulties. After all, it’s easy to claim you saw the Virgin Mary in a cloud, and difficult to prove otherwise. The human mind sees what it wants to see.”

Frankie held up both wrists and raised her eyebrows. Andrew smiled. “Yes, well, I think we’ve proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that your experiences are genuine. But Cardinal Houseman doesn’t know that. And honestly, I’m not entirely sure how he might react if he discovered it.”

“Why?” Frankie asked, curious. She didn’t trust the Cardinal at all- something about him just pinged as off- but why he’d be threatened by her, she didn’t know. “Because of the atheism?”

“That- and the question of possession. We know now that your injuries are being caused by some kind of spiritual assault by Father Alameida. Daniel and the Father did not part on good terms, to the best of my knowledge- I wasn’t there when he left, but I understand that he and Daniel clashed frequently over interpretation of the Gospels- but even so, accusing a priest- even a dead priest- of spiritually assaulting a layperson is an incredibly serious charge. For more reasons than one.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because we’ve never encountered it before. If it were only the accusation of Father Alameida attacking you, it could be dismissed as the spiritual failing of an excommunicated member of the clergy. But demonic attack by ghosts has never been accepted by the mainstream church. It would need to be contextualized in some way that the public would understand, lest it cause a panic among congregants afraid of attacks from similar sources. That’s what he’s afraid of, I think.”

Frankie sat back in her chair, gnawing thoughtfully on her thumbnail. “So . . . what does he want to do with me?”

“Andrew bit his lip for a long moment. “I . . . I’ve known Daniel for a long time, and I believe his faith is genuine. But it is also tied very closely to his position. I wouldn’t have believed it otherwise, but what he said about being required to take you away simply isn’t true. And if he was willing to lie about that, I’m not sure what else he may be willing to do. Offer you hush money, possibly. I don’t want to believe it, but . . .” He broke off with a heavy sigh. “I truly don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Frankie tilted her head to the side as she watched him. He looked pretty awful- nowhere near as bad as she did, but his eyes were half-ringed with purple bruises, and red around the rims. She didn’t know what he was feeling. The idea of having her faith shaken had never occurred to her, just because she’d never had a faith to shake. Everything she’d ever believed had come from what she saw and felt. The idea of a loving God, a church filled with good people, a Jesus that kept bad things from happening- it was all completely foreign to her. The past few days had rocked her so hard because she’d been confronted with evidence of things she’d never, ever believed. She honestly didn’t know how she would have reacted, if she’d been confronted with things that shattered the beliefs she already had.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally.

He looked up sharply. “Don’t be. None of this is your fault.”

“I know that,” she said. “I don’t think it is. But whatever this Houseman guy is up to- he must have meant a lot to you. And I’m sorry.”

He let his shoulders slump, and she scooted a little closer, putting a hand on his back. They hadn’t really talked about what had happened in the kitchen since Alameida had come roaring in- so much was happening so fast, she didn’t know if trying to comfort him like this was still safe. But she didn’t really have any ideas for what else to do. And- he was leaning into her touch with another soft sigh. If this was taking them to a place they weren’t supposed to go, they’d deal with that when they both weren’t emotionally drained and exhausted.

“So,” she said after pause, “what do we do? When we go talk to them, I mean.”

He smiled ruefully. “I’d say that you’ll be the one doing the talking, but given the circumstances, it might be best if I stepped in. I know the terminology.”

“Like a lawyer,” she joked. “A really religious lawyer.”

He cracked a smile. “I wasn’t aware any existed.”

She laughed a little- more a breaking of tension than anything else, but it felt good. She patted his shoulder, and eased out of her chair. “I need to go make a call. I’ll be right back.”

He raised his head. “Who are you calling?”

“Donna and Patty.” She stopped in the doorway and held up a hand to forestall any objections. “They shouldn’t be involved in this- I know that. But they already are. And they’re my friends. I at least owe it to them to explain some of what’s going on.” When he frowned, she added, “I won’t tell them about the possession stuff. I’ll just let them know that some Church guys showed up and we’re going to go talk to them. That’s all.”

He nodded at her wearily. “Go ahead.”

“I wasn’t asking permission,” she said, but she said it lightly.

“Frankie, you can’t!”

Frankie winced and held the phone away from her ear. “Uh, I appreciate the concern and all, but can we keep it down a bit? My head is killing me.”

“Sorry,” Donna mumbled contritely. “But seriously, Frankie- these guys sound scary. You can’t just walk into their house and expect nothing’s going to go wrong.”

“I think it’s a church, actually-”

“Like that makes it any better!” Frankie winced again. Patty was chiming in from another extension. “Seriously what are these guys, like, Jesuits? Those are some scary fuckers, Frankie. I remember one time in school-”

“Guys!” Frankie said, rubbing her forehead. “I’m not going alone, okay? Andrew’s going with me. Besides, they can’t do anything until they figure out if I’m really being felt up by a holy spirit. I think that might piss off the big guy upstairs.”

“Everything they do probably pisses off the big guy upstairs,” Patty muttered. “What did Andrew say about how they’d figure it out? Are they going to, like, dunk you in water?”

“That’s witches, Patty,” Donna said.

“Whatever. Are they?”

Frankie took a deep breath and crossed her fingers behind her back. This was the hard part. She could deal with leaving bits of her story out, as a necessity to keep everyone involved safe. Outright lying was another matter. But she couldn’t very well just say “oh yeah they tried to kidnap me this morning and God only knows what kind of shit they’ll pull if they think it’ll shut me up.” Just telling them this much was enough of a risk. “He, um. Doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know?” Donna cried. Frankie pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Bullshit! He works with them!”

“They’ve never had a case like this before.”

“So what, they’re using you as a guinea pig?” Patty this time. “Everything about this sounds fucked up.”

“It is,” Frankie admitted. “But it’s all I’ve got going for me right now. I have four marks now, remember? The fifth one is the spear. And it can’t be too far away. I don’t know what these guys are going to do, but if there’s a chance they know how to stop this, I have to at least try."

Silence, then, on both ends of the line. Frankie perched on the edge of the kitchen table. “Look, I’ll call you guys as soon as I get back tomorrow.”

“If you get back,” Patty muttered mutinously.

“When I get back,” Frankie said firmly. “I’ll talk to you then, okay? And I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Donna said. Her voice sounded smaller than usual. “We love you, Frankie. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Frankie said. “I love you guys too.” On the other end of the line, Patty murmured her agreement. “I have to go now, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

They said their goodbyes, and Frankie let her thumb rest on the handset, chewing her lip anxiously. There was another call she had to make, but she’d been putting it off for days now. She’d argued to herself at first that it didn’t need to be made- no point kicking up a panic over something that could go away- but at this point, there wasn’t any avoiding it. She dialled the number.

It picked up after three rings. “Hello, Bela Quinto Motel. Elisa speaking.”

“Hi,” Frankie said, trying to inject some brightness into her voice. “I’m calling to talk to Janice Paige. Can you connect me to her room, please?”

“One moment,” There was a pause as elevator music floated down the line. Then Elise returned. “I’m sorry, she’s not in her room at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Um,” Frankie bit her lip again. “Just- just that her daughter called, and that I’ll call again sometime tomorrow. Thanks.” She hung up, and stared at the phone for a long moment before putting it back on the counter and padding back into the living room.

Andrew was, once again, sitting on the sofa, but this time he wasn’t looking through his notes. Instead, his head was bowed, and his fingers were pressed to his lips. Round wooden beads dangled from his hands- a more benign specimen than the one her mother had sent her, but still a rosary. His lips moved, but his voice was too low for her to catch.

She stood in the door and watched him pray, wondering what he was praying for. She wondered if God was listening. “I’ve never seen you pray before.”

He looked up, placing the rosary down on the coffee table. “I haven’t prayed for a very long time.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She moved into the room until she was standing in front of him. “What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

He half-lifted his hands, like he wanted to put them around her waist, then dropped them. “I honestly can’t say. I would suggest-” He blinked. “I would tell you that there’s no danger in whatever happens, but we both know it would be untrue.”

She nodded. A strange sense of peace was settling over her- like she was staring so far forward, whatever happened in the present couldn’t touch her. A part of her wanted to kick and scream against it- she was not living for a million years from now, she wasn’t giving up like that- but another part let it drift over her, settling in like a blanket. Normal concerns suddenly seemed very far away. “Can I kiss you goodbye? Before we go, I mean.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded, and she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his. After everything that had happened, she’d almost expected fireworks to start going off, but it didn’t feel anything like that. Instead it was calm, a sheltered oasis in the raging hurricane that had become her life- both of their lives. His mouth was dry and warm and his lips were firm. She cupped his face in her hands, and his rose up to wrap around her waist. She could feel the heat pressing against her skin, which felt disturbingly cold, even in the mid-April warmth. Why did she already feel like a corpse? How could her life have ended in less than a week?

She broke the kiss, but not the contact, leaning her forehead against his. He sighed deeply, and she felt his eyes closed. “I tried, Frankie- I’m afraid I’ve been weak.”

“No you haven’t,” she said fiercely, almost angrily. “And I’m the Jesus figure here, so I should know. So shut up.”

He chuckled lightly. “Is that in the Bible?”

“And Jesus sayeth unto his disciples, ‘shut the hell up, you’re being stupid?’” Frankie considered. “Maybe it’s in one of the lost gospels. Ask our friendly neighbourhood ghost, maybe he knows.”

He stayed silent for a long time, so long she thought she’d made him angry. Just before she pulled away to ask, he said “is that what I am? A disciple?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean that, exactly. I mean- I don’t want you to go do my bidding or anything.”

“It’s not that.” He looked up, face still caught between her hands. “A disciple, strictly speaking, isn’t a servant or minion. It means a follower, a believer. The origin is a derivative of a Latin word meaning ‘learn,’ but it’s more commonly associated with being a believer in something or someone. So in that sense, I suppose I am your disciple. After a fashion.”

Frankie blinked hard, trying to quell the hot tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted to say something, but didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just leaned her forehead against his again and tried to breathe deeply. In a few hours, she might not be able to anymore.

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