XX
Henry shuddered as he passed through the side door and into the sanctuary of the kirk. It had been quite a long time since he had last stepped inside a church, and never had he done so in nothing but a hospital gown, but he was pretty sure that it was not supposed to be accompanied by a palpable sense of doom. It was like a tightening in his skin, a sudden weight to the air. He heard Paige gasp as she entered just a split second behind him and knew she was feeling the same thing.
“It’s okay,” he said, more to fill the suddenly oppressive, echoing silence as to offer any meaningful reassurance. “It’s okay,” he said again.
The sanctuary was pretty large, and though the floor space was mostly taken up with fixed pews, the space above seemed cavernous. Candles, hundreds of them, provided the only light, but they didn’t seem to touch the darkness above. There was a sense that this really was an ancient place and that even more ancient forces were at work in it.
“Take a seat,” the girl said, gesturing towards the nearest of the pews. Charlie stared, wide-eyed as always, by her side. There was no telling what was going on in his head.
Henry glanced at the pews, remembering the times as a boy he had run through the aisles of his father’s church, ducking in and out of the rows of fixed furniture. More innocent times, he thought. However did it come to this?
“Are you just going to stare at them, old man, or do you plan on actually listening to what I’m saying?” the girl demanded, giving Charlie’s arm another sharp yank - making him yelp once again - just to make her point.
“Okay, okay,” he said, sidling into the second row. Here, more than ever before, he wanted that empty first pew as a barrier.
Paige shuffled in beside him, never taking her eyes off the terrified boy. It was, perhaps, little more than a reflex when Henry put his arm around her, but she gave him a grateful look nonetheless. Clara gave a grunt of satisfaction, then threw Charlie towards them so that he landed, like a puppet with no strings, to drape across the front pew. Henry saw Paige reach for him, but the boy righted himself and shook his head.
“Well,” the girl said, taking a step towards the candle-lit communion table at the front of the Sanctuary, “we’re all here at last, so I think it must be time to get things started.”
Four other figures seemed to peel out of the shadows, all wearing similar dark, almost puritanical clothing to Clara. Each help a black candle, unlit, before them as they approached with ceremonial slowness towards the table.
There was something odd about them, something off which Henry could not quite put his finger on. Something about the way they moved, perhaps, like they were characters in an old silent movie, with not enough frames to appear completely natural, or how they were dressed - similar, yes, but as he stared at the cut of each garment it seemed they could all have come from very different eras - or how he could not see any of their faces, only shadow.
“The elders of past days await us,” came a voice from behind. Henry felt Paige jump even as he did. He turned around and saw a procession of dark-clad people, men, women and children, each pale faced and solemn, marching into the Kirk through the side-door, led by a woman in a long robe, the priestess of this cult, no doubt. It was she who had spoken and she continued her liturgy as the procession approached the table. “They hold their candles ready to be lit anew, ready to let in the light of truth, ready to spill the blood of our ancient covenant.”
The majority of the figures left the aisle and found a space in the pews - Clara now amongst them - while the priestess made her way, so painfully slowly, towards the table and the four ‘elders’. She took a taper, lit it on one of the candles on the communion table and then lit each of the four black candles in turn and now, Henry could see, they were not black at all, but the dark brown of congealed blood, blood which beaded beneath the flame to spill in rivulets down the sides. Each of the elders took their candle as it was lit and placed them at the four corners of a square before the table then, their role apparently complete, they vanished entirely.
The Priestess bowed her head and began to pray in Latin and the congregation, Henry, Paige and Charlie excluded, prayed with her.
XXI
Charlie felt as if he inhabited two worlds at once. There was the world of darkness, the world that he could see all around him, could hear in the chant of the cultists, could feel chilling his skin, could smell in the smoke and tallow and iron. But there was another world beyond all these senses, one that illumined him from within, which made him feel safe despite his circumstances, bold despite his fears and pure despite the evil he was witnessing. He straddled both worlds, but it seemed that he could draw strength from the inner world to face the outer, to bathe in the warmth and the light and brave the cold.
But what do I need to do? he asked, knowing that it was God, his guide, who gave the light and God, his protector to whom he spoke.
At first it seemed there was no answer, and then he realised that there had been one after all. It was simple, could be expressed in a single word, though God had chosen to use none: wait.
I will wait then, he thought and the light seemed to grow a little more within him.
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