The door burst open right at that moment; Bob came tumbling through it, closely followed by Brian, Mikey and Ray. Bob ran straight over to Luke; hauled him off Gerard and punched him in the face so hard Frank heard the sick snap of Luke's nose breaking under Bob's fist.
Luke howled and fell backwards; Bob grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall, holding him there while Mikey knelt by Gerard, helping him to sit up.
"Are you okay?" Mikey wanted to know, but Gerard couldn't speak, just wheezed and leaned heavily against Mikey's shoulder.
Ray rushed over to Frank and slid his arm around his waist, supporting him while Brian tugged uselessly at the knots around Frank's ankles. "Fucking hell, Frank," Ray said raggedly, his hands on Frank's skin coming away wet with blood.
Frank shook his head, and concentrated on breathing; huge shaky gasps of air which hurt his lungs. On the floor Gerard was coughing roughly, already climbing to his feet.
"Hold still," Brian told Frank; he was holding the scalpel Gerard had used in his hand, and he started sawing through the ropes with it. "Father? What do we do next?"
"There's nothing to be done at all," Luke answered for him. His bloody teeth showed when he smiled. "You're too late, Father."
"What does that mean?" Bob said, shaking Luke roughly. "Too late for what?"
Frank's back arched suddenly and painfully off the table, and the headache cranked itself up to eleven and he could feel his skin splitting, feel the cuts lengthening, ripping themselves open wider and wider and the blood running down the sides of his face. "Gerard," he choked. "Gerard, it's coming, I can feel it coming, oh shit."
"Tie him up," Brian ordered Bob, moving away so Gerard could get in next to the table and take Frank's hand.
"Frank," Gerard said urgently, touching Frank's face, "Frank, it's okay, I'm here."
Frank shook his head, clutching tightly at Gerard's hand. He felt Mikey on his other side, taking his other hand. "It's not - fuck - it's not working, Gerard, you can't help me anymore."
Gerard glanced over at Mikey - some sort of communication passed between them, and Gerard got a hopeless look on his face which made all of Frank's insides freeze up. "Frank," he said desperately, meeting Frank's eyes. "Frank, I don't -"
"Gerard," Ray cut him off, rushing over to the other side of the room and picking up a bag, which he brought back to the table. "I brought some of your books and things - I didn't know what you might need, I brought everything we talked about this morning."
"You're a genius, Ray Toro," Gerard said fervently, grabbing the books and tossing all but one aside. He flipped through the pages rapidly and then stopped, muttering to himself as he read whatever he'd found. "Did you bring the herbs?"
Ray nodded and spilled some little packets out of his pocket onto the table. "I think we just mix them together and burn them."
"Your petty magics can't help you," Luke hissed from corner.
"Oh my God," said Bob. "Shut the fuck up."
Gerard handed Ray a little dish and Ray emptied the packets into it, then lit the contents with Gerard's lighter. Gerard delved back into the bag and brought out a candle, a small vial and a crucifix on a chain. "All right. Mikey, take this and stand here, opposite Ray."
Mikey looked down at the cross, frowning. "Me? But I don't know -"
"No time," Gerard interrupted, pushing him into place. "Hold it over Frank's heart, and when I tell you to, you say, 'Crux sancta sit mihi lux, non draco sit mihi dux.'"
Mikey nodded, and Gerard moved to the head of the table. He passed his hand over the candle next, murmuring something Frank couldn't hear, then handed it to Ray. "After Mikey speaks, I want you to light this and say 'Vade retro satan, nunquam suade mihi vana', got it?"
"Got it," Ray said grimly. He looked down at Frank and squeezed his hand. "We got you, Frankie, Gerard's gonna figure it out, you'll see."
Frank wanted to answer, but he was so hot all over and so tired, and he hurt everywhere, the sharp throb of his wounds chiming in against a deep, wrenching ache in his shoulders and spine. He tried to nod anyway, and he thought maybe Mikey understood, because he squeezed Frank's other hand before he looked back up at Gerard.
"Brian?" Gerard called, tipping the vial up on his fingers and shaking out some of the liquid inside. "Is he secure?"
"He's not going anywhere," Brian confirmed.
"You can't save him," Luke crowed.
Mikey looked over sharply. "Yes we fucking can."
Gerard grabbed the chair he'd sat in earlier and sat down so his face hovered closely over Frank's. "Hold on just a little longer, Frank," he murmured.
"I can't," Frank confessed, writhing when the pain flashed brightly in his side. "Gerard, I'm going to fucking die."
"I promised you, didn't I?" Gerard said grimly, and then he pressed his wet fingers to Frank's forehead and closed his eyes.
"O God, come to my assistance," he murmured, making the sign of the cross with his other hand, "O Lord, make haste to help me. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, Amen."
"Amen," Mikey and Ray murmured together.
Gerard wet his fingers again; pressed them to Frank's lips and forehead and went on, "By the intercession of St. Michael and the Celestial Choir of Seraphim, may the Lord make us-"
Frank was plunged into silence, suddenly - he could see Gerard's lips moving, feel Mikey and Ray standing over him, but his ears were filled first with nothingness and then with the sound of wind, rushing past his ears and carrying on it the sound of women weeping.
He tried to tell Gerard what was happening, but his limbs wouldn't work and tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth; he could do nothing but lie there and listen to the women crying, to the murmur of hundreds of people watching him, thousands, and to the pained moans coming from either side of him.
He was furious at Gerard, suddenly, furious at him for not realizing what Frank was going through, for being so far away, for not being able to help him, for thinking that some stupid prayer was going to save him when Frank was bleeding to death right underneath him. Furious at the unseen crowd for watching him go through this, furious with himself for not being stronger.
The pain rolled over him in surges; Frank almost welcomed it because as long as he was hurting, he was still alive. It gathered in his side each time, the pressure there building, throbbing under Frank's skin, and Frank concentrated on that; held onto it like a drowning man clutching at a straw.
The crying got louder - it was his Mom, Frank realized, he knew that voice, he'd know it anywhere, he knew what she sounded like when she cried for him. She'd done it often enough, scared by his sickbed or furious with worry, and he looked for her, tried to call for her, but before he could get the words out he was yanked back to himself with a rush and the sound of Gerard's voice filled his ears.
"This we ask through the merits of Jesus Christ Our Lord," he said. "Amen. Mikey, now."
"Crux sancta sit mihi lux, non draco sit mihi dux," Mikey intoned, holding the cross out in front of him and watching Frank with worried eyes.
"Vade retro satan, nunquam suade mihi vana," Ray went on, lighting the candle with a hand that only shook a little.
"Sunt mala quae libas," Gerard finished, touching Frank's forehead, lips, and both cheeks with his fingers. "Ipse venena biba."
Luke screamed, the pain in Frank's side exploded, and everything went white.
