THE CHURCH OF BLOOD

Chapter Three - 'Mors Voluntaria'

Officer Nyles popped two more baby aspirin and chugged longingly on his lukewarm Pepsi, then threw the beverage out in the wastebasket beside his desk. His boss had a stick up his butt earlier and chewed Nyles a new one. The perp had it coming to him though: the young punk had no right to push the lady away from the counter just so he could rob the place. Officer Nyles had just stepped into the convenience store for a pack of gum just that last night and saw the kid shove the lady to the ground. So Nyles did the next best thing: he pummeled the kid into the coming weekend and then arrested him. Nyles was sure he did the right thing, especially noting at the same time as the altercation with the woman that the punk was also reaching for the pistol tucked into his pants underneath his bulky sweatshirt. But Nyles was reprimanded for using excessive for unnecessarily and for not initiating protocol in identifying himself as a police officer, so the captain read Nyles his rights earlier this morning.
And now Officer Nyles was studying the photos and newspaper clippings of a case he was working on involving five young acolytes at a nearby Catholic parish who were found hanging naked above the altar from a single rafter high up in the ceiling. The rector of the parish, Father McClellan, found the boys in the early morning preparing the forenoon mass by noticing a good amount of blood covering the sanctum dripping from crudely etched markings on all five of the boys' chests. It appeared to be a suicide of sorts yet there were curious circumstances surrounding the deaths: how did the boys manage to traverse so high up in the rafters when there was no ladder found near the sanctuary? did all five youths chisel the markings into their own chests themselves, to each other, or was there another party involved? did this act constitute a bizarre ritual or was it chosen randomly? The carvings in the boys' chests were strange; the markings had the appearance of words but were more along the lines of an ancient vernacular or possibly an occultic one. Father McClellan was so distraught and terrified that he had been impossible to question. Nyles or his partner would have to visit the poor priest hopefully soon.
Speaking of his partner, Officer Beynolds bounded into the station from within the recesses of the vicinity with an amused expression, his long hair bouncing warily as he trotted toward Nyles' desk.
"Guess what?" he pressed.
Nyles waited, shrugged. "Don't keep a black man waiting," he laughed. "Whassup?"
"The girl Penny down in cold cases found something for us," Beynolds reported. "I got interested in the history of the church and she came across a case similar to ours." He produced some photos and clippings from a folder and spread them out on Nyles' desk. "Apparently there was another group of altar boys who did the same thing thirty years ago. In the same church."
"What?!" Nyles leaned forward and examined the paraphernalia before him. Indeed, the older photo showed five altar boys hanging naked from the same rafter as far as Nyles could tell when comparing the similar photos side by side. There was only one difference.
"There are no markings on their chests," he pointed out. "Looks like they're all on the inside of their right thighs."
"Exactly." Beynolds sorted through the apparatus and pulled an autopsy photo and report. "Here. The markings are exactly the same."
"What the hell could the markings mean though?"
"How many Catholic churches are there in this city?" Beynolds wondered.
"Why?"
"Well, there might be any of a number of priests who may know what these carvings could mean."
Nyles considered. "It's possible. Do you by chance know the name of the priest of the church back then?"
"Uh, it was Father...Father...ah! here we are. Father Kyler. He found the boys at the same exact time as Father McClellan had. Before morning mass. Two days later he killed himself."
Nyles leaned back on his chair, rubbing his forehead. "This is jacked up."
"You're telling me." Beynolds sat at his own desk. "You wanna know what else is jacked up? When Father Kyler was found in his study at his home" -- he removed yet another photo from the pile -- "the same markings had been carved on his forearm."
"Holy damn!" Nyles took the photo and compared it to the others. "The precision and detail in all the cuttings match damn near perfectly."
"All this weird shit is happening in just this one church," Beynolds stated.
"That we know of," Nyles countered. "This crazy shit could be happening in other Catholic churches, on other denominations, schools, hospitals, in peoples' homes..."
"I definitely think we should check out this church, The Lady of Our Faith, where all of this crazy shit has been reported happening though."
"We'd have to go deeper into its history."
Beynolds nodded affirmatively. "So do you think all of these deaths are suicide related?"
"Dunno. What do you think?"
Captain Dardell approached the desks of the two officers carrying a piece of paper. "Gentlemen."
"Hey, Cap'n," Nyles said. "You gonna chew me another ass? I've got one more cheek for ya."
Captain Dardell chuckled, giving the young man a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Naw. Maybe later."
"What'cha got, Captain?" Beynolds asked.
"I see you two are working hard on that case concerning those altar boys," Dardell observed, gesturing to the scattered implements between the two officers. "Anything new?"
"I just showed my partner here some stuff from the cold case files," Beynolds explained. "Seems that the incident was a copycat version of another case committed thirty years at the exact same church. Those strange markings appear on different parts of the bodies though."
Dardell studied the corresponding evidence on the desks. "Hmm. So you think the two cases are definitely connected?"
"Appears so," Nyles chimed in. "We were just talking about possibly looking further into the church's history. If that case from thirty years back ended up in the cold case files, I think that deciding whether it was a suicide or just a plain ol' homicide case was obviously left undetermined. It might just take some pretty heavy digging."
Dardell nodded. "Agreed. Good work."
"We're still unsure about those strange markings," Beynolds said. "As many times as we've seen them, they all pretty much match. Right now, we don't know what they mean."
"If they mean anything at all," Nyles offered.
"Funny you should mention it," Dardell said. "I received a call from the hospital where Father McClellan was admitted. He's still in rough shape. The doctor I spoke to kept noticing the priest's erratic behavior; he was doing a lot of scribbling and kept muttering under his breath. I received this fax." He dropped the paper he was holding amidst the pile. "Familiar, isn't it?"
"Shit," Nyles breathed.
The scribbled drawings done by Father McClellan were the same expressions as in the accompanying photos.
"I had a copy sent to Marcia down in graphics," Dardell explained. "Hopefully she can make some sense of it."
A disturbing thought just occurred to Nyles. "Hey. If he's writing this stuff out and might know what it means--?" He and Beynolds looked at each other. "Shit." Nyles grabbed his desk phone and punched the front desk. "Carla? Officer Nyles. I need the number to Temple University Hospital asap."
"What's going on?" Dardell asked.
Beynolds quickly danced into his jacket. "We need to get to the hospital. They may have to put Father McClellan on suicide watch."

***

Nyles and Beynolds raced down the hospital corridor and to the front desk, flashing their badges. They found the priest's room. The young nurse sitting at a small desk near the door jumped, startled.
"Officers Beynolds and Nyles," Nyles responded. "How is he?"
Beynolds hurried over to the bed to check on the slumbering priest.
"I was sent here about a half hour ago," the young girl responded. "He's fine. He's resting."
Nyles approached one of the women at the nearby nurses' station, displaying his badge. "I need to speak to the doctor attending Father McClellan. Is he available?"
"I'll have him paged," the woman obliged.
"Thank you." Nyles returned to the room. "They're getting a hold of the doctor."
"Is there anything I can do?" the young nurse asked.
"Yeah. Could you get us two coffees both cream and sugar, if you don't mind," Nyles ordered. "We'll be here a while. We'll keep watching him."
"Okay." The young girl left the room.
"Dane. I'm gonna try Marcia back at the station. I really wanna get to the bottom of those writings." He proceeded out of the room, punching numbers on his cell phone.
Nyles gave his partner a slight punch on the arm as he exited. He then sat down in a chair contiguous to Father McClellan's bed, checking his watch. It was nearing late noon. Both he and Beynolds nearing the end of their shift. He glanced out of the window and surveyed the city skyline, patiently waiting for the doctor.
It didn't take long. Doctor Aswand entered the room, concern on his face. "I'm Doctor Aswand. May I help you?"
"Officer Nyles." He stood and shook the doctor's hand. "I had your nurse attending the Father go for some coffee for my partner and myself. Hope you didn't mind?"
"Oh no. Not at all."
"Are you the doctor that spoke to a Captain Dardell earlier today?"
Doctor Aswand that for a moment then remembered. "Um, as a matter of fact, yes. Yes I did. What seems to be the trouble?"
"My partner Officer Beynolds and I are investigating what happened to those young boys that Father McClellan here found earlier this morning."
"Oh yes. Tragic."
"This may sound strange, doctor, but the reason we had Father McClellan placed on suicide watch is because we had come across a case about thirty years ago that is similar to what Father McClellan went through. Once we became aware of the strange letters he was making, we were afraid that Father McClellan may try to harm himself, as that is what happened to the priest all that time ago. You follow me?"
"Yes. Father McClellan was behaving rather strangely when he was brought in. Those letters he kept making were rather peculiar. Do you think there is some strange connection between Father McClellan and that other priest?"
"We think so but we're not quite sure," Nyles answered. "Right now, my partner is checking back at the station. We have someone looking into those letters for us. We should know something soon."
"Do you think possibly it's some type of language?"
"As of right now, that's what we're looking into."
Officer Beynolds calmly entered the room. "Hello, doctor. Officer Beynolds." He and the doctor shook hands.
"Doctor Aswand."
"Well, we have some information about those letters," Beynolds informed them.
The young nurse returned with the cups of coffee. "Here you go."
"Thank you." Beynolds took the cups and handed one to Nyles.
"You can go back to attending the Father," Doctor Aswand instructed the young girl. "Gentlemen, why don't we continue our conversation out in the hall now that she's returned."
Stepping out into the hall, all three men paced themselves away from the room and the earshot of others.
"So what'cha got?" Nyles asked his partner.
"Those letters are ancient Latin," Beynolds explained. "They're from the sixth century BC. They were adapted from the Etruscan alphabet during the seventh century BC."
"The Etruscan alphabet?" Nyles wondered. "Who would need to be speaking in a language so old?"
"I do know that some Catholic churches do speak Latin in their ceremonies," Doctor Aswand offered. "Of course, I'm Muslim, but I am aware of other faiths."
"But ancient Latin?" Nyles couldn't wrap his head around it.
"That's not all," Beynolds continued. "What Father McClellan was writing and what those markings were on the others is a phrase. Mors voluntaria."
"What the hell does that mean?" Nyles questioned.
Beynolds took a sip of his coffee. "It means suicide."

©2017 Robert Sticek