THE CHURCH OF BLOOD

Chapter Five - Justice, Theocracy and the Bizarre

     Beynolds leaned close to the gaping wound in Professor Xavier Wallcliffe's neck.
     "Almost slit from ear to ear," he observed aloud.  "What kind of weapon makes a gouge like that?"
     Professor Wallcliffe's secretary, Tabitha, called 911 earlier this Tuesday morning when the professor wouldn't return any calls.  Classes for his chosen curriculum were canceled until further notice.
     "Dead four days," Nyles replied, shaking his head.  His sense of smell was just as badly affected as everyone else in the room.  The professor was found in his office chair, head back, mouth agape, a grisly gash exposing his larynx.  A robust amount of blood covered the body, the floor, and most of the desk and the articles covering it.  Forensics and other personnel were in their respective roles busily scouring the interior.
     "No murder weapon, no forced entry," Beynolds announced, surveying the room.
     "And suicide is definitely out of the question," Nyles mused.  "All doors and windows locked.  Some insane magic act?" he chuckled.
     "Even magic can be rationally explained," Beynolds replied.
     "True that."  Nyles adjusted his latex glove and proceeded toward the professor's desk, punching on the the answering machine.
     '"Hello, Xavier.  Father Clark.  I apologize for bothering you so late, but I'm afraid our fears about that pentagram being of the occult may be truer than we realized.  Please return my call at your earliest convenience.  I appreciate it, my friend.  God's peace.'"
     "Father Clark." Beynolds said.
     Nyles shrugged.
     '"Xavier.  Stefano over at the University of Pennsylvania.  I looked into that pentagram you sent me.  I'd like to meet with you about that.  Let me know when's the best time for you.  Later.'"
     The machine beeped.  No more messages.
     "Both mentioned a pentagram," Nyles stated.  "Pentagrams are usually Satan worship, aren't they?"
     "Or something else," Beynolds added.  "I'd say we check out Father Clark first."
     "Alright.  Let's go."
     They left instructions with one of the investigating officers then left the premises.

                           ****

     Father Clark collapsed in his living room chair.  He ran a hand over his face.  "He's dead?"
     Nyles and Beynolds stood adjacently to the priest in his living room.  "Again, we're sorry for the news, Father," Beynolds consoled.
     Father Clark wiped tears from his eyes.  He let a breath.  "Oh," he shakily managed.  "We've been friends for many years."
     "Father, we're definitely interested in anything you can tell us," Nyles replied.  "When was the last time you saw him?"
     "It was just last Friday.  I visited him at his office on campus to discuss some kind of drawing that one of my parishioner's sons got a hold of."
     "A pentagram?" Beynolds asked.
     Father Clark stared at them.  "Yes.  Why do you ask?"
     "One of the messages on his answering machine came from you," Nyles replied.
     "Oh yes," Father Clark remembered.  "My apologies.  I've been rather busy visiting the families of those poor boys who were killed.  I've been rather scatter-brained."
     "Understood, Father, but let me ask," Beynolds said.  "You think those altar boys were killed?"
     "Of course I do.  That could not have been a suicide for those young boys.  No matter what has been reported."
     "You think there may be a connection to that pentagram you spoke of?"
     "I've never thought about it but it's possible."
     "Do you have that pentagram, Father?" Nyles asked.
     "Yes, I do.  It's in my study."
     "May we see it?"
     "Certainly."
     The two officers followed the reverend into the further recesses of the home down the hallway then into a cozy interior on the right, the farthest two walls stacked with books.  The late afternoon sunlight filtering through the light transparent curtains offered sufficient lighting but Father Clark turned the desk lamp on regardless and opened a drawer.
     "The first time I saw this was when one of my parishioners gave it to me when I visited her son in the hospital a few days ago," he explained as he handed the drawing he spoke of to Nyles.  "This was laying beside him when she and her husband found the boy unconscious."
     "Unconscious?" Beynolds echoed.
     "Yes.  I visited the family this past Sunday at their home," Father Clark continued.  "Their boy has been confined to his home for adequate rest before returning to school.  Doctor's orders.  I talked with the young man regarding that drawing there.  He didn't say much.  He did say that he was given that sane copy at school.  He was told it was some sort of game."
     "Like a Ouija board?" Beynolds asked.
     "Or something worse?"
     "Worse?" Nyles wondered.
     "Hold that to the light," the priest instructed him.  "Do you see the faint trace of red?"
     Nyles peered close.  "Um, almost.  It's very faint."
     "I strongly believe that's not colored ink or crayon or red marker."
     Beynolds and Nyles both eyed the elder priest suspiciously.
     "Father?" Beynolds pried.
     "I believe that's blood."
     "Father Clark, that's a rather bold assertion," Nyles advised.
     "We'll have forensics look at a closer look at it," Beynolds replied.
     "Gentlemen, I think that pentagram is dangerous," Father Clark warned.  "I'm a rational thinker, mind you, but I also believe that there's more beyond the physical world, the natural world.  When I visited that young man's family that day, I gave the mother communion as they were not at mass that morning.  The father is not religious.  When I gave their son communion--"
     The officers waited.
     "Father, are you okay?" Nyles asked.
     "Forgive me but what I'm about to explain will sound rather strange."
     "Go ahead, Father," Beynolds said.
     Father Clark nodded and continued.  "When I gave him communion, he recoiled and complained that the wafer burned his tongue."  He paused a moment.  "I inspected it and there was a welt there that was already starting to heal right before my eyes."
     Beynolds chuckled, shaking his head.  "You gotta admit, Father, that is pretty unbelievable."
     "Did you notice the marks on those young men's thighs?" Father Clark questioned.  "The altar boys hanging from the ceiling?  I read the papers.  Do you know what those marks mean?"
     "Morse voluntaria," Beynolds answered.
     Father Clark raised his brows in amazement.  "Very good, detective.  Can you honestly think that those altar boys were capable of assessing such a height just to hang themselves? That mark, I believe, was intended, rather foolishly I might add, to throw an investigation, such as yours, off course.  I fear that that young man I'd involved in something rather dangerous as are those other kids at school.  As were those altar boys, I'm sure."
     "The same thing happened to some altar boys at the same church thirty years ago.  Five deaths.  Five hangings.  Same markings," Nyles informed.
     Father Clark crossed himself.  "Sweet Jesus."
     "What is the boy's name, Father?  The one you visited in the hospital?"
     "Antony Ettison.  Anita and Eldridge are his parents.  I'll give you their address."  Father Clark scribbled down the information then handed it to Beynolds.
     "Thanks.  Father, there was another message on the professor's answering machine.  Some guy named Stefano at the University of Pennsylvania.  You know anything about that?"
     "I'm assuming that may be the gentleman Xavier was sending a copy of that pentagram to in order to know more about it," Father Clark explained.
     "Okay.  So both you and Professor Wallcliffe though it was connected to the occult?" Nyles questioned.
     "I'm more convinced so now," Father Clark answered.
     "We'll definitely need to talk to the professor at the university," Beynolds suggested to his partner.
     "Xavier's secretary seemed to know something about it," Father Clark offered.  "Her name is Tabitha, if I'm correct.  She was making a copy of that pentagram with the instruction to mail it to the named university.  She had mentioned that she'd seen it somewhere, assuming it was of the ancient Mayan culture."
     "Do you think it is, Father?" Nyles asked.
     The priest shook his head.  "No.  Those letters you see in the margin are more of a Hebrew nature.  Definitely not Mayan."
     "We appreciate your help, Father Clark," Beynolds replied.  He and Nyles shook the priest's hand.
     "Please keep me posted?" Father Clark said.  "If I can be of further assistance, let me know."
     "Will do, Father," Nyles agreed.
     "I'll show you out," Father Clark offered, leading the two detectives out of the study.

                           ****

     Officers Nyles and Beynolds visited Professor Stefano Rummings at the University of Pennsylvania later that afternoon after questioning Father Clark at his home.  On the way, the detectives relayed to each other their assessments of their investigation, both agreeing that they may just be stepping into some rather dark territory.  Trying to connect the dots from the deaths of the altar boys recently discovered and the connection to the same incident at the same church thirty years ago to the death of Professor Wallcliffe to the unbelievable (yet equally eerie) discussion with Father Clark, they were now hoping that talking with the other professor would open the door to better understanding the root cause of the strange occurrences they were investigating.  If it all was definitely connected to the occult, it was pointing possibly to a very dangerous one.
     The middle-aged professor stood at his desk and greeted the two detectives with a hearty handshake.  "Hello, officers," he replied with a massive grin.  "Pleased to meet you.  Have a seat."
     Upon sitting down, Nyles gestured to the professor's eye patch.  "May I ask what happened?"
     "Domestic dispute several years ago," Professor Rummings answered.  "Caught my wife cheating, we got into a fight, and she tried to remove my eye with a butter knife." He chuckled.  "Just a year after our honeymoon."
     Nyles winced.  "Damn."
     "Sorry to hear that," Beynolds said.
     "In the past," the professor said.  "So.  How may I help you gentlemen?"
     "How well did you know Professor Xavier Wallcliffe?" Beynolds questioned.
     "About two and a half to three years."
     "We're sorry to inform you but he's dead.  He was killed."
     Rummings shrank in his chair.  "What!?"
     "From the looks of things, he was murdered about four days ago.  His secretary tried getting a hold of him and then notified the authorities.  That's where we come in."
     Rummings was shaking his head.  "I just left him a message not that many days ago.  Oh my god."
     "We came across your message on his machine at his home," Nyles said.  "When did you receive that pentagram drawing he sent you?"
     "Um, I think I received it Thursday.  Why?"
     "It seems that copies of that very same piece of paper has made their rounds," Beynolds said.  "A priest has a copy of one.  Seems that one of his church members got a copy of it at school."  He produced the copy Father Clark handed him and showed it to Rummings.
     "Yes.  That's the one I was given a copy of. Do you think it's central to your investigation?"
     "Yes, we do.  We're thinking that tour fellow professor's murder might be connected. As to the five altar boys that were found hanging from the ceiling in that Catholic church, as well.  What can you tell us about the pentagram?  It is a pentagram.  Correct?"
     "Yes.  It most certainly is a pentagram," Professor Rummings agreed.  "Mind if I smoke?"
     "Go ahead."
     "Is it satanic?" Nyles asked.
     "It's not really satanic per se."
     "What do you mean?" Beynolds wondered.
     "It's connected to the Bible."  Rummings lit the cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling.  "It's worse."

©2017 Robert Sticek