Ritual. Part 33

'Where is this last sacrifice?' asked the soft, deep voice.

M. Musette stepped back from the altar and took hold of Martin's shoulder, turning him around so that he was facing the light. 'Here, O Lord, a boy pure in body and spirit.'

'And who gives him to Me?'

'We do, oh Lord, the church of the Celestines.'

There was a pause. Charlie could see M. Musette biting at his lower lip in tension. Then the voice said. 'Only the boy's father can give him to Me. It is the law - just as Abraham offered Isaac in the old writings.'

'My Lord, he mill give you the boy,' said M. Musette.

'The boy must be untouched, and whole,' the voice insisted.

M. Musette looked around in panic. 'Charlie?' he said. 'Charlie? Did you hear that?'

Charlie was staring at the light. A remarkable feeling had come over him; a feeling of bottomless peace and wholeness. He relaxed his arm, and the man with the close-cropped hair, sensing that something extraordinary was happening, released him. Charlie could see his whole life behind him like a tangle of black briars: all the lies, all the cheating, all the cowardice, all the aimless driving from place to place. He saw himself in hotel rooms all across America, thumbing through Polaroids of his son he hardly ever saw. He saw himself in Milwaukee, betraying the only woman he had ever really loved. Yet he knew that this part of his life was over now. He understood what it meant to have your sins redeemed. He felt as if he were being healed all over, mind and body. There were tears running down his cheeks, but he wasn't even aware of them.

'Do you have to take my son, Lord?' he whispered.

The voice replied, 'Do you believe in Me?'

Charlie nodded. 'I don't believe in what the Celestines have been doing, that's all. I don't believe that You could condone such pain and suffering.'

'If that is what you believe,' the voice told him, 'your choice is as clear as the day.'

Charlie frowned. And then he understood.

At least, G.o.d Almighty, he hoped he understood.

'Take him,' he said, so quietly that not even Mme Musette could hear him.

352.

M. Musette snapped, 'What? What? What did he say?'

'Take him,' Charlie repeated, more boldly now.

M. Musette's eyes widened. 'You're going to give him to us? Freely, willingly?'

'Not to you,' said Charlie. 'To the Lord.'

M. Musette grasped Martin's bare shoulders in unconcealed glee. 'Now, Martin!' he whooped. 'Now is your time! Now!'

Martin lifted the shining knife, and held himself out in preparation for the first cut. M. Musette rushed back to the altar, and abased himself in front of the dazzling light, and cried out, 'Lord! O, Lord! The very moment of your second coming has arrived!'

But the soft voice was suddenly stern. 'You have not summoned Me, you evil man. I came because I was aware that you had summoned another.'

M. Musette slowly raised his head. 'What?' he said. 'What do you mean? What do you mean I've summoned another? What other?'

'You have performed today the culminating ritual of him whose day is the sixth day, a spirit long banished for his cruelty and evil. Your devouring of human flesh is the greatest of all sins; and your love of its taste is the deepest of all iniquities. I came today to save the innocent and the pure, and he stands before me, freely sacrificed to Me by his father, as Abraham freely sacrificed Isaac.

'For this man knows, as Abraham knew, that your Lord is neither cruel nor murderous; that He gave His body and blood in order that man should no longer kill or maim or cause suffering to the defenceless and the innocent.

'And I say to this man, as My Father said to Abraham, 'Indeed will I greatly bless you, because you have obeyed My voice.' And I say to him, go now, and take with you those whom you love, untouched, unharmed, and always be blessed.'

M. Musette stood aghast. He turned to Charlie, and then to 353.

Martin, and then to Mme Musette. Mme Musette came over and held her arms around him, and stared at the light in mounting horror.

M. Musette screamed. 'You can't do that! You can't do that! I - I am your earthly temple!'

The voice remained completely calm. 'It is time that the temple gates were opened, and the souls of those you have taken prisoner were released, in order that they may take their rightful place by the side of their Maker. And - since you have summoned another, I shall leave you with him, in order that you and your sinful disciples may suffer the punishment which you have brought upon your own heads.'

M. Musette shrieked, 'You aren't the Lord! You aren't Christ! You're nothing but a falsehood! You're nothing but a liar and a deceiver!'

But the brilliant light began to rise up, and as it rose it faded, until the feasting hall was once more drowned in the eerie darkness of the electric storm. There was a terrible silence. M. Musette looked all around him, like a caged animal, and then he suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Martin around the neck.

'A false G.o.d!' he shouted to the silent Celestines. 'That was a false G.o.d! If we sacrifice this boy, we'll summon the real G.o.d!'

Charlie, however, without hesitation, and without being hindered by any of the Celestine a.s.sistants, strode forward and punched M. Musette hard in the side of the head. Then he twisted the sacrificial knife from Martin's grasp, and went after M. Musette with nothing in his heart but b.l.o.o.d.y revenge. Whimpering, M. Musette picked himself up, dodged back behind the altar, and fell to the floor.

'That was a false G.o.d,' he babbled. 'That wasn't Jesus, that was a. false G.o.d!; Charlie, maddened, went after him. But Robyn had left her seat and was tugging at his arm and saying, 'It's over! Charlie, it's over! All we have to do is get out of here!'

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Charlie stiffened, and stood straight, staring at M. Musette like Captain Ahab staring at Moby d.i.c.k. 'I'll kill him,' he breathed. 'By G.o.d, I'll kill him.'

But it was then that M. Musette stood up, and he was staring at Martin with bulging eyes. 'I can't,' he retched. 'I can't -!'

The room darkened. The shadows could have been filled with clotted blood. And then M. Musette clutched at his throat, and vomited blood, and chewed-up flesh.

'Oh, G.o.d,' said Mme Musette, and tried to take hold of Charlie's arm, but Charlie wrenched her away.

M. Musette's body heaved and shook in terrible convulsions. He tried to scream, but his screams were choked and gargled with half-digested human tissue. Then he arched his neck back, with his veins bulging, and began to sick up not just everything that he had eaten, but every human being that had been ingested by the Celestines, a thousand times a thousand. In the words of the voice that had spoken from the dazzling white light, the temple gates were opened, and the souls of all those who had been taken prisoner were released.

M. Musette's mouth stretched wide. He couldn't speak. Only his eyes betrayed his agony. Out from his lips fountained blood and brains and human flesh, gallons of it, dark red and pungent, hosing the floor of the feasting hall. The Celestine Guides screamed and shouted and began to elbow each other toward the doors.

Then, however, two eyes appeared. Two scarlet flaring eyes, and the smoky outline of something grisly and bizarre. The Celestines fell silent again, and turned and stared at the altar. The eyes flicked this way and that, reddened as coals, mesmerizing everybody they looked at.

'Baron Samedi,' breathed Robyn. 'They've summoned up Baron Samedi.'

A deep rumbling noise shook the building from end to end. Lightning crackled and blasted against the roof. The scarlet eyes glared this way and that, and everywhere they glared, people 355.

people burst into flames, as if they were made out of nothing but sawdust and sticks. Charlie grabbed Robyn with one hand, and Martin with the other, and said, 'Let's go This whole place is going up!'

They struggled their way between screaming, hysterical Celestines. On either side of them as they pushed their way towards the exit, people were spontaneously exploding into flames. Their shrieking was so intense that at times it was inaudible, like a hundred-strong chorus of dog-whistles.

They reached the doors; Robyn whimpering, Martin silent and still and robotic in his movements, but obedient. After all, hadn't M. and Mme Musette taught him obedience? From now on, he would do everything that he was told.

Charlie turned around. He saw M. Musette, thigh-deep in regurgitated tissue, still endlessly vomiting one thousand times one thousand. He saw Mme Musette, with her wimple alight, rigid with hysteria and fear.

Behind them both, smoky and vague, but with eyes that burned like coals from h.e.l.l, he saw Baron Samedi, the voodoo devil, wreaking his revenge on all those who had disturbed him from his thousand-year sleep.

They let the doors swing shut behind them. Then they hobbled and ran across the compound. A Cherokee four-wheel-drive was parked down at the end of the accommodation block, with the keys still in it. Charlie wrenched open the doors, and said, 'Come on. Let's burn rubber.'

They drove into a day that loomed all around them as dark as night. Lightning crackled down on either side. In the rear-view mirror, Charlie saw the Celestine building blazing from end to end, and even before he reached the bend in the track, he saw the roof collapse, showering fire and molten metal on the congregation who called themselves the Heavenly Ones.

He drove straight through the metal barrier which protected the property, and headed east. Baton Rouge, Hammond, and then Route 59 back towards New York.

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They had driven only two miles before Martin began to shiver from cold, and weep. Robyn helped Charlie out of his coat, and draped it over Martin's shoulders. She looked at Charlie with that expression which convinced him that he loved her, and smiled. 'Martin's fine, Charlie. I do believe you've managed to get your son back.'

After ten miles of high-speed driving, just east of the At-chafalaya, Charlie pulled the Cherokee off the road and killed the engine. The storm had pa.s.sed over, the sun was beginning to drift through the clouds, and there was a smell of sa.s.safras and dust in the air. Charlie bowed his head over the steering wheel for a moment, in exhaustion and delayed shock, and then turned to Martin and touched his face.

Martin didn't respond first of all; but then his eyes glittered with tears, and he took hold of Charlie's hand, fingers intertwined with fingers, and said, 'Dad. Dad. I love you, Dad.'

Charlie gave him a tight smile. 'Why don't you call me Charlie?'

'Charlie,' said Martin, and then they both held each other tight and neither or them was ashamed of crying.

'Do you know what I'm going to do?' said Charlie. 'I'm going from one Celestine church to another, one by one; and I'm going to burn them all to the ground. And, believe me, there isn't one police officer or one politician who's going to lift a finger to stop me.'

Robyn reached across the front seat and held his hand, and said, 'You're a brave man, Charlie McLean.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

It was evening, three days later, when Charlie parked the Cherokee in the driveway outside Le Reposoir. The sky was the coldest of pinks, and the trees stood tall and naked around the building's silhouetted spires. Charlie opened the Chero-kee's tailgate, and dragged out two metal jerry cans, both sloshing full with gasoline.

He carried the jerry cans one after the other up the front steps. He tried the door handles, and to his surprise the doors were unlocked. He opened them up, looked into the dark echoing hallway and called, 'Hallo? Anybody there?'

There was no response. He waited for a little while, listening, and then he hefted the jerry cans into the hallway, and set them down. Only the faintest of lights filtered down the stairs from the medieval stained-gla.s.s window. Only the faintest of breezes blew through the building that had once been called 'the little altar'.

Charlie opened up the first jerry can, tipped it over, and poured gasoline all over the floor. When it was half empty, he was able to pick it up and slosh more gasoline over-the staircase and wooden panelling. He coughed once or twice. The fumes were almost unbearable.

He was about to open the second jerry can when he thought he heard a clicking noise. He stood up straight, listening hard. It was probably a rat, or a bird. He waited a couple of moments longer, and then he began to slosh out more gasoline.

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, he thought, Fm going to burn your name off the face of the earth.

He searched in his pockets for the cigarette lighter that he 358.

had brought with him. He didn't see the small shadow that fell across the floor.

He didn't see the small hooded figure that approached him silently as a ghost; and the dull blade of a machete that caught the very last strains of evening sunlight.