The Devil's Labyrinth

CHAPTER 47

RYAN’S HEAD SNAPPED UP.

A sound!

Faint, but definitely there, coming from somewhere in the blackness beyond the chapel’s altar.

Both the candle he held as he sat in the confessional and the one in the sand had burned halfway down, yet it didn’t feel like nearly enough time could have passed for that much wax to have burned.

Another sound.

This time it was the unmistakable sound of an ancient lock in a heavy door.

Then the squeal of rusty hinges, echoing off the stone walls of the chapel followed by a scraping sound.

Though he could see nothing beyond the faint pools of light cast by the two candles, he was certain the last sound had to be the vestry door sagging on its hinges and dragging on the stone floor as it swung open.

A moment later, the lights came on.

Ryan shielded his eyes against the sudden glare.

“In the confessional, Ryan?” he heard Father Sebastian ask, his voice echoing oddly. “Surely you know your sins have to be confessed to a priest, not merely to an empty booth.”

Ryan stood and stepped out of the confessional. “I–I just didn’t want to sit on the floor,” he stammered, finally dropping his hand from his eyes to look directly into Father Sebastian’s face. But the priest’s expression was as bland as his voice had been, utterly unreadable.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ryan,” Father Sebastian said now. “In fact, though you may not have been praying yourself, I think of you as an answer to my own prayers.”

A chill ran through Ryan that had nothing to do with the cold stone of the chapel, and his mind began racing. He’d heard the vestry door unlock, but had he heard the priest lock it again? Or even close it?

No! It was still open. If he could shove the priest aside — just knock him off his feet for a moment—

But then what? Where did that door lead to?

More tunnels? How would he ever find his way out? “An answer to your prayers?” Ryan echoed, stalling for time. “What does that mean?”

Father Sebastian’s lips formed a smile, but there was a coldness in his eyes that Ryan had never seen before. “I needed help, and God has sent me you. The one person I would have chosen myself. Isn’t it wonderful to have been chosen by God?”

Ryan’s eyes flicked all over the chapel, searching for a way out, but except for the vestry door behind the altar, there was none. And Father Sebastian’s tall figure stood directly between Ryan and that door.

“I–I don’t think God chose me for anything,” Ryan said.

“Ah, but He did,” the priest said, moving closer.

Ryan edged back until he could go no farther, his back pressed against the locked main door.

“The Pope is coming to visit us,” Sebastian said, moving closer. “He expects to see a miracle, and you and I, together, are going to show him one.”

Once again Ryan’s eyes darted around the chamber, coming to rest on the contorted face of Christ that was suspended high above the altar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice from trembling. “I don’t know anything about miracles or—”

“You don’t need to know anything,” Father Sebastian said softly. “I know enough for both of us. I know all about the evil that resides inside you, Ryan. I know all about it, and I know how to draw it forth.”

“I’m not ev—” Ryan began, but once again the priest cut him off.

“There is evil inside of every Catholic, Ryan. But I know how to control it. And I know how to exorcise it as well. His Holiness will watch it, Ryan. He’ll watch me drive the evil from your soul.”

The priest moved closer, and Ryan smelled something acrid emanating from him. Instinctively, he pressed back harder against the chapel door, but when it didn’t budge he suddenly ducked his head, twisted to the right, and bolted for the vestry door behind the altar, certain that wherever it led had to be safer than the chapel itself.

But the priest anticipated his move, and grabbed Ryan’s arm with far more strength than the boy expected, pulling him off balance. A second later Father Sebastian’s free hand was clamping some kind of wet rag over his mouth and nose. Ryan fought to hold his breath against the acrid fumes emanating from the rag, but it was no use.

His own strength seemed to ebb away as the priest’s grew. Within a few seconds, Ryan’s heart was pounding in his chest, and, despite his own will, his instinct for air overcame his reason and his lungs expanded, sucking in great gulps of the terrible fumes.

It was as if a plug had been pulled inside him, and what little strength was left in his body seemed to leak out of his limbs.

He felt himself slump against the priest, and then drop to his knees on the cold stone.

“It’s all right, Ryan,” he heard Father Sebastian say. “When you wake up, you’ll be a new person.”

Ryan gazed up at the priest’s smiling, gentle face — marred only by two cold, empty eyes — and then the blackness poured in from all around him.

With no way to escape, Ryan gave himself up to blackness.