“It is of no consequence, do not concern yourself. You must trust us to do this,” she said, looking deep into Beatrice’s panic-filled eyes. She had not time to say more, as her father, already in the road, called back to her.
“Hecate, make haste, we have a cab!”
The timely arrival of the hansom was due to the fact that it was conveying Inspector Winter, summoned by Hecate’s note, to their house. He took in the scene of drama with a practiced eye.
“What’s to be done?” he asked, moving aside to allow Edward to step aboard with his son.
“We must get him to the cathedral, to Reverend Forsyth!” Hecate explained, climbing in behind her father.
He put a hand on her arm.
“Is this the work of your fiendish spirits? You think the reverend can save him?”
“It is his only hope,” she said, lowering her voice for fear her mother might hear.
He jumped up beside the driver.
“The cathedral, quick as you can,” he told him, and the carriage sped away.
Inside, Hecate took her brother’s face in her hands.
“Charlie,” she whispered, putting her mouth close to his ear. “My dearest one, hold fast. Hold fast!”
Though it was but a short journey, each minute that passed was torture for herself and for her father.
“We must find John,” she said simply.
Edward nodded but when he spoke his voice contained a note of warning. “Hecate, remember what else Father Ignatius wrote…”
“That the first exorcist himself succumbed to the spirits. I have not forgotten,” she replied, and they spoke no more of it.
On arriving at the cathedral Hecate ran ahead to the cloisters. She knew which door remained unlocked at night to permit the residents freedom to come and go from their little houses. She raced along the ancient covered walkway until she came to John’s dwelling and hammered upon the door. He opened it in seconds, having only just reached home himself, his eyes bright with surprise at seeing her.
“Hecate … good Lord, have you been attacked? Whatever has happened…?” he asked, reaching out to touch her bruised cheek.
“It is Charlie,” she gasped, refusing to let fall the tears she felt blurring her vision. “A Resurgent Spirit has taken him!”
“God save us! Where is he?” he asked, already turning to pick up a lamp and take his key ring from a hook on the wall. He ran with her back along the cloister, their footsteps dogged by jarring echoes as they went.
They found Edward and Inspector Winter waiting for them at St. John’s door. Charlie stirred a little, moaning pitifully. For a second he opened his eyes.
“Hecate?” he called out, his voice hoarse.
“I am here!” she said, taking his hand. “And John is here to help you. Do not be afraid.”
“It is so dark,” he said, even though his eyes were open and the light of the lamp was falling on his face.
“We must take him to St. Thomas Cantilupe’s shrine,” John instructed.
“Not the main altar?” Edward asked.
“St. Thomas was renowned for the number of miracles that happened in the presence of his relics. I believe it is a miracle we are in need of this day,” he said.
Hecate ran with them as they went, a worrying thought making her speak up. “But, John, there are no longer any relics in his tomb.”
He snatched candles from the stand as he passed, lighting them from the solitary burning one and handing them out. “Pilgrims have prayed at his shrine for centuries. We have his presence.”
“Will it be enough?”
“Let us pray so,” he said.
Edward laid Charlie down upon the cold flagstones next to the distinctively carved tomb, removing his own jacket to place beneath the boy’s head.
“Hecate,” John said, “stand at your brother’s head. Mr. Cavendish, at his feet, quickly now. Inspector, take the boy’s hand, if you please.” As he spoke he fell to his knees beside Charlie, the lamp set down on the floor next to him.
Hecate experienced a chill so deep it caused her bones to ache. She looked up at John then, torn between her devotion to her brother and her care for the man she was to marry.
“John,” she said quickly, “you must know … there is danger in what you do. For yourself. Great danger.”
He looked at her, his face full of compassion and resolve, and in that moment she thought that she had never loved him more.
“This is what I do, Hecate. This is who I am.” He spoke to all of them when he said, “Whatever takes place, do not move from your posts. No matter how alarming the events, we hold Charlie here between ourselves and St. Thomas, under God’s benevolent love. We must keep him within that blessed space. Keep your hands upon him now.”
They nodded their agreement and did as he bid them.
“Hecate,” Edward called to her quickly. “Be on your guard. If John succeeds in expelling the demon spirit, it will look for another home.”
“Yes, Father. We must all be ready.”
