Another downward thrust; and another bang rang off the ceiling high above them. The old man punctuated his every word by slamming down on his imaginary weapon. Only, it was not so imaginary, and the sound caused Alejandro to shrink away from the aisle. He tried to make himself small behind the wizard. Clark, for his part, opened his mouth to speak again—
“How is it you dare walk into the Prophet’s House uninvited?”
The wizard was summarily cut off with another downward bash of the sword. This time, the echo produced a shockwave, which washed over the pews in ripples. Involuntarily, Clark took a step backwards. He held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
“How is it you dare invade the halls of he who made the ultimate sacrifice?”
Another crash; another floating sonic boom. Clark felt his hair being blown backwards.
“He who has given himself over to the devil to use as a vessel, who has commanded us to find him even as his mind withers away from the monster’s caresses? He is no longer himself, but has engineered his own destruction so that you may live. Shame!”
The man continued advancing down the aisle. Behind him, Clark saw others join him. All held their hands in the same posture. He saw amongst them the woman whose arm he had broken, and she was wearing a sling and cast, but held the line with the rest. Somewhere towards the back, the sniper was pushed forward in a new wheelchair.
He, too, shouted: “Shame!” with the rest.
The chorus continued. With each united battle-cry, the echo got stronger. The floor shook when they brought down their swords in unison. In the middle of it all was the old man screeching: “I feel your stench, demon! I feel your desecration of these hallowed halls. How dare you remain on your feet in the Bastion of Heaven?”
Clark visibly flinched: “Now, Father Julien—”
He could barely hear himself over the latest round of accusations. Again, the tips of the swords cracked over the floor, and the force of the blow continued to buffet him like a hurricane. Clark grimaced as a thunderous crackle boomed overhead. The wizard gave way.
He saw his companion briefly while backpedaling from the incoming inquisition. Alejandro looked on, flabbergasted and frightened. Clark retreated past him, and Father Julien followed swiftly, without losing a step. When he reached the end of the pews, he reached out with a hand and deftly plucked Alejandro from his position, shoving the young man behind himself protectively. Then, he continued advancing upon Clark.
“Demon!”
The boom was repeated.
“Shame!”
The others gathered.
Robed and unrobed, they held their hands before their chests. Their knuckles were whitened where their fists were positioned atop each other. As one, they raised their hands; As one, they dropped them again and again in a single, united gesture.
The ringing flowed outwards from the tiles at their feet.
Father Julien continued shouting.
His every step was underscored by the banging of the unseen weapons. The battlefield swayed, pushed upwards against the lone trespasser. More waves crashed over Clark. The blasts slammed into him, forcing him from the main chamber into the foyer. He continued backing up until, eventually, he found himself on the steps outside. There, he saw the priest raise both arms. Father Julien threw them forward as one. With that gesture, the double doors of the church slammed shut in his face, expelling him from the building altogether.
Clark breathed.
Sighed.
Looked at the doors.
The wizard reached up to scratch his head. He remained outside for a long while, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he shrugged. Clark decided to cut his losses. The men inside had their hearts in the right place, and though he probably could have forced the issue if he wanted to, if they were not willing to talk to him, there was nothing he could do for the time being.
Clark went back to the car.
Fortunately, he had other plans.
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