“Meryam destroyed the remains,” Wyn said. “There’s nothing left of it.”
“And yet I’ve just come from seeing Adam,” Father Cornelius said. “He’s awake. His eyes are open and he’s grinning. When I asked who it was, lying there in the infirmary, he spit on me.”
Walker whispered a curse that might have been a prayer.
“So what do you suggest?” Polly asked, shuddering. “And please suggest something, because just doing nothing—”
“I intend to do something,” Father Cornelius interrupted. “It’s all I can think to do. But I need you all to agree that it must be done, that there is no other recourse, and that you will exert your influence to calm the rest of the staff if it ruffles feathers. We can’t be fighting about faith right now. This demon predates my own religion. If it is truly what I believe it to be, then it predates them all. But if there is any way to help Adam and to protect the rest of us, the only thing I can think of is an exorcism.”
Mr. Avci began to shake his head immediately. “I think this is a very bad idea. Very bad. Several of the Turkish students are troubled enough already. And the guides, Hakan’s workers—”
“Don’t speak for them,” Polly interrupted. “They’ve all just seen what’s happened with Adam. If you have your own troubles with it, say so, but we’ve all been working together for weeks. The Muslims and Jews on staff don’t need to believe in Christianity to want us to try everything to protect them.”
Mr. Avci huffed and fell silent. Meryam nodded her thanks to Polly.
“Do you know the rite?” Walker asked, staring at the priest. “I’ve always thought it was pure bullshit, but I know that priests who are approved to perform an exorcism go through rigorous training.”
“I haven’t had that training,” Father Cornelius said. “But I’ve observed the rite being performed. I understand its components. I’m sure the pontiff would not approve, but I’m not sure what other choice we have. The danger posed by the presence of the demon outweighs whatever danger the rite might pose to me, personally.”
Walker reached up and massaged the back of his own neck as though he was fighting an oncoming migraine. Meryam understood, but she had come to a place in her mind where she recognized that certain things simply must be done. Setting fire to the cadaver had been a necessary step, and so was this.
“Our options are to sit and wait for the demon to kill someone else, or to at least try to do something about it,” she said.
“Or climb down the mountain in the middle of a blizzard,” Wyn Douglas added.
Meryam turned to Polly. “Go to the infirmary. Ask Hakan and Feyiz to bring Adam here. Make sure he’s cuffed.”
Mr. Avci began to speak her name and Meryam shot him a withering glance.
“Your objections are noted, Avci. Report them to your government if you get off this bloody mountain alive.”
The air in the passage had grown close and stale, and strangely warm. Meryam told herself it had to be body heat, now that Feyiz and Hakan had joined them. She told herself that, and she tried to force herself to believe it. According to Polly, the storm still raged outside. She had gone to check on the rest of the staff and found most of them huddled together on level two, not far from the infirmary, and a handful of others in the camp on level one. Morning must only be a few hours away, but the temperature had continued to drop, and ice had formed on the outside of some of the plastic sheeting.
Not here, where the embers still glowed among the demon’s scorched remains. Kim stood beside Father Cornelius. The old priest knelt on a pillow that had been brought to him. On the timber floor in front of them, Adam lay on his back, hands now bound in front of him. Another zip tie had been cinched around his ankles. He wore the same stupid, silent grin he’d had when they had marched him back here. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. His skin had an oily sheen and the yellowed hue of old parchment.
Something rose up the back of Meryam’s throat when she looked at him. She didn’t know if it would be a scream or a stream of vomit, but she fought it back down.
“He’s Jewish,” Feyiz said softly, standing beside her.
“And I’m Muslim,” she replied.
But she felt the lie when she spoke the words. Adam might be more Jewish than she was Muslim, but neither of them had ever been very religious. They were both seekers, just looking for the truth. She’d always hoped the truth would reveal some hidden mysteries in the world, and Adam had hoped for the opposite. Now here she was, getting exactly what she’d wanted, in the worst way imaginable.
And it’s warm back here, she thought. The wind did not seem to want to come back here now, the cold staying away. Body heat. But she knew that wasn’t it.
Father Cornelius had been at it for the better part of an hour already. Prayer after prayer. For some of them, he had enlisted Kim Seong’s assistance, as the only faithful, avowed Catholic among them. Hakan and Walker stood at the ready, looming over Adam, ready to step in if the demon lashed out. Polly and Wyn were guarding the passages that led toward the front of the cave, making certain they wouldn’t be interrupted. Mr. Avci and Feyiz observed with Meryam. A strange crew to perform an exorcism. The word itself felt absurd when she rolled it around in her brain, so why not a group that felt equally ridiculous?
So warm, she thought. She glanced at the little dots of flame that still flickered in the demon’s ashes. The smoke had been cleared by the wind blowing through the cave, before the wind had begun to refuse to sweep the passage clean. Even the smell of smoke had abated, partly replaced by something else. Something she could at first not identify. Then it struck her. The odor reminded her of the strong scent of rich, black tea, of loose leaves when she’d first open a container. Dry and old and earthen.
“It smells strange back here,” Calliope said from behind the camera, as if reading her mind.
A frown creased Meryam’s forehead. Was Calliope crying? She glanced from the camerawoman to Adam and back again, noting the way Calliope looked at him. Really noticing for the first time.
Oh, you bitch, she thought, and then she forced her thoughts away, put her focus back on Adam. Jealousy would wait. For years she had envisioned herself as the one in the spotlight, the one who got the attention, and Adam had supported that vision. He was her partner and coauthor, but he was the man behind the camera. Had wanting the spotlight blinded her from seeing things she ought to have noticed?
Stop, she told herself. There’s nothing to be gained from this. Worry about your relationship when Adam’s free.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Feyiz asked quietly as the prayers continued.
Meryam refused to meet his eyes. “None of this is what I want. Now hush.”
Father Cornelius put his fingers in a mug full of water he’d already blessed and spattered a bit of it onto Adam’s face. Adam inhaled sharply, grin widening, and snapped his head around to stare at Meryam.
“I should really tell you,” he said.
The voice that came from his lips was not his. It was like his… enough like his that most of them probably would not have known the difference. But it had a ragged edge, a taunting quality that did not belong to him.
“… hasten to our call for help,” Father Cornelius prayed, raising his voice as if in response. “Snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noonday devil this human being made in your image and likeness. Strike terror, Lord, into the beast now laying waste your vineyard. Fill your servants with courage to fight manfully against that reprobate dragon—”