“Let go,” Darene yelled.
He held tighter as they circled upward. In seconds, they’d reached the height of the dome, and Gracie leveled out, now placidly flying, like Superman, with her arms out in front of her. They orbited the inside of the dome, and amid his panic, Luke noticed the images painted on the curved ceiling — scenes of people with bird heads feasting on platters of insects, a haloed grasshopper on a throne, trees and mountains, all against a sky blue background with white clouds.
Gracie was babbling in the language of the bald dead, and Luke eased up on his grip, resting upon her back. She swept so smoothly through the air, it felt like a dream.
“Luke” came a voice from below. He roused and looked down over his shoulder from the dizzying height. Appearing like the size of grasshoppers themselves, Mr. Cabadula was standing next to Darene on the altar. Behind them, Sfortunado was writhing in pain on the floor.
“Choke her down,” called Darene’s father. He lifted his gun, holding it in two hands as Luke was, and pulled it in tightly toward his throat.
“Choke her down,” whispered Luke. He gathered his strength and pulled back hard on the gun barrel. Gracie wheezed with the pressure and bucked her hips, trying to shake him off her back. They descended in a slow spiral.
“Keep the pressure on, no matter what,” said Mr. Cabadula. Luke peered over Gracie’s shoulder and saw Darene’s father handing her a mallet and a long brass nail. She then turned and walked to the edge of the altar. Mr. Cabadula walked to the opposite edge and crouched down.
Gracie reached a certain altitude, and no matter how much Luke put into choking her, she’d not go an inch lower. They went into a wide orbit fifteen feet above the altar, moving in an arc out over the pews and back.
“I gotta let go,” Luke yelled.
“One more minute,” said Darene.
He looked down to find her on the altar as they circled toward it. He heard her father say, “Now, Darene.” At this, she took off, sprinting toward him, her arms pumping, her hair flying. Luke watched her dash across the altar to her father, who had his hands cupped, fingers laced, in front of him. She placed her left foot in his hands, and at that instant, he pushed upward with his legs, lifting Darene, pitching her high into the air.
Luke saw everything, but it seemed at a distance. Once Darene was in flight, though, he noticed how closely they’d circled in toward her. He pulled back hard on Gracie, afraid that Darene would collide with them. She rose in an arc, flipping in midair so that as she passed just in front of them, she was completely upside down, her face toward them. At the perfect moment, she reached out, set the nail to Gracie’s forehead, and, with one deft blow, slammed it through her skull. Luke heard the sickening crunch of bone, felt Gracie go slack, and then realized that Darene was next to him. She shoved him hard. He lost his grip and fell, screaming, into the arms of Mr. Cabadula, who set him carefully on the altar. They both immediately looked up. Darene had removed her belt and had it around Gracie’s throat. She’d turned the belt tight like a tourniquet and had the ends wrapped around her wrist. She sat straight up on the back of the vanquished gritchino, her legs hanging down, and seemed able to direct the course of their slow descent by tugging in one direction or another.
Darene steered the remains of Gracie in a slow, meandering descent that ended in the open coffin. Luke shivered at the fantastic precision of Darene’s delivery. She hopped off the gritchino as it fell, like an avalanche, into the box. The lid eased down of its own accord and latched with a distinct click. Then the whole casket turned to steam and evaporated.
“Forget it,” said Luke, and covered his face with his left hand.
Darene and her father were on either side of Sfortunado, who was whimpering. Luke inched closer but really didn’t want to see either the old man’s chewed-up leg or, worse, his face. Mr. Cabadula took Darene by the arm and led her away from Sfortunado to where Luke was standing.
“Here’s my keys,” he said, putting the ring of them in her hand. “You go on ahead. I’ll clean this up.”
There were tears in Darene’s eyes when she nodded.
“What’s gonna happen with Sfortunado?” asked Luke. “Is he gritchino, like vampires make other vampires?”
“Don’t worry,” said Mr. Cabadula, and cocked the hammer of one of the pistols. “You watch too many movies.”
“Come on,” said Darene. She put her arm around Luke’s back and pulled him down the altar steps and up the aisle toward the door.
Out in the parking lot, the air was so fresh. There was a ribbon of light at the horizon. A bird sang. They got into the black Mercedes. Darene started it and pulled out of the parking lot. Neither of them spoke, and Luke dozed briefly before the car eventually came to a halt. He opened his eyes and saw that she had driven them to the lake.
They sat on a bench beneath the pines, facing the water and the dawn. He had his arm around her, and she leaned against him.
“That was sick,” he said. “What’s with your family?”
“Do you still love me?” she said.
“I loved it when you spiked Gracie. You and your dad are like a circus act or something.”
“They teach you that when you’re a kid,” she said.
“So what’s with Sfortunado? He’s not gritchino?” asked Luke. “I thought your father was going to ice him.”
“Relax,” she said, and brought her hand up to lightly trace, with the nail of her index finger, an invisible design on his forehead. Luke felt the tension leave his muscles. His eyes closed, and a moment later he was asleep. When he woke with the sunlight in his face, Darene was gone, as was the Mercedes.
Luke played sick on Monday and Tuesday and stayed home from school. He spent those days on the computer going randomly from one site to another or playing Need for Speed. The implications of the gritchino made him dizzy. He wanted to call Darene, at least text her, but when he reached for his phone, the memory of her flying upside down and striking that nail into Gracie’s skull made her even more a mystery to him than the wind of eternity.
When he did return to school Wednesday, he found out that Darene hadn’t been to class that week either. He looked for her at all the times and places they’d usually meet on a school day and asked around for her. By fifth period, he knew she wasn’t there. He cut his seventh-period class and slipped out the side door of the gym. On the path through the woods, he smoked a joint. A half hour later, he stood in front of Darene’s house.
The windows had been stripped of their curtains, and the whole place was sunk in that eerie stillness of the vacant. There was a FOR SALE sign in the ground next to the driveway. “She’s gone,” he said aloud, realizing he wasn’t sure if it was for the best or worst.
Two nights later, Luke was awakened from a nightmare of the church by a light nudging at his shoulder. “Shh,” whispered a voice. At first he thought it was his mother who’d heard him crying out from his dream. He turned to see her, but instead saw a ghastly visage illuminated from beneath and appearing to be floating in the dark. Luke gasped, then groaned, backing up against the headboard.
“Fashtulina,” said the voice. The figure moved, and the glow that had lit the face revealed itself to be a flashlight.
“Uncle Sfortunado?” said Luke.