The Covenant Of The Flame

'Thank you,' Tess breathed.

'I don't need thanks. What I insist on is what you promised – gratitude,' the stranger said. He motioned toward the driver in the van, who steered from the lot and headed toward the clinic.

'Gratitude?' Craig rested his hand on the stranger's weapon, which he'd shoved in a pocket of his suitcoat.

Three of the neutral-faced men gripped pistols and flanked him.

'Yes,' Craig said. 'Of course. By all means. What am I thinking of? Gratitude!'

'So why don't we go inside the rectory,' the stranger said, 'and discuss how glad you are to be alive? And discuss our mutual problem? And discuss the vermin?'

'The vermin.' Tess jerked up her arms, assaulted by insanity. 'Damn. You bet. The vermin. We certainly have to discuss the-'

'You're verging on lack of control,' the stranger said. 'I urge you, don't lose it.'

'Listen, I've kept control through hell,' Tess said. 'I've seen my mother die. I've been chased and shot at. I've shot in return. I've killed. Do you honestly think that you and these three men scare me? I'm an expert in keeping control, no matter how terrified I…!'

'Tess, I say it again – you don't need to be afraid. We're here to help you, not threaten you. As long as Lieutenant Craig keeps his hand away from the weapon I graciously surrendered to him.'

'Well, your generosity is obviously a problem,' Craig said. 'Here. Watch my hand. I'll move it slowly. Carefully. Fingertips only. No threat, right? Here. Satisfied? Take it. The way things are, with these men beside and behind me, it's useless to me anyhow.'

Craig handed the weapon to him.

'Dramatic but unnecessary,' the stranger said. 'Especially since I can see the bulge of another weapon under your belt, concealed by your suitcoat. No problem. You don't know it, but we're working together.'

'Oh, yes, of course,' Craig said.

'I understand your skepticism. All right, then,' the stranger said. 'We'll enter the rectory. We'll exchange opinions. I'll tell you about the vermin, and you'll tell me if you're prepared to help.'

'What I need is help,' Tess said.

'Wrong! To save your life, what you need to do is cooperate, to help exterminate the vermin.'

NINETEEN

The rectory smelled of must. In the gloomy vestibule, cracked-leather chairs were positioned at random, a dust-covered desk the center of focus. Cob-webbed religious pictures hung on oak-Paneled walls in need of polishing.

Tess felt exhausted, the aftereffect of adrenaline. 'Before we begin…"

'Whatever you need,' the stranger said.

'The bathroom.'

'Of course. To the right. Down that hallway. The first door on the left. I'm sure you'll want to clean the traces of vomit from your chin and your blouse.'

Tess raised a hand, embarrassed.

'No need to be self-conscious. On occasion, during violence, I've vomited as well.'

'How encouraging,' Tess said grimly. She proceeded toward the restroom, entered weakly, and locked the door. Only as she opened her belt, did she notice that unaware she must have picked up her handgun after the stranger had released his paralyzing grip in the garden.

The weapon nearly fell from her loosened belt. She grabbed it, set it next to her on the sink, pulled down her jeans, and settled onto the seat. Her nostrils quivered. Her urine stank from fear. Disgusted, she rose, rebuckled her pants, and rinsed her face, doing her best to swab the stains from her blouse.

At once, she grabbed the gun. All along, the stranger must have noticed it beneath her belt. He could have taken it anytime.

But he'd let her keep it.

Why?

A sign.

A gesture.

Of cooperation.

Of reassurance.

All right, she thought and zipped up her jeans, returning the gun beneath her belt. I'm getting the message.

Feel safe.

But don't be aggressive.

She flushed the toilet, unlocked the washroom door, and walked with feigned confidence down the hallway toward the vestibule.

TWENTY

In the dim light through the murky windows, Tess glanced at Craig, who sat on one of the cracked-leather chairs. He sipped from a glass of water.

So did the other men. Several bottles and glasses had been placed on the desk.

When the stranger handed her a glass, Tess suddenly realized how dry and thick her tongue felt. She hurriedly drank, barely tasting the cool pure liquid. She couldn't remember when she'd been this thirsty.

She grabbed a bottle, refilled the glass, and drained it. Drops of water clung to her lips.

When she reached to refill the glass yet again, the stranger gently put a hand on her arm. 'No. Too much at once might make you sick.'

Tess studied him, then nodded.

'Sit,' the stranger added. Try to relax.'

'Come on. Relax? You've got to be kidding.' All the same, Tess moved a chair next to Craig. Its brittle leather creaked when she slumped upon it.

'So.' The stranger raised his eyebrows. 'Is there anything else you need? Are we ready now for our talk?'

'I'm definitely ready for answers.' Craig straightened, rigid. 'Who the hell are you? What's this all about? What's going on?'

The stranger considered him. His brooding silence lengthened. At last he sighed. 'I can't answer your questions until you answer mine.'

'Then we're not ready for a talk,' Craig said. 'I ran out of patience quite a while ago. I…'

'Please,' the stranger said. 'Indulge me.' He directed his eyes toward Tess. 'How much have you discovered about the vermin? Do you understand why they want to kill you?'

Tess frowned. 'The way you say that… Your tone. It doesn't sound as if you're puzzled. It's as if you already know the answers but wonder if I know.'

The stranger cocked his head. 'Impressive. To repeat my earlier compliment, you're very observant. But what I know isn't the issue. Tell me. How much have you discovered?'

Tess pivoted toward Craig, who debated, then shrugged.

'It's a standoff,' Craig said. 'Go ahead. Tell him. Maybe he'll answer our questions.'

'Or maybe if I do, they'll kill us.'

'No, Tess,' the stranger said. 'Whatever happens, we are not your enemy. On the contrary.' He reached inside a pocket of his jacket and placed a ring on his finger.

The other men followed his example.

Their rings were dramatic. Each had a glinting golden band, a shimmering ruby embossed with a golden intersecting cross and sword.

'Few outsiders have seen these rings,' the stranger said. 'We show them as a sign of respect, of trust, of obligation.'

'A cross and a sword?'

The stranger lowered his gaze toward the ring. 'An appropriate symbol. Religion and retribution. Tell me, Tess, and I'll tell you. Why do the vermin want to kill you?

'Because of…' Confused, frightened, Tess opened her mouth.

Hesitated.

Then confessed. Unburdened. Revealed.

Throughout, she glanced at Craig, who pretended to listen, his shoulders braced, while he checked the exits, never interrupting.

Mithras. Montsegur. The treasure. Joseph's bedroom. The bas-relief statue. A war between a good god and an evil one.

Exhausted, Tess slumped back, the cracked-leather chair sagging beneath her. They want to stop me from telling others what I know, from showing the photographs.'