Twisted Linen (17 page)

A muffled scream captures Simon’s attention
as Baculo’s thug steps into the light on the balcony above. The
thug holds Grace from behind. She’s gagged with her hands bound
behind her back, still wearing the shiny red dress.

Grace shrieks a stifled, “
Simon
.”

It’s a muffled word barely recognizable
through her gag, but Simon knows she is pleading for him to come to
her aid.

Simon springs a few steps toward her and
screams, “Let her go!”

In response the thug forces Grace’s torso
over the balcony railing, threatening to push her over.

Simon immediately draws the 9mm, but the thug
quickly hunches down behind Grace’s body, negating a clean
shot.

“I won’t repeat myself!” Simon bluffs.

Grace uses her bare feet to kick at the thug
concealed behind her, and the struggle causes her to slide farther
over the railing. She is helpless with her hands bound behind her
back, and she’s unable to resist the awkward position. It’s futile;
she submits and becomes motionless, hoping the thug won’t push her
over the railing.

Just then, a muffled gunshot rings out from
high above. Simon didn’t shoot – somebody’s shooting at him. The
bullet splatters the ground just beside his feet. The shot is
immediately followed by the sound of Baculo’s voice. His voice
comes from behind Simon, somewhere in the upper balcony.

“Put that gun down! Do it now, before I have
you both killed,” Baculo demands.

As Baculo coolly steps out of the shadows and
into the light, Simon spins around and levels his gun on the knot
of his gold tie. But Baculo doesn’t have a gun, and he’s not an
immediate threat. Simon spins back toward Grace, and levels his gun
sights on the thug’s exposed leg calf just as another round is
fired at Simon. The bullet hits even closer to his feet this time.
There is obviously a sniper somewhere above, and he could be
anywhere. Simon’s efforts are in vain; there is little chance of
free Grace is a gun fight.

In surrender Simon tosses the pistol aside
and holds his hands out to the side. “Easy! Just take it easy.
Check with Genovi. He’ll surrender the Shroud directly to your
Priest.”

“Good boy,” Baculo arrogantly responds.

Baculo begins to walk the perimeter of the
balcony above, meandering through each archway, in and out of
shadows, in and out of the light, making his way around toward
Grace.

“Did you know that you stand in an ancient
monastery, Mr. LaCroix?” Baculo expounds. “Before becoming the
museum we see today, this monastery was used as a bull fighting
ring. In the not too distant past, bloody sacrifices took place
right under your feet.”

Baculo stops for a moment to extend his arms
like an emperor would do in that day. “Those in power would stand
in these very balconies and celebrate the sacrifices.”

Simon tracks Baculo’s movements, glancing
back and forth between him and Grace.

“Can you imagine a bull running out from one
of these dark archways below…charging you? If your livelihood
depended on it, I think you would viciously sacrifice it.”

As Baculo moves closer to Grace with each
step, Simon realizes this is a familiar circumstance. It’s a
situation Simon finds very demoralizing.

“How I would like to see you fight such a
great beast,” Baculo says before turning to address all the ghostly
quadrants of the arena. “I can almost hear the echoes of the
crowds.”

Grace struggles to look up from her awkward
position, trying to make eye contact with Simon. She calls out but
the pressure of the railing in her stomach takes away her
breath.

Baculo passes through the last archway
separating him from Grace and then slowly reaches over the railing
so he can caress her hair one more time, thinking of the erogenous
sniff taken at dinner last night. The fantasy almost overwhelms
Baculo and he fights to control his flesh; he knows there is a plan
in place, and he was commanded to follow it precisely.

“Do you like the virgin dress I picked out
for her?” Baculo taunts as he adjusts the shoulder strap of her
dress.

Simon remains unwavering and resists the
temptation to show any emotion. He knows it will only encourage
Baculo’s tormenting nature. “What are you doing, Baculo? Do you
have any idea what you are doing?”

Baculo relentlessly continues.

“You know we are all called to make
sacrifices to our Gods? You know that, Simon?”

Baculo grabs a handful of Grace’s hair and
gently pulls her head upward, suggesting her as the sacrifice.

“Are you willing?” Baculo asks with a wicked
smirk.

Silent tears stream down Grace’s face, her
eyes plead in terror. Simon struggles to hold his emotions at bay
and then addresses Baculo calmly, “You know that you are completely
sadistic. You know that? Right?”

Baculo pauses, and then darkens a little
before saying, “Time is running out…”

Baculo releases Grace’s hair and the thug
pulls her body upright, then clutches her throat from behind. Simon
and Grace exchange one last tender gaze before she is pulled back
through an archway, and disappears into its dark corridor.

“Wait!” Simon screams, his voice cracking and
faltering. “Let me talk with Genovi.”

Baculo snickers and then boldly proclaims,
“You think Genovi answers to you.”

Simon holds out his hands in surrender, then
slowly pulls the phone out of his pocket. “Just one call…you’ll
have your Shroud,” he pleads.

Baculo agrees with a short nod. Then his
wicked smile returns and he disappears into the shadows, following
the unknown path of his thug and Grace.

“Baculo, give me a minute!” Simon pleads in
desperation.

Baculo is gone, and Simon begins to mumble in
distress while he dials Genovi.

Genovi quickly answers and Simon jabbers,
“It’s over. Give it to them.”

“If I do, Cohen will be healed,” Genovi
warns.

“Forget Cohen!” Simon yells, baffled by
Genovi’s calmness. “They are going to sacrifice Grace…give them the
Shroud!”

“Cohen was man-made. He’s empty, soulless,
void of the Spirit of God.”

“Don't fight this, Genovi…Now listen to me! I
will take care of Cohen. If they heal him, I will hunt him down.
I'll won’t stop until I blow his head completely off. I’ll make
sure there’s nothing left to heal this time. I give you my word…
Now please, surrender the Shroud.”

Genovi calmly responds, “You won't…you can't.
He'll be God in the flesh.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Simon yells into
the phone in utter panic. “What have they done to you?”

“Simon, we are all called to make sacrifices.
He is coming soon. I pray you will be found worthy, my son.”

“Please Genovi…she’s your daughter.”

The conversation ends, and so does Simon’s
last glimmer of hope. Nausea hits him deep in the gut and his hand
drops to a knee for balance. The silence is replaced by the
piercing ring of panic. The thought, “This can’t be happening,”
passes through his mind just as a whizzing sound passes over his
head. The “whizz” is immediately followed by the “crack” of a
gunshot. They are going to sacrifice him, not Grace, but the
shooter missed.

Simon immediately drops a knee to the ground,
trying to assess his situation: there’s only one option – run for
cover in the perimeter of the courtyard. At that moment, the color
red catches his attention. It’s Grace emerging from the lower-level
shadows of the courtyard. She is alone and unrestrained, dashing
toward him like a frightened cat. Her eyes firmly locked on his,
tears streaking her cheeks, as her long dress waves wildly in the
air behind.

Simon leaps towards Grace just as another
sniper shot is fired; it’s another fortunate miss. Simon charges
Grace, closing the distance between them with a perception of slow
motion. His mind races with a fear of disillusionment, not sure if
the semblance of Grace is real or just a hopeful illusion.

Simon’s uncertainty is answered when Grace’s
body crashes into his. It’s a tangible but glancing embrace as she
runs right over him. Their bodies tumble to the ground, entangled
in each other’s arms and legs.

The acutely frustrated voice of Baculo echoes
from an unknown location, “Hold your fire…you fool!”

Simon and Grace roll on the ground in each
other arms, chest to chest, unmindful of surrounding threats.

“Thank God you’re okay,” Simon babbles. “Are
you okay?”

Grace doesn’t respond. She just squirms in an
uncertain embrace, squeezing him tightly to her body.

Simon blurts out, “How did you get free?
How?”

“I don’t know…They just let me go,” Grace
stammers in response before burying her face into his shoulder.

From deep in the shadows, Baculo’s shouts out
again, “God found favor with you tonight, Simon.”

Simon and Grace squeeze each other tight,
confused as to what comes next.

“But we must go now,” Baculo concludes.
“Let’s shed blood another time.”

Simon’s initial sense of relief gives way to
trepidation, now realizing how lucky he was that both shots missed,
and that the Golden Dawn would never fire upon their virgin Grace,
mother of the coming King.

“It’s okay…it’s okay,” Simon utters, trying
to comfort her and himself. “It’s over…it’s over. They won’t harm
you. They can’t harm you.”

“I love you…I love you, Simon.”

“I love you so completely, Grace,” Simon
responds right before kissing her. It’s a short and anxious kiss,
but it’s a kiss they feared might never come.

Above, in the night sky, the constellation
Virgo completes the symbolic and prophetic birth of the king
planet, Jupiter. Virgo’s twelve star crown, formed by the
constellation Leo and three additional planets, adorn her head. It
is finished, and something must soon come to pass.

* * *

39

The Source

For the past seven days black thunderheads
and pounding rain kept the residents of San Sebastian indoors. But
today, a week after Rosh HaShanah, the sky begins to lighten and
the drizzling rain fades. With the storm clouds far off in the
distance, the faint rumble of thunder is barely audible. Now, the
sun peeks out through the fleeing clouds as it falls low in the
sky. This “age” is coming to an end; darkness is almost upon
us.

Locals start to emerge from their villas with
a common chatter, and they once again stroll through the streets
and meander along the seashore. The activity brings forth quiet
sounds, sounds that indicate something is moving on.

Simon and Grace just finished an early
evening swim in the ocean and now walk aimlessly along the water’s
edge. Small waves gently break fifteen yards out and roll quietly
up to their feet. Grace turns her face into the breeze, letting the
wind gently pull on her long hair.

"Tomorrow is going to be glorious," Grace
insists as she grabs Simon’s hand.

Simon looks up at the orange and red hues in
the evening sky, wondering if that will be so. Grace flicks her toe
at the water rolling up to her feet. She is
alive
like never
before; it’s apparent by the gleam in her eyes and the bounce in
her step. But for Simon, the storm has not passed completely.

Grace pulls on Simon’s hand, turning him
toward her so she can flash her brilliant smile.

“Give me a kiss,” she tenderly demands.

It’s a deep and passionate kiss, and during
it Simon catches a glimpse of her captivating eyes. Her coy manner
charms him every time, each time in a slightly different way. God
only declared nine characteristic “fruits of the Spirit,” but if He
would permit another, Simon would claim Grace’s
charm
as the
tenth. This time Grace’s charm wipes away Simon’s sullen mood and
he’s no longer able to deny the new sense of joy building within.
It’s evident by the warm smile sneaking across his face.

“Ready to head back to
your
boat?”
Simon teases.

Grace offers a kittenish look of humorous
play and responds, “You mean your boat?”

“Ha,” announces Simon. “I'll race you!”

Simon leads the way into the water, diving
over the first wave. Graces laughs with a joy that has been long
overdue and then chases after him.

Anchored not far offshore, a weathered
forty-foot SeaRay Sundancer gently bobs up and down. It’s theirs
and they named it:
The Source
. Simon and Grace race toward
The Source
while the eternal and unwavering statue of Jesus
Christ stands high above on Urgull Hill, watching with His hand
extended, as if He beckons them to come to the source.

Grace eventually closes the gap on Simon, and
as she swims by him, Simon grabs at her leg making sure she doesn’t
get too far ahead. As they approach the boat, Simon wrestles his
way around Grace and starts up the ladder. Grace grabs his swim
trunks from behind and pulls him back into the water.

“Ladies first…you cheater.”

Simon has no argument with either of those
claims.

Grace climbs aboard and collapses to the deck
with a sense of satisfaction. It’s a sense derived from a good, but
mysterious source.

“The water feels great!” Grace exclaims as
Simon leans on the transom door, trying to catch his breath.

The boat is much smaller than they originally
wanted, but it has proven to be exactly what they needed. Isolated
from shore they gather in each other's arms on the deck of the
boat.

The evening air is light and mild, gently
swirling against their still-hot skin. Simon rests his head on
Grace's chest, looking down toward her stomach. The small scar on
her abdomen captures his attention and he softly touches it.

Grace feels his touch and says, “I always
thought it was a birth mark.”