Aaron appeared to be intrigued.
“Where’s your friend Yuri?” asked Michael. “He’s still on good terms with us, isn’t he?”
“Absolutely,” said Aaron. “He’s up at the Amelia Street house again. He’s trying again, through Mona’s computer. Mona said he could use her computer to contact the Elders, but the Elders are not acknowledging his pleas for clarification. It’s all rather terrible for him, I think.”
“But not for you.”
Aaron was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “No…Not as much…”
“Good,” said Michael. “Julien was suspicious of the Talamasca, I guess you got that from my note. Julien had more to say on it…but it all came down to the same thing-this creature is treacherous and deceitful; and it has to be destroyed. I’ll kill it as soon as I can.”
Aaron seemed fascinated by this.
“But what if you had it in your power? What if you had it contained where it couldn’t…”
“No. That’s the mistake. Read the poem again. I’m to kill it. Go upstairs and look at my wife again, if you have any doubts. Go hold her hand. I’ll kill it. And I will have a chance to do it. Evelyn’s poem and Julien’s visit have promised me that.”
“You’re like a man who’s experienced religious conversion,” said Aaron. “A week ago you were philosophical, almost despairing. You were actually physically sick.”
“Well, I thought my wife had abandoned me. I was grieving for my wife and for my own courage, both of which had been lost. Now I know she didn’t mean to abandon me.
“And why wouldn’t I be like St. Paul after his vision on the road to Damascus? You realize I’m the only one living who has seen and spoken to this thing?” He gave a little laugh. “Gifford, Edith, Alicia…I don’t even remember their names. All dead. And Rowan mute now, just like Deirdre. But I’m not dead. I’m not mute. I know what it looks like. I know the sound of its voice. And I’m the one to whom Julien came. I guess I do have the conviction of a convert. Or maybe just the conviction of a saint.”
He reached into his jacket pocket, drew out the medal that Ryan had returned to him, the medal which Gifford had found Christmas Day by the pool. “You gave this to me, remember?” he said to Aaron. “What’s it like when St. Michael sinks his trident into a demon? Does the demon wriggle and scream for its mother? Must be difficult to be St. Michael. This time, I will find out.”
“Julien was its enemy then? Of this you’re sure.”
Michael sighed. Ought to go upstairs. “What would the nurses do if I got in bed with her? What would they do if I just snuggled up to her and held her in my arms?”
“It’s your house,” said Aaron. “Lie beside her if you wish. Tell them to sit outside the door.”
Michael shook his head. “If only I knew she wanted me near her. If only I knew she wanted anything at all.”
He thought for a long moment.
“Aaron,” he said. “If you were he-Lasher-where would you be right now? What would you be doing?”
Aaron shook his head. “I don’t know. Michael, tell me why Julien was so sure Lasher was evil? Tell me what Julien knew.”
“Julien went after its origins. He went to Donnelaith to investigate the ruins. It wasn’t the famous circle of stones that mattered to him. It was the Cathedral. A saint named Ashlar. An early Highlands saint. The thing had something to do with the Christian times in that glen. Something to do with the saint.”
“Ashlar, I’ve heard the story of St. Ashlar,” said Aaron quietly. “It’s in the Latin files in the archives. I remember reading it, but not in connection with this case. Oh, if only they hadn’t locked Yuri out of the computers. What has Lasher to do with this saint?”
“Julien never quite figured it out. He thought at first the thing was the saint-a vengeful ghost. But it wasn’t that simple. Yet the thing did originate there, in that place. It didn’t come from heaven or hell or all time or whatever lies it always tells the witches. It started its dark destiny in the Glen of Donnelaith.” He paused. “What do you know about Ashlar?”
“It’s an old Scottish legend. Very pagan actually,” said Aaron. “Michael, why didn’t you tell me these things?”
“I am telling you, Aaron, but it doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill it. We can find out all about its past after it’s dead. So what do you know about Ashlar, the Scottish saint?”
“Ah…something about the saint returning every so many hundred years. It’s in books here and there. But I never realized it had to do with Donnelaith. There’s another mystery for you. Why wasn’t it in the files? We cross-reference. We are so careful. But I never saw a mention of any legends connected with Donnelaith. I assumed there was no relevant material.”
“But what story did you hear?”
“The saint had special physical characteristics. From time to time someone would be born having those characteristics. And he would be declared the reincarnation of the saint. The new saint. All very pagan. Not Catholic at all. In the Catholic Church if you are a saint, it’s because you are in heaven, not migrating into new flesh.”
Michael nodded. Gave a little laugh.
“Write it down for me,” said Aaron. “Everything Julien told you. You must.”
“I will, but remember what I said. Julien only had one message. It was to kill the thing. Not to be ‘interested in it,’ but to wipe it out.” Michael sighed. “Should have done it at Christmas. Should have killed it. I could have, probably, but naturally Rowan didn’t want me to. How could she? This newborn thing, this mystery. That’s what always happens. It seduces people. And now it’s flesh, and what is the old prayer, ‘And the word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us.’ ”
Aaron nodded. “Let me say it once aloud to you,” he said in a low voice, “so I don’t say it over and over forever in my heart and soul. I should have come here with you on Christmas Eve. I should not have let you come up against it alone, come up against it and her.”
“Don’t condemn her.”
“I don’t. I don’t mean that. I mean I should have been here. That’s all I mean. If it matters, I don’t intend to desert you now.”
“It matters,” said Michael, with a shrug. “But you know, I have this curious feeling. It’s going to be easy now that I’ve made up my mind. Kill it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s my problem. I was afraid to do that from the start.”
It was eight o’clock. Dark, cold. You could feel the cold if you put your hands on the panes.
Aaron had just come back for supper with Yuri. Yuri was returning to the Amelia Street house to talk to Mona. Yuri had blushed when he said he was going. Michael had realized the reason why. Yuri was taken with Mona. Then Yuri had stammered, “She reminds me of myself at her age. She is unusual. She said she would show me all her computer tricks. We will…talk.”
Flustered, stammering, blushing. Ah, the power of Mona, thought Michael. And now she had the legacy to contend with, as well as everything else.
But there was something pure about Yuri, pure and loyal and good.
“He can be trusted,” Aaron had said quietly. “He is a gentleman, and he is honorable. Mona will be quite safe in his company. Never fear.”
“No one has to fear for Mona,” said Michael, a little ashamed, and getting just a wisp again of those sensual moments, when he’d held her and knew it was wrong and that it was going to happen and so what?
There were so few times when Michael had done bad things and said, So what?
Aaron was asleep in the upstairs bedroom.
“Men of my age nap after meals,” he had said apologetically. He had gone to lie down. He was utterly exhausted, and Michael wouldn’t talk anymore about Julien just now, and maybe that was best because Aaron needed the rest.