| |
DOMINIC’S PALE COLOR turned completely white as he attempted to remain standing.
“Dom!” Tonita screamed and lunged for him. She was too late to catch him and break his fall, and too small to be of any real help should she have made it in time.
His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed with a thud onto the old wooden floorboards. His head bounced as it hit the floor—a double thud. The red stain of blood on his shirt, where the crucifix dagger had pierced his flesh and muscle, was spreading rapidly.
And to make matters worse, the monk—Brother Salvatore, let out a long moan and began to move.
“Help me,” Tonita looked quickly to Celent, then stole a glance back to the monk. She was afraid to take her eyes off the monk for too long, lest he spring back to life.
Celent, who was only now beginning to recover from his own struggle with the monk, stepped around the heap that was Brother Salvatore, and began tending to Dominic by pulling open Dominic’s shirt, attempting to wipe away as much blood as he could with the tails of the shirt. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Forget it.” Tonita looked one again in the direction of the monk, then decided that the he wasn’t going anywhere, and pushed her way between Celent and Dominic. “Let me,” she said, as she slid her hands onto Dominic’s chest and pushed, watching as the hole from the crucifix dagger opened and closed. “As far as I can tell, the dagger went in just above the heart. I think it only sank into the pectoral muscle. If it had gone any deeper, it would have caused some damage to a major organ or artery, and there would be more bleeding.” She applied pressure to the wound with booth of her hands. “Watch what I’m doing.” She gave Celent a moment to observe. “Now move your hands in, where mine are, and keep a steady pressure on his chest.”
Celent leaned in and eased his hands in place of Tonita’s, all the while maintaining pressure on the wound. He straightened up onto frail arms, pushing down as hard as he could. He could feel the beat of Dominic’s heart, and despite the blood loss and the bumps to his head, it remained strong. Dominic may have a concussion, but his heart was in good shape. “His heart is beating strongly. I don’t think that dagger did any damage to the heart or lungs,” Celent said, as he looked up at Tonita.
Tears welled in Tonita’s eyes as she looked from the Celent to Dominic.
“He’ll be all right. We’ll be all right,” Celent said.
“What about him?” Tonita looked to where the monk had fallen.
A low guttural voice stopped her from further questions. “No! The Key must die!” Brother Salvatore jumped up from his prone position on the floor and rammed into Celent with surprising speed and strength, then fell once again to the floor.
Celent’s hands, already covered in blood, gave way and he lost his balance, as his hands slipped on Dominic’s torso.
“No! La chiave deve morire. The Key, the Key must die!” Brother Salvatore, still half dazed, adrenaline charged, dragged himself, like a wounded animal, toward Dominic, using the last bit of strength.
Celent struggled on the slippery, bloodied floor. He threw his body on top of Dominic’s.
The monk pushed Celent away, then reversed the action and pulled at Celent’s clothing, dragging him closer, until a piece tore away from Celent’s jacket, throwing the monk off balance. Brother Salvatore fell forward, nearly dislodging himself from the position he had taken straddling Dominic.
Celent regained his balance and grabbed onto Dominic’s arm, holding tightly, pulling Dominic toward him in a weak attempt to get Dominic’s body away from the monk.
The monk grabbed on to Dominic’s opposite arm and a human tug of war ensued, as both Brother Salvatore and Celent pulled in opposite directions on Dominic’s arms.
Dominic’s body stretched out like those hung on a cross.
Brother Salvatore smiled at the sight.
“Let him go or you will surly suffer the wrath of God,” Celent said as he noticed a quick blur of movement from the corner of his eye.
“You fool! I am the wrath of God!” Brother Salvatore said. He stared into Celent’s eyes, daring him.
For a moment the two stood with Dominic stretched between them. Neither one giving.
Then Brother Salvatore’s eyes glazed over. The sick smile replaced by shock. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He tried to regain his stance, pushing up on arms that would not support him, and fell back again. His legs kicked out and his body shook.
Then a scream.
This time Celent heard the pop, and smelled the undeniable scent of sulfur.
Brother Salvatore slumped to his side, a slow wheezing sigh escaped through his lips.
The first shot had only grazed the monk, burning his flesh, as though coarse sandpaper had been rubbed vigorously against his skin. The second shot hit him hard. The bullet plunged into his side, tearing through his rib cage, cracking and shattering any bone that happened to be in its path, then continued through a lung before exiting Brother Salvatore’s body through his back. The wheezing sound of escaping air continued, coming from both the monk’s mouth and through the gaping hole in his side, as his bullet pierced lung discharged its once life giving breath into the room.
Celent raised his head, turning to Tonita. “You have a gun?”
It was a redundant question.
Tonita clearly had a gun. She was holding it, pointing it at the now dead body of Brother Salvatore. She lowered the gun to her side.
“I don’t,” she said, in answer to the Celent’s question. “Dominic does.”