Chapter Twenty-Four

After my grandpa’s reaction, I walked toward the church fearing what I would find. I’d seen pictures of some of the old Catholic churches, complete with gargoyles and stone saints staring out at the sinners, but this church was nothing like that. A simple building stood in front of me. The red brick walls stretched up to plain slate roof.

No snarling animals or stern visages were anywhere to be seen. I couldn’t imagine what my grandpa’s problem was. In fact, where was he? I looked up the street toward his house. I thought he would beat us here. Tanner and I waited in front of the building for several minutes. Fidgeting in my irritation, I started pacing in front of the steps, dragging Tanner along with me because he refused to let go of my hand.

My grandpa still hadn’t appeared when the old door of the church creaked open. I spun around to lock eyes with a middle aged man dressed in black. The little square of white on his collar and the cross dangling from his neck named him as Father Margulies.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Um, good morning,” I said, glancing around for my grandpa. Where was he?

“Good morning, Father,” Tanner said.

“I saw you two arrive a few minutes ago. I waited for you to come in, but you seemed to be reluctant to open the door,” Father Margulies said. “I thought I would make it a little easier for you. I often counsel youth in need of answers. If there’s anything I can do to help, I would be happy to listen.”

He watched us carefully. He knew Tanner, obviously, and I supposed he could probably guess who I was, but his focused gaze suggested he was searching our faces for something more than our names. Suddenly the fact that he was a priest and that we were two teenagers standing in front of a church very early in the morning without our parents seemed to click and I realized he was wondering what sin we were there to confess. Tanner seemed to come to the same conclusion.

“Father Margulies, we aren’t here to…confess anything. We just needed to talk to you about a, uh, point of doctrine, I guess.” Father Margulies raised an eyebrow. “We were only waiting for Arra’s grandfather to get here before we came in,” Tanner said.

I was grateful to him for speaking up. I was still tongue-tied with embarrassment.

“Alden Malo is your grandfather, isn’t he?” Father Margulies asked. I nodded. “Why don’t you come on in. Alden knows to come right in when he gets here. He and I have visited many times.”

“You have?” I asked.

“Oh yes, many times. We do not often see eye to eye on many points because of Alden’s strong aversion to religion in general, but we do often speak of spiritual matters,” he said. “Follow me inside and we can speak about whatever you like.”

Tanner and I did follow him, but I could not help glancing back before the door swung closed. Why was my grandfather so hesitant to come speak with the priest if he had done so plenty of times before? Would he not show up just because he doesn’t like going to church? Anger had me tightening my hold on Tanner’s hand. He only squeezed my hand in return. Grandpa would be here soon, I told myself. He promised.

“So, Miss Arrabella Malo, what exactly would you like to ask me?” Father Margulies asked after we were all seated in his office. “Would it have anything to do with Aztec gods?”

Apparently he and my grandpa had talked quite a bit. “Yes, it does,” I said.

“What is your question?”

“Are they real? Can they really make promises with people?”

Father Margulies seemed to be expecting the question. “When is your birthday, Arrabella?”

“Today. I’m sixteen.”

He nodded as if expecting that as well.

“Father, it seems that you know why we’re here,” Tanner said. “Is any of this real?”

“Do you believe it is real?” the priest asked Tanner.

“Yes, I do.”

Father Margulies nodded. I wondered whether he was ever going to actually answer a question.

“I have met with Alden Malo several times to discuss the reality of the curse he believes is on his family. A few years ago I would have said that it was all a delusion, but Alden has some very convincing evidence. I never knew his sister Maera, but I knew Katie,” he said sadly. “I remember her death. I remember the strangeness surrounding her passing very well.”

“Do you believe the curse is real? Tanner asked.

“I fear I have no choice but to believe,” the priest said. He looked up at the door behind us. Tanner and I followed his gaze. The door now stood open, my grandpa holding it open with one hand. The other hand was stuffed in his pocket. “Good morning, Alden,” Father Margulies said.

My grandpa’s eyes fell to me. They looked tired and worn. He must not have gotten very much sleep last night either.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I said quietly.

“Of course I was coming, it just took me a little longer to get ready than I thought it would. I wanted to give you something,” he said. Taking his hand out of his pocket two thin strands of gold trailed after his fingers. One held a simple locket, the other a small gem. “These belonged to Maera and Katie. I wanted you to have them. I know that they would both want to help you if they could.”

I let him slip the necklaces around my neck. The warm metal pulsed against my skin. I imagined that I could feel them placing their hands on me, lending me strength and hope. “Thank you, Grandpa.”

He shuffled around me to an empty seat and slumped into it. “So you’ve changed you mind, have you?” he said. His comments were directed at the priest, but Father Margulies gave his answer to me.

“Your grandfather has spent many years trying to convince me of the curse on his family. He showed me all the names and dates and pictures and told me the stories as well,” he said. He turned back to my grandpa. “I never said I didn’t believe you, Alden, you just didn’t like any of the explanations I tried to offer. You assume I do not believe because I didn’t just take everything you said at face value.”

“You tried to work my family’s history into your church’s beliefs. That’s not why I came to you. I don’t want to hear you talk about the devil or evil spirits or whatever else you want to attribute this to. Those mean nothing to me,” my grandpa said. The heat in his voice shocked me. My grandpa never got angry. The only other emotion I’d ever seen him exhibit besides his usual cheerfulness was sadness, never anger. And at a priest, even.

“Then why did you come to me?” Father Margulies asked.

“Because…because you know about these kinds of things, dealing with gods and making promises. I wanted to understand what had happened,” he said.

Now the priest turned back to me and Tanner. “And why have you two come to me today? For the same reason?”

Tanner and I glanced at each other. “Not exactly,” I said. “My question is simple. How do we make it stop?”

“Arrabella, if I knew the answer to that question, you would be at home in your bed, not sitting here in front of me,” he said.

I looked over at Tanner, my eyes filling with tears. His hand was crushing mine and his eyes offered a silent apology.

“There’s nothing left,” I whispered. Tanner’s suggestion had offered me hope again. The religions were miles apart, but there had to be enough similarities to give him some idea of what a god would want with so many dead young women. “Why is this happening?” I asked, looking up at the priest again.

“Often one person’s choices affect much more than they ever expect. Sometimes the results are wonderful, and sometimes they are not,” he said.

“What would this god want with me? I did nothing to deserve this. Why doesn’t he punish Kivera instead?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Perhaps he thought making her live with her decision would be more of a punishment than taking her life. The reasoning behind what an Aztec god, real or not, wants is probably beyond me, but I am familiar with other vindictive powers in this world and such beings often simply want to spread their misery as far as possible,” the priest said.

“There has to be a way to stop this,” Tanner said. “You must have some idea of what we can do.”

Father Margulies leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face close to mine. “The woman in the story was punished for her selfishness. It may be that only an act of selfless love and courage can break the chain.”

“What does that mean?” Tanner asked.

The priest leaned back. “It is just a thought, Tanner. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything more.”

Tanner stewed in his seat. He had such hope in this idea. Failure streaked across his features, but I sat calmly in my chair. I was glad we had come to visit Father Margulies. Even though he had no prayer or exorcism that could free me from this fate, his last words struck something inside of me. He believed the chain of death could be broken if someone could just figure out what it would take to do it.

Would I be the one? I had very little faith that I would, but there was hope that someone would. If I didn’t find that answer in the next few hours, maybe the next person in this line of contrition would find a way. Maybe I would at least be the last.