CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kate swung her left hand, aiming her flashlight at Cox’s temple. He lifted his right hand, catching the light just before it struck. She tore her head free, baring her teeth as his thumbnail sliced the skin of her neck.
Cox forced her hand down, sending the flashlight skittering. The light flickered twice, the last flash sparking off of St. Anselm’s eyes before it went out. She bucked her hips, forcing him to release her hands to keep from falling completely off.
She placed her hands on his hips and shoved up, shrimping her hips away as she pushed him off of her. She staggered to her feet and looked around for her weapon. Either one would do.
Cox rolled to his feet and rushed her again, roaring like an animal.
Like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.
Kate sidestepped the rush and drove her knee into his head.
He flinched out of the way, then kicked at her ankles, sending her staggering to the floor.
She tried to roll out of the way, but he jumped on top of her and forced her to the ground.
He reached for her throat again, and she raked her hands over his eyes. A nail found its mark, and Cox shrieked and rolled off of her. She got to her feet and when he lunged at her again, she slammed her right knee into his temple, catching him just before he tackled her again.
Pain exploded in that knee, and she limped badly as she staggered away.
Cox retreated into the shadows, leaving Kate to guess at his whereabouts in the dark cathedral.
It was a new moon tonight, and the overcast sky outside blocked starlight, leaving only the faint echo of streetlamps to filter through the stained-glass windows.
Kate could see dim shadows up to eight feet in front of her. Past that, it was dark as coal.
She listened instead, paying attention to the soft susurrus of Cox’s slippered feet as he moved through the pews. Her knee throbbed, but she was able to move it. Bruised, not torn.
“This is pointless, Kate. God’s will must be done. Even Christ couldn’t pass this cup away from Himself.”
Cox’s voice echoed throughout the sanctuary, seeming to come from all around her. They drowned out his footsteps, and Kate cursed and spun wildly around, looking for any sign of him. From the vestry, muffled curses told her Marcus still hadn’t found a way outside.
“There’s an entire team of FBI agents coming here as we speak, Cox,” Kate said. “This is pointless. Surrender. If you want the world to hear your message, then stay alive long enough to speak it.”
Cox’s laughter reverberated across the nave. “You had your chance to kill me, Kate. God protected me. He kept me alive and brought you to me that we might perform His will. It’s like I told you from the beginning, Kate. This is ordained. You are the scapegoat. You must be sacrificed!”
His soles scraped on the ground, the sound too soft to echo.
She turned toward it and caught a blur of motion just before Cox barreled into her.
The warning allowed her to sprawl, shooting her legs behind her and dropping her hips to the ground like Marcus had taught her.
Cox cursed softly as he struggled with her weight, but before Kate could extricate herself, he used brute force to twist her onto her back.
When she hit the ground, Cox kicked her in the ribs.
Pain exploded inside of her, rippling through her body like an electric shock. She gasped and stiffened, breath hitching in agony.
He kicked her again, and she shrieked, doubling over and scrabbling for his ankles. He laughed and kicked her again, this time in the mouth. Her upper lip split, and she spat out blood as she scrambled to her feet.
Cox loomed in front of her, eyes red as blood in the dim light. She thrust her fingers toward those eyes, crying out in relief when they found their mark. Cox screamed and retreated into the darkness.
Lightning speared Kate’s left side, causing her to gasp again and press her right arm to her ribs. That sent more electricity through her, and she cried out.
Cracked ribs, more than one. That was very bad. If she overexerted herself, the ribs could separate entirely. Since the ribs were on her left side, they could pierce not only her lung but her heart.
Footsteps scraped behind her. She spun around, and Cox’s shadow flitted back into the darkness.
“Give it up, Cox,” she growled. “You won’t get me in time.”
“You’re stalling, Kate. Delaying the inevitable. Why? Why fight when you know God has called you to this end? Why struggle against the fate God has planned?”
“You keep repeating the same question,” Kate called back. “I’m going to keep giving you the same answer. You’re under arrest. Surrender now. Accept your fate.”
“I have accepted my fate!”
Footsteps rushed her again, and she spun around, throwing a jab that connected with Cox’s jaw. Liquid pain splashed down her ribs, and she remembered that she couldn’t overexert herself.
Cox growled and lunged again, and Kate threw a hard right uppercut. It slammed into Cox’s temple, and he grunted and retreated again.
Something scraped in Kate’s chest, and she gasped. Ice traveled down her legs, and her arms tingled, her nerves overwhelmed by the damage Cox had done.
No more noises came from the vestry.
“My partner’s escaped your little trap,” Kate told Cox, hoping that was true. “You need to surrender now before you give him an excuse.”
“I locked the entry doors too,” Cox told her, his voice once more echoing throughout the nave. “He won’t get in. This is between you and me and God, Kate.”
“Those locks won’t stop a fully equipped FBI SWAT team,” Kate said. “They’ll get in, and they’ll kill you.” This is your only chance to give up before you lose your life.”
“My life belongs to God,” Cox replied, “and when He requires it of me, I will gladly relinquish it. But I still have work to do. And you must accept your own fate lest your soul eternally be damned.”
Footsteps slid behind her, and Kate whirled around. Cox’s shadow retreated again, and this time, she followed it, rage overcoming her common sense for a dozen yards before something scraped in her chest again and she stopped for fear of separating her damaged ribs.
"You're not well, Cox. Listen to yourself. You've gotten worse since you escaped. You need help."
Cox cackled. “Help? What could man do to help me? You know, Cirillo tried to enforce medication when I was in prison. I refused to eat until he stopped. Satan’s poison will not keep me from performing the will of my Savior.”
“And you really think God is proud of you?” Kate challenged. “You think the God of love truly wants his Lawgiver to murder people?”
“Love is obedience!” Cox called back. “I told you that, Kate. And the Lord my God is a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children. Just like he visits your father’s iniquities on you.”
“I’ve heard it all before, Cox,” Kate called.
“You’ve tried before to convince me that my father’s actions led me to this place.
But guess what? My dad was murdered by a crazed asshole like you.
Not by God. A common criminal. Just like you’re a common criminal.
You think you’re some emissary of Heaven?
There are always killers like you. You’re just the flavor of the month.
When we bring you to justice, some other freak will show up to take your place, and we’ll bring him to justice too. ”
“Oh, Kate,” Cox retorted. “How you fight what you know to be true! Yet long before you knew of me, I knew of you. Long before your father met his fate, he told me you were destined for great things, and I knew he was right. I could see it in your eyes.”
Kate laughed despite the agony the action brought to her. “Oh yeah. Right. You knew my dad. Sure, Cox. Your lies are getting worse. Give it up. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”
“I remember how the sun fell across your eyes in the photograph. You were holding your stuffed animal, an armadillo, I believe.”
Kate stiffened, ignoring the hot nails that dug into her chest when she did.
“You held your mother with the other hand and beamed at the camera,” Cox continued. “So pure, so radiant. I knew when I saw you that you were the lamb, the one whose snow-white fleece would bear the sins of a wayward nation.”
Kate opened her mouth, to retort or to scream she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. No sound came out.
No. He must have found that photograph somewhere else. Maybe…
But she couldn’t think of where else he might have seen it. That armadillo was lost a week later, and only one picture showed her holding it. That picture had been in her father’s medical bag in her locker at the Portland Field Office for fourteen years. There was no way Cox could know about it.
Unless her father had shown it to him. Unless his path had crossed with Cox prior to his death.
Cox laughed, triumph etching his voice. “I knew as soon as I laid eyes on you that God had called me to use you, to mold you, to raise you to the creature you needed to be to cleanse humanity of its sins. And now the time has come for you to give up the ghost, Kate. For your soul to bear the iniquities of the faithless that they might find salvation.”
Footsteps pounded toward Kate. She turned toward them, but when she threw a right hand, Cox slipped outside of it and swung. Kate caught a brief glimpse of the black steel of her flashlight before it caught her temple.
She heard the impact when her body hit the ground, but she didn’t feel it. Her body buzzed, save for the cracked ribs that throbbed in agony. Her vision shook, flickering like a candle flame. She tasted iron in her mouth, and her teeth clicked together.
Cox planted his heel onto her shoulder and pulled her onto her back. He settled atop her almost gently, eyes meeting hers with the intensity of a lover’s gaze. He brushed her hair back from her cheek, his expression tender.
She tried to fight back, but she couldn’t move. Her body was limp, clinging to the last thread of consciousness.
He steadied himself on her chest, sending ripples of pain through her body. She tried to breathe, but his weight pressed on her diaphragm, turning each breath into a gasp but refusing to allow oxygen into her lungs.
His hands found her neck again, slender fingers caressing at first, thumbs sliding over her throat as they sought her windpipe. His eyes held hers, the look in them not unlike love.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”
He smiled softly at her. Then his face twisted, and he squeezed.
His fingers tightened, cinching her jugular veins shut.
Her blood pulsed, struggling to make it to her heart and from there to her brain.
His thumbs pressed down on her windpipe, and she felt the arch of the bone tense, straining to remain intact.
Gray swirled on the edges of her vision, looping across the center and growing slowly darker.
She reached for her eyes, but he straightened, pulling himself out of reach while using his longer arms to maintain his grip on her throat.
In between his thighs gripping her chest, she felt his body respond, the base motivation of his actions revealing itself in her final moments.
No servant of God was he. Just a slave to the flesh like all killers.
Her vision dimmed red, and he released a soft moan. She batted at his arms, but her strength was waning and he didn’t budge.
“Go, Kate,” he whispered. “Just go. Submit to God’s will. Thy will be done, Lord, thy will be done. Thy will be done. Go, Kate. Sleep.”
The church faded away. Kate was no longer on the floor of St. Anselm’s but in her bedroom in Mulberries, her childhood home in Chicago. She recognized the ending of the dream she’d had nearly every night since her first battle with Cox at the original Church of St. Simon and St. Jude.
Cox was leaning over her, hidden in shadow as he always was.
He was whispering, his voice soft, but this time, she could hear his words.
He spoke no prophesy, said nothing coherent.
Just waffled back and forth between a spastic recitation of Jesus’s prayer in Gethsemane and the pleading anxiety of his own carnal drive.
“Let go, Kate. Give in, God, thy will be done. Come on, Kate, please let go. Please God, let go Kate. Release.”
Her arms hung in the air, then fell slowly to the ground. Cox moaned again and leaned into her. “Yes! Yes, God, yes, Kate, go. Release, please, Kate.”
Twin bursts of light flickered from the top of Kate’s vision. Cox rolled off of her, floating away like smoke on a breeze. For a moment, Kate lay there, teetering on the edge of consciousness.
Then awareness flooded back. She coughed, gasped, coughed again, then rolled over onto her side. She gasped once more, then cried out, a wordless croak that barely surpassed a whisper.
Marcus dropped in front of her and turned her head to face his. Panic widened his eyes and pulled his lips over his teeth. “Kate? Kate!”
She swallowed. “Get him. I’m fine.”
He hesitated, but when a gunshot splintered the wood of the pew behind him, he spun toward it and fired back. Cox released a cry, and though Kate couldn’t see him, she heard the clatter of the weapon he was carrying as it fell to the floor, followed by the patter of his feet as he retreated.
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, her voice returning slightly. “Stop him.”
Marcus looked toward the church entrance. His lips thinned, and he nodded. “Stay here.”
He got to his feet and rushed after Cox.
“Don’t think I have a choice, Marcus,” Kate croaked.
For some reason, she found that hilarious. She laughed, but pain shot through her injured ribs and cut her laughter short. She winced and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She could still hear Cox’s voice in her ears, pleading for her to go, to release.
“Fuck you,” she growled. “Go to hell.”