Chapter 4 - The Coffin In The Courtyard
The piercing shriek of the convent’s mechanical brass bell tore through the mountain night, echoing off the canyon walls and shattering the midnight calm.
Mother Caridad stood in the center of the dark courtyard, gripping the thick bell rope with both hands, throwing the entire weight of her seventy-year-old body into every downward pull. Clang! Clang! Clang! It was the distress signal—the alarm reserved for wildfire, flood, or violent assault. In the village two miles down the valley, lights were already beginning to flicker awake.
""Stop that infernal bell!""
A violent blow struck Caridad across the shoulders, sending her crashing to the hard cobblestones. Dr. Paloma stood over her, his chest heaving, his face contorted in a mask of panic and rage. Behind him, Monsignor Fernando emerged from the cloister arcade, his immaculate cassock stained with garden mud, his silver cross swinging wildly against his chest.
""Where is she?"" Fernando demanded, grabbing Caridad by the collar of her tunic and hauling her upright against the stone edge of the fountain. ""Where did you send her, Caridad?""
Caridad coughed, tasting the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, but she looked straight into the eyes of the corrupt priest and smiled. ""She is gone, Fernando. Beyond your reach. Beyond your needles and your filthy money.""
""Foolish old woman!"" Fernando snarled, shoving her back down. ""Do you have any idea what you've done? The clients who financed this cycle do not accept refunds! If that girl is not in the clinic within forty-eight hours, they will dismantle my diocese, my career, my life!""
""Your soul was dismantled long ago,"" Caridad whispered.
""Search the road!"" Fernando barked at Paloma. ""Take my sedan. She has two children; she cannot have made it past the lower bridge. Find her, sedate her, and bring her to the mountain cottage. We handle the abbess later!""
Paloma sprinted toward the garage, his tires screeching violently seconds later as the black car tore down the mountain gravel.
Fernando stood over Caridad, his breath steaming in the freezing air. The distant sound of sirens began to rise from the valley floor. The volunteer fire brigade had answered the bell. Fernando looked toward the front gates, then back down at the battered abbess. He knew he could not be caught standing over a beaten nun.
With a cold, calculating glare, Fernando grabbed Caridad by the arms and dragged her into the convent’s rear mortuary chapel—a stone outbuilding used to hold the bodies of deceased sisters before burial. Inside sat a heavy pine casket, newly delivered the previous week for Sister Beatrice, who was in the final stages of consumption.
""You wanted to interfere in matters of life and death, Reverend Mother,"" Fernando hissed, shoving Caridad into the dark, suffocating room. ""Let us see how loud you scream when the valley men arrive.""
He slammed the thick oak mortuary door shut and wedged an iron crowbar through the exterior handles, locking her inside the pitch-black chamber of death.
Caridad collapsed against the base of the pine coffin, gasping for air. Her chest was tight, sharp daggers of pain radiating down her left arm. She was having a coronary event; the physical strain and sheer terror were pushing her fragile heart to its absolute limit.
In the dark, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the rough wood of the casket. She pulled herself up onto her knees, using the coffin as an altar, and closed her eyes.
May you like
""Lord,"" she whispered into the freezing blackness, ""I do not ask for my life. I ask only that you shield the girl and her babies from the wolves.""
Outside, the first fire truck roared through the open iron gates of the convent, its red lights painting the high stone walls in streaks of blood.
