The Devil's Labyrinth

inhabited.

A metallic screech erupted as the pinhole of light suddenly expanded into a blinding rectangle. The brilliance of the light slashed through the body’s eyes and into its brain, and it reflexively jerked back, slamming into the wall.

“Time for dinner,” a soft voice — a female voice — said.

He struggled to recover — why hadn’t he guarded himself against the light?

Be human, he told himself. Be what she thinks you are. He crept forward toward the slot in the door through which the female on the other side was bringing the food tray. “Hello?” he said, barely able to use the voice that was so rusted from disuse that it emerged as little more than a faint croaking sound.

There was silence, then the human beyond the blinding rectangle spoke. “So you’ve decided to speak.”

A toehold!

“Please,” he said, searching for the words — the human words — that would make her open the door.

“Here’s your dinner,” she said, and slid a tray through the rectangular opening.

“I–I need something,” he said softly, quietly, gently, taking the tray. What would make this human use the keys that would open his prison?

“Oh? What do you need?”

“A doctor,” he said.

Again there was silence, and he could feel her indecision. Once again he tried to focus his energy, tried to reach into her mind to bend her to his will, but once again the body in which he was imprisoned held him back. Even before she spoke he knew what she would say.

“I don’t think so,” she sighed, with just enough uncertainty to give him hope.

“No, wait, please,” he said, as she began to close the slot.

She stopped.

“I need something.”

“What do you need?” she asked.

“You,” he whispered. “I need to touch you. To feel you. To put my hands in your —”

She slammed the rectangle closed, and he heard her footsteps as she walked quickly away.

Furious, he hurled the tray of food across the room, then smashed his fist against the door, only barely aware of the pain that shot up the arm.

How long would it be before he got another opportunity?

Panic began to build.

He had to get out of here!

Brushing the searing pain in the wounded hand aside, as if it were no more than an annoying fly buzzing around him, he began moving his fingers over the stone walls, exploring every contour of his prison that he could reach. But he already knew every stone, knew every one of their personalities, knew the texture of every seam of the mortar that held them together. He knew the lichen that grew there — knew it all — yet once again he began going over it all once more, feeling everything, examining everything, with only the pinhole of light to help him see.

Everything he touched was exactly the same as the last time he’d touched it, and with every second his frustration grew.

When finally he was back at the point where he’d begun, he began to realize that all of it was futile.

He’d never escape.

He’d never fulfill his purpose.

He sat down and began to howl.

CHAPTER 16

SOFIA CAPELLI FELT her body responding not only to Darren Bender’s kisses, but also to his touch as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. She should make him stop — she knew it — but it felt so good when his fingers brushed against her breasts that she just couldn’t make herself pull away, and she found herself pulling his shirt up out of his pants and running her hands up the smooth skin of his back. His hand was inside her blouse now, and—

The door to her dorm room burst open, slamming hard against the wall, and Sister Mary David stood glowering in the doorway, her knuckles white as she clutched the doorframe in cold fury.

Darren leaped up, his face red, his hair mussed, tucking in his shirt as fast as he could.

“Out!” Sister Mary David commanded, her voice low but more menacing than Sofia had ever heard it before. “Father Sebastian will deal with you.”

Darren dashed out without so much as a backward glance.

“You!” Sister Mary David spat, striding into the room. “Cover yourself!”

Sofia pulled her blouse together and had begun to button it when the nun grabbed her hand and yanked her up off the bed.

“You’ll be lucky if we don’t expel you,” Sister Mary David hissed.

Expel! Fear shot through Sofia as she scrambled to button her blouse with one hand while being marched down the hall ahead of the furious nun.

“No, Sister, really—” Sofia began, frantically searching in her mind for something — anything — with which to defend herself.

But the nun wasn’t listening. “We don’t condone that kind of behavior here, Sofia,” Sister Mary David grated. “If you want to act like a—” She groped for the right word, then found it: “—a harlot, then you should go to school somewhere else.”

“I–I’m sorry,” Sofia stammered. “I didn’t want him—”

“Too late,” Sister Mary David snapped, her voice cutting into Sofia like the barb at the end of a whip. “You are in charge of your actions, and you shall be responsible for the consequences.” The nun guided her down a set of stairs and through another hallway. Sofia stumbled ahead, barely able to keep the pace Sister Mary David was setting.

“Wicked,” the nun muttered. “Wicked, evil child!”

“No, Sister,” Sofia gasped. “I’m not wicked. I’m—” Once again she searched for words that might appease the dorm supervisor. “Darren and I love each other!” she finally blurted out.

The nun stopped short and spun Sofia around to face her, her thin lips set into a harsh line. “Love does not sneak about breaking rules, Sofia. Evil does that.”

“No, Sister—”

“Silence! I do not wish to hear another word from your sinful mouth.” The nun twisted Sofia around once again and steered her down another set of stairs, then guided her so quickly through a series of narrow hallways that Sofia was at a loss as to where they were. Certainly they were somewhere she had never seen before.

What was going to happen to her? Was she really going to be expelled? Her father would kill her. He’d send her somewhere else — somewhere even more awful than St. Isaac’s.

And her father would give her a beating.

“Please, Sister—” Sofia began again, trying to resist the frantic pace the nun had set, but Sister Mary David pressed relentlessly onward, the fingers of her left hand digging like talons into Sofia’s shoulder, while her other hand held Sofia’s right arm in an agonizing hammerlock.