The Miracle Strain (17 page)

London

Later

That night Maria Benariac couldn't sleep as she lay naked on the single bed in her London apartment. She felt wounded, an animal in pain. She couldn't remember feeling so alone and isolated. Not since Corsica. As always she slept in the light, but tonight, despite the four overhead bulbs and six spotlights bleaching away the darkness, she couldn't banish the shadows in her mind.

Before Dr. Carter had escaped her vengeance, Ezekiel had always included her, treated her with respect and love. She had been his favored one--the chosen one. But now the Father was distancing himself from her, leaving all contact to Brother Bernard, who neither understood nor valued her. It was all Dr. Carter's fault and only by destroying him could everything be made right. She was sure of it. Only then could she once again bathe in the love of the Father.

Be once again a valued, cherished member of his family.

She reached to the small table beside the bed and felt the cold steel blade with her fingers. Its touch sent a frisson of fear and excitement through her--a frisson that cut through her anxiety and promised release. Her hands closed around the handle.

She took the dagger from the table and held it up above her head. She studied the kukri's curved blade silhouetted against the bright bulb above, and with her other hand ran a thumb over its razor edge. Exerting just enough pressure she sliced into the skin of her thumb, releasing a drop of blood so it fell toward her left eye. She watched the droplet grow bigger and bigger, trying not to blink when the warm blood eventually shattered on her open eye.

Then with a steady hand she moved the blade down her body, to that part where the still-fresh scars had barely healed. Without looking down, she laid the crook of the curved blade, sharp edge down, on her right thigh. Slowly she began to rock the blade until the exquisite pain came, the skin broke, and the blood began to flow.

It is on the day before her fifteenth birthday that Maria issummoned by Mother Clemenza, the Mother Superior who runsthe Corsican orphanage near Calvi. The stern matriarch doesn'teven bother to hide her dislike for Maria when she shufflesnervously into her study and stands in front of the imposing desk. Mother Clemenza is a fat woman with large pointed glasses thatseem to rest on her round puffed-out cheeks. The spectacles giveher heavy-lidded eyes an unfortunate, evil slant. To Maria shelooks like a huge toad in her voluminous habit, squatting behindher desk waiting for flies to pass by. And when the toad fixes herwith a baleful glare and speaks, her pointed pink tongue looks asif it might dart out at any moment and strike her.

"Maria, as you know, Father Angelo is here on one of his visits. After doing his rounds he has asked to hear one of the girls readto him in the tower library. Frankly there are many more appropriate girls whom I would prefer to represent us to him. But forsome reason he expressly asked for you. Now, Maria, this is an honor and it is very importantyou make a good impression on Father Angelo, so behave. If youdon't, then I will hear of it--and you know what will happen."

Maria nods. She is only too aware of the punishments the toadcan mete out; she has received most of them in the years since shewas abandoned here as a three-day-old baby.

The toad's thin lips curl in an attempt at a smile, but her eyesdon't even bother to try. "Good. Now run along; he is waiting foryou."

As Maria walks up the stone stairs of the central tower thatdominates the old orphanage she wonders why Father Angelo hasasked for her. She obviously knows who Father Angelo is, sincehe is one of the most senior members of the order, but he has seenher only once before, on his last visit. And that was only becausehe spied her working in the laundry room when he was snoopingaround--or "doing his rounds" as Mother Clemenza calls it. So itwas only by accident that he even noticed her. Unlike the othergirls she's usually kept far too busy to be introduced to importantvisitors.

Maria's long since given up trying to understand why the nunshate her, but she knows they do. They are forever singling herout and finding reasons to punish her. She knows it has somethingto do with the way she looks. Some of the nuns call her the "devil'sdaughter" because of her eyes, and they cut her chestnut hair soshort the scalp shows through. "Don't think being beautiful meansyou're special," they've told her ever since she can remember. Maria doesn't bother to try to understand anymore. All she knowsis that she hates the way she looks and wishes she was plainer,more anonymous. Then she wouldn't be an embarrassment to theorphanage and she'd have friends.

As Maria approaches the closed wooden door of the small library she again asks herself why Father Angelo has asked for her,and not one of the "better" girls. But far from feeling honored shefeels her stomach contract with nerves. After all, Father Angelois so important in the Church he must speak to God personally--even the toad, Mother Clemenza, acts nervous when he's around.

At the library door she raises her hand to knock but hesitatesfor a moment, wondering what would happen if she just turnedaround and walked back to the laundry. But she knows she'll bepunished, probably put in the dreaded lock-away, so she takes adeep breath and gives the door three timid knocks.

"Enter!" booms a voice from inside.

Her hand trembles a little as she turns the metal catch andopens the heavy door. Father Angelo is alone in the room. He sitson the couch by the window that overlooks the driveway. A largebook is perched on his lap. On either side of the couch the wallsare lined with shelves, crammed with leather-bound books. Shehas been in this room countless times before, but standing herealone with him now makes it seem strange and alien.

Father Angelo is a thin man and even when he's sitting down,his robes seem to hang on his gaunt frame. His face is long witha misshapen nose and his eyes are too close together. But to Mariahis worst feature is his skin: heavily pockmarked and sallow, itgives him the appearance of being ill. When he smiles at her histeeth are yellow. Maria is frozen to the spot wanting desperatelyto turn and run out of there, but then he pats the space next tohim on the couch. "Come, my child. Come and sit next to me. It'sMaria, isn't it?"

Clenching her fists so hard she can feel her nails digging intothe palms of her hand she forces herself to walk over to him. "Yes,Father Angelo."

She takes her seat as far away from him on the couch as shecan, but even from this distance she can smell his breath--it reminds her of the rotten cabbage she empties out of the kitchenbins. He passes the book to her: the Bible. Then he stands up andwalks back to the door. She feels herself relax when he movesaway from her--just his presence makes her skin crawl. But shetenses again when she sees him throw the bolt on the inside of thedoor.

"Good," he says with his yellow-toothed smile. "Now we won'tbe disturbed. And I can listen to you read in peace."

He walks back to the couch and sits next to her again, but thistime he sits so close his thigh touches hers. She tries to squeezeaway from him, but because she is already at the end of the couchshe can't move any farther. "What would you like me to read?"she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You choose, my child. But don't sit so far away." He taps histhigh with his bony right hand. She notices how his nails arebeautifully manicured. "Sit on my lap."

Her heart's beating so fast now she can hardly breathe. "Thankyou, Father. But I'm comfortable here."

His hand taps his thigh more insistently. "Nonsense. Come andsit here."

She turns and sees his eyes staring at her. There's a hunger inthem which scares her. It's more animal than human. His foreheadand the area just above his upper lip are shiny, covered with asheen of perspiration.

Then he smiles at her, and it's the most terrifying thing she'sever seen. With trembling hands she opens the Bible and readsthe first thing she sees. "'And then the angel said unto...'"

His hand rests on the mound of her left breast and squeezes itso hard it hurts. Maria can't believe that Father Angelo is doingthis to her. She tries to ignore him, hoping he'll stop. She carrieson reading, focusing on the words swimming on the page in frontof her.

His other hand is now undoing the buttons of her blouse andburrowing under her bra to touch her other breast. His breathingis ragged, as if he's been running hard. She can no longer pretendthis isn't happening so she puts the Bible down and tries to pullhis hands away. "Please don't, Father Angelo. Please leave mealone."

"But it's not my fault, my child. You are so beautiful. You arethe temptress, not me." His dark eyes have a fevered look in themnow. "Be still and you won't be punished."

She struggles but he suddenly pushes himself on top of her. Despite his slender build he is strong and easily holds her down. She starts to cry out but he pushes his foul-smelling mouth overhers. She almost gags when she feels his tongue on hers. His face is so close she can see every blemishon his pockmarked skin, every blackhead on his deformed nose. Then she feels his right hand rummage under her skirt, pullingdown her panties--bony fingers pinching her, probing her. Shestruggles harder but his full weight is now on her, and with hismouth over hers she finds it difficult to breathe. His fingers arehurting her and then for a merciful second he pulls away. He rearranges his robes and she feels something else pushing insistentlybetween her legs--bigger and more painful. He starts to groanlike an animal. She panics but can't move or scream as tearsstream down her cheeks.

Then he thrusts into her and white hot pain rips through herwhole body. She never knew such pain could exist. It feels as ifshe is being torn in two. Again she wants to cry out, to scream,but she can't even move. She thinks the pain will make her gomad, until gradually her mind retreats in on itself, tries to pretendthis isn't happening to her, that she is merely a spectator to thisunspeakable act, not the victim.

She's vaguely aware of his thrusts and groans becoming moreanimated; then he hisses, "My little evil angel," just as a shuddergoes through his body. She feels a wetness between her legs andthen he rolls off her. Before she even has time to collect herthoughts Father Angelo is standing over her, pulling her to herfeet, leading her to the toilet next to the library. "Stop crying andwash yourself, child," he orders briskly. "And don't speak of this. This was your sin. You will be punished for this if you tell anyone. This must be our secret."

On trembling legs Maria walks into the toilet. She looks downand sees two dark drops on the cold linoleum floor; then she pullsup her skirt and sees the blood running down her leg. Numbedand frightened she uses the towel by the sink to wash herself beforeputting her panties back on. She looks in the mirror at her puffyeyes and rinses her face with cold water, trying not to cry anymore. She can't believe what has just happened. How couldFather Angelo, one of the most senior members of God's church,have done this? And why her? Was it somehow her fault? As shestares at her face in the mirror she screws up her courage anddetermines to tell the Mother Superior.

When she comes out of the toilet she sees that Father Angelohas gone, and that the couch betrays no sign of his attack. Withpainful steps she walks back down the stairs to the Mother Superior's office.

But when she reaches the open door she sees that Father Angelois already there, engaging Mother Clemenza in conversation. Thetoad is even laughing.

For a second Maria stands in the doorway, not knowing whatto do. What has the priest told Mother Clemenza? Why is shelaughing? Then for the first time ever, the stone-faced toad turnsand smiles at her--a beaming, benign smile of approval.

"Father Angelo said you read most sweetly. And were excellentlybehaved. He recommends that you be allowed on the special picnictomorrow with the other girls."

The priest turns and winks at her, putting his hand on her head,ruffling her hair.

"Good child," he says.

Maria can't speak; her throat so tight she can barely breathe. She feels such anger that the tears return.

The toad frowns. "Don't cry, Maria."

"But he attacked me," Maria manages through her sobs of confusion and rage. She pats her crotch through the front of her skirt."Mother Superior, Father Angelo hurt me here."

Silence. The toad turns to Father Angelo, who looks shocked,then turns back to Maria. When the toad stands from behind thedesk and waddles toward her the nun's face is expressionless."What did you say?"

Maria's shoulders shake from her crying. "He hurt me here. Heattacked me."