Chapter 13
Refuge

In all their years of friendship, Ria had never been as happy to see Eli. She stood up, barely high enough to hug Eli as he knelt, but she did. This time, Eli did not resist. It was a moment of relief, shared between friends, and the first breath of hope that their awful misadventure might yet and happily. Eli offered his hand and helped Ria out of the cellar. As she climbed out and stood next to him, she whispered in concern.

“Eli, you look horrible, what did they do to you?”

Eli looked at her sadly, but did not answer. Both knew they had to get away quickly, and Ria wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know the answer, so she didn’t press the question.

Neither knew where they were, but they chose a direction and started away from the Viper’s hideout. At first they stayed in the shadows, but after a while their initial fear of recapture wore off. The night had turned cold, and Eli crossed his arms over his chest, more for warmth than modesty.

After they had gone some distance, Ria asked, “Do you recognize anything, Eli? Do you have any idea where we are?”

Eli shook his head. The city was dark; it must still have been the middle of the night. They saw no one on the main roads and tried to stick to them to avoid running into anyone. It seemed like an hour they had walked, and still had no idea where they were or if they had been walking in circles. Only the dark faces of the buildings watched them, and the street lamps indifferently lit their way. Eli shivered as a gust of wind brought goose bumps to his bare arms. Ria began to worry.

“Eli, what if it gets light, and they find us again?” she questioned. The thought of warm sunlight appealed to Eli, but exposure and recapture did not by any means.

“They know these streets better than we do,” she continued, “we won’t be able to hide. What are we going to do?”

Eli looked thoughtful for a moment, then came up with his answer. He looked into her eyes and held her gaze, then mouthed one word.

“Pray.”

Eli knelt on the pavement under the lamp on the corner, and Ria knelt facing him. She looked at him doubtfully, but Eli acted confidently. He lowered his head. Ria looked up at the cloudy night sky. Ria began to pray, but Eli was unaware of what she was saying. Thoughts raced through his head, all manner of pleas loomed in his mind, cries of his wounded spirit. But he focused on one, concentrating all his thought on it.

“Protect Ria. I need this. I’ll give You anything in return.”

He didn’t know what else to ask, didn’t know if it mattered that he had asked anything in the first place. No one could protect them. The bobbies would turn them away, anyone would. No one would take two strays off the street or believe that they were being hunted until it was too late. He looked up feeling no better than before. For the first time, however, he noticed they were on the corner of a large square with a fountain in the center. A seraph stared back at him from atop the fountain. Eli rubbed his eyes, he could have sworn the stone angel turned its head to look over its shoulder. The angel was stone, it wasn’t moving, and that was foolish. It was only the darkness and faint flickers of the lamp playing tricks on his vision. Then Eli looked deeper into the darkness behind the seraph and beyond the fountain. He put his hand on Ria’s shoulder and she stopped praying and looked at him curiously. Eli pointed into the square, but Ria didn’t see what he had seen.

“What is it, Eli?”

Eli didn’t answer, but he stood up and walked into the square. Ria followed out of curiosity, and not wanting to be left alone. Then she saw, towering at the far end of the square above all the buildings surrounding it, the majestic form of a cathedral.

The two made their way across the square and toward the cathedral. At its massive wooden door they looked up, awed. Eli tried to open the door, but it was locked. He slowly raised his hand to knock, and struck the door three times. The colossus, solid wood and framed in iron, barely seemed to notice. The noise it made hardly reached their own ears. Ria suddenly realized what made the idea of knocking on the door of a church so forbidding.

“Eli,” Ria said gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings, or remind herself of their helplessness, “even if anyone could hear a knock inside, who would be in church at this hour?”

Eli’s eyes fell. He had felt so confident this place was meant to save them only a moment ago. Perhaps his mind still wasn’t working properly after Ciaran had overturned it, he thought painfully. Nevertheless, he raised his hand again and pounded five times, eliciting a louder response from the door, but one that echoed hollowly and seemed to reverberate with emptiness. He stepped backward and looked up again at the towering cathedral. The edifice that had seemed a protective fortress a moment before was now just a sheer cliff face, although a beautiful one. The tower with the intricate windows and the cross could not be reached from where they stood. Eli reluctantly turned his back and Ria followed.

“Don’t worry, Eli,” she said with hope she did not feel. “We’ll find another place.”

They had walked halfway to the fountain when they heard a creaking groan and a deep voice from behind them. Light had suddenly spilled into the square and fallen across their path.

“Children, wait!” Eli and Ria stopped in their tracks. After being on edge for so long, they were ready to run. But the voice, although slightly commanding, did not sound threatening. They turned to look and saw a man standing in the door, framed in the light, dressed in a large black robe and white collar. He reminded Eli of Eldritch at first, and Eli was cautious.

When the man stepped out of the doorway, Eli grabbed Ria’s hand and stepped back. The man stopped when he saw their reaction, and spoke again.

“You needn’t be frightened. I don’t mean you any harm.”
Hearing the man’s tender voice and his reassurance, Eli relaxed a little, but did not move from his spot.

“Please,” the man said, seeing he was making some progress, “you must be cold. If you want to come in, you are welcome here.” That was enough to convince Eli, though he was still wary. He looked at Ria and started back toward the church. Ria was beside him, almost as cautious as the boy, but hoping that something, for the first time, was going their way.

The heavy door closed behind them and they instantly appreciated the warmth. The man introduced himself. His voice was deep, warm, and gentle, but with traces of authority.

“I am Jonathan Mathis, Priest at The Catholic Church of Saint Mary Immaculate, but you may call me Father Mathis. What are your names?”

“I’m Ria Simmons, Father,” Ria said respectfully.

Eli opened his mouth to answer, but no words came.

“Even orphans and street boys have names,” Father Mathis said. “You have nothing to fear from me by telling yours.”

Ria answered for him, “His name is Elijah Blakeney, though most people call him Eli.”

“Welcome, both of you. And forgive me, now is not the time for such questions,” Father Mathis said, aware of Eli’s naked upper body and the numerous cuts and bloody stripes that marred it. “I am no doctor, but I can clean your wounds and find you something to wear.”
Eli nodded gratefully.
As the priest ushered them through the church, he asked Eli, “If I may ask, how did this happen to you?”

Eli looked at him with his blue eyes full of sadness and confusion, but dropped them in shame in an instant. Father Mathis looked to Ria, who had spoken for the boy before.

“I don’t know either,” she said sadly. “But I have an idea who does. And if I see him again…” she trailed off. The priest shook his head solemnly.

“My daughter, vengeance is–”

“Unavoidable,” she growled darkly, a deep rooted anger seething from her voice that Eli had never seen a trace of in all their years of friendship. It both frightened him and endeared her to him even more. The man of God was taken by surprise as well, and he did not finish his admonishment.

“Have you known this boy long?” Father Mathis asked instead, changing the subject.

“Yes, father, for several years,” Ria answered.

“And has he always been incapable of speech?” he asked as he led them into a small room where a fire glowed on the hearth and the walls were bare.

“No!” Ria said quickly. “He never says very much, but he has a voice. Will he ever speak again? He has been worrying me.” Ria finally articulated the alarm that had been growing since Eli’s silence when he found her.

“I cannot tell you that,” he said gravely. “It depends on the boy, I’m sorry, on Eli, himself, and what was done to him. But we will pray that God returns his voice.” Father Mathis put a kettle over the fire and retrieved several clean white cloths from a closet across the hall.

“Perhaps it is not my business to know,” the priest said as he sat Eli down on the edge of one of two large chairs in the room, “but what brought you two children here at this wee hour of the morning?”

The water in the kettle had begun to steam, but was not yet boiling. Father Mathis assumed the boy was a beggar, perhaps an orphan, but from Ria’s accent he guessed that she had a family and had been educated. He was curious how the two ended up together. He dampened one of the cloths with the warm water and waited a moment for it to cool. Ria looked at the ground, trying to think of how to explain what had happened to Eli and herself. The priest began gently wiping the blood from Eli’s face, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Well, we were running away,” she began. Father Mathis looked grim. The two must have been friends, but of course, no parents of a respectable family would allow their daughter to befriend a street boy.

“And you thought the church would sanction your decision?” he asked pointedly.

Ria looked utterly confused.

“It wasn’t really a decision. We had to hide somewhere, and Eli thought we would be safe here.”
“Though you may certainly stay here as long as you need refuge,” the priest said sternly, “the Church’s stance is quite clear on young people of your age seeking to be wed.”

Eli’s mouth screwed to one side and he wrinkled his nose, his face a curious mixture of shock and horrified disgust. Ria instantly burst into laughter, though her manners and the still lingering fear of their captors silenced it after a second.
The priest, realizing his mistake, apologized.

“I am sorry. When I saw a young boy and a girl I wondered, and when you said you were running away…forgive me for misunderstanding.”

Normally, Ria would have found the situation infinitely funny, but the gravity of their misfortune prevented it.

“No, Father,” Ria said, “not running away from our families, from our kidnappers.”

“Kidnappers?” the priest exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, there were a lot of them,” Ria continued, “mostly our age or younger, though a few were older than us. They separated us and took us to a building somewhere in the city. Eli escaped first and rescued me.”

“Are you siblings, then?” the priest asked.

“No, just old friends,” Ria replied.

Eli let out a deep, painful sigh as Father Mathis began cleaning the blood from his stomach, chest, and sides. He had a few bruises from where he had been kicked or punched, but thankfully, none of his ribs were damaged. The worst of his wounds were gouges and scrapes on his left side from rocks on the ground where he had been thrown during the fight, and four or five knife wounds given to him by Ciaran. Some were deeper slashes and others just bad scratches. Fortunately, Ciaran had not taken it into his head to kill the boy, and he hadn’t been stabbed. The warm cloth was both soothing and painful. Eli intermittently winced or drew in sharp breaths as the priest worked, but did not struggle or interfere.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Ria asked curiously after a long pause, “what were you doing in church at this hour? I didn’t really expect anyone to be here when we knocked.”

Father Mathis smiled.

“Until half an hour ago, I didn’t know what I was doing here either. I awoke during the night and could not fall asleep no matter what I tried, so I came here to pray.”

Ria considered the revelation. Events hadn’t simply turned their way, there was someone looking out for them.

Father Mathis had finished, and Eli looked considerably more like a young boy again, and less like a murdered ghost.

“Wait here, I will be right back,” the priest said as he left the room. Eli smiled weakly at Ria once they were alone. They had been through countless adventures together over the years, but none of them quite as horrible as this. One or two of their more dramatic sagas had even ended in their deaths. But all those, of course, had been imaged. And as glorious as some of their heroic ends had been, it was no great disappointment, outright bottom-of-the-heart elation, perhaps, that this one in particular, when it mattered most, hadn’t ended that way.

Father Mathis returned with a white robe made of rough cloth. It was an altar boy’s robe, though when Eli pulled it over his head he realized that the boy it was meant for must be somewhat bigger than himself. The collar hung over his shoulder a bit on one side, but it was a relief to be fully clothed again, and to hide the angry red stripes that stained his soft skin. Eli was grateful for everything Father Mathis had done for them, particularly providing a place where Ria was safe, and he wanted to say thank you. But again, no words came when he tried to speak. Instead he closed his mouth and looked into Father Mathis’s eyes, trying to pour his deepest gratitude through the clear blue windows of his boyish soul, and hoping earnestly that the priest would understand. To his delight, Father Mathis seemed to interpret his intent perfectly.

“You do not need to thank me.” Father Mathis said. “It is the Lord’s will that I look after the sheep He has entrusted to me, and it is to Him you owe your gratitude.”

Eli remembered the promise that he had made to God, and fully intended to keep it.

Ria stifled a yawn, trying not to break the silence that followed.

“You have had a most trying night,” Father Mathis said. “I can show you to a room if you would like to sleep.”
“Yes please,” Ria replied for both of them, after a nod from Eli confirmed his assent.

“I am afraid we don’t have any proper beds, but we have a small library where it will at least be warm and quiet and you can get some rest before we find your parents later in the morning.” Father Mathis fetched them some blankets and led them to the library, which was indeed small, but full of shelves from floor to ceiling stacked with books. He started a fire for them and left them to sleep. The two children realized how thoroughly exhausted they were, and were almost nodding off before they could lie down. Ria tried to make herself comfortable as she lay in the spot she had chosen by the fire, and Eli stretched himself across the doorway. Both were fast asleep in no time.

Mrs Simmons was the most agitated her husband had seen her in years. Little ever happened over the course of their quiet country life, since they had settled down with their young daughter, to disturb her accustomed graceful and demure patience. She was a proper British gentlewoman in every aspect. But she had been reduced to a sobbing schoolgirl over the past hour spent sitting uselessly at the constable’s office. She and her husband had answered questions from the officers of the law, given descriptions, and done everything they could think of that might be of help.

The night had worn well past one o’clock, but they had done nothing buy sit and pray since the stroke of twelve. Neither of them truly expected any good news to suddenly surface, but neither could they tear themselves away. The head constable had long since ordered his men to other tasks, only minimally concerned with what he considered a “low priority,” more likely the case of a runaway than a kidnapping.

After even more time had passed, one of the local constables took Mr Simmons aside to speak with him privately.

“Constable Juddman, sir,” the rather large man introduced himself and offered his meaty hand. Mr Simmons shook, and waited expectantly.

“Now, nothin’s certain, y’see. But ‘tain’t the very first time summat like this ‘appened ‘ereabouts. ‘Twouldn’t call it regular, but maybe once a year or two, a lad goes missin’ wot weren’t likely to on ‘is own.”

Mr Simmons nodded.

“And, err, what would you, ah, find to be the case?” he asked.

“Well, mostly,” the constable continued, his jowls slightly wagging as he shook his head, “they’ll show up no more’n a day or two after, but won’t say wot ‘appened. Go tremblin’ willy-nilly if you ask ‘em too much.” Mr Simmons looked perturbed.

“Is that, umm, invariable, constable?” The constable looked puzzled for a moment until he thought he understood what Mr Simmons was asking.

“Oh, no!” he replied. “Sometimes they’re just never ‘eard from again.” Mr Simmons choked, taken aback by the answer. Several seconds passed before he could speak again to clarify.

“My apologies, I intended to ask, rather, if they are invariably so unwilling to discuss what befell them.”

“Ah,” the constable nodded wisely, “exactly the case! They don’t mind talkin’ about anythin’ else, but impossible to drag a story out of ‘em, so ‘tis.”

Mr Simmons felt as if he had been stabbed. The realization that he might never see his daughter again, or that she might never be the same even if he did, devastated him like nothing else imaginable.

“Thank you, constable,” Mr Simmons said weakly. After a second, he quickly added, “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t relate any of those details to, um, my wife.”

“Not to worry,” the constable assured him, “I ‘ad just the same thought m’self, sir.”

“Thank you for your efforts. I am…grateful,” Mr Simmons said, though he truly doubted the constables could do much, and was losing hope by the minute. “Is there anything else we can do?” he asked.

“’Fraid not, sir. ‘Twould be best for you to get some rest. We’ll find you at the inn, should anythin’ ‘appen.”

Mr Simmons nodded, thanked the constable one last time, and walked back to where his wife was still sitting and looking distraught. He took her by the hand and tried to reassure her.

“What did the constable say?” she asked.

Mr Simmons answered, “He said this is not an entirely unique occurrence, but the victims are almost always found,” leaving out the more disturbing details and trying to paint a more hopeful picture. His efforts to console her worked to some extent, but they were both immeasurably shaken by the event and concerned for their daughter.

That night, Ciaran haunted Eli’s dreams. The beautiful but brutal boy hunted him through an unknown city, appearing around every corner. Each time he ran Eli felt weaker. Finally, he had no strength left to run, and Ciaran caught him. Eli’s whole body shuddered as he jerked awake. He lifted his head and scanned the room, but Ciaran was nowhere to be found. His pensive expression softened as his eyes rested on Ria, still sleeping soundly by the fire. Eli laid his head back down and drifted back to sleep.

By the time Eli and Ria awoke, it was late in the morning. Mass was already over. The library was quiet enough that it had not woken them. They might have slept through to the afternoon, but Father Mathis had come to find them when mass was over.

“Good morning, my children, I hope you slept well. As well as can be expected, I mean. I apologize that I could not do better for you.”

“Not at all,” Ria replied, stretching and having to pause as she yawned. “We are grateful for all your help, aren’t we Eli?” Eli nodded as he sleepily stood to his feet, allowing the priest to enter the room rather than having to stand outside the doorway. Father Mathis stepped into the room.

“‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares,’” he quoted. “I don’t know who you are or where you come from. I have only done for you as I would for any child of God, so you needn’t thank me.” Eli stretched out his hand and touched the priest’s shoulder to get his attention. “Yes, Eli?” he asked as he turned to look at the boy. Eli looked deep into the priest’s eyes and opened his mouth to speak. He wanted badly to communicate with the man, but was again frustrated at his inability. Father Mathis noted the change from determined will to bitter frustration in Eli’s eyes, and it gave him an idea.

“I can see you want to speak to me. Do you know your letters, lad? Are you able to write if I had a pencil and paper for you?” Eli nodded enthusiastically. Father Mathis walked to the desk in the back corner of the room and searched through the drawers briefly, producing a leaf of paper and a nub of pencil. Eli immediately set the paper down on the desk and started to write. His hand had improved while he had been at school, and even Ria was impressed by the fine script. As words began to appear on the page, Father Mathis raised his eyebrows in surprise. From Eli’s appearance, he had expected neither the beautiful hand nor the type of vocabulary that Eli displayed as he wrote the words, “I made a solemn promise. If God protected Ria, I swore to give Him anything in return. Please, you know Him well, you must tell me what He wants from me.”

Father Mathis stared silently at the paper for a very long time, partly because he was now intrigued and wanted to know who Eli was, and partly because he was thinking hard on how he would answer the question.

At length, he said, “The one thing He wants most from you is your heart. He wants you to love Him and obey Him as your father.” Eli nodded solemnly. He already had suspicions of this. After a moment of silence, Eli wrote again.

“Please tell Him, next time you talk to Him, that I am His, then.” Father Mathis chuckled.

“Oh, I think He already knows that, my lad. But as long as you’re ‘talking’ I hope you won’t mind if I asked a few questions to help get you home?”

Eli shook his head.

“You aren’t an orphan, are you?”

“My father is in the King’s Navy. I live with my mother.”

“Where do you come from?”

“From East Anglia, in the north of Peterborough,” Eli wrote.

“You’re quite a long way from home!” Father Mathis said in surprise. Ria began to explain.

“Well, father, my family is only here on holiday, and Eli goes to school at Warwick College.”

“Your family must be terribly worried about you, Ria,” Father Mathis said with concern. “How long have you been missing?”

“Since last night,” Ria answered, though it felt like years had passed.

“They probably went to the constables last night, then,” Father Mathis said. “If you’ll excuse me, I will call them.”

As the priest left the room, Eli cracked half a smile at Ria.

He quickly wrote, “You’ll be with your family again! I’m glad things turned out alright.” on the piece of paper and handed it to her.

“Well, perhaps,” she said, not quite sharing the boy’s enthusiasm. “But you’re not alright. What if you never speak again? I’m still worried about you.”

Eli shook his head and pointed at what he had written.

Suddenly, Father Mathis burst into the room. “Good news, children! The constables are notifying your parents right now. They said they would direct your family here. You’ll be with them again in no time, thanks be to God.” Ria quickly jumped up and hugged Father Mathis.

Eli wrote, “Thank you,” on the corner of the paper, and tore it off as Ria hugged the priest. Once she had released him, Eli shook his hand gratefully and handed him the scrap of paper.

The trio stood outside the massive door of The Catholic Church of Saint Mary Immaculate for about fifteen minutes, waiting eagerly for Ria’s family to arrive. They ignored the sideways glances of townspeople passing by and watched the road expectantly. When a cab finally came into sight and entered the square, Ria almost wanted to run to it. But a moment later, the cab pulled up in front of the cathedral, the door opened, and Ria was tearfully reunited with her parents. Eli and Father Mathis stood back somewhat awkwardly, but both felt relieved and happy. After quite some time of holding and crying over their daughter, who they had honestly feared never to see again, Mr and Mrs Simmons proceeded to thank Father Mathis profusely. In his accustomed manner, the priest deferred the thanks to God, and insisted that he was only glad God had chosen him to play a small part in reuniting their family.

The ride from the church to Warwick School was long, but it gave Ria time to fully relate her account of the frightful events of the previous night to her parents. She admitted to her parents that she did not know what had happened to Eli, other than that it had been he who saved her, and that he had not spoken since then. Mr and Mrs Simmons lavished their gratitude on the boy, but Eli only ducked his head silently and blushed. They encouraged him to try to speak again, reminding him that everything was alright now, and nothing could go wrong. He tried obligingly, but found himself still disappointingly incapable.

After some time, the familiar green and the huge brick face of Warwick Hall came into view. Eli’s heart sunk lower with each foot they neared the building. When they stopped in front of the building and Eli climbed down from the cab, Ria followed. She frowned, but kept back her tears.

“I really hate to be leaving you this way, Eli. My parents could stay and we could take you to a doctor to see what is wrong,” she offered, hoping he would accept and prolong their visit. But she knew his answer as soon as she asked the question, and Eli shook his head furiously just as she expected. “Well, will you promise to write to me? And let me know if you get better or at least figure out what’s wrong?” Eli nodded. “Then I guess this is goodbye, as much as I hate saying it.” Eli stared at the ground, but made no other response. Ria reached out and lifted Eli’s chin until his eyes met hers. “Goodbye, Eli. I miss you already.” Eli looked back at her sadly, mourning the fat that she had to leave. The two friends hugged each other, then Ria reluctantly turned away and started to climb back into the cab. She was surprised to feel Eli grab her hand to stop her and she turned around to look at him questioningly, but what came next surprised her even more. Eli’s blue eyes looked so deeply into her own that she wondered if the voice was real, but the slow and awkward words hardly sounded like Eli’s voice as she would have imagined it.

“Are you . . . coming back?” Eli asked, deliberately forming the words with his mouth and forcing the sound to come out of it. Now it was Ria who found herself speechless, and she could only nod. She drew a cross over her heart to assure him of her sincerity, then disappeared into the cab and out of Eli’s world again.