The Source - Michael Cordy [132]
Torino laughed. 'I'm not going to Hell.'
Bazin summoned his final breath. 'No, Leo. Hell is coming for you.'
Marco's last breath sounded like a sigh of relief. Torino felt sad at his half-brother's passing – but only because he had thrown away his last chance of redemption. If he had kept the courage of his convictions and helped secure the Source for the Church, he would have saved millions of souls instead of sacrificing his own.
It was time to finish this. Torino retrieved the gun from the rock floor and turned to Kelly. He peered into the gloom. Kelly was no longer there. Neither was Torino's discarded backpack, which contained the Source fragment. Panic surged through him. He whirled round and saw something moving in the half-light. He fired a shot into the dark.
'Kelly,' he shouted, 'there's nowhere to run. Give back the fragment.' Even as he spoke the words, Torino understood that the other man was trying to do exactly that: give it back. He was heading for the tunnel of blood. He had to keep to the shadows, though, to avoid being seen. Torino didn't. He ran directly for the tunnel.
Ross kept to the dark recesses until the last minute, but as soon as he broke cover and ran into the tunnel entrance he saw that he was too late. The tunnel was darker than it had been. Much of the luminous crystal had fallen from the walls and ceiling and lay in the stream or under fallen rock. But Torino was still visible. He stood five feet inside the entrance, smiling, his gun pointing directly at him.
'I have my brother's blood on my hands because of you, Dr Kelly. Now you see why I can't let scientists like you misinterpret this place with your poisonous theories. If you could use the garden to turn my brother against me, think of how your fellow scientists could have used it to turn the faithful against the Holy Mother Church.' He stepped closer and Ross clutched the backpack to him, feeling the warmth of the fragment within it. 'Give me the backpack, Dr Kelly.'
Ross looked up and froze.
'Have you nothing to say, Dr Kelly? No more arrogant attacks on the Church and my faith?' Torino seemed to want Ross to argue with him again, as if it might make shooting him easier, sweeter. He looked disappointed when Ross said nothing. 'Give me the backpack. I want the Source.'
'I know you do, but there's a problem,' Ross said. 'A big problem.'
'What's that?'
'I think they want it, too.'
Torino smiled. 'You mean those creatures behind you?' he said, pointing past Ross. 'I have a gun. Your friends don't frighten me.' Ross glanced over his shoulder. The ranks of silent nymphs blocking the tunnel behind him no longer seemed friendly. They were angry. 'Stop wasting time,' said Torino. 'Give me the backpack.'
Ross shook his head as calmly as he could. 'Actually, I wasn't talking about the ones behind me.' He pointed past Torino. 'I'm more worried about the ones behind you.'
'Do I look stupid?'
Ross didn't answer.
Torino glanced over his shoulder. And froze. The tunnel behind him was a seething mass of serpentine shapes. Some were tuberous, plant-like growths that ended in pods – like those depicted in the Voynich. Others were flailing rock worms that ended in grotesque, bullet-shaped heads, complete with red eyes and razor teeth. Torino raised his gun towards the creatures – or creature, as Ross now understood the hydra to be. 'I wouldn't fire at it if I were you, Father General,' he whispered. 'That's Father Orlando's Tree of Life and Death. That creature draws life from the monolith and delivers death to protect it. I'm guessing it's pretty pissed at what you did to the monolith and the garden. I suggest we give back the fragment.'
'The monolith is a gift from God,' Torino hissed. 'It belongs to the Holy Mother Church.'
'As I've been trying to tell you, I don't think God or the Church has much to do with this.'
Torino pushed the gun into Ross's face. 'Shut up and give me the fragment. It belongs to Rome, to the Church. Not these demons.'
Ross paused, then crouched, reached into the backpack and pulled out the fragment.