Deus Vult

by Declan Finn

  “Hussar! You’re alive!” she called as she leaped into my arms. I caught her as she wrapped her arms around my neck. She hugged me for all she was worth, and I held my breath until she was done. She jumped from me to Alex and similarly assaulted him. “And wujek Alex!”

  Alex smiled and blinked for a moment. He looked to me and mouthed Wujek?

  Pearson smiled and whispered, “Uncle.”

  I laughed, and Alex just smiled.

  Jeremy crashed into me next, turning it into a full tackle. “Dad dad dad! That was awesome! The dragon was like I am a god, and you’re like puny god, and blam and you hit it with the beam from the Death Star and—”

  I smiled at him. “Yeah. It was kinda awesome.”

  Jeremy and Lena landed at the same time. He hugged her tightly. “And you were cool. The sand storm and the salt storm and the pow with the weapons, and—”

  I tuned Jeremy out as I walked towards Mariel. She smiled at me and drifted closer. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  We came together in an intense embrace. Our lips crashed together, and we stayed that way in the middle of the parking lot, like Bogart and Bergman. At that moment, I never wanted to be separated from my wife ever again.

  After a while, Sinead coughed. And coughed again. Then she poked me with a pen. “Break it up, you two. We should get out of here before someone tries to interrogate us.”

  We broke it up with a smile, and we promised to resume at the next possible instance.

  It was time to go back home.

  Getting home was a little difficult. Most of the roads were flooded. The roads that weren’t flooded were filled with debris. We spent most of the time going through back roads and high ground.

  We got back to the summer house before actual nightfall kicked in. The cops had not shown up on our doorstep, so we were clear there. The guns were left in the car for the time being. Lena and Jeremy were the first to run out of the car and onto the porch. Sinead trailed after them since she didn’t want the house burned down.

  Alex and Pearson strolled out, sticking together. Alex shuffled through his deck of metal cards, telling him how the grapefruit trick worked.

  Mariel stayed in the car with me, in the passenger seat. She sat with me for a long moment, holding my hand. “You okay, hon?”

  I smiled at her. “More or less. It’s been … it’s been a long day. The monks yesterday were horrible. Dying yesterday? Also horrible. And to be honest? I thought we were all toast. We battled Tiamat today. And we won?” I shrugged. “I can’t imagine what comes next. Especially if winning looks like the devastation we drove through.”

  Mariel squeezed my hand. “We’ll get through this, Tommy. We always do.”

  I looked at her with a smile. “Probably.” I looked at the line of people who had trudged out into the house already. “Want to head in? I’ll start cooking in a few minutes. I need some time.”

  She gave my hand a final squeeze, longer than the last. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  I flickered a smile at her. “Aren’t I always?”

  Mariel took a deep breath and got out of the car. I enjoyed the peace and quiet as she strode inside.

  It had been a lot to process. I had guessed right when I asked for the Soul Stone from the Vatican. I hadn’t even known that my ring would be drained before the big showdown. I didn’t know my armor was going to be trashed to heck and back.

  On the one hand, I felt ready to retire. From being an action wonder worker. From being a cop. Perhaps we could rent the summer home from Sinead during the rest of the year. Maybe even take up a hobby that didn’t put all of us in danger.

  On the other hand, if I hadn’t done everything we had done, Tiamat would be destroying the world right now. Or would God have just sent someone else?

  Then again, if I weren’t minimally qualified, would I be sent out to fight the forces of Hell? Probably not.

  I sighed and opened the door. The only way to move on was to move on. Tomorrow would bring its own trouble. The entire coastline was ravaged. Fires had dotted the road on the way home. Tomorrow would be a nightmare as the entire state picked up the pieces. In reality, it would turn out that half the Eastern seaboard was on fire or flooded.

  And this was what victory looked like.

  But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

  I walked to the front porch and reached for the door handle.

  Then the porch swing creaked.

  I pivoted to the swing and reached for my gun.

  There was a teenage girl, sitting in the bench. She was pretty in a vague sort of way. She had long black hair, vaguely Semitic features. She had a deep tan, a complexion that described her as Persian, perhaps Egyptian. She was definitely from somewhere in the Middle East.

  Israeli? I thought. And I started to get a hint of an explanation.

  She wore blue jeans and a loose-fitting white sweater. It wasn’t exactly a crown of stars and a blue gown, but I suspected that she only dressed up for special occasions.

  I relaxed. “My son asked me what you were like,” I told her. “Should I call him out so you two can talk?”

  She gave me an enigmatic little smile. “I don’t think so.” She patted the seat next to her. “Sit. Please. You and I should chat about a few things.”

  I sat. “Jeremy tells me that, usually, conversations like this come before all the charisms. If not with you, than with your Son.”

  “Would you have believed it?” she answered. She gave a tiny smile. “I wasn’t consulted about it, but consider how many times you’ve resisted the term wonder worker, I can’t imagine that I could have come up to you and told you who I was without proper identification.”

  I nodded. She was partially correct. I knew she was supernatural because she hadn’t been there until I head the porch swing creak. I knew she wasn’t evil because I trusted my sense of smell. I knew who she was without her telling me because Jeremy had asked the question.

  “I think you have a question for me?” she prompted.

  I did. I didn’t even know what it was until it popped out of my mouth and I blurted, “Why me?”

  She shrugged kindly. “Why not you?”

  “I’m not that good.”

  She gave me a cynical, sardonic look that I was more familiar with from Alex. “At least acknowledge that you’re good enough in the face of persistent, unrelenting, pure evil. You still are.”

  “But I have such a temper—”

  Holy Mary, Mother of God, swatted me on the nose like I was a misbehaving dog who needed a warning shot. “Stop it. Your idea of a temper is centered on injustice. It’s impatience with evil. It’s impatience with stupidity—which some up there debate is the greatest evil. Saint Joseph and I wondered if you or Packard were going to go after Bishop Ashley.

  “You’ll just have to live with it. You don’t … totally stink?” she said, speaking as though the term were new to her. It may have been. She continued, “You were given everything you needed when you needed it in order to deal with the situation. You were the best man for the job. In the beginning, the demon was coming, and someone had to fight it. Someone who could withstand the wrath of the cult, and later, the warlock. Someone who could battle the Fowlers and Kozbar. Someone who could resist Jayden and her ilk. That someone happened to be you.”

  I sighed and nodded. She was right about all of it. I had luck. I had skills. And I always asked for the charisms I needed, not the ones I wanted.

  She smiled at me. “I especially like how you keep adding please to prayers when you’re asking for a miracle. And you don’t abuse them. You only ask when you have need. How can you think this is a bad thing?”

  I sighed and nodded. “You have a point.”

  “I know I do.”

  “Why did we get more help from Bokor than the bishop?”

  “Because unlike the Bishop, Bokor believed in the supernatural.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance at the Bishop. “Even he had a moral code, you know. Your b
okor. I believe you have a saying these days—take what you want, but pay for it?”

  “I’ve heard it.”

  Mary shrugged. “In the case of Baracus, it was a bit broader.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “That is known only to Heaven. And I haven’t asked. Not my department.” She giggled. “I’m more the appeals court. But to save one person is to save the whole world. In his case, he helped you save the whole world. So, you never know.”

  I nodded. I guess I wasn’t fair to ask about the states of another man’s soul. “And me? Do I have to keep doing this?”

  She looked at me kindly. “Thomas, would you really be able to say no if someone asked you for help?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “Yes, I do. But you have to acknowledge it.” She patted my shoulder as she rose to her feet. “Don’t worry. You have a break coming up soon.”

  I arched a brow and watched her walk to the edge of the porch. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll know.” She walked around the edge of the house and out of sight.

  I didn’t have to look to know that she was gone.

  I stayed out on the porch for another minute, thinking over the encounter.

  The front door opened. “Tommy?” Mariel asked. “You still need another minute?”

  I sighed. “Nope.” I rose. “I’m ready.”

  I walked inside with my wife. The kids were building something Lego and Star Wars on the table. Alex, Pearson and Sinead were at the dining room table, an open bottle of Jack Daniels between them. Alex poured, which was always a dangerous proposition.

  It was home. Maybe not my house, but my home.

  Pearson looked at me and smiled. “Detective! I just wanted to let you know that I got a message from XO. We have some additional training we’d like you to go through back in Rome. We also want you to cross-train with two other people. A Marco Catalano and an Amanda Colt. Have you heard of them? They’re also from New York. Greenpoint, apparently?”

  I shrugged. “I never heard of either one of them. Then again, I’ve spent most of my career in Eastern Queens. Should I have?”

  “I’m told they’re a big deal in their local circles.”

  I shrugged. “No idea. How about we talk about this tomorrow? I’d like to spend the rest of my time with the family.”

  Pearson’s eyes lit up. “About that. They can come with, if you like.”

  “Huh.” I looked to Mariel. “So, honey, what do you think about a few months in Rome?”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Alex poured a glass and slid it towards me. I swept it up and raised it high. “To Rome. And to God. And may God bless us, every one.”

  Tomorrow would be a day to help with the cleanup. We would heal the sick and bury the dead. We would dig through rubble and fight more fires.

  But for now, we were home.

  An Excerpt from Honor at Stake

  Need something else to read while you wait for the next St. Tommy book? Why not try HONOR AT STAKE, the story of a bloodthirsty killer, a vampire and their growing romance in New York City. Read the an excerpt of it here!

  Honor at Stake

  Marco Catalano appeared to have one goal in mind.

  To cut Amanda Colt’s head off.

  The student went after her with frequent attacks. She parried and attacked immediately, but his weapon was almost always there, waiting for her. It was practically magical.

  However, Amanda’s major asset was speed. Marco was quick. She was quicker.

  Her next attack was a thrust. He twisted his body to deflect it, and lunged forward. She pulled back in time, bringing her sword down on his, nearly sending it into the floor. One flip of his wrist used that momentum to arc the sword around towards him, then overhead, for her face. Her sword came up to meet Marco’s, but he pulled back until the sword slid off, then thrust for her collar.

  Amanda’s blade came down, sweeping his away. She didn’t give him time to pull his sword back to first position. She lunged for his center mass. His sword stayed with hers as he retreated, gliding along its length, deflecting the thrust as it came at him. She withdrew, but his sword stayed with hers like glue. The tip went over, down and around her blade like a snake before he flicked his wrist in a flourishing disarm.

  “That’s enough,” the instructor said.

  He pulled back for a thrust that would skewer her, but she grabbed her own sword in mid-flight and used it to parry him. The swords crashed, came down, around, and back up, starting in first position.

  “That’s enough, thank you,” the instructor bellowed this time.

  Marco pulled back, then gave a quick salute with the sword. She returned it, and they both withdrew to the same side of the gym, letting the next two fencers have time on the floor.

  Amanda took off her face mask, her long hair tumbling down her back. “That was impressive.”

  Marco put his mask in the crook of his arm. His smile was still there. “It’s easy when you have a computer-like mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I fence like I play chess. I try to think several moves ahead.”

  “You cannot account for everything.”

  “Usually, I can,” he answered, slipping his gloves off. He paused in the middle of removing the second glove. “Well, there are always surprises. When you suddenly sped up, you almost had me a few times before I could compensate. If you had just gone that fast at the start, I’m sure I would have been in trouble. Especially when you caught your sword as it was flying. That was a nice touch.”

  She blushed a little, slightly mortified that he noticed that. “No one else saw it.”

  “That’s because they’ve gotten used to not seeing anything that we do when fencing. It’s like they’re just waiting for us to get a draw.”

  “Then why don’t they just let us fight other students?”

  Marco arched a brow. She assumed that was a sign of greater amusement, but it was hard to tell. “This semester is, what, a month old? In that time, we were both upgraded from beginners to advanced, to dueling with the instructor. It’s the only way to run the class and get everyone to practice. If they make us duel the others, we’ll essentially be teaching them. If they start making us instructors, I will probably quit. I came here to practice, not sit, watch, and correct.”

  Amanda nodded. “I agree. Though, let us face it, we are not exactly fencing.”

  He cocked his head, saying nothing.

  She smiled and elaborated. “Have you seen professional fencing? It is boring.”

  “True, but then, I like to practice as though someone is actually trying to kill me.” He stared at her for a moment, like he tried to read her mind. “Would you like to hang out at some point this weekend?”

  “Why wait?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Odd, I would have thought you had classes right now.”

  “I do, but I know what they’ve been teaching lately.”

  Marco’s smile expanded a moment, then snapped back to the standard smirk. “Heh. Funny, I have the same aversion to core classes—required for the University, yet utterly useless.”

  She cocked her head, her long red hair falling over one shoulder. “I thought that your degree made every course necessary?”

  “Yeah, but they’re still rather basic.”

  She studied him a moment, this time trying to read his mind. She came up blank. “Do you realize that you seem, hmm, different?”

  He stopped and stared at her a moment, and then laughed. He laughed so loudly that the two fencers on the mat both stopped and stared at them. He kept laughing so long everyone wondered how he failed to run out of breath.

  “That’s a good one,” he said at last. “Where would you like to start?”

  “With the two of you,” the club moderator shouted, “outside!”

  * * * *

  Marco, dressed in a full suit and t
ie, and Amanda, dressed in her usual sweater and jeans, looked like an odd couple as they emerged from the basement level gym where the fencing club had been banished to after an incident involving a rapier and the car of the University President.

  “Shall we stay to the left, in the shade of the trees?” he asked.

  “Why? Are you allergic to the sun?”

  Marco’s smile of amusement turned into a smirk, even though not a single muscle in his face moved. “I’m actually assuming that your white, Russian skin is sensitive. Otherwise, you wouldn’t bother with all that suntan lotion.”

  “You do not exactly tan either, for someone who is Italian.”

  “You mean ’Catalano’? The family is from northern Italy, and close to Switzerland, and especially close to Celtic raiders who popped in and out of the area a lot, back in the old days.”

  “That’s interesting. That old, hmm?”

  “Sure, that’s why I’m a freak.”

  She touched his arm lightly, a fleeting motion of comfort. “I didn’t say you are a freak.”

  He sighed, looked at her, and gave her a sad smile. “You didn’t, but I have been hearing that on and off for, well, a very long time. I might as well be a local vampire.”

  “I thought that they were all the rage nowadays.”

  Marco scoffed. “Mainly because no one ever thinks about it.”

  “About what?”

  “Vampires.”

  “That would be odd, considering that there seems to be a hundred variations on the theme.”

  “Yes, but nothing coherent,” he objected. “Forget the mythologies; at least they have a lot of commonalities, but the modern stuff…feh.”

  Amanda stopped and sat on a bench at the edge of the great lawn, staying just in the shade. Marco took two steps past her before he noticed. She motioned to the seat next to her. “So, tell me your thoughts.”

  “Why? It’s just vampires.”

  She patted the bench. “I want to see how your mind works.”