by Michael Todd
One of the priests stood. “How many are you talking here? Are they bringing in outsiders? Are they creating some sort of twisted sanctuary inside this church for their devilish ways? Just the fact that they can step foot here is an issue that needs to be addressed. The devil has never been able to enter holy ground, not even a century ago when the demons lurked in the shadows.”
Father Brinkley wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I would say that at least half our congregation has been turned.”
The priest’s eyes grew wide. “That’s over a hundred people, probably closer to two hundred. You’re telling me this church supplied two hundred demons to London? How in the world did this happen? I know the demons are tricky but to steal our people like a wolf steals a sheep?”
The leader pulled out the chair and sat down, rubbing his hand over his bald head. “Yes, and that is only a rough estimate. They were so smooth and slick that we didn’t find out until they were done plowing through the younger attendees. They simply continued to create demons right and left. We noticed a decline in attendance and started looking into it. That’s when we figured out what was happening. I contacted the church, looking for help, but didn’t want to alert the infected that we had caught on to them. I daresay the church could not have gotten to us fast enough to protect us from the rage of those demons. They will pull this church apart from the inside out and kill every one of God’s servants if they are able to. I am at a loss about what to do at this point. That is why I brought you all here.”
The priests began discussing it immediately. They’d had no idea that the situation had become so serious. One of the elders pulled his hood down and looked around the room. “I don’t like to be the one to say this, but I’m going to do it because it needs to be heard. Personally, I believe that we are too late. The congregation is too far gone and killing these demons would be the best option. We don’t have the manpower to control and exorcise them, and if they get loose into the streets of London—instead of under our watch—they will start doing the devil’s work.”
Another priest gasped. “I don’t know how you could suggest such a thing as killing.”
The father next to him agreed. “Yes, that seems awfully hasty. We are men of God, and He would not look down on us with favor if we went through His city and His church, killing anyone we thought was a threat.”
Father Brinkley put out his hands. “Then what are we supposed to do? Taking a life is not something that any of us can do. Even sacrificing your own soul for the good of the church will damn everyone here in the eyes of God. We cannot make those types of decisions on our own. Personally, I could not imagine killing anyone who attends this church—or anyone outside it, for that matter.”
The elder shrugged. “I think maybe this would be a time for the mercenaries. They could handle the situation fast and discreetly. They would rid this church of the infected in no time, and our hands would be clean. The people look to the church for sensible answers, and we cannot allow them to see us as the people who killed those they loved. The mercenaries will do everything they can to save people, and the rest will have to be mourned like every other casualty in this war.”
Father Brinkley frowned and shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Just because we wouldn’t personally have blood on our hands doesn’t mean we can turn a blind eye and have someone else do it. That is not how this church has worked, and it is not how it will begin working simply because we are faced with a difficult situation. We need to put our heads together and come up with a viable solution. Something that doesn’t involve killing.”
The other man scoffed at him. “If God wanted these beings alive, then He would save them. It is obvious there is a reason their souls allowed a demon in. We are fighting a holy war here. You cannot be weak!”
The leader snarled. “Weak? You think that Mrs. Headwall, a lifelong member of the church, deserved a demon in her soul? You believe children deserve to become these gnarly beasts? How dare you speak to me in this manner and in my own church! We will not take lives unless there is no other choice.”
One of the priests stood up and put his hands in the air. “Okay, calm down. No one thinks you are weak, Father. This is a tough subject, but there has to be a way for us to solve this situation that is right in the eyes of God and the church. What we don’t need is to turn against each other right now. If we can all calm down and—”
The elder stood up angrily. “Calm? We have a church full of demons from hell, and you want a loving, easy solution?”
Just then, a loud rumble sounded in the church above them. The clergy grew silent and still, listening to the growls and snarls of demons above.
Father Brinkley sighed, rubbing his face. “They are starting to come in late at night and take those who come to pray late. We are at the last ends of this rope. It is only matter of time before they start taking the clergy as well.”
The snarls and growls grew louder, and all the priests stood up in a panic. Father Brinkley leaned forward. “Those who are the heads and elders go to your homes, lock your doors, and stay away from the church. The rest of us will continue for as long as we can. Contact the Wise Men and tell them we need assistance here as soon as possible. The demons want the leaders of this church. They won’t take the rest until they have no leaders to protect them.”
One of the priests looked at him with worry. “What about you?”
Father Brinkley breathed deeply. “I am the leader of this establishment, and I will serve my congregation until it is no longer possible. Now, those of you who are staying, follow Father Buchanan. There is a secret passageway that leads to an underground bunker where you will be safe until help arrives. Food and water, as well as other things you might need, are in there. Do not come out, no matter what you might hear. We will get help soon. I promise.”
Father Buchanan gathered the priests together, and they all stopped for a moment, shaking their leader’s hand. He led them out of the door and to the left, down a maze of tunnels that led to a bunker with a large steel door. Back in the room, two of the elders—the only ones who lived outside the church grounds—stayed and prayed with Father Brinkley.
When they were done, he nodded. “I will take care of the church fathers.”
They both nodded. “We know that you will. We will contact the Wise Men as soon as we reach our homes. May God be with you every step of the way. Keep the congregation safe and know that this war will not last forever.”
Father Brinkley nodded and watched as the elders raised the hoods on their robes and headed back toward the doors to the outside. He stepped into the hall and watched the shaft of moonlight momentarily light up the steps before darkness fell again. He stood there for a minute, listening to the sound of rain outside in the gardens, wondering if he would ever step foot out there again.
His assistant ran up and led him back into the meeting room. “They took two people upstairs, but they are gone.”
He nodded. “They will be back tomorrow or the day after, if not tonight. I have to keep them believing that they haven’t been found out until the church can send someone—anyone—to help us.”
His assistant lifted his hand and kissed the back of it. “You are the bravest priest I know. I am sure we will make this work. Is there anything I can bring you to make you comfortable? I believe it would be safest for you to stay down here, at least until the sun rises.”
Father Brinkley put his fingers to his lips. “I fear in this rain, with the demons about, that the elders will not make it back to their homes. I fear that if they don’t, then the Wise Men will not know of our plight. I hate to ask you this, but will you go to my office, lock yourself in, and contact the Wise Men? If they get two phone calls, so be it. At least they will know it’s dire.”
His assistant agreed without hesitation. “What would you like me to tell them, sir?”
He put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Tell them the time has come. We can no longer contain the demon population,
and it has become a grave risk to the church. We are in need of immediate help.”
The man hugged his mentor tightly before turning and running from the room. Father Brinkley stood in the empty room beneath the church, listening until he could no longer hear the boy’s footsteps. He turned right and left, the echo of the growls from earlier still bouncing around in his head.
Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he dropped to his knees, pulling his bible from inside his robes. He put his hands together and closed his eyes. “God, give us strength. Send us a savior, or I’m afraid we’ll all perish.”
Chapter Eleven
The sun was barely up when Damian shuffled out into the courtyard with his morning cup of coffee. Birds sang in the trees at the edge of the courtyard, and a light breeze blew through the stone area. He took his normal seat and looked around but didn’t see Rose anywhere. It was a bit earlier than she normally came out, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping. He could almost feel her eyes on him from one of the darkened, draped windows.
He smiled to himself as he opened the paper and began paging through. “Morning, Rose.”
A flutter in one of the windows upstairs cemented his theory and made him chuckle. He flipped back to the front page and stared down at a picture of Katie, her wings spread, flying over the city of New York. He shook his head, thinking about how crazy it was to see her in that form.
Ravi yawned loudly in Damian’s head. Do you always get up this early? God isn’t even up this early. I’m going to have bags for days, which I will gladly transfer to you so you look even older and more haggard.
Good morning to you too, Ravi. And yes, early risers get things done.
The demon sniffed the air. Oh yeah, because the newspaper and gross black coffee are so important. Why don’t you get one of those frappuccinos or something? I heard they are all the rage right now and delicious. I smell them every time you walk past a coffee shop.
On the table, Damian’s phone began to ring. I’d love to have this conversation about consumerism and dietary needs, but duty is literally calling.
He picked up the phone and put on a big fake smile in case the Secretary was watching. “Good morning, Secretary Edith.”
There was a surprised pause. Damian sighed. “Not your name? Maybe next time. What have you got for me this bright sunny morning?”
“The Wise Men called me only a moment ago and want to meet with ye,” she said in a monotone voice.
He was surprised. “Are they in London?”
“They flew in last night for an emergency. Yeh will find them four blocks west on Cherry Grove Avenue. I’ll send ye the exact address. It’s a small, charming house with large trees in the front. Just make sure ye aren’t followed.” She sounded very serious that morning, more so than her normal non-chipper self.
Damian took a sip of his coffee. “You know, I’ve been thinking about your secret identity. I think you are probably mid-forties and perfect in everything you do, from the timing of afternoon tea to the press of your power suit. I would say you live in a lovely apartment but alone because your job has too many secrets.”
The Secretary maintained a long silence. Just when he was about to speak again, she cleared her throat. “Yer polka-dotted bow tie is ridiculous, like a circus clown. Change it before ye meet the Wise Men.”
With that, she hung up. Ravi scoffed. What the hell? Is she a perv? Watching us dress in the morning? That’s creepy.
Damian put the phone on the table. I think it’s creepy that you watch me dress in the morning, but it is what it is.
The demon made a fake gagging sound. Trust me. I look away. Wrinkled—
That’s quite enough from you. I guess I need to get to the Wise Men.
Ravi sneered. Change your bow tie first.
Nah, I like to show them I have a sense of humor.
He gulped down the rest of his coffee and hurried inside to grab his jacket and hat. As he turned from the sink where he put his cup, he saw Max standing there, rubbing his eyes. Damian lifted an eyebrow and smirked at his blue pajamas with small rubber ducks on them. The younger man looked down at his outfit. “What? I like ducks. Where are you going this early in the morning?”
He dropped the paper on the kitchen counter. “I got a call from the Secretary—whose name is not Edith, by the way. She said the Wise Men are in London, only four blocks away, and they want to meet with me.”
Max looked surprised. “Oh, let me change.”
“No need. You won’t be going this time around.”
His shoulders fell in disappointment. “I’m part of the team now, and they still won’t meet with me.”
Damian put on his hat and grabbed his nicer trench coat from the hall closet right outside the kitchen. “Trust me. They are not the friendliest of men. You are better off. One day, you will be summoned. Just enjoy it while you aren’t.”
Max sulked, but Damian let it be and hurried over to the door. He didn’t have time to massage his spirits. They were waiting for him. He headed down the street and followed the directions the Secretary had provided. When he reached Cherry Grove, he looked around, not seeing more than four houses on the block. “345 Cherry Grove. Where are you?”
As he passed a large ornate gate, he glanced up at the number, figuring that couldn’t possibly be it. However, as he read the number 345 on the small podium to the side, he stopped and stared as the gate opened wide. He took a few careful steps through and gawked at the beautiful garden landscape surrounding an enormous old mansion. The pillars on the front were etched to look like cherubs, and the steps themselves were all marble.
Damian scoffed as he walked up the perfectly manicured lawn to the base of the grand staircase to the double front doors. “Oh yeah, small house, right. If the Secretary thinks this is small, then I know I was wrong about who she is.”
He used the large round knocker on the front door. Echoing footsteps approached, and the right side of the door swung slowly open with a deep creaking sound. Standing in front of him was a butler, fully dressed in tails and everything. Around his neck, he wore a cross which made Damian think that he, too, was a priest, only with a different kind of service to the church.
“Please, follow me.” The man bowed, turned, and walked away.
Damian assumed he was talking to him, since he was the only one around, but wasn’t quite sure how he knew who he was. He followed the butler down a long hallway peppered with old relics and pictures of the heads of the church. There were other staff milling about, mostly nuns dressed in habits and straightening up the rooms they passed.
Everything was just as luxurious, if not more so than the décor in his house. He was starting to understand exactly what his mentor was talking about when it came to living beyond the means the church should assume. It had been that way forever, though, and Damian had no interest in changing the norm.
The butler stood to the side of an open door and put his hand out. “This way, Father.”
Damian smiled at him. “Thank you.”
He put his hands into his pants pockets and walked inside, finding a large room with a round oak table in the center. The three Wise Men talked quietly together at the other end of the room. They stopped and turned toward him with straight faces. None of them took a seat, so he followed suit and stood in front of them with his hands clenched.
Father Leopold, the oldest of the three, locked his eyes with Damian. “It’s good to see you again, Damian. I assume you are settled and comfortable?”
He kept a straight face, knowing the protocol. “Yes, Father. I thank you, and Father Judah and Father Christoff for making sure I was taken care of. I was surprised to hear you were in town.”
All three men stood silently, their long black robes draping down to the floor. Their hoods were up over their heads, and their long white and grey beards cascaded over the fronts. Father Leopold wore large golden chains with golden cross relics from decades before hung around his neck and down the front of him. Father Judah stoo
d firmly, his mouth closed tightly and his bushy eyebrows casting shadows over his eyes. Father Christoff always looked like he could be a jolly man, yet Damian had never seen him smile—or any of the others, for that matter.
Father Leopold cleared his throat. “One of our churches is under attack. It is St. Benedict in the center of London. It is one of the longest standing churches in our history. Several of the infected who were being treated by the church have started an underground sacrificial cult and are picking from the congregation. From the reports, at least half the congregation has been infected. The heads fear that they are the next targets, and the church is doing its best to hold them at bay until help arrives. We need you to go in, take care of the infected, and bring the leaders of the church to safety.”
Father Christoff spoke in his deep, mumbling voice. “These are important people. We want you to understand that your primary focus is to get the leaders out alive and safe.”
Father Judah waved his hand but just barely, enough to see the waves in the sleeves of his robe. “It is not to say that you will not be responsible for exorcising the congregation, but the heads must come back to us.”
Father Leopold took a calm step forward. “There have been concerns within the church that you spent decades as a mercenary, and we want you to understand that is not how business is handled with the church. Do you understand the terms?”
Damian gave them a charming smile, which they did not return. “Of course. The ways of the church and my role were thoroughly outlined to me during the briefing.”
Father Leopold merely stared at him. “If the situation arises and you find that it is too much for you and your mentee, then we can call in the mercenaries. That is our last choice, as you can imagine, but if it is unavoidable, let the Secretary know, and she will make arrangements.”
The words went right in one of Damian’s ears and out the other. He didn’t see any reason to call the mercenaries when he had been one only a month before. Still, he agreed but only to please them. “Understood, and I will make sure to exhaust all measures before making that choice.”
