by Michael Todd
Damian sipped his scotch. He could almost hear the old man’s voice in his ear.
“For every day that he nailed no nails into the fence, he could take one out. After thirty days, he was able to go to his father and tell him he’d removed the last nail. His father took him out to the fence and said, ‘You have done well, my son, but look at the holes. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say, ‘I’m sorry.’ The wound is still there.’”
Max smirked a little and shifted his attention to the ground far below. “So you learned that the way you treated people affected them long after the physical evidence was gone?”
His mentor pointed at him. “Yep. Exactly. And I made a vow to myself that I would do whatever I could to protect people from there on out. Anger, frustration, hurt? They’re almost always justified but seldom accomplish anything. That right there was learned through generations of watching other men’s mistakes. Sitting in the light of the moon with the quiet streets of Rome below me, I fell in love with the place. It wasn’t for its grandeur or history. It was for its lessons in humanity.”
The young priest breathed deeply and closed his eyes. “I still struggle with the fact that we can’t save everyone. God, I know it sounds juvenile and ridiculous, but that’s what goes through my mind. I hate to say it, but I think it’s unfair. These people were Damned because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. What kind of divine justice is that?”
Damian nodded thoughtfully before speaking. “Well, I don’t necessarily agree with the church on that aspect of it. I believe that the infected soul is fought for by the angels. That a person infected by a demon unknowingly or unwillingly is not punished by God. I also don’t believe that they are banished to the gates of hell. Instead, I think that just as the bad are turned away from heaven, the good are turned away from hell. The true soul and spirit aren’t wanted in the fiery abyss below. They’re too strong for it.”
“So where do they go?”
He shrugged and turned to face his companion. “Wherever God wills them to. I think they’re judged on the soul they had before they were Damned. They are judged based on their dedication to their maker and the kind of life they led while they were here on Earth. It’s that simple.”
Max smiled. “That makes a lot more sense.”
Damian gave him a half-grin and patted him on the shoulder as he walked toward the door. “Relax for the evening, and simply enjoy being in Rome for one last night.”
The priest left the room and returned to his, hoping that he’d helped the young man in one way or another. He wanted him to be comfortable with his choices and beliefs, not torture himself for not being able to save everyone. He sat in his chair again and pulled out the envelope Wally had given him at the beginning of the day. It was time to see if he was right about the artifact in Pompeii. If he was, he needed to figure out what the hell was going on all over the Earth and where those stones had come from.
Chapter Eight
Max threw his towel over his shoulder as he exited the elevator and walked down the hall. The smell of chlorine filled his nose as he reached the door of the indoor pool. He looked around the large room, happy to find it completely empty. The warm air enveloped him like a blanket and relaxed his tensed nerves. He wanted peace and quiet, and he’d figured he would find it there since it was so late at night. The floor was wet from the guests earlier in the evening, and his flip-flops squeaked across the tile floor.
He walked to the farthest pool chair and tossed his towel over the back. Grasping his wrists, he twisted his tired, sore muscles back and forth to loosen his body. He had forgotten what it was like to not have Astaroth to heal him, but he assumed his demon was either angry or recovering from the blowback of grabbing that dagger.
The young priest slipped his sandals off and covered his eyes with the goggles he’d hung around his neck. He walked carefully to the edge of the pool and sat to slide his legs in first. The pool was a surprisingly comfortable temperature, and he slipped the rest of the way in. He dunked his head under the water and squeezed the air out of his goggles, then gripped the coping and pushed off hard. Instinct clicked in immediately, and he dropped his face into the water as he pumped his arms in rhythmic strokes. He swam as fast as he could, and when he reached the other side, he turned and pushed off again. While he wanted to work his body, it was more important to strip the rampant thoughts from his mind. He had prayed until he was blue in the face, but he knew that God wanted him to work it out on his own.
After about five laps, he stopped in the deep end and removed his goggles. He tossed them up on the deck and dipped his head back into the water. Despite his labored breathing, it felt good. His body had loosened, and for the moment, his mind was quiet. It was exactly the effect he had set out to achieve. He needed the silence in order to get things straight in his head.
Astaroth cleared his throat. You know, if you don’t slow down, you’ll end up drowning in a pool in the middle of Rome. Now I have to admit, that’s better than at the hands of another demon, but it’s not exactly how I saw myself going down.
Max was relieved to hear his voice. How are you feeling?
The demon groaned. I’ve been better, that’s for sure. That metal hit me like a freight train.
I know. That was rough. I’m sorry.
He sighed. I’m not mad at ya, kid. You saved our lives. You would have been dead, and I would have been back in hell. I think I like this life a little better than the other one.
The young priest smiled, turned on his back, and pushed away from the wall. He floated and stared up at the reflections on the ceiling. The water cast shadows there and reminded him of when he was a kid, sitting beside his parents’ pool late at night as he watched the ripples shadow the ground under the moonlight. The sensation calmed him, and he almost felt like he could float there forever. He wondered if that was what death would be like.
Max thought about his demon and how far the two of them had come since he was infected on Incursion Day. Initially, they hadn’t spoken to one another at all, much less had meaningful conversations. He knew it was a demon, but he didn’t mind the company. You know, after all this time, I really don’t know a lot about you. I know that you’ve been in several human bodies before and seen a whole lot of really cool history with your own eyes, but nothing else. What do you like to do? What are your interests and hobbies when you are in a human body?
Astaroth was slightly taken aback by the question. I don’t think I’ve ever had my host ask about me. Either they are so weak-minded that I take them over almost immediately, or they only care about what they can get by having me inside them.
The priest swished his arms through the water. Well, welcome to this lifetime in this human body. Neither of those is me.
The demon thought about it for a moment. I know one thing. Two lives ago, I started drinking coffee. It was the time of Copernicus, when you could walk into a Roman coffee shop and talk about life. You could debate the big questions of the universe. You could come from any walk of life, and no one judged you inside those walls. I tried all kinds of different coffees and wound up absolutely loving the taste. In the next life, I traveled around testing beans and enjoying coffee all over the world.
Max chuckled. That is a crazy life. I can’t even imagine it. I have to tell you, they’ve figured out that too much coffee is bad for you. The caffeine is bad for your heart. Plus, the stuff you add to it is bad for your body. They say one cup a day is okay, but more than that and you simply pump crap into yourself.
Astaroth scoffed. Please. I will live forever, remember? I know I should care about my human body, but come on. I’m still a demon. Lavender ice cream isn’t good for you, either. It’s sugar and flavoring and milk, but I definitely won’t give that up.
He knew he had a point. Yeah, I won’t give that up either. What else?
> The demon chuckled. Okay, there are some hobbies that I have really enjoyed before, but they are pretty out there.
Max liked the sound of that. Yes. That’s what I’m talking about. What are they?
He took a deep breath. Okay, so the last body I was in, he was a farm boy. Straight-up plaid-wearing ride-my-tractor tend-my-cows farm boy, so I started doing what he did for fun. He was a competitive mooer.
Max’s face went blank. A what?
A mooer. You compete in mooing competitions. I would stand in a field—or my human would, at any rate—and we would fucking call the cows home. We won like sixteen competitions. Then there was soap carving, which sounds boring, but I made some pretty amazing pieces.
The man tried not to laugh. That sounds like it’s along the lines of basket weaving.
Probably is, but hey, I like it. Then there was the weirdest one, but it really calmed me. It was called Hikaru Dorodango.
What the hell is that?
Astaroth chuckled. It’s polishing dirt. Seriously, that’s what it boils down to. You take a ball of mud and draw the moisture out of it while you coat it with finer and finer layers of soil. After that, you work the dirt by polishing it into a sphere by hand. They come out looking like balls of marble. It’s cooler than it sounds.
Max laughed. I sure hope so.
The demon shrugged. I also went through a serious hooker phase, but it got boring and expensive, so I decided that dating was cheaper. With you, I don’t have to worry about either. I’m okay with that.
He shook his head. That’s good, since I’m a priest.
How about you? And I don’t want some dumb answer like you didn’t have any. Humans have this weird obsession with always staying busy.
Max thought about it for a minute and decided why the hell not? Well, during my early teens, when I wasn’t infected or fighting demons—before I even knew there was a war going on with the demons—I was part of a Dungeons and Dragons group.
Astaroth was silent for a moment and then burst into loud laughter. The priest scowled and immediately regretted the admission. It was always something he got shit for, and apparently, his demon was no exception. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.
He sounded like he was crying, he was laughing so hard. Oh, God, were you like a monk in that game? Or did you lust over the sexy D&D characters? Oh, holy hell. I can’t stop laughing. I can see you now with a black Dungeons t-shirt, braces, glasses, and your nerdy friends arguing over the eight-sided dice.
Max groaned as he floated, not quite as relaxed as before. You’re a real dick, and you know what? You were in mooing competitions and polished balls of dirt. I don’t think you have any room to talk.
No, I do. You are the ultimate nerd.
Damian returned his chair after he’d retrieved an envelope from the front desk. Apparently, Wally had stopped by at some point and left it for him. He pulled the pictures out and flipped through them. They showed a plethora of different artifacts, some from the Incursion and others dated after that time. These were the pieces Wally had said he would get to Damian to study.
The first photo showed a rather plain-looking vase, but when he used a magnifying glass to better see the design, it showed rows and rows of etched symbols that belonged to different Satanic groups around the world. On the bottom were initials, but they were so badly scratched that Damian couldn’t make them out. He continued through the pictures, finding several of the red stones attached to different items, including a small tabletop and a tiara, and another loose one. There were also several stone tablets etched with symbols instead of written words. Next were small glass vials with liquids in them. The strangest part was that some were dated decades before and yet they were still full.
The last few pictures displayed dozens of necklaces laid out on velvet cloths. Every one of them had the same symbol etched into the exterior of the charm. All were virtually identical.
Damian studied the information sheets, but they didn’t provide much detail. He flipped back to the charms and studied them more closely, shaking his head. The symbol looked so familiar. He grabbed his phone, opened the picture he’d taken in Pompeii, and held the image of the charm next to that of the artifact he’d seen. The symbol etched into the Pompeii mask was the same as that on the charms and several other objects Wally had sent pictures of.
He leaned back in his chair, confused. From the information sheets, it seemed that all the artifacts were from different times. Some of them dated back decades, and others only a few years. He had no idea what it meant for them to have a symbol matching the artifact from Pompeii, other than that whoever these people were, they dated far back in history. How in the world could something that powerful stay so strong for so many years without anyone in the church knowing about it?
Either someone did know but kept everyone else in the dark, or this cult was incredibly good at hiding themselves, even in the face of mass destruction such as Vesuvius or the many other abhorrent events throughout history that had to do with cult activity. If the cardinal had possessed the symbol or the stone, then he must have understood exactly what they were for.
Ravi was paying close attention, even though Damian hadn’t noticed. Can you take that third picture out again? I want to have a closer look at it.
He was surprised. Did it look familiar to you? None of these things make much sense to me.
The demon wasn’t sure. I don’t know. There are so many different things here on Earth. Some are attached to hell, and others are human creations they want. This may be no different, but I want to be sure about it.
Damian flipped through the pictures again and pulled out the one she’d requested. He leaned forward and set it on the footstool in front of him. Thoughtful now, he put his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands to his mouth as he studied it once more. It was a large leather-bound book, although he couldn’t tell what type of skin had been used. It didn’t look like cow, but it was very old and Damian was no expert in animal hide.
On the cover, a large symbol had been burned into the leather, although it was different from the others. It was large, didn’t have the sign of Lucifer in it, and curved more whimsically. He gave Ravi some time to study it and waited impatiently for her to say something—anything. Recently, she had tried very hard to help him solve mysteries and answer the questions he had about demons, fallen angels, and everything that went on inside the church.
The two of them had gotten pretty good at connecting the information dots, and sometimes they felt like a pretty good team. After a few minutes, though, he couldn’t wait. Ravi, what’s going on?
She took a deep breath. That symbol…I think I’ve seen it before. It looks really, really familiar. I haven’t seen it in a century, so I want to make sure that it’s actually the symbol I’m thinking of before I tell you about it. If I get it wrong, it could be bad for you, and for Wally, too. This is really sensitive stuff, so I think being cautious is good. A lot of symbols look similar, and I don’t want to give you false information.
Damian understood. No, that’s fine. I don’t want you to give me wrong information either. We will do some research, and then you can decide whether it’s the one you’re thinking of or not.
He stared long and hard at the picture. There was something about the symbol that caught his attention too. It was like he had seen it somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on where. Whatever it was, it didn’t give him a good feeling in his chest. He had seen a lot of bad things when it came to cults, and he really hoped this wouldn’t be one of them.
Chapter Nine
Damian groaned, rolled over, and slapped the alarm clock. It had vibrated in his ear for about twenty minutes. He was usually on top of mornings, but only because he rarely slept through the night. The previous evening, he’d had no problems staying asleep but rather with keeping the nightmares away. He had dreamt about old times—about Katie, and about losing Ethan. Somehow, the symbols he had found and what they could mean for the world inva
ded his dreams, too. Lastly, he dreamt about Max standing in a room with the three Wise Men around him. He called to Damian, but he couldn’t move. His hands and legs were shackled, and sounds of screeches and yelps echoed from below the ground.
When the alarm went off, it jolted him from the nightmare, but when he opened his eyes, the sun blazed brightly in his face. He wasn’t ready to face the day, something he knew was indicative of his struggles. Ravi yawned and sniffed. You gonna get up, or do I have to take your body over enough to walk you out of here like a zombie? I don’t have any experience working human bodies so it might not be pretty. I can’t control bowel movements, drool, and walk you at the same time.
He groaned and flopped onto his back. I was up late last night. I couldn’t sleep with those symbols floating around in my head. I know I’ve seen them before. And with you feeling that they were familiar, I was done for. When I finally fell asleep, the nightmares were ridiculous.
She scoffed. Trust me, I know. I couldn’t sleep because of the anxiety building up inside you. I tried to wake you, but you were out. Luckily, I ride around in here, so I don't really need to do any heavy lifting.
Damian pulled the covers up. Let’s hope not, at least for one day.
Ravi sent a surge of comfort through him. What did you end up figuring out last night?
The priest sat up and leaned against the headboard. Nothing, really. There isn’t a lot of information online about that stuff. I ended up scanning it and sending it over to Maps. She can find almost anything.
