by Michael Todd
The demon chuckled. Yeah, I like that human. She’s got it down. Very resourceful and spunky, although I don’t think she and I would have anything in common if I took her body over. She would have me dressed in fishnets.
Fishnets are worse than bowties? He smirked.
She thought about that for a minute. I’ll have to get back to you on that one. At least you’re comfortable most all the time. I don’t have to worry about your ass cheeks hanging out the back of your pants. I’m a fashion girl, but I’m also relatively modest when it comes to stuff like that.
Damian pursed his lips. That surprises me, but I like it.
She chuckled. Get out of bed, Pops. It’s time to pack up and get out of Rome.
The priest sneered, dragged himself out of bed, and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced out the window at the Roman scenery and smiled. It was definitely a beautiful thing to see first thing in the morning. London had its charms, but for security purposes, there was no awesome view from where he lived. They had explained to him when he had first moved in that there was a reason he was stuck off the beaten path. It made it harder for demons to track him down.
He pulled out his last set of clean clothes, dressed, and finished packing his things. When he was done, he glanced at Max’s balcony but figured he was still sleeping. He would likely throw on his wrinkled priest getup and rush out the door. That was one thing about Damian that wasn’t at all like his trainee. He had always been prim and pressed, even before being infected.
Damian walked to his colleague’s door and knocked. To his surprise, it opened immediately. Max left it open. “Morning, brave Yoda. What’s the plan for today?”
The older man stepped inside and looked around. Max was dressed in a clean and ironed uniform, the coffee had been made in the small pot in his room, and his suitcases were all packed and ready to go. They were stacked neatly in the corner by the door, and he had even taken the time to make his bed.
He handed a hot cup of coffee to his mentor. For once, the priest didn’t know what to say. He looked at it for a moment and set it down, thinking it was a trick. Surely the young man’s things were still strewn haphazardly around the room. He glanced in an open drawer, but it was empty, and the bathroom had been tidied. Max chuckled. “You okay? Looking for someone hiding in the curtains?”
Damian gave him a “yeah, right” look. “I know you better than that, young man. No, I have to admit, I’m very surprised that you’re already up and completely prepared for the day. I expected to have to roll you out onto the floor.”
His companion laughed and finished his coffee. “Hey, somebody has to have their shit together around here.” The priest raised his eyebrows, but he lifted a hand to stop him. “I know, I know…language!”
The older man pursed his lips and nodded, the opportunity to reprimand Max well and truly gone. “At least I don’t have to repeat myself. You do that for me.”
Max shrugged. “Add it to the list of duties I am to perform for you, oh great prophet.”
Damian threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I think I would be passed over for that job.”
The younger man smiled. “You ready to get going? I asked the front desk to pull the SUV out front so we could load up quickly.”
Now he was impressed. “Yep. Let’s haul our luggage down, then.”
His companion cleared his throat and nodded toward the door. A luggage cart stood there, all ready for them. He gave Max a thumbs-up and took one last look around the room before he headed to his room for his stuff. They piled the baggage onto the cart, and the trainee pushed it toward the elevator. Damian closed the door, and he patted his pocket quickly to make sure he had his cross.
When they got downstairs, the car was open and ready, and it took only a few minutes to load up and head out. They took the same route they had used the night before and pulled up in front of the hospital. In a few minutes, they had checked in at the front desk and headed to the priest’s room.
As they entered, the man looked up from the paper he was reading in his bed and stared over his glasses. A smile brightened his face. “Ah. My saviors. Damian and Max, right?”
Damian stepped forward to shake the priest’s hand. “You speak English.”
He chuckled. “I am from Forks, Washington. Father Richards is my name.”
“Good to meet you, and it looks like you are feeling much better.”
Father Richards folded his paper. “I am, thank you. I was about to get dressed and break out of here—with the doctor’s permission, that is.”
Max approached. “Father, we have to go back to London today, but we were hoping to ask you a few questions about what happened.”
He nodded. “Of course, though after the bump on my head, I’m not sure how much I will really remember.”
Damian shook his head. “No problem. I guess the first question I have is how the demons were able to infiltrate the church when it is a holy place. For centuries, it has been known that their power isn’t strong on holy ground.”
The priest cleared his throat and frowned. “I’m afraid that has to do with history. The church was never blessed. It was built by the townspeople decades ago and run as an offshoot of the head church. It wasn’t until the eighties that we had representatives like me there.”
That explained a lot of things. “I see. Then you had a couple of bad seeds, and they kind of sprouted within the congregation.”
Father Richards stood up and pulled his pants on under his hospital gown. “Precisely. Once they had infected my other priests, it was too late to do anything. I sent a letter to the church but waited quite a while for a response. By that point, we were already overrun.”
Damian sighed. “I’m sorry for that. We did our best to exorcise whoever we could. The rest, unfortunately, were beyond help.”
He buttoned his black shirt and patted Damian on the shoulder. “It’s all in God’s hands, anyway. Nonetheless, I owe the two of you my deepest and most sincere thanks for not only saving me but the majority of my congregation. I’m glad you told me they won’t have memories about what happened.”
Just then, the door opened, and one of the kids Max had exorcised walked into the room and smiled at everyone. “Father, are you ready to leave?”
Father Richards buttoned down his shirt collar. “That I am, young man. How are you feeling after that gas leak?”
The boy rubbed his head. “Okay. I’m still not sure how I ended up at the church so late, but if you’re going to be injured, I guess that’s not a terrible place to be.”
He glanced at Max and Damian and hesitated as if he recognized them. The priest pointed to the floor by the door. “That’s my bag, which I asked to be brought to me this morning. Would you take that outside? I will meet you there. These fine gentlemen can walk me out.”
The youngster nodded, grabbed the bag, and looked at the visitors one last time before he left. They walked the priest out and shook his hand.
“Good luck, boys,” Father Richards said as he entered the car. “You’re doing a great service for the church.”
Damian patted Max on the back. “Come on. We have enough time before our flight to grab some food.”
The younger man looked strangely at him. “I thought we were taking the train back.”
He shook his head as they approached the SUV. “I didn’t want to deal with bouncing around for hours and figured you wouldn’t mind a plane ride.”
They headed to the airport and directly to the bar. A table was available, and the waitress took their orders. The older priest had already grabbed a drink, and his companion skimmed the menu. “I’ll have a Porchetta di Ariccia sandwich and an espresso, please.”
She smiled and left. Damian raised an eyebrow. “An espresso?”
Max shrugged and put his napkin in his lap. “My demon’s favorite thing is coffee, so I decided I would give it a shot. He has studied coffee through the centuries. I figure if it’s good enough to hold his attention fo
r that long, I might as well give it a go.”
The priest laughed. “At least our demons have good taste in drinks.”
“Oh, yeah? What does your demon enjoy?”
He held up his half-glass of top-shelf scotch. “Would you expect anything different from a demon inside me?”
Max simply laughed. Ravi sniffed. I like this stuff. Still not as good as that reserve bottle you brought home a couple of weeks ago, but it’ll do in a pinch. But please don’t order any on the plane. Their mini bottles are the pits.
The trainee enjoyed his lunch, and when they boarded their plane to London, he took the window seat. Damian leaned his chair back and opened his laptop. He didn’t even have a chance to talk to Max before the young priest was asleep, his head on a pillow pressed against the window. With a fond smile, he pulled a blanket over Max and focused on his laptop. The strange symbols still teased his brain, and since he was no longer exhausted, he could use the travel time to try to find more information.
He searched through pages and pages of old cult symbols from London and other parts of the world, but nothing caught his eye, and his frustration mounted. He skimmed the last page and reached up to shut his laptop, but stopped when something grabbed his attention. The symbol from the artifacts was displayed in the final entry. He read the explanation aloud in a hushed whisper. “This symbol, although it has existed for centuries, is now used mostly in the United States by elitist cult organizations residing primarily on the East Coast.”
At that moment, a light bulb flashed in his head, and Damian remembered exactly where he had seen it before. Years before, he had gone on an incursion call with Korbin’s Killers as part of a multi-team assignment in Washington D.C. They hardly ever worked there, but help was needed for a big case. He had fought long and hard that day, and when it was all over and the ash had cleared, two Supreme Court Justices were in handcuffs, waiting to be sent to research.
“These assholes have given us hell for weeks,” one of the local mercs had told Korbin and Damian.
He had walked to the altar and looked at the floor below it. The symbol had been painted on the ground, circled in red, and was surrounded by melting candles. Even now, he could remember it vividly despite the thin layer of dust that had coated it.
After he had taken a picture for historical reference, he picked up one of the cloaks that had been worn by a demon he had personally eliminated. It was a long shimmering black-hooded garment with the same symbol embroidered on the breast. Korbin had walked over and looked at it over his shoulder.
Damian glanced back at him. “Mean anything to you?”
The other man shrugged. “Another cult, another symbol, although that’s an old one. It had ties to Pompeii and several other incidents. They’re always officials of some sort, and they’re all willing to sacrifice for the cause. Except for these two assholes, of course. They were in it for the money and the power.”
The Fasten Seatbelt sign dinged above him, pulling him from the memory. He knew that there was something more to it than his mind playing tricks on him. That symbol was obviously used by that particular cult, but the group had enclaves all over the world. It was a sign of doom—or at least appeared to be such—and Damian wondered if they had begun to gather once again.
Chapter Ten
It was late afternoon by the time the duo pulled up in front of the iron gate of their house in a cab. They retrieved their luggage and paid the driver before Damian unlatched the gate. Max elbowed him with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Incoming.”
The priest looked up to see Rose standing in the courtyard with her broom. As she waved at them, her eyes flashed between red and brown. “Yoo-hoo, boys. I’m so glad you’re home safe.”
They walked up the cobblestone path toward her, and she set the broom down and held up a finger. “Hold on one second. I have something for you.”
She ran into the house and returned quickly, carrying a fresh apple pie. The men exchanged glances, and the older man took it from her. “Thank you so much, Rose.”
Damian set it down on the patio table. He could feel the warmth of the pie through the tin plate. He put one hand in his pocket and eased the bag strap on his shoulder. “How has the weather been?”
Rose glanced strangely at their house and again at him with a smirk. “Oh, it’s been lovely here. Barely any rain. Where did you guys go off to? More work with the church?”
He patted his bag. “Nope. Merely a nice relaxing touristy trip to Rome for a couple of days.”
Max nodded. “We saw all the sights except for the Vatican. There was an event, and we wouldn’t have been able to get in.”
The woman wrinkled her nose and scoffed. “The Vatican? Not as impressive as they make it look on television, that’s my opinion. The Catholic Church has some learning to do. All the rosaries and puffs of white smoke in the world won’t get you into heaven if you’re weak at heart. Damn Catholics can’t seem to get it through their heads that God is watching them and their sin.”
Damian observed her face as Max looked awkwardly around the courtyard. Her eyes flashed red and back to brown as if she were fighting her demon. The priest stepped forward and leaned closer to her. “You know, I might be of assistance with your…little problem. Just let me know.”
She laughed merrily. “If you’re talking about the rats in these old homes, no one is able to handle that. Other than that, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gave her a knowing smile and stepped away. “Well, we have some unpacking to do. Thank you for the pie. And put up your feet. You deserve it.”
Rose giggled. Her eyes deepened to brown, showing her true persona for a moment. As they walked toward the side gate that led to the garage, Damian could hear her snicker and hiss to herself. Some of the whispers were light, but others sounded dark and demonic. It was obvious that she was arguing with her demon. Max carried the pie happily as if he’d noticed nothing.
They entered through the small door to the right of the garage and set their bags down on the workbench. The trainee retrieved the key to the large lock on the armory closet Damian had installed before they left and unloaded the few weapons they had taken. “I thought I would be sad to leave Rome, but I’m really happy to be back. It’s starting to feel like home here.”
Damian inserted a fresh magazine into his pistol and handed it to his companion, who put it in the closet without so much as a glance before he locked the large doors and handed the key to his mentor.
“I’m glad to hear that. It’s important for us to feel at home. We could be here for a very long time. You must have a sanctuary to come back to after the things we deal with, or you’ll go nuts. In the barracks with the mercs, they always gave me space to set up a small church. It was my sanctuary.”
Max indicated the neon cross in the corner. “Was that part of it?”
The priest smiled, recalling how it had added light to the dark room at the base. “Yep. It has been in three different barracks and is still going strong. What will you do with the rest of your day?”
His assistant slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll unpack, change, and head into town. There’s a café where I can get samples of coffee from all over the world to try. I’ve been told they have the best selection.”
“I know the place, and maybe I’ll join you. There’s a shop near there where I can buy some specific whiskeys. My demon has a list a mile long, and I’m afraid that if I don’t start indulging her, she might revolt.”
Ravi snorted. Damn straight, Pops. And let me tell you, you totally have me excited right now. It’s like New York Fashion Week, but for whiskey. Now I know what those kids feel like when it’s Christmas Eve and they wait for their parents to lie to them and put presents under the tree from a fake fat man in a red suit.
Damian chuckled. Man, you sure know how to ruin a good thing.
Please, like you don’t think that’s weird? I— Wait. What is that? Something isn’t right.
<
br /> The priest immediately reached out, grabbed Max by the arm, and put his finger to his lips. Moving quickly but stealthily, he opened the cabinet again and snatched his pistol. He closed the cabinet carefully and walked toward the door to the house. His companion pointed at the broken lock. The door stood ajar. Barely an inch, but it was obvious that someone had broken in.
Damian pushed Max behind him and held the gun at the ready as he pushed the door open slowly. The house was dark, all the windows covered by thick drapes. He squinted into the shadowy hall and stepped forward with Max close behind. They crept down the hall and into the entryway, where a staircase stood. He aimed the gun up the stairs, shook his head, and looked toward the living room.
The flicker of the fire cast shadows on the section of floor visible through the doorway. Nothing else seemed to be out of place, so Damian assumed whoever was in there wanted something other than their possessions. Carefully, they edged forward, and the priest drew in a deep, quiet breath. He raised his gun and flung himself around the corner, the barrel aimed directly in front of him.
His eyes were still adjusting to the light, and he blinked several times at the shadow of a man on the wall above the fireplace. He opened his mouth to issue a challenge but stopped when the visitor cleared his throat.
“Do you know that you have a neighbor who’s a demon?”
He reached over and clicked on the standing light as he exhaled a deep breath of relief. His old friend Abraham sat in a comfortable chair, his legs crossed before him as he absorbed the heat of the fire. Max stepped out from behind his mentor and glanced from one man to the other. He barely registered the stranger, thoroughly distracted by the fact that the man knew Rose was infected.
He turned to his mentor. “What does he mean? Is he talking about Rose?”
The priest sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “We can talk about it all later. Why don’t you put the pie on the table and go change your clothes? It looks like I have an unexpected visitor to entertain.”
The trainee narrowed his eyes at him; he obviously had more questions. Damian’s gaze darted to the visitor, who stood now and wiped his palms on his dirty gray jeans. Max had no idea what the hell was going on, but he gathered that it wasn’t the time to ask more questions. He took his bags and turned to find the stranger standing there with his hand out.
