by Michael Todd
Chapter Twelve
Damian put up his hands as Abraham continued his entreaty. “Stop. You have to stop begging me like this. You have been in my life for nearly fifteen years, and I can’t say that all of it was a positive experience. Nonetheless, I consider those I fight with family, which means that your family is my family. I won’t let this happen to your wife without doing everything I can to help.”
“Thank you.” The man’s eyes went wide with relief.
The priest shook his head. “This is the last time, though. I take my vow to the church very seriously. I cannot break that every time something bad happens. You, better than anyone, should know that the world is kind of hell on Earth right now. I have to focus on my calling after this rescue attempt. Also, I need you to grasp the truth that I might not be able to help her if she has become infected. You can’t lose it on me in the middle of a battle.”
Abraham nodded. “I understand. The odds aren’t perfect. I get it, but I know that we can make this work. I have to try. I can’t leave her there.”
“I applaud you for thinking about someone besides yourself. It’s refreshing to see that.”
His companion clapped his hands decisively. “Let’s get going, then. I’m sure we can track them down pretty fast.”
Damian snorted but smiled to take the sting out of it. “Hold up. I’ve learned a few things over the years that have kept me alive longer than most other mercenaries. One of those is to never rush into a situation. The right preparation can mean the difference between life and death. When emotions are high, you run blind, and we both know how tricky demons can be. From the sound of it, the cult members aren’t only strong, but smart, too. For a demon-infested person on the wrong side, that can be very dangerous.”
He tapped his fingers on his lips as he thought out loud. “I have to make a couple of phone calls. I know people with access to information and weapons, so we should be able to go in as prepared as we can be for this situation.”
Abraham cleared his throat. “The longer we wait, the more likely it will be that she is infected or dead.”
“I know this is important to you, which is why you need to think before you leap.” The priest put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t want to be the reason she dies when we run in with guns blazing and nothing to back it up. You came to me because this is what I do, and now I need you to trust me.”
Abraham agreed, although his face revealed his reluctance. “I know you won’t steer me wrong, brother.”
“Hey, I’m back,” Max yelled from the hallway.
They turned in their seats as he entered the room. Giving the visitor only a brief glance, he held up the two bags in his hands. “I bought a bunch of different coffees from around the world. We could have a taste test to see which ones we liked the best.”
Abraham smirked. “Your demon likes coffee? Mine liked chocolate. It was a pain in the ass, and I constantly had to hit the gym. Coffee seems like a pretty good one.”
Damian smiled, stood, and walked to Max, who waited expectantly. “We have something to work on, and as much as I want to participate in a coffee binge, it will have to wait. I won’t have time for it for a few days. I would have told you before you left, but things turned out different than I expected.”
The older man sauntered to the bookshelf and tried not to listen to the conversation even though he found it absolutely hilarious. At the same time, he knew how important it was for the Damned to have a piece of regular life. That was what he was now fighting for, after all.
Max’s lip popped instantly into a pout. “That fracking sucks.”
Abraham turned quickly. “Fracking?”
Damian shook his head at him. “Just don’t.”
Max was incredibly disappointed, and his demon was livid. Are you fucking serious? I finally get all the coffee I can drink, and this clown and his sideshow freak over there want to postpone it. No. Hell, no.
The trainee sighed. We should include him on this. I’ll make some of them without him, though, to curb that craving. It’s seeping over into me. I feel like a pregnant woman craving pickles and ice cream.
That’s disgusting. Humans are disgusting, doing all kinds of weird shit as they incubate other humans inside their bodies. Weird. God is totally fucking weird.
Damian pulled him aside. “I’m sending you on a trip. You leave tomorrow morning. I’ll give you my card, and you can book yourself a flight immediately. I want you to pack for it right away. Trust me, you’ll enjoy this, and I bet you get to try even more coffee.”
Astaroth growled. Now he is shooing us out like a child.
Max was irritated, but not as badly as his demon. For whatever reason he wants us to leave, but I trust his judgment.
You would.
He glanced at the other two men. “Where am I going?”
His mentor smiled. “You’re going to Blanchland here in England to study historical sites there that have been linked to heavy demon activity through history.”
Abraham chuckled, drawing their attention. “I went there once. It was one hell of a time. Let’s just say it involved a demon chase and a girl named ‘Sweet Tits.’”
Max winced and glared at the visitor, then grabbed Damian by the arm and led him into the other room. After a quick glance to make sure the man hadn’t followed, he lowered his voice. “Do you need help with anything? Whatever is going on here, something doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel comfortable about leaving you right now. You don’t have to tell me the details, but if you need more hands, let me know. I won’t say a word to the Wise Men. They don’t need to know everything.”
Damian was impressed with Max’s willingness to help. “I really appreciate the camaraderie; it speaks volumes for how far you’ve come. Unfortunately, I think this one is a little over your head, and I can’t risk losing you in a battle that isn’t church-sanctioned. I can’t take the chance of losing you ever, actually, but at least this way you get a vacation until I get him out of my hair. We also have the opportunity to save a life. Go to Blanchland, do your happy tourist thing, and when you get back, things will be back to normal. I promise.”
The young man’s expression remained wary. “Are you sure? If this is something the church doesn’t think I can handle, I want to know. They can’t put me in some dangerous situations and pull me from others.”
His mentor shook his head. “No, it’s not church-sanctioned. It’s personal. I hope to get it over with as quickly as possible, but you know me—I gotta be prepared. Having you away from here and involved in something that’s not dangerous will relieve some of my stress. I have to make sure you’re safe.”
“All right—not that I have very much choice in the matter. I know that when you make up your mind about something, there’s no changing it.” Max shrugged, the gesture resigned rather than enthusiastic.
Damian chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”
“What will I be studying while I’m there? Is there a book of demon involvement in historical events I should look for in the library?”
The priest laughed and gestured for Max to follow him into the library. He moved from shelf to shelf and pulled down different historical references and some journals. As he piled them into the trainee’s arms, he grinned. “That should do it. Brush up on everything, and take as many as you can with you. I’ll make a call and set you up with one of my buddies—a priest—from back in the day. He’ll give you some really good information on demon activity throughout history. This guy knows everything about these sites, and more. He can probably provide a better background on the stuff I told you in Rome, too.”
Max stared at the stack in bemusement. “I’ll have to check an extra bag, and it’ll weigh like a hundred pounds.”
His mentor pulled his card from his pocket and put it on top. “Do whatever you need to.”
The young man sighed and walked from the library to his room. Damian stood in the doorway of the living room until he was out of earshot. Abrah
am hadn’t heard him return, and simply stood there and stared into the fire. Making the decision to help had been hard, but seeing how lost the man looked, he really couldn’t have refused. He had a gut feeling, though, that things wouldn’t work out quite as he wanted them to. That seemed to be the story of the rogue fighter’s life, unfortunately—always behind the curve and always on the receiving end when the shit hit the proverbial impeller.
The older man pulled himself from his haze and sat once more. “So, what is the first thing we need to do? I don’t want to waste any time. The longer we dilly-dally here, the more danger she’s in. I know I don’t have to tell you that, but I can’t help it.”
Damian understood the sentiment and responded patiently, “She’s your wife. I understand your anxiety. I promise we’ll work as fast as possible. The first thing we need to do is peg this group down. We need to make sure that we have every piece of information we can find on them. I want to know an estimated number, are they national or international, and what demon they worship. Hell, I want to know what they fucking brush their teeth with. I don’t want to underestimate my opponent.”
Abraham dug through his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. “I knew I would need some information to pass along, so I did some reconnaissance on my own before I came here. The place they took Elizabeth to is only about three hours from here. I called an old contact of mine, and he responded before I arrived. It’s a schoolhouse. I wrote the address here.”
He slid the paper across to Damian, who was surprised he had done anything at all. The rogue fighter had always been the kind of guy who flew by the seat of his pants. The priest could only assume that his love for his wife had slowed him down enough to at least try to think about the details. He nodded his head. “This is good, really good. Creepy that it’s in a schoolhouse, but hey, they thrive on creepy.”
Abraham cracked a smile. “That they do. Anyway, that’s where they’re keeping her, and we need to eventually end up there. Apparently, it’s abandoned and hasn’t been maintained since it closed down years ago. It’s off the beaten track, and there is enough space that the cult can monitor everything going on there. It sounds like a dangerous place, but with the right weapons, I think we can pull it off.”
Damian folded the paper and pulled his phone from his pocket. He didn’t want to waste another second. They had too much to do, and the clock was ticking. Focused, he flipped through the numbers, but before he could dial, his companion put his hand up. “Who are you calling? I thought this would stay between us. I don’t trust other people to keep their mouths shut, and the last thing I need is to walk into a trap because someone blew our cover. It has to be top secret.”
The priest put the phone down for a second and stared seriously at him. “I know you’re scared, and possibly even paranoid right now. Still, if you want me to be part of this mission, you have to trust me. One thing I’m adamant I will never do again is to walk blindly into a building. To avoid that, I need maps, surveillance, and a whole slew of other things that I don’t have here on my shelves. Take a deep breath. I’ve never steered you wrong before.”
Abraham leaned back nervously, and Damian could tell he needed a little more reassurance. “You remember that trip to Southern California?”
The man smirked. “Yeah, the one where we freaked all those people out so we could use the pool ourselves?”
He laughed. “Yes. What I remember even more is the battle we charged into without any knowledge of what was happening. That was one of the worst beatings I’ve ever endured. We both ended up in the hospital. You were stabbed in the kidney by a demon, and I had four broken ribs, a concussion, and a gash that ran the length of my spine. It wasn’t something I even saw coming. I won’t go through that again. You know I lost a lot of men with the mercs. They were brave and beautiful souls who will never return.”
The rogue fighter knew all this, but it didn’t allay his reservations. “I’m afraid to involve other people, not only because of trust issues but for safety. If others are there, I’ll feel the need to protect them instead of focusing on what has to be done. Besides, I remember your contacts. They’re always hella shifty, and you don’t exactly brag about them in public.”
Damian pursed his lips. “I was a baby then. I wanted the movie-screen battle scene. Things are definitely different now. I have some really good resources, and to do this effectively, I think it needs to be carefully planned. I trust these people with my life. I use everything they send me, and most of the time they’re involved in my battles, even if it’s only from behind the scenes. I sent Max away because he’s too inexperienced, which means I need to compensate for his loss by including as much reconnaissance as possible.”
Chapter Thirteen
Damian grunted as he backed into the front door and opened it. He balanced the large paper bag on his knee and tossed his keys on the stand by the door. Turning, he kicked the door shut behind him and walked into the living room. Awkwardly, he set the package on the table near the fire and stood to ease his back with a satisfying crack. He hadn’t realized how out of shape he had gotten and made a mental note to schedule workouts in the coming days. With all the fighting, his training regimen had all but lapsed, but after the day he’d had, he looked forward to doing nothing but relaxing.
He walked into the kitchen and drank a tall glass of water while he leaned against the counter and looked around. Max had apparently cleaned while he was gone, which he was thankful for. No matter how neat and tidy he was with his appearance, he tended to be messy in the kitchen, and most of the time, he didn’t even cook. He wasn’t sure how it always turned out looking like he was a master chef who disdained dishwashing.
The priest finished his water and returned to the main area. He paused in the dining room and looked at the stack of notes he had written with Abraham. It would be a huge fight, he could feel it, and he wasn’t entirely sure the older man was up to it. He had offered him a room at the house, but Abraham had declined and booked a room in a London hotel for some “quiet time.” Damian knew what that meant. He planned to get wasted and wallow in self-pity for a while. He didn’t like it, but he had given up babysitting the rogue fighter a long time ago.
The rest of the house was eerily silent except for the crackling fire. Max had gone to bed already, having packed his things and booked his flight. He couldn’t tell if the trainee was upset about the whole thing or not, but it had to be done. Part of being a mentor to the kid was to keep him safe, and he didn’t intend to drag him into one of Abraham’s mishaps, no matter how badly he felt for Elizabeth. He knew there had to be more to the story, even if Abraham didn’t know what it was.
Damian could still remember Elizabeth, even though he had only fought with her a handful of times. He remembered hearing about her leaving the team in Louisiana, but he’d never thought to ask whether she returned. Life had been crazy back then, with demons calls every other day. Other people going M.I.A. had been the least of his worries at that point.
He drew a deep breath and caught the lingering aroma of Max’s coffee experience. It was strong in the air, but he didn’t mind. It made him think back to when he lived at the barracks with the mercenary teams. Before Katie, the place had smelled like stale coffee all the time, but after she came, a fresh pot was always ready. She didn’t even drink much coffee back then. Her beverage of choice had been a cup of tea, even at the bar. But she made sure that her family was taken care of, and coffee was their elixir of life.
It made him crave a hot cup, but he had other things on his mind. There were much better drinks available, and he planned to have a little fun that night in the process. He rarely ever took time for himself, so he didn’t feel guilty about it in the least.
Damian wandered to the liquor cabinet, opened it, and selected several whiskey glasses. He couldn’t help but wonder why a home predominantly used to house priests would have such an extensive liquor cabinet, but he shrugged and decided it was merely a happy acciden
t. There wasn’t anything stocked there that he wanted, mostly sherry and a couple of bottles of expensive port. It was exactly the kind of thing that he could see old, overweight priests sitting around drinking when they plotted something nefarious for the church. There were definitely enough of that kind of priests.
He dusted the glasses and could sense Ravi’s attention quickening. He knew she would be excited, but he tried to wait to tell her until after he’d formulated his plan of attack.
She yawned. Whatcha doing with those glasses, Pops?
The priest smirked. You’ll see. Just be patient.
If you haven’t noticed, I’m a demon. Patience isn’t something that was instilled in us when we were created or turned into demons. Nonetheless, carry on.
Damian laughed as he walked back into the living room to the shopping bag. He put the glasses on the table and pulled six different bottles of liquor from it and set them in a row. Ravi took a second to look everything over and sniffed each one. You are my goddamn hero, Pops. I’m so fucking stoked. I seriously thought you would never make good on your promise.
He shook his head. You didn’t give me any time. Seriously. You ask for something, and you want it right then. For someone centuries old, I figured you would have learned how to wait.
I know you love me, despite the fact that you just put an age on me. I’ll ignore that for now. I knew it, though. I knew it. Yes, sir, I knew it. Sometimes, I lose faith in you, Pops. I do. But in the end, you never cease to amaze me.
Damian laughed, feeling like he had given her a second chance at life or something. It was only scotch. He decided that if he were stuck inside someone else, constantly working on them, he would get excited over something like that too. You have to rev up my tolerance, though. I really don’t want to have a hangover tomorrow. I also don’t want to end up stumbling into Rose’s arms in the middle of the night. She might feed me, and then all hell would break loose.
