by Michael Todd
Damian put a fry in his mouth. “I think you’re right, but there isn’t an absence of missions either. They’re merely different, and I do a lot more exorcisms.”
His companion gazed off in the distance. “Elizabeth loved the exorcism part of things. She loved saving lives—or others saving lives, at least. The death part of it got to her a lot more than it did me. She turned hard because of it. I saw that soften a bit over the years, though. I can’t believe I put her in this situation. She could die, and it would be all my fault. I should have simply let her go.”
Damian put his fingers together and searched for the right response. “You do things for love because you want to be with the person. She loved you just as much. Elizabeth wasn’t forced.”
He watched Abraham slip further into his depression and realized that words of comfort weren’t what he needed. The older man wiped his hands. “I know, but the fact that she could be safe right now, even if she wasn’t with me, drives me nuts.”
The priest shook his head. “The battles get worse and worse. If she wasn’t infected, the two of you running most likely gave her a chance at life. Katie has almost died out there. Elizabeth would have been another face on the wall. The reality is that you need to pull your shit together. We’ll do everything we can to get her back. I always told you that your sins would eventually catch up to you. Maybe once we get her back, you can start living a better life. Take this as a sign.”
Abraham shook his finger at Damian. “You’re fucking right. This is a message from above letting me know that what I did in the past won’t slide in the future. When I get her back, I’ll make sure to stay on the straight and narrow from then on out. No more killing, no more fighting, and no more filling my body with crap. I want to be a good man, someone God finds comfort in. Or at least fucking give it a shot.”
Damian listened to him talk, but he knew it wouldn’t be that way. The rogue fighter was a wild guy, and he always had been. It wasn’t a conscious choice for him to be a dick; it was merely who he was. As soon as Elizabeth was safe, he would go back to the same old guy he had always been. Hopefully, those emotions would be used to take care of Elizabeth for the rest of her life. There was nothing Damian could do once it was over. Whatever the outcome, it would be what it would be, and Abraham would move forward—he hoped.
Chapter Fifteen
Damian put his feet up on the patio chair across from him and held the mug of coffee in both hands. He took a sip and closed his eyes as the warm liquid soothed his tired throat. A chill had settled into the air. When he woke up earlier, he had found all the different coffees Max had purchased and sniffed them all until he chose the one he wanted. He did this with one eye barely open, having tossed and turned the night before.
The brew was delicious, probably the best he had ever had. He knew the kid’s demon would have something to say about him drinking the coffee, but at that moment, with the cool, crisp air blowing around him, he didn’t care all that much. He looked up as Rose creaked her door open, humming to herself, and stepped out with her broom in hand. It was the normal morning routine. She stepped into the world and got things done. Her eyes weren’t quite as red that morning as they usually were, but she also hadn’t noticed him sitting there.
He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t scare her, but she jumped anyway and laughed. “You scared me there. Good morning.”
“Morning, Rose. How are you?”
She shivered and looked at the small trees swaying with the breeze inside the courtyard. “It seems the seasons are changing early this year. I don’t mind, though. I love the fall, and the winters here in London are simply beautiful.”
Damian lifted his cup in salute. “I agree. And it doesn’t rain as often in the fall. It’s pleasant to sit out here on the patio and sip coffee without a torrential storm coming out of nowhere to wash me away.”
She held the broom at her side and tilted her head. “Did young Max have a chance to eat the apple pie yet?”
He was about to speak when Abraham opened the door behind him and ventured out with a cup of coffee and a plate full of pie. Damian hadn’t even realized he had arrived yet. The priest raised his eyebrows as the older man sat and took a bite with open enthusiasm. He groaned and chewed. “This is absolutely delicious. Just like my mother made when I was a boy.”
Rose giggled, smirking evilly, and her eyes glowed red. She turned and hurried into her house without another word. The rogue fighter paused with the fork still in his mouth, not hiding the fact that he found the woman incredibly strange. “I still don’t get why you have a demon living across the way and you haven’t done anything about it. You always seemed the type to jump right in and free the old woman from the shackles of her demonhood.”
Damian reached slowly across the table and slid the plate of apple pie away. He found the whole thing amusing as hell but tried to stifle a laugh for his companion’s sake. Abraham looked at the plate and scowled. “What are you doing?”
“It’s funny. She’s Damned, but her demon is pretty dumb. He has taken a liking to baking, but his ingredients are focused more toward reducing the mercenary population than providing something for your sweet tooth. We tend not to eat any of her baked goods and usually throw them away. I forgot all about the pie.”
The visitor looked at the plate, at the priest, and at the plate again, and rage infused his face as he pushed his chair back and grabbed his stomach. As Damian had hoped, he had successfully connected the dots. He really didn’t want to simply state that the old woman was a nuisance and decided it could be a learning experience.
Abraham shook his head. “You let her poison me? Why in fuck’s sake would you leave a pie on the counter if it had poison in it? Put a fucking biohazard sign up or something.”
The priest chuckled. “You won’t die from it. I told you that the demon is an idiot when it comes to its attempts to dispose of the mercenary population. You might want to go inside and use the bedroom upstairs at the end of the hall. It has its own bathroom. I would change my clothes too. Put something comfortable on. I can’t imagine you would enjoy the experience in jeans. There should be some clothes in the dresser. I keep my extra stuff in that room. Take whatever you need.”
The older man’s mouth dropped open. “What am I facing here? Death? Should I go to the hospital?”
Damian waved his hands before he picked up his mug. “It won’t be too bad. You’ll have a little diarrhea, and a really bad stomach ache. Possibly some vomiting, but it really depends. I’m not sure which concoction she put in this one.”
Abraham’s hands balled into fists. “That old bitch. I can teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.”
He rolled his eyes and stood. “Calm down, grandma beater. She’s not really the murderous type, and her demon’s not the brightest crayon in the box. I can’t do anything about her just yet. The church has protected her since she’s been part of the congregation for decades. They are concerned that if I exorcise her, she will die. So, unless she actually tries to murder one of us, we aren’t supposed to touch her.”
His companion shook his head, crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes. “If I wasn’t relying on you to help me, I would remind you that I’m not part of your church, which makes her fair game. As it is, I have a feeling I don’t have much time to debate the issue. Throw the pie away, asshole.”
With that, he turned and stomped back into the house. Damian waited until he was inside before he laughed hysterically. He couldn’t help it. The situation was so ridiculous. Either Abraham had fried taste buds, or his mother had tried to poison him as a child. The priest couldn’t help but assume that the pie tasted a wee bit off considering it had some poisonous chemical in it, so Abraham should have at least suspected a problem.
He glanced at the treat, which had a slight green tint to it. She had pulled out all the stops this time and really tried to stick it to one of them. Damian was glad he hadn’t dug into it when he was drunk the other night. He would have
had much worse than a hangover to worry about.
Beside him on the table, his phone began to vibrate. He leaned back and picked it up to look at the screen. It was Wally, whom he had waited to hear from for several days. He knew his friend was busy, but the symbols rolled incessantly through his mind. Hopefully, the researcher had figured something out. Otherwise, it would remain a mystery that drove him nuts.
“Wally, it’s good to hear from you.”
“Damian, so sorry it took me so long. I had to get your email offline from the Vatican. I’m still researching what you sent me, but I already have fathers on the ground to retrieve the artifact. The funny thing is, I couldn’t find it in the Pompeii register of artifacts. Either someone screwed the pooch on that one, or someone put it there after the register was compiled.”
The priest narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t even considered that the mask might not actually be from Pompeii or that someone had placed it there. It was one of the buildings in the rear which was probably checked less often, and it had looked like something placed there by the historical society. Anyone cleaning would have walked right past it without much thought. “Interesting. Well, I knew there was something about it when I saw it. The inscriptions and the symbols were all too familiar. I pulled the other information, and sure enough, they were a match.”
Wally seemed excited. “It was definitely a good find. Thank you for that.”
Damian looked into his empty coffee mug. “Will you call me as soon as you get the information on it? I’ll set up a fax machine in the house to make things easier. You can simply fax the info over. I know you guys aren’t up to scratch with all the digital technology.”
His friend scoffed. “I’m lucky if there’s a mechanical pencil. But yes, as soon as I know, you’ll know.”
He looked at the house and saw Abraham in the window. “Oh, before you go. I’ve come upon a situation completely outside the church’s parameters. I’ll be facing something—or many things—that I’m not completely knowledgeable about, and I wanted your input on it. You have a moment?”
He heard Wally pull out a chair. “Yes, sure. What’s going on?”
Damian sighed. “Well, an old friend of mine from a while ago showed up at my house. His wife was taken by some kind of cult that’s been around for a few decades, at least. She isn’t infected, so time is of the essence if we want to get her back without damage. A contact of mine explained that the cult originated in LA. Apparently, they were extensively thinned out during the sixties when the cults fought among themselves. It will only be the two of us going in on this, and I would like to have better info on who I’ll face. I wondered if you’ve heard anything about a cult like that?”
His friend clicked his tongue a few times, a sure sign of focused thought. “Actually, yeah. I think I know who you might be talking about. There was a group started in LA in the forties. They were a Germanic-type group called the Descendants of Holle, with Holle meaning hell. They were connected to the Nazis later on, and the group had a mixed population—demons, skinheads, and infected like you. In the sixties, they were targeted by other cults because the others felt they were diminishing the message of ‘no human left standing,’ since they focused on Jewish people, black people, and minorities in general.”
Damian raised an eyebrow. “So, we have a hate group mixed with a demon cult? That sounds nice. Any idea what their strategies are?”
“Well, it’s been a long time since I heard anything to indicate they were active,” Wally said. “They tend to worship third-rung demons—those who have power and are trying to get ahead but aren’t Moloch or Lucifer. These demons feed off their hate, and because these infected are so full of anger, they are easily swayed.”
The priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, they may have a relatively strong demon pulling the strings.”
His friend cleared his throat nervously. “I have to tell you, though, they’ve never been known for random violence. They have a reason for everything they do. If they took this woman, there was a reason behind it, whether it’s a connection to her or to your friend. It’s most likely a trap.”
Damian nodded. “I had already assumed that. My friend hasn’t always been the most forthright person, even when killing demons. I assume it’s someone after him, and she was the easier target. I made a promise, though, and I always keep my promises. Whatever the situation, I’m going in.”
Wally voiced his protest. “They will remember your face, so if you don’t kill them, they may target you for interfering. These cults have no set rules or values. They don’t care what your promises or intentions are. Be careful out there.”
The priest shared his lack of enthusiasm, but he was committed. “I will, thank you.”
His friend yawned. “Well, I gotta get going. I will do some more research on these guys to see if I can pull up anything more recent. As soon as I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Appreciate it, and stay safe, Wally,” Damian replied and hung up.
He sat there quietly and tapped the phone against his lips as he thought for a minute. His mind made up, he shrugged and dialed Timothy, hoping to get some help. “My favorite priest. What in the world are you doing, sister?”
Damian chuckled. “I miss you guys.”
“Aww, we miss you too, Papa Priest. How’s London? Is it fabulous? Are there fashion shows everywhere and amazing gay men dressed in British flags?”
The priest shook his head. “No, not really, although I’m certain that if you visited, they would make sure there were.”
Timothy snapped his fingers. “They’d better.”
He laughed. “What’s happening on that side of things?”
His friend sighed. “We’re still pulling everything together for the move to the new base. Construction will start soon. Stephanie and Korbin are sifting through their old memories now that they have them back. You know, the normal weird-as-fuck shit that goes on over here. Calvin comes by sometimes, but he is with his lady love in San Diego a lot. Joshua and his backup crew stay in their own little world and just want to get their weapons production back on track. There has been a lot of crazy stuff, and we’ll all be glad when it’s finally over. How about you?”
Damian groaned. “I’m trying to keep up with this new life. I have an old friend here who needs some help. It’s something I’m hesitant to do, but I need to keep my word.”
Timothy smacked his lips. “Uh oh, sounds dangerous. You need backup?”
“No, only us. He is adamant about that. I’m collecting all the info I can, though, and will hopefully head out soon. But there’s something else that I thought you could help me with.”
He perked up. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
The priest tapped his fingers on the table. “About ten years ago, around April or May, there was an Incursion in an old warehouse that Korbin’s Killers went out on. Two judges were there, I believe. I’m pretty sure they were Supreme Court Justices, although they could have been senators. Anyway, we took some artifacts from that incursion. I need to find anything with symbols of cult activity on it. I wondered if you could do a little research and find these artifacts.”
Timothy clapped his hands. “Oh, boy, something to occupy my time. It might take me a hot minute since everything is boxed up or in piles.”
Damian understood. “Take your time.”
“Is there some serious importance to this?” he asked.
The priest shrugged. “I’m not sure, actually. It’s a hunch, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
Timothy giggled. “My priesty poo, always saving the world.”
He tilted his head and grinned. “I gotta try.”
Chapter Sixteen
The next day was quiet. They went about their morning with little purpose except to try to get through it. Abraham had stayed at the house that night but kept mostly to himself. He was quiet and contemplative, something Damian wasn’t used to seeing. Around noon, the priest’s phone rang. It was Maps
.
“Go to the door,” she said. “A messenger should walk up right about now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you spying on me now too?”
She chuckled. “No, I paid him extra to be there at a specific time. That time is now.”
Damian looked up as someone knocked on the door. “Looks like he followed instructions to the letter.”
Maps mumbled, “Good, because it cost an arm and a leg.”
He opened the door, took a long tube from the messenger, and signed for the item. Once he’d closed the door, he opened the end and withdrew what appeared to be blueprints. “Are these what I think they are?”
“Sure are. The most up-to-date blueprints of the school. Of course, they don’t include damage that might have occurred since it closed down, but it will give you the general layout, as well as the most likely places for these guys to hide.”
Damian nodded. “This is awesome. Thanks, Maps.”
She sighed. “The bad news is that I haven’t been able to find out anything else about this cult. They are seriously hidden, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a tech who does nothing else but shield them from underground chatter about them.”
He wouldn’t be surprised either. “I did get a call from my contact in the Catholic Church, Father Wally. He remembered quite a bit about them. Apparently, they were formed in LA in the forties, had German ties, and were self-professed Nazis. They were thinned out because they weren’t focused on killing everyone.”
Maps snorted. “Just the Jews and the minorities. Oh, poor things.”
Damian laughed. “Yeah, I don’t have a lot of sympathy for them. They are comprised of demons, infected, and skinheads. They worship third-level demons, and apparently always have a reason for everything they do. Definitely not what I imagined I’d face, but they seem more down to earth than most of the cults. I assume Abraham did something to one of their people long ago. I don’t know for sure, though. I guess we’ll find out later. Or maybe never. It depends, I suppose. My main focus is to get in and rescue Elizabeth, hopefully all in one human piece.”
