by Michael Todd
Damian gave him a comforting smile and patted his leg. “You did the right thing, Wally. I know it might not feel that way, but you are ultimately protecting them right now—at least, until you understand what’s going on here.”
Wally’s shoulders relaxed at Damian’s reassurance. “After I got home, I put everything in freezer bags to keep them dry and safe, and caught a plane. Luckily it was my day off, so I didn’t need to explain the trip to anyone. That’s why I’m so late. I grabbed the first available flight.”
Damian leaned back again and stared into the fire. “You did the right thing,” he said again. “Do you have any idea what this might mean? Why would they want you, the keeper of secrets, to have this rather than the church?”
The researcher shook his head. “I really have no idea. I wanted to read everything to see if it gave me any clues, but I know that I can’t keep them with me at the Vatican. The risk of them being found is too high. I wouldn’t be able to explain.”
The priest nodded and suppressed any outward expression of concern. He stood and put his hand out. “Come. You should stay the night. You won’t find a flight back this late, and it’s not safe to wander around London in this storm. I have a spare room upstairs with a hot shower and dry clothes.”
Wally paused for a moment before he grasped Damian’s hand. “I suppose you’re right. I’m off tomorrow too, so I can take my time and not be frozen and wet.”
Damian put his arm around his friend’s shoulder and led him up the stairs and to the room. He paused at the bedroom door as Wally put his things down and began peeling his layers off. “If you need anything—anything at all—let me know. I’ll probably be up for a while, so call for me or come down. You did the correct thing, Wally.”
The nervous man gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I really hope you’re right.”
Chapter Two
Damian hesitated at the foot of the stairs, and his gaze drifted to the living room. Shadows from the fireplace danced across the ceiling, and the pounding of the rain echoed. Thankfully the thunder and lightning had stopped, which would calm Wally a little. The poor man was spooked enough from receiving the package in the mail without the added stress of the storm. Whoever sent it had an agenda, but the researcher wasn’t one to dig into mysteries outside of his job. The reasonable explanation was perhaps that whoever sent it knew he would bring it to Damian.
Ravi sniffed. This is an interesting turn of events.
The priest crept toward his chair, drawn by the open package on the footstool. Yeah, it is, but possibly not surprising. Let’s take a look.
Fine, but be careful, she said. I don’t have a good feeling about it.
Damian sat and shuffled the bags, taking a quick look at each. Starting with the smallest, he emptied the contents into his hand. A round medallion the size of the bottom of a teacup slid out, old and slightly rusted. He used his handkerchief to rub the metal, then held it close to his face. Interesting symbol. I’ve never seen it before. You?
The demon strained to look through his eyes. No. It looks like something you’d pick up at a casino, only morbid.
He dropped the disc back into the bag. I doubt our cardinal is a showgirl’s kind of man.
Ravi scoffed. You say that, but he’s also suspected of demonology. For all you know, bro could be shacked up in a penthouse suite with seven ladies of the night.
Damian shook his head and looked at the other items. He pulled a book from a plastic sleeve and flipped through it—a book on demons with notes scribbled in the corners. He read one of them out loud. “Asamta gibia rhum…”
Ravi gasped when he’d finished. That’s Aramaic. It translates to something like “laying of the hands for chosen people.” Weird.
He raised an eyebrow when he realized how much translation would be required. He replaced the book and moved on. We’ll take a closer look at that later.
The demon snickered. I told you he was laying on the hands…in Vegas.
Damian chuckled and set aside several robes, each with different symbols stitched into them. Beneath those were a map and the five journals bound together. He ran his finger over the symbols burned beneath the cardinal’s crest on the front. I have never seen these before, but they share qualities with some we have uncovered. Do they look familiar to you?
Ravi thought for a silent moment. The top one has ties to a cult, one from centuries ago that was apparently deeply connected with Lucifer. They were said to be the first to bring demons to Earth. The others…no, they don’t look familiar to me at all.
The priest was slightly disappointed. Every time he turned, he encountered something that no one had ever seen before. I swear these symbols are like university fraternities. There are about a thousand, with new ones popping up everywhere. I should gather all the different symbols and put them in one text for the generations to come.
The demon yawned. It’s not like you have to register these bitches. The cults don’t pay taxes, that’s for sure.
Bastards. Maybe we would go a bit lighter on them if they gave back to the community instead of snatching souls. Give some fucking money to the highway system, assholes. You have to drive your beater over them to get to your next sacrifice.
Ravi giggled. This highway is sponsored by the Ancient Followers of Lucifer. Keep our roadways clean.
Damian grinned, picked up the last journal, and saw the date on the first page—October 14, 1965. Huh. These date back a ways.
She sniffed. I mean, the cardinal is older than hell. He probably had tea with Jesus at some point.
The priest leaned back, held the journal open, and stared down at the very precise cursive handwriting on the first page. He began to read, trying to put himself in the cardinal’s place. It was written in Latin, but he translated.
October 14, 1965
This is a new journal, the others now full to the brim. It is October yet again, the witching month. My skin crawls every time the clock strikes midnight. I wait here for him, wondering if he will reappear. Will he find me lacking in my duties, in my restitution for the sin I have taken upon my shoulders? Yet, night after night, the clock ticks past the hour and no one comes.
The thunder of the storm outside rattles this small parish in the Italian countryside. I am here on assignment, an investigation into the recent surge in demon activity. Every time the bishop looks at me, I wonder if he knows. I keep it hidden. The secrets are mine to the grave or until they find me out.
At night, I lay there somewhere between waking and dreaming. My dreams are no longer my own but are filled with visions of the events of the past. I see the blood run along the streets and the fire, and I hear the screams. I hear her and I run to her, but she is no longer there. I clutch my crucifix, only to find a medallion in its place, one that holds his crest. Never have I seen this in waking hours, but it is clear in my mind.
When I wake, sweat covers my forehead, and I can feel the pain from my old wound surge through my body. It burns like the talons that stabbed me. It was all in the name of God, I know, but sometimes it feels as if I am no longer under His protection. Was that a side effect of the deal I made? Will I be forsaken until death? What then? Have I given away my seat with the angels to save a precious entity of God? It will be worth it, even for an eternity of suffering. It is my job, after all. I serve God’s Will and the church.
Let’s hope the silent nights remain that way. I do not hurry to fulfill my end of the bargain. Until I write again.
Ye Yalufa,
Mortimore
Damian read the last line again, repeating it in a whisper. “’Ye Yalufa.’ I don’t know that phrase.”
Ravi sniffed and came forward. Oh, that’s Aramaic as well. It means “Your Disciple.” He either dreams he is much more important to God than he is, or there is more to this story.
The priest closed the book and stared into the fire. I have a sneaking suspicion we’ll find out a lot more from these journals. I doubt it is as simple as a case of mistak
en divinity. He speaks like a fearful man.
And one who seems remorseful, yet proud of his past. Something happened, but I can’t grasp what he is talking about.
Damian tapped his fingers. Me either.
The demon yawned loudly. Maybe it’s time for a little whiskey to calm the senses.
He shook his head, slightly distracted by the strange events. I think I’ll stick to tea tonight. I can still feel the pounding on the door in the back of my skull.
As he ran his thumb over the symbol thunder rumbled loudly, making him jump. His heart pulsed rapidly, and he rubbed his arms and shook his head. I feel like this night has unhinged me. Every time I move, something pops up or jumps out at me.
Ravi agreed. I don’t usually get spooked, but I have to admit this day has me by the short hairs.
Damian laughed. Imagine that, a demon afraid of the creepy. Isn’t that what you guys are made of?
She snickered. Oh yeah—a little death, a little malice, and a pinch of creepy. You figured the recipe out.
We are letting our imaginations get the best of us. Maybe it’s time to call it a night? Start fresh when there is more sunlight and less storm.
He stood and stretched, pushed the doors to the fireplace closed, and began to pack the items into the brown paper. As he gathered the journals, he paused and rubbed at the crest once again. I can’t help but wonder if the cardinal is still alive at this point. All this seems very dangerous, and none of it excuses his crimes.
Ravi clicked her tongue. Be careful about the conclusions you draw. Demons are tricky. They can turn your head in a heartbeat. We don’t have any clue who sent this. It could have been some random neighbor, or it could have been Lucifer.
Do they have mail in hell? No wonder packages take so long!
No, but if we did, I’m sure we would figure out some way to send demons in a box.
Damian picked up the stack of items and walked toward the bookcase. Oh, look, little Cindy, someone sent you a present for your birthday!
The demon laughed and finished his thought. Is it a Barbie? Is it a pony? Nope. It’s Moloch, here to take your soul and eat your bones. Special party tricks for an extra cost.
The priest shivered and pressed his hand against the back wall of the shelf. It clicked, and the whole thing swung open to reveal a hidden safe. He entered the code and set the items inside, staring at them for a moment before closing it again. Ravi was surprised that he was putting them under lock and key. You getting paranoid?
Damian locked the safe and returned the shelf to its position. A stranger sent highly valuable information to our friend, who brought it to us. We don’t know if this is a trick. I’m the only one who knows about this safe, and for now, I think it’s smart to keep it that way. I want time to research these items and delve into those journals before someone comes looking for them.
Ravi went quiet for a moment. You mean the Catholic church, don’t you?
He hated the idea, but it wasn’t ridiculous. The church was known for protecting their secrets and doing anything they had to, to accomplish that. If they knew he had those pieces of the cardinal’s life, his home would be turned upside down in a search. It was better that they were out of sight and that Max didn’t get wind of them, at least not yet. There were things in the world that he wasn’t ready to reveal to his mentee—things he’d learned long ago that had shattered his view of the world they lived in.
Damian swigged the last of his tea, then carried the dishes to the kitchen and took the time to wash everything and put it all away. While he worked, his mind considered the words of the journal entry. He knew he could sit all night reading, but this was not the night to do so. His body was tired and ready for sleep, and he wanted to talk to the researcher in the morning. He had a million questions, but he knew he needed to limit their scope. Wally was his friend, and the man had risked great danger to bring him those things. Any more information would make the nervous keeper of secrets a liability to others and put Damian himself at risk.
Ravi yawned again. Do you think this cardinal is into something bad?
The priest narrowed his eyes as he clicked the living room lights off. It doesn’t sound like anything good, that’s for sure, although I sense he is not the villain in this story, at least not deliberately.
The demon agreed but said nothing more, leading Damian to believe she was holding something back. Then again, she seemed a pro at doing that, and he knew pushing her would only make her retreat even more. He moved upstairs and crept quietly down the hall. Opening the spare bedroom door slightly, he peeked in on Wally, who lay sound asleep in his bed. The man had been exhausted, and a safe, warm bed had been exactly what he needed.
Damian closed the door and headed down to his room. He changed for bed and shivered as he climbed between the cold sheets. The thunder rumbled again overhead as questions flooded his mind. Who was the woman the cardinal had written of? What had he done that was so bad that he waited each night for a terrifying visitor to arrive on his doorstep?
Ravi groaned. Can we talk about something other than Creepy McCardinal? I will be up all night if we don’t.
The priest raised his eyebrows and smiled. Yes, we can. In fact, I think I might need that too. What did you have in mind?
The demon spoke immediately. Well, I remembered that shopping trip you said you would take me on.
Damian grumbled and turned over. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the cardinal’s story isn’t as frightening as I thought.
Ravi giggled. Nope, you can’t get out of this. We need to set a date. You promised, and you know that the longer you hold out, the worse it will be for you.
He rolled his eyes. Fine. We can go tomorrow afternoon. But I saw some of the London fashions on the television. You cannot dress me in anything that belongs in a demon chamber, and if there is a skirt involved, I’m out. I don’t need a breeze when fighting demons.
She laughed loudly. Don’t worry. I scratched skirts off the list a while ago. I don’t really want to see that. You have knobby knees, so we’ll stick with velour.
The priest pulled the pillow over his head. Lord, help me.
It’s too late for that, honey.
Chapter Three
Damian glanced at his watch as he finished pouring the freshly dripped coffee. It was already eleven, and Wally had, shockingly, woken only an hour before. He turned to his visitor and held one of the cups out. The researcher looked a lot better than he had the night before. His eyes were bright again, the bags were almost gone, and the color had returned to his cheeks. Damian could tell he was glad to have the cardinal’s items out of his care.
The priest nodded toward the door. “Shall we enjoy the sunlight? For once, it isn’t raining.”
Wally nodded, taking a sip. “After you.”
They sat at the table in the empty courtyard. It was an unusually warm fall day, and Damian enjoyed it more than ever. He felt he needed the light to pull the dank, dark mood of the night before from his soul. He closed his eyes as he took a long slurp.
Wally glanced at the blue sky for a moment before speaking. “So, did you read any of the journals last night?”
Damian smirked. “You know I couldn’t not. I only read one page, though. It seems there are more out there, but October 1965 is the earliest we have, from what I saw when I flipped through. I’m not sure if the others fall in a timeline after that, but I’ll get there.”
The researcher nodded, his eyes afraid. “And what did you find out from the page you read?”
The priest sighed and shrugged. “It was very cryptic and contained little detail. He did something for a woman, and it seems he made a deal with a nefarious creature to do so. While he questioned his eternity, he reaffirmed his devotion at the same time. He sounded like a fearful man after some severe event. Like I said, though, there weren’t many details, so it’s a complete mystery what he was talking about.”
Wally sipped his coffee, seemingly unaffected. “I thought there would
be something bigger than what I’ve heard. Hopefully, you can find that information. I knew you’d be the one to figure it out.”
Damian smiled and drew a deep breath. “So, why don’t you call your superiors and take a few days off? Stay around London, relax, and see the sights?”
Wally groaned. “I wish I could. It sounds wonderful. Unfortunately, things at the church have been very hush-hush and eerie recently, and the last thing I need to do is suddenly disappear. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. Besides, I’m the only one running the artifacts room down below, so they need me there. We have a constant stream of pieces coming in.”
The clang of the gate caught their attention. Max grunted and fumbled an armful of books. Damian chuckled and hurried to rescue the top of the stack. “I didn’t realize you were awake, much less out and about already.”
The young man eased his books onto the table and wiped his forehead, panting. “I couldn’t sleep this morning. Partly because of my mind, and the other part because of my rotten demon.”
Astaroth scoffed. Oh, you mean the one who keeps your puny ass alive? My apologies, master.
Max ignored the smart-ass comment and tapped the books. “I had a blast touring a couple of weeks ago, so I went to the library to research historical locations I could visit. There are a million places I haven’t seen in this world, and if I have time here and there, I could jet off and explore.”
Damian smirked. “It looks like I created a monster. Next thing I know, you’ll buy an old VW van and hit the road with only your pack and your demon.”
The young priest grinned without shame. “Yeah, I guess I’m hooked now, but curiosity is a good thing. The way the demons destroy stuff, none of us know how long these places will remain. Better see them while I can.”
Astaroth sniffed. Wait, is that my deep Columbian blend they are frivolously sipping? I swear to God, I am running a coffee shop for the entire damn church.
Max glanced at the cups. Will you relax? It’s coffee. We can’t possibly drink it all. Besides, you already found four other shops you want to buy from.
