by Michael Todd
The demon scoffed. Damn right I did. I won’t waste this trip to Earth, not when the idiots below are destroying everything. I have to find some sort of metal lockbox to keep my coffee in. Grubby fingers will rue the day they messed with my beans.
Max did his best not to roll his eyes. He smiled uncomfortably at Wally, unsure who he was. Damian noticed and shook his head. “Oh, how rude of me. Max, this is Father Wally Okenhoff, a good friend of mine from the Vatican. Wally, this is my trainee and partner Max.”
The young man shook his hand with a quick look of realization. “Oh, Father Wally. Yes, you’re the one we traveled to Rome for Damian to visit. I wasn’t aware you were coming to see us.”
The researcher shuffled nervously in his seat, his gaze darting to Damian’s. “I thought no one knew about that trip.”
Damian patted his friend on the shoulder. “Relax, old friend. Max is completely trustworthy. He doesn’t know what the visit pertained to, and I trust him with my life.”
Max looked appreciative at the comment and nodded. “Secrets are buried with me, sir.”
Wally eyed him for a moment, then relaxed. “Of course. Anyone Damian trusts, I do as well. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you staying for a while?”
The researcher looked at his watch and gulped the last of his coffee. “Actually, no. Unfortunately, I need to be on my way to catch a flight. I haven’t even purchased my ticket yet, and I know today is a busy traveling day.”
He stood, clutching his bag in front of him. Damian lifted an eyebrow at the worn satchel. He sure was protective of the thing. I wonder what else is in that bag? He protects it like he has the Virgin Mary in there.
Ravi chuckled. Probably the souls of thirteen virgins or something creepy like that. Maybe it’s Beelzebub’s right pinky toe that was cut off in the war.
The priest pressed his lips tightly together to hold back a laugh. “Shall I walk you to the gate? I can call you a cab.”
Wally nodded and waved at Max. “No need to call a cab. I’m sure if I walk a few blocks, I’ll find one.”
Damian opened the gate and stepped into the street with him. They stood there for a moment, looking around. The priest cleared his throat. “Thank you for entrusting me with what you have. You can be sure that I will protect the journals and the secrets they hold with my life.”
Wally smiled and tugged his hat down. “I know you will. I wouldn’t have come here if I thought otherwise. Whatever is in there may give you a clue as to where to find the cardinal. I think at this point, it might help us all if we knew. Then again, I have been wrong before.”
Damian waved as a cab drove toward them. It pulled up to the curb, and he opened the door for his visitor. Wally tossed his bag into the back seat, and the men shook hands firmly. The researcher leaned in and whispered, “Be careful. Some secrets are worth more than others. Blood has been spilled over the centuries in an attempt to hide the truth. This would not be the first or the last time.”
The priest nodded as his friend tipped his hat and climbed inside. Damian shut the door with a twinge of fear from that ominous warning. The cab pulled away and disappeared down the street. Damian stood on the curb and looked at the gathering clouds. One thing he knew for sure was that secrets in the church were more dangerous than most.
Max shook his head, excited about all the places he wanted to visit. “Man, I did not realize how many cool spots are out there. In Vietnam, there is a place called the Golden Bridge. It is literally two stone hands holding up a golden walking bridge like something from a fairy tale. Then there’s Petra. That place is crazy! It’s a historical archaeological city in southern Jordan. They filmed Indiana Jones there, the one about the Holy Grail.”
Damian nodded. “Yes, The Last Crusade. ‘Only a penitent man can pass.’”
The trainee laughed. “Yes! Then the guy drinks out of the wrong grail and his skin melts off. Loved that when I was a kid.”
“It was a good scene, although I wasn’t a kid when it came out.” Damian sipped his coffee and laughed. “Okay, where else?”
Max rubbed his chin for a moment. “The Acropolis—the city with the temple to Athena. And of course, La Sagrada Familia. The temple of all temples built by the Catalan genius, Antoni Gaudi. Such a wonder to behold, don’t you think?”
“You have done your research,” Damian said. “Tell me what has captured your attention so strongly about each of these places, young Max.”
The young priest eyed him for a moment, wondering if he was ribbing him. Even if he was, Max didn’t care. He was excited about his discoveries. “There is so much history in these places. They date back to times we can never grasp. I mean, history tells us some of the story, but we can only imagine how the world actually was back then.”
“That’s for sure,” Damian agreed.
Max nodded. “The Golden Bridge was built because the artist wanted people to feel the connection between God and the Earth. The hands are literally sculpted to be God’s. Petra is a historical wonder because it’s intact in so many ways while others from that time period are not. The Acropolis revealed a city among cities, a basis for our current day societies. And La Sagrada is a beautiful oath to a faithful family built in brick and stone, reaching toward the heavens.”
Damian smiled, liking the enthusiasm Max had for the world. It was something easily lost, especially in their line of work. They saw so much of the ugly side of things, and it was important to see the beauty, too.
The young priest continued, spurred by his own excitement. “There are so many secret nuances to these places, and I want to touch and feel them. Maybe, even if only for a moment, to feel as if I were there during that time of innovation, art, and thought. I feel like we don’t do those things anymore. I sometimes feel like this planet has lost that luster.”
His mentor leaned forward and rested his chin on his clasped hands. “I love your enthusiasm, but it’s important you understand that some things aren’t what they seem. It helps you to take disappointment in stride and find wonder in the rest.”
Max leaned back, narrowing his eyes. “Like what?”
“Well, let’s start with the Golden Bridge. Those hands were not carved. They were actually the hands of a Leviathan named Artrus employed by Lucifer and sent centuries before to rid the world of humans. During a battle between him and the Archangel Gabriel, the Leviathan was turned to stone. His body disintegrated, but his hands fell into the grass and were left as a reminder. The Vietnamese built a bridge through them and attempted to hide the truth from the people with a made-up story. Over time, Artrus became an old wives’ tale and nothing more.”
Max scoffed. “Man, those are an alien’s hands? Talk about getting it wrong.”
Damian eased his neck to release the tension. “Well, yes and no. If you think about it, they are a representation of God’s hands and the smack-down he delivers when you attack his people.”
The trainee chortled. “I suppose you’re right. Okay, what else?”
“Petra. The Nabataeans were thought to be magical and lived in the desert with few problems. The other tribes didn’t know that they were actually demons disguised as humans, there to fight the Arabs. Ultimately, they lost, but not without many human casualties. As far as the Acropolis is concerned, I have no knowledge beyond what history tells us.”
Max sighed. “Thank God. Please tell me you don’t have a story about the Sagrada Familia.”
Damian smirked evilly, and the young priest threw his hands in the air.
“I like this story the most,” Damian said. “It shows the progression of demon hunting. In the La Sagrada Familia, there are seven towers. The tower of the Virgin Mary was later renovated because it was originally used as a dungeon to house Damned until they were killed by various means. When the church realized that some people could be exorcised, they were ashamed. They immediately changed the tower to the Virgin Mary—the misunderstood.”
“Wow, that’s crazy. I didn’t se
e that one coming. So, the Familia is actually a story about our faults. About our changes within the war with the demons.”
Damian nodded. “That is correct. Even we humans can learn new tricks once in a while.”
Astaroth snarked, I wish you could learn to shut up.
Chapter Four
Damian stared at himself in the mirror. In one of the small dressing rooms in the back of a high-fashion haberdashery in London, he swallowed hard and turned, trying to give the outfit a chance. The thigh-length jacket was thick like a peacoat and adorned with close-ups of bright red roses. His eyes slid to the matching pants, which had a slightly smaller print.
Ravi oohed. That’s all the rage right now. You look good in prints.
The priest gaped at himself, closed his mouth, then gaped again. Ravi, I look like Elton John on a bad day. In fact, I’m sure if I wore this out of here, I’d be attacked by bees and birds trying to collect my nectar.
She choked on her laughter. Right. Okay. Let’s move on, then.
Damian carefully removed the coat and gave it a final glare, knowing full well it probably cost more than his first car. The next outfit seemed more subdued on the hanger, but he chuckled once he’d put it on. The top was a single piece separated in front to look like a jacket and matching shirt. Pictures rolled over the shoulders, down the sleeves, and across the midsection. Damian narrowed his eyes and studied the image, which resembled a gray and white rendition of the rings of Saturn.
Ravi was silent, waiting for his reaction. The pants sported the same rings of disaster and ended three inches above his ankles. I know it rains a lot in London, but seriously, is this necessary?
The demon huffed lightly. If you don’t like your ankles showing, wear your boots with it—or buy some new ones, preferably.
Damian hurried to undress. Next! I prefer to keep my ankles covered and not make others nauseous with my rings of death.
Rings of— Ugh, you’re hopeless.
He rehung the outfit and reached for another. I prefer to think of myself as practical, not hopeless.
The priest studied the next choice with one brow raised. I think we grabbed this one by mistake. It obviously came from the old woman section of Petites Plus. This jacket is pink velour with birds and some sort of purple bush on it. And I won’t even comment on these pants. Seriously, it looks like a page from Where’s Waldo.
Ravi groaned. Fine! But you’re trying the next one. No comments until it’s on.
Damian moved the velour aside, slipped the next top over his head, and zipped the front. There weren’t any armholes. Biting back a sarcastic comment, he grabbed what felt like a bearskin rug from the hanger, wrapped it around himself, and looked in the mirror. The top resembled a tent designed as a 1970s waterproof track jacket without arms. The bottoms? He grimaced. A striped fur skirt overlapped in the front and hung to his shins.
Ravi giggled. That was one of the biggest hits by Estelita Mendonça last winter.
He stared at his reflection in disbelief. I also believe it was one of the biggest hits for the man lost in the woods two years ago.
The demon ignored him. You can kick ass, stay dry, be fashionable, and keep warm all at the same time. What did you call it? Practical.
Damian shook his head. Okay, enough of this shit show for one day. I gave you a chance, but this is utterly ridiculous.
She groaned. Okay. Okay. One more. I promise you will like it. And that’s not wishful thinking. If you hate it, we leave, and you’ll never hear another word from me.
Damian clipped the rug skirt to the hanger and folded his arms. Fine. One more. But only if it doesn’t have any inflatable parts, anything resembling animal hair, a sheen, and isn’t woven with locks of a newborn’s hair.
Agreed. It’s in the suit bag on the left.
He grunted, and the dressing room curtain billowed as he changed one last time. Damian buttoned the pants and rolled his shoulders back. You’d think they’d give you more than three square feet to change in.
Ravi laughed. Take a look.
The priest rolled his eyes and faced the mirror, instantly losing his annoyed face. He tilted his head and pulled down on the tailored jacket. The suit was pale gray with a slight sheen, but it had a James Bond flair. The white button-up tucked into the front, and the pants were perfectly pressed. Well, hot damn, look at this! Classic, well-fitting, and suave.
The demon chirped excitedly, I told you. It’s Armani.
He nodded his head, impressed. I could even wear my suspenders and bowtie with it.
Ravi agreed. Yep, and it would bring those two items into this century. I would suggest a better trench, but baby steps, I suppose.
Damian lifted an eyebrow. Yes, baby steps. I like my trench coats, and they all have the special hidden storage I need. They should make a line of clothes for our profession.
I’m afraid the turnover of people in your profession might be too high for a profit.
True. Well, Ravi, I have to admit, I love this suit. It’s the best thing I’ve tried on in years.
She clicked her tongue. I have a feeling it’s one of the very few things you’ve tried on in years.
Damian ignored her comment. I will be honest. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I would find anything I liked today. I seriously came only because I keep my promises and had made one to you to go shopping. I thought it would be an exhausting bust. Well done, at least on this one. I wish you had started with it, though.
Ravi laughed. Well, I’ll take this as a win. At least it’s a start, and now I know your style—classic and chic. Not really what I imagined a man of God wearing, but hey, everyone likes to look good.
He stripped and dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in. Very true. I bet even Gabriel would fancy a suit like this.
She scoffed but didn’t reply. Damian hung the suit neatly on the hanger and zipped the bag, then slung it over his arm and made sure he had everything. Do I leave these here?
Yep. Take what you’re buying up to the front. I have to say, I liked that coat you tried on first.
Damian shivered. Are you serious? That coat had a tail. A tail! Men of God don’t wear tails, and I don’t mean the fancy tuxedo kind. There was fur involved.
Ravi chuckled as he pulled the curtain back. On the hanger was a bright-white winter fur coat. Wisps of purples, pinks, and blues along the seams were tied at the back into a long unicorn tail. The sparkles were enough to make him retch. He couldn’t even imagine what Katie would say if she knew he’d vaguely considered the thing, if only to please his demon.
Damian stopped abruptly at a rack of bowties. They are selling these again? You told me they were out of style.
Ravi was serious. No. I told you yours were out of style. In fact, bowties seem to be all the rage now, but you have to know when to let go of plaid. And the one with the ducks on it is seriously creepy.
The priest frowned. I like the ducks. But my favorite is the one with the crosses. That was a huge hit at my sermons in Vegas.
Ravi was silent for a moment. Oh, so you busted it out at the church sermons? That sounds riveting, really. I’m shocked you don’t have a following. Whatever did they do without you there?
He shrugged. I guess the place was a little less fashionable after I left.
She giggled as he approached the counter to pay for the suit. The cashier was super-nice, especially when he paid the three-thousand-dollar price in cash. She made sure his suit hung perfectly and zipped the bag up, thanking him for the hundredth time. Damian left the store feeling overwhelmed by the snobbery. He breathed deeply, and cold air filled his lungs.
His gaze settled on a small eatery down the block. Let’s get a bite and coffee, shall we?
I’m hungry. Why not?
Damian ordered a sandwich and an iced coffee and sat at one of the small café tables outside. He loved that time of year, and the cool breeze refreshed him more than the coffee did. With his legs crossed comfortably, he people-watched and enj
oyed his lunch while Ravi commented randomly on some of the clothes. Everyone was dressed in the same styles he had laughed at in the store.
He sipped his coffee as a man walked by in the fur skirt. I feel like I have traveled through time to a city with a bunch of weird space-people. Do they actually wear this shit to fucking jobs? Like, what do they do for a living? Do they perform surgery in the seven-layer shredded blouse they purchased for fifteen hundred dollars?
Ravi yawned. Will you kick ass in your three-grand suit?
Damian nodded and swallowed the last of his sandwich. I will, but I won’t look stupid doing it. And I won’t accidentally put my eye out with my shoulder pad.
The demon laughed delightedly, and Damian smiled as he sipped his coffee. I want to ask you something off-topic.
What? she asked. And no, there is not a special breed of animal they kill for that skirt. It’s faux fur. Real fur is totally out.
Damian smirked. No, I wanted to ask if you could tell me anything about the book with Pandora’s—or Lilith’s—signature in it.
She was silent for a moment. I really don’t know if I should discuss Lilith. Her life is her business. I don’t need to be caught up in something like that.
The priest could sense she was afraid of Katie’s demon. Remember, Pandora is my friend. She would never do anything to you. Besides, I promise I won’t say a thing to her about whatever you tell me. I don’t really want to tell her I’ve got this book, anyway. I wouldn’t even know what questions to ask her. She tends to be stubborn about answering questions about her past—not that I know anyone else like that.
Ravi ignored his jibe. She opened up when she determined it was safe and reasonable. All right. Well, do you know the biblical story of Lilith?
The Jewish version? Not too well, no.
She cleared her throat. They believe that she was the first woman on Earth, and was created as a companion for Adam. At first it all seemed well and good, but as time went by, she resented Adam’s control and wanted to be more expressive sexually, emotionally, and in every way, really. She lashed out at him and ran when she saw that she had gone too far. It is said that God sent the angels to track her down, but she had already changed and became one of the first demons on Earth. From there, stories circulated that she took the souls of children and ate babies, but nothing was ever proven.
