by Michael Todd
She startled suddenly. “Oh! Have you watched the news?”
“No, I’ve been a little busy,” Damian said.
She grimaced and leaned forward. “Man, there have been some serious incursions lately. On top of that, Katie and her crew went back to hell and had themselves a jolly old fight. I’m talking bombs, fire, and troops running in and out. They showed video from the drones they sent in, and it was nuts. They hurt that big-ass demon pretty good, but a ton of them were injured too. Katie is okay, but one of their teammates—some huge guy—apparently bit it. At least, that’s what the news said. It’s been insane out there.”
Damian frowned. “That’s not good. I’ll have to give her a call and make sure everything is kosher.”
Maps exhaled loudly and gazed into the distance. “Shit is so wild out there. I mean, even I can tell it’s getting worse.”
Damian was interested in what she had to say. “How so?”
Maps shrugged. “I see infected people wherever I go. I don’t mean like in the ‘I see dead people’ kind of way either. There are literally red eyes everywhere—people in suits walking down the street, homeless blokes, protestors—the whole nine yards. And forget about the places I usually go. I’m in the minority, not having red eyes, and I now wear sunglasses so they can’t identify me as quickly. I don’t need anyone to grab me and try to put one of those things in me. No offense to your demons. I’m sure they’re cool, but I don’t want one. I like my alone time.”
The older priest groaned and set his glass down. “This is what I’m talking about. When the mercs started disbanding and doing their own thing, there was more protection at the government level, but the everyday action decreased exponentially. There are no longer teams on every corner making sure the streets are safe. What they need is a better and bigger merc team here in London. They need boots on the ground to take these cells down, and eventually, you’ll see fewer red eyes.”
Maps grabbed a fry from Max’s plate, ignoring his scowl. “You’ve got the ammunition. Why don’t you create a group? With your connections, you could have the next Katie’s Killers here in London. Then you could clean house.”
Damian shook his head. “Sounds fantastic, but I’m not in that business anymore. There is only so much I can do within the limits of my current position with the church. I unfortunately have to follow the rules now. After the last incursion two days ago, I need to keep to the straight and narrow.”
Maps wiggled her eyebrows and grinned. “Uh oh. What did you do two days ago? Broke the rules and took names?”
Max scoffed and folded his arms militantly. “More like locked me in a closet while he fought demons with a bunch of mercs. There were hundreds of them. I could have gotten in on the action, but no. I sat in a dusty old closet in the dark until he finally remembered he’d put me there.”
“Poor Maximillian. Seriously though, he probably did you a favor. I’ve seen those bad boys in action, and it wouldn’t have been as much fun as you thought. So, the higher-ups are pissed because you fought with the mercs?”
Damian wrinkled his nose scornfully. “Yes and no. Yes, because I shouldn’t use weapons beyond my bible. My task was to exorcise those I could and get out of there. Of course, there was no way I could leave that team without pitching in. Then there was Max. The Wise Men wanted to see what he could do. I kind of defied them, feeling he wasn’t ready for something of that magnitude, and stuck him in the closet instead.”
Max slapped his hand on the table. “I knew there was more to it than what you told me. The Wise Men wanted me set free, and you were afraid I would die.”
Maps nudged him. “Don’t get too mad. That was actually really nice of him. I’ve read some of the secret artifact documents. They don’t look fondly on priests when they break the rules. I’m sure that the people in charge—these Wise Men—are more than pissed.”
Damian shrugged and glanced at Max, who relaxed a little. “So, tell me what’s been big in the news besides incursions? Any new reality television on the tube?”
He changed the subject quickly, knowing she would launch into a diatribe against the latest Bachelor, Dancing with the Stars, and Celebrity Rehab. Damian knew that things with the church could go one of two ways. Either they would remedy his inability to follow directions by removing him completely, or they would permit him to do what he used to do. He had to believe he was too valuable to get rid of, and he wondered how long it would take until the second option took precedence.
Becoming a merc under their auspices would be both a curse and a blessing. He would do what he did before, which would be exhilarating, but he would still have to maneuver through the limitations of the church. Whether or not they wanted him to fight, it was an inevitable part of the job. He wouldn’t argue if they finally embraced that fact.
Chapter Nineteen
Back home that night, Damian made a beeline for his bedroom. He looked tired, and Max could tell he had a lot on his mind. Left to his own devices, the trainee meandered into the kitchen, served himself a huge bowl of lavender ice cream, and made a piping hot cup of tea. He smiled in anticipation and clicked the light off with his elbow, maneuvered through the darkened living room without mishap, and kicked his bedroom door shut behind him. His latest set of pajamas were a few weeks premature, but he didn’t mind. The pants were covered in turkeys, and two eyes and a beak stared from the shirt.
Astaroth chuckled. It’s a good thing I couldn’t give two shits about fashion. If I did, you’d burn all your clothes. Every single last pair of printed pajama pants would vanish in a flash of fire.
Max smirked, climbed on the bed, and pulled the covers up. Don’t be jealous because I have legs to wear pants on.
Touché, touché. The demon laughed loudly. That was a good one. You’re learning.
The priest smiled and grabbed the remote. He had splurged a little on a flat-screen for his bedroom. Damian spent most of his time reading in the living room, and Max didn’t want to bother his mentor when he watched television at night. He was hooked on the soaps, and it was non-negotiable that he stayed as current as possible. Originally, he’d watched because Damian was into them, but over time the older priest had shifted his focus to his books.
Max didn’t know what the books were about, but whatever it was, he became completely engrossed in them. If Damian wanted him to know, he would tell him. Besides, Max completely understood the pull of books. He had once read seven books in only four days.
The sound of the fire being stoked caught Max’s attention, and he crawled out of bed and opened the door. Damian sat in his usual chair. Max waved as his mentor looked at him. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”
“Night, Maximus. See you in the morning.”
Recognizing the dismissal, he closed the door and jumped back into bed. He dug his spoon into the ice cream and shivered slightly as the cold hit his tongue and the treat melted enticingly.
Astaroth groaned along with him. You have turned me into a soap-opera-watching housewife with an obsession for ridiculous flavors of ice cream.
Max chuckled. I know, isn’t it the best? I never thought I would like soaps, but hey, they catch my attention. It’s a world I know nothing about. Do you think people really live like that?
The demon snorted. Maybe, but I hope not. They seem absolutely miserable all the time. It would be exhausting living in a constant dramatic battle with everyone around me.
I feel like that’s exactly what our life is like, minus the romance.
Astaroth exhaled a snarky breath. My dear boy, you will never truly understand the meaning of drama until you have been caught up in a love triangle. It’s exhausting and makes hell look like the fucking Caribbean.
Max shrugged. That’s one drama I’ll never have to worry about.
He grabbed his mug and sipped the hot liquid. Astaroth coughed and made a fake gagging sound. What in the world are you doing?
What?
The demon groaned dramatically. Why would y
ou drink tea when you could have an exotic lavender-blended coffee? It would counter the sweetness of the ice cream but pair perfectly, with hints of that floral bouquet.
Max frowned dismissively. I like tea, and this one in particular with my ice cream. Besides, it’s decaf, and I really don’t want to drink coffee and be up all night. I’m trying to relax, not send my heart rate through the roof. Maybe we could try some decaf coffee blends.
Are you absolutely out of your mind? Astaroth sputtered. What kind of heathen do you take me for? No one drinks decaf because they appreciate the subtle hints of wonder in the bean. Next thing you know, we’ll have a jar of instant coffee on the shelf and a carafe of fake-flavored creamer. Disgusting. You are disgusting.
Sheesh, relax. I’m simply trying to relax after the exorcism today. I think, all in all, I did pretty well.
Astaroth cleared his throat. I have to agree with you. I don’t know if you would have been as spectacular on your own, but it was quick thinking to use the kitchen island counter as a shield for the two of you. However, I have to say that during the incursion, you were a hot mess. Did you really poke a demon in the eye with your finger?
Max grimaced at the memory. I hoped you hadn’t noticed that. In the gym, I have the moves down, but I panic a bit out there.
That happens. It means you aren’t comfortable with the moves yet and they don’t come naturally, but they will. All you have to do is get back into the gym, and we will work harder on everything.
Oh, boy, I’m so looking forward to more hard work in the gym.
The demon sniffed. I’ll ignore the sarcasm and focus on the new episode coming on.
Max grinned and turned the volume up. He watched the recap of the week’s episodes and started the show. As the opening scene rolled, he raised the spoon to his mouth but froze, and the ice cream plopped back into his bowl.
Astaroth gasped. Oh, no, she did not. Are you kidding me? After all Troy did to get her out of hell, she cheats on him with Mr. Perfect Teeth? That is complete bullshit. They say demons are bad, but I think women have the ticket to pure evil.
Max thumped his fist on the bed. Not to mention that Troy lost his dang hand in a battle with one of the underlings below. He has one hand and is a hero, and she wants the flipping dentist? I don’t get it.
Wait! Pause and rewind. Yes, look at that.
The priest narrowed his eyes and focused on the still shot of the dentist turning toward the camera. He saw a distinct flash of red in his eyes. Whoa. So either the actor is a demon in real life, or the dentist is infected. If he is infected, that means he’s used a spell on her, and she didn’t really choose him over Troy. Wow. That would be some shit.
Astaroth clicked his tongue in disapproval. Women are the strongest and toughest creatures on Earth, but these shows always make them fall for infected so easily. I truly believe that in the real world, she would have kung fu-chopped his perfect teeth down his throat.
Max nodded, spooning ice cream into his mouth without taking his eyes from the screen. Hell, yeah, she would have. Now Troy will be heartbroken, but only until he figures this all out.
Which will take at least twelve episodes. The demon groaned. That’s two and a half weeks of these two bumbling idiots drinking champagne. I hope we are right, though. Otherwise, the studio might need to investigate the actor.
The priest shook his head. I think no matter what, she would have picked the hot, less intelligent guy.
Astaroth wasn’t so sure. I don’t know. I think she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and Troy isn’t bad-looking. I think you might be surprised at how quickly she takes him back. He’s smart, successful, and even with one hand, runs a multi-million-dollar company.
Max leaned back and continued the show, feeling a sense of home as he and his demon argued over the characters. He was finally comfortable, as if he were where he was supposed to be.
Damian sipped hot coffee as the blaze crackled wildly in the fireplace. He settled into his chair, pulled the blanket over his shoulders, and grabbed one of the journals from the stack. Although he always started out with a pile, he rarely made it past the first one most days. Things had changed since he had first arrived and had all the time in the world to do what he wanted. He worked and had missions at that point, and they sucked the energy right out of him.
Before he could open the journal, his phone rang. He set his cup down and paused, biting the inside of his lip. It’s probably the Secretary, calling to bitch me out even worse than she already has. I should ignore it and call her back tomorrow.
Ravi wasn’t so sure. I don’t know, Pops. What if there is an emergency? You don’t want her droid showing up on your doorstep. We aren’t ready for that next-level sci-fi shit.
Damian groaned and capitulated, knowing she was right. He turned the phone and smiled the minute he saw Katie’s name. He pressed Answer, and the screen flipped to the video chat feature. Her calm face appeared, drawing his smile wider. He raised an eyebrow, noting her slightly higher cheekbones and longer hair. Clearly, Pandora still put the time in to tweak her body.
“My dear Katie, I was just talking about you earlier today,” Damian began happily as he fiddled to focus his camera.
She smiled. “I thought I felt an itch on my nose.”
“What?”
Katie laughed. “My mom always used to say that whenever someone was talking about me, my nose would itch.”
Damian chuckled. “You must have been the talk of the town during allergy season.”
They shared a comfortable laugh. Katie drew a deep breath and looked directly into the camera. “How are you? I feel like we don’t talk enough.”
He nodded. “I agree, we don’t. Nonetheless, I am still here. There was an incursion the other day, and I ended up working with a merc team. It felt like old times. One of the mercs was from New York—Charlie.”
She seemed surprised. “Yeah, I remember Charlie—hell of a warrior. He left right after Incursion Day. I didn’t know he had hopped across the pond. Good for him. I like it. And as for you working with them, I’m sure you kicked serious ass. We miss you here.”
“I miss you too.” Damian sighed, knowing that was the truth. “I think I’m doing valuable work here, though. I heard about your battles in hell. How is that going?”
Katie shrugged. “Oh, you know. Faking deaths, killing demons, blowing the legs off Moloch. All the normal stuff. It’s definitely hot down there.”
Damian glanced at the book in his hand. “Hey, do you think I could talk to Pandora? The only thing is, I would like to talk to her about something private on her end. If you switch, can she make it so you can’t hear? No offense, but it’s her business to tell you.”
His friend grew quiet for a moment, and Damian could see by the look on her face she was talking to Pandora. “She said she can make it happen. Hold on one second.”
Katie’s image shimmered slightly, and her features changed enough that he knew he was talking to Pandora. The demon put her finger up and concentrated for a moment before exhaling slowly. “Okay, she is muted. What’s up, Damian? It’s not the same here without your holiness prodding at my evil fucking soul.”
Damian laughed. “I know. Who will keep you good now? Though I think you may be in more control of that than you let on.”
Pandora rolled her eyes. “Please. Bitchin’ demon through and through. So, what’s this super-secretive shit you got going on?”
“Well, I think I have something of yours.”
The demon sputtered. “Oh, priest, don’t you know I lost my virginity centuries ago? That shit is gone and buried.”
He laughed loudly. “I have a feeling that couldn’t be found even in the deepest depths of hell, but it’s not what I’m talking about.”
Damian opened the book and read one of the witty comments out loud. “If the devil doesn’t want us, you dick-snarfing repugnant imbecile, then why are we chilling in hell?” Damian looked at her and blinked. “Shall I go on?”
Pandora’s face deadpanned. “No. Look, I know you probably have a lot of questions about this. Anyone would, but you’ll have to wait for answers. I need to trust that you’ll keep that book secret, at least for a little while longer.”
He frowned at the idea of lying to Katie, but he could understand to a degree. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep the secret, but whatever you’re hiding, when it finally comes out, you let me ask whatever questions I want. You will answer them truthfully and honestly. This is a big secret, my dear, something that Katie should be told, but I know it’s your place to tell her. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
Pandora pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, staring hard at Damian. “Priest, you drive a goddamn hard bargain, but shit, why-fucking-not? You have a deal, but don’t jerk me around on this one.”
Damian put the book down. “I will not jerk you around.”
She snickered. “Good, ʼcause God is watching those hands, priest.”
Chapter Twenty
The sun blazed through the windows as Damian stood in the kitchen, humming happily to himself. He had spoken to both Katie and Pandora the night before and had slept without his mind racing. The kettle whistled loudly, and he poured the water into his drip coffee container. Still humming snatches of a song, he stirred in sugar and milk, took a sip, and smiled as he cleaned the dishes. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the temperature soared above average, already up to sixty degrees.
The seasons were changing, and Damian loved the contrasts. Vegas basically looked the same all year round, which was his only complaint. It got cold there, sure, but only at night, and there were no trees to change color, no big snowfalls, and no seasonal anticipation of the holidays. The rest was great. Family, friends, and action always close by.
He selected a grape from a bunch on the counter and popped it in his mouth. Shall we enjoy this beautiful morning?
