by Michael Todd
Ravi snickered. He looks like he got in a fight with a housecat, possibly one that was declawed. I might go so far as to say possibly even one of those housecat statues people keep in their homes. You know, the ones made out of glass?
The young man grimaced as he put cream on the scratches. “That little jerk. He was as tiny as hell, yet somehow he managed to best me. He was fast; faster than any demon I’ve seen before. And he was smart. He didn’t walk around like a zombie looking for flesh to eat. In fact, he didn’t even try to eat me, only to annoy the fuck out of me.”
Damian glanced at him. “Language.”
Max rolled his eyes. “I think after that, I am allowed to say it.”
Astaroth began to laugh so loudly that Max was shocked Damian couldn’t hear it. That thing totally tackled you to the ground. Fabric and hair flew everywhere. It was amazing.
The priest cleared his throat and tried desperately not to allow his mouth to curl into a smile. “Does this mean you won’t adopt any cats anytime soon? You know, since they tend to attack and really put a hurting on you?”
Max put his leg down and sulked. “Ha-ha. Very funny. You try to deal with that punk and see if you don’t come out a little less of a man than when you went in.”
He plopped his hands into his lap, and his gaze settled on the vase on the floor in front of him. “And all for an old vase.” He picked it up and scowled at it. “Watch, you’ll take it to them, and they’ll fill it with water right in front of you and plop a bouquet of flowers in it just to be jerks.”
Damian laughed. “I wouldn’t be all that shocked, to be honest with you.”
Max turned the vase over and around, studying it from every possible angle, and shook his head. “It still doesn’t make sense why they would send us in there for some dusty old vase.”
The priest sighed as he turned onto the main road. “It’s not our place to understand or even question the missions we are sent on. We have to trust that our church puts our lives on the line for things that will make a difference in this war and in this life. If we spend our time questioning it, we would never get anything done, because I promise they would have no satisfactory answers for you.”
The younger man shrugged. “I know. It’s always been that way. Trust your church, yeah, yeah. I can’t help but wonder why we would be sent on a mission to retrieve an artifact considering that we are here for a whole other purpose.”
Damian shot him a quick glance and returned his attention to the road. “And that purpose is what?”
“To exorcise the Damned,” Max replied.
Damian raised one finger. “Ah, but is it? We were never specifically told that. We were actually told we were put there to help with the war of the Damned. That could mean any number of things, really. Artifact retrieval could be one of them.”
Max narrowed his eyes and looked closely at the metal. “And what could one tarnished old vase do to help the Damned?”
He simply chuckled and recalled how many answers he had looked for when he was Max’s age. Everything had to have an answer to him, but he rarely ever actually found any. The trainee continued to study the vase, his hand on his chin. “You know, this is actually interesting. While the first metal vases were created around 4200 BC, this is not copper. I would put this as silver, which started being used around 4000 BC. Maybe somewhere around the Middle East. I don’t know for sure, though.”
Astaroth faked a loud yawn. And here we go with the professor of useless, boring facts. I thought it was about time for me to take a nap anyway.
Max ignored him. “Silver was actually used quite often, and mostly for money. The Roman and Chinese Empires used a crapload of silver for their currency, but vases like this weren’t seen that often in those times. Almost everything in Roman times was stone or glass—or the decorative things, at least. Most people didn’t want silver vases; not at first, anyway. If you had one, it was more a sign of wealth than aesthetic beauty.”
Damian smiled. “Maybe it’s not a vase at all. Maybe it is some Roman torture device. You stick your hand in and find out what the surprise is. Uh oh, Julia has the scorpion this time, ladies and gentlemen.”
Max snickered. “Or possibly some sort of phallic symbol displayed during the religious mating ceremonies under the moons. God only knows what they would try to fill this thing with. In fact, I hope it has been cleaned.”
His mentor chuckled internally, and Ravi was entertained by it as well. It could be what they carried their coin for seduction in. When they would go to the brothels or bathhouses and not want their wives to know where they were going—not that I know anything about that. Long before my time.
Mhmm. Damian joked with her as usual, and Ravi found it part of his charm rather than an annoyance. The fact that she thought that way did bring back the annoyance, though, as she tried not to grow attached to her human host. They never survived that long.
Max turned the vase over and looked at the bottom, his brow furrowed. “But this insignia on the bottom…I’ve never seen that in any of my books.”
Damian was still laughing at the ideas of where the vase came from and what its uses could be. Ravi had simply named random things it could have been for. Rolling pin, milk carafe, experimental masturbation tool for a man or a very…uh, open woman. Possibly even an urn for the ashes of the dead. Max is now covered in dead Roman. You are welcome.
The priest glanced quickly at the bottom of the vase and blinked. His face immediately sobered, and he slammed his foot down hard on the brakes. Max, who was thankfully wearing a seat belt, jerked forward, the vase in his palms. The momentum threw his body forward and left him with very little control of his muscles. The vase almost left his hands, and he juggled it in an attempt to keep it from slamming into the front windshield.
Finally, he was able to bring it under control, and he drew it close and hugged it tightly to his chest. He turned his head slowly and glared indignantly at his mentor.
Astaroth snorted. Huh? What’s going on? Accident? Demon? Volcano? What?
Go back to sleep. It’s only my mentor acting like a nutjob, as usual, Max responded with irritation.
Sleepily, the demon responded, Mhmm. Right then. Business as usual. Got it.
Damian raised his head from where it had almost struck the steering wheel and turned to face the road. He pressed carefully on the gas this time, and they crept slowly off the road and onto the shoulder in case anyone came up behind them. The roads were reasonably clear for that late hour—or early hour, depending on which way you wanted to look at it. Once safely on the side, he straightened and tugged the vase from Max’s death grip.
Ravi was alert but had no idea what was happening. What is it? What did you find?
He flipped the vase and looked at the insignia on the bottom. It was clear and familiar, unlike any other insignia from any time period. Once you saw it, you knew it, and Damian had seen it on the medallion of the cardinal’s that he had received from Wally. There was no mistaking it. Immediately, the cardinal’s journal entries wound through his head, especially where he talked about reaching for his cross but finding the medallion in its place.
Ravi gasped. How about that? I think we can now safely say that all this is more than some coincidence.
But what do we do with that information? he asked. We don’t have anything solid enough to take to anyone. A medallion, some journal entries, and our own suspicions of three men whom I have butted heads with forever. So, yes, basically nothing.
Damian retrieved his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. He looked around them hastily and snapped a picture, saved it to the cloud, and restored the device to his pocket. Max wrinkled his forehead and cleared his throat, which reminded Damian that he was still there.
“Are we suddenly fans of strange insignias, or did something happen I didn’t see? Was there a genie in that vase? Do I get three wishes?” the trainee asked sarcastically.
The priest didn’t blame him for being confused. He
had never told him what was going on with the cardinal or about all the other information he had. It was all still locked in his mind and in the hidden safe on the bookshelf wall. He remained hesitant to embroil his companion in something that even he did not yet fully understand.
On the one hand, all the searching, journal entries, and insignias could very well lead him to a dead end. The journal was from decades before, and although the cardinal had only recently gone missing again, there could be any number of reasons behind it. Reasons that the church would cover up and hide from anyone snooping about. They were secretive, of course, but they didn’t remove someone and make them disappear without a solid reason behind it. That wasn’t their way. Even with the depth of story behind the churches—Catholic or his, it didn’t matter since they all worked linear to each other—they didn’t like the drama.
Mysteries without endings were frustrating things, and this one came with a level of danger he didn’t want to involve Max in. He already lived a dangerous life. He didn’t need to have anything added. Not yet, at least.
Ravi knew exactly what he was thinking. Tell him that you saw that insignia at an auction once and that it sold for nearly a hundred million dollars. That it was from some old secret church underground group that died out years and years ago. You didn’t think that there were any others.
Damian told him exactly that, and although he wasn’t sure whether the younger priest believed it, Max didn’t ask any more questions. Ravi was suspicious. Why in the world would the Wise Men want that piece unless there is more to this whole story with the cardinal than we first believed?
Max yawned from the back seat as he pulled on a pair of non-ripped pants that he had hidden back there in case of emergency and forgotten until that moment. Of course, Astaroth couldn’t help but wake from his slumber to inquire about the type of emergency that might lead him to require a new pair of pants.
I feel like I am learning so much about you. Astaroth laughed. First, the fear of spiders. Now, your fear of shitting yourself and not having a fresh pair of pants.
That is not the reason, Max retorted. I simply think it’s smart when you work in this line of business that you have a fresh pair of pants in case what happened tonight happened.
He scrambled to his seat in the front as Damian pulled into a parking lot. “Is this the Parish of Old St. Pancras?”
The priest nodded, unamused. “Yeah. I’m waiting for the secretary to—”
His phone rang as if on cue, and he put it to his ear as he glanced out the window. “Why am I not surprised that even on the phone, you have the ability to interrupt me mid-sentence.”
“It is a special talent I have,” she replied. “I can smell the bullshit, and I move in and interrupt it so you don’t fill young Max with your grumpy view of the world. He will become cynical on his own, trust me. But I don’t have to tell you that.”
Damian drew in a deep breath. “Nope. The world hath turned me into a monster. And you into a computer, although I think you might have been born that way. Who is your programmer?”
“That question does not compute,” she said like a robot. “But I’ll tell you what does. You are to take young Max in to meet the Wise Men. They are waiting for you.”
He shook his head and closed his eyes. “No. No way. There is no way I will do that to him. He has been through far too much, and all they’ll do is send their creepy Nosferatu chill down his spine. Leave the kid alone for now.”
The Secretary sighed. “On this one, I agree with you.”
“Thank you,” Damian said and slapped the steering wheel.
“But,” she continued, “it is not up to me or you, so get your asses moving, take the vase, and go around back. They will let you in. No more words about it, Damian. They are waiting, and you know how thrilled they are to wait for anyone, especially you.”
He grumbled and hung up the phone. After a moment, he straightened his shirt, blew the dust off the front, and turned to Max. “Well, it seems to be your lucky day, kid. It’s time for you to meet the Three Blind Mice…er…I mean, the three Wise Men.”
Chapter Four
I really hate some of the places you take me, Ravi complained.
Max glanced nervously at Damian. They stood in a hallway in the back of the church outside one of the private dining and meeting areas. They could hear the low murmur of voices inside, but Damian didn’t try to listen in. The Wise Men deliberately forced them to stand out there in the corridor. It was their way of making their visitors sweat and get all nervous before they entered—a game plan of sorts to keep them from causing any issue or problem. It had never worked on Damian, but he could see it twisting through Max like the plague.
“Do you want me to hold that?” the young man asked, glancing at the vase.
Damian shook his head and held it closer to him. “That’s all right. I’ve got this one. It’s better to let them think I am responsible enough not to hand it over to the rookie.”
In reality, he didn’t want to hand it to anyone. The vase had a story, and the weirder the Wise Men got, the more that story felt like it needed to be uncovered. Either way, he knew he would have to give it up eventually. He merely hoped he found the voice to ask some questions about it.
Max began to tap his foot, and his mentor shook his head and place his hand on his arm. He was visibly nervous. “Take a deep breath, unfold your arms, and stop tapping your foot. The Wise Men are not too fond of fidgeting. They are like wild animals. You have to stare them directly in the eye and show them you have no fear. Once you’ve done that, they will still try to dominate you but not as bad as when they see you as weak and new.”
Slowly, the trainee turned his head to face Damian. “You aren’t helping this whole nerves thing. You actually make it ten times worse. I have never gotten this far before, and I know that one day I might have to answer to them all the time. For now, I feel like they are sizing me up.”
Damian chuckled. “That’s silly. They did that before they brought you onto the team. Look, you are someone of interest. They would have never asked to see you this soon if you were not. There is something about you that makes the Wise Men want to meet you. But understand that they are human and mortal exactly like you, so their guidance or secrets may not be what you think they are.”
“So how do I act?” Max asked.
He shrugged. “Polite, educated, and not nervous. And don’t do what I did the first time…tell a joke about three priests walking into a bar. That was the beginning of a long and tumultuous relationship for us. Or do tell one, and simply enjoy the anger darts they throw at you. Your choice. Okay, no, don’t tell a joke.”
Max raised his chin. “Trust me, I didn’t plan on it. From the way you talk about your relationship, I think I will avoid anything you’ve ever done in front of them. In fact, I may simply not breathe while I’m in there. I have a feeling your breathing bothers them in some way.”
Damian smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t mind because I feel the same damn way about them.”
The door handle turned, and they both straightened. It opened, and one of the service staff stood there in the customary robes. All were young priests put on assignment to take care of the Wise Men wherever they went.
The young man stood aside and extended his hand as he bowed his head. Damian walked through while Max followed slowly and gave the young priest a tight-lipped but friendly smile. He smiled in response but wiped it quickly from his mouth. “May I present Damian and Max.”
The trainee looked around the room as they walked in. It wasn’t the Wise Men’s own residence, but the place was nonetheless opulent. Expensive rugs covered the wood floors, large ornate chairs clustered in front of the fireplace, and near the window stood a table covered with enough food to feed a small village.
Astaroth sniffed. I don’t like this one bit. Not only are we in the church, but these three Wise whatevers don’t smell right to me.
That’s proba
bly because they are anointed by Him. I know that is particularly uncomfortable for you, Max replied. Stay quiet, and I will get through this as quickly as possible. This is not necessarily the most comfortable place in the world for me either.
It’s not that… The demon paused. Never mind. It’s probably those other men leftover from earlier. I’ll be quiet.
Max found the pullback odd, but he didn’t have the focus to dig into it. They walked to the side of the fireplace, and he looked at the two chairs situated to face the three Wise Men, both empty. He took a step forward to sit, and Damian, without a change of facial expression, snatched him by the back of his collar and hauled him over beside him again.
He leaned toward Max and said in a low whisper, “We do not sit until we are invited to do so. They may not have us sit at all depending on the reason or visit and how long they have to talk. Follow my lead, all right?”
The trainee gulped and nodded as his gaze drifted over to the men as they entered the room. Their young priest servants provided silver bowls for them to wash their hands in and towels to dry them off. The three of them walked with their hoods up and their robes dragging on the floor behind them. None of them made eye contact with either Damian or Max, so he turned his head toward the fire and mimicked Damian.
This is a lot to remember. Max was already nervous.
Astaroth tried to calm his nerves as best he could. Breathe, friend. I will send some chill through you, okay? Take it one step at a time.
Normally, they would have to wait for the three men to be seated before they were asked, but this time, that didn’t seem to be the case. The Three Wise Men took their seats but did not even acknowledge the two men who stood there until their eyes fell on the artifact in Damian’s hands.
Father Judah cleared his throat. “I see you have acquired the artifact. I hope there was no trouble getting it.”
Damian nodded. “There was a slight mishap getting down into the well and a couple of Russian Damned waiting for us, but nothing that we couldn’t handle.”
